Arthur had been taken by surprise by the storm because he'd been dreaming during it. He had been dreaming up a nice little conquer-the-world fantasy for one of the City's inhabitants, a very common request and one he tended to enjoy as long as they were the benevolent dictator type and not the holocaust type. He'd take money from both, but he didn't enjoy the latter. He looked upon it as an occupational hazard.
He'd been thrown out of the dream only after his client's little medieval castle had sunk under a surprisingly deep moat, only to find that the client was under a heap of caved in stone and he was trapped in a dark place with only the drip of rain for company.
He was already hoarse, but when he saw stirring, he managed to twist from where he was pinned and clang the butt of his gun on a bared pipe.