The trip aboard the train was unbearable. Not because of its length, nor because of the expense of both their tickets, which was reasonable. But because she had to suffer through another bout of silence with him beside her. She sat on the cushioned chair with her eyes towards the window, her hand beneath her chin. The other folk who occupied the rest of the car were chatting loudly about the weather, reading newspapers and discussing the government's recent decisions. The consistent buzz kept Maybelle's sanity in check.

A sudden swaying of the train made Jacob's shoulder collide with hers. She shied away from the contact and studied the passing landscape as if she was to paint it soon. She felt Jacob's eyes on her back.

"Can you tell me more about your sister?" He asked as casually as he could.

She stared at him, he has the audacity to ask about Myra after he violently refused to tell her about Evie? "You said my linage didn't interest you. I loved that pivotal moment in our companionship…"

He exhaled, his eyes still watching her every blink. Maybelle almost believed he dropped the subject, but he spoke again, "If this is about what happened in the flat, I'll tell you. Evie is my twin sister. She left for India with her betrothed at the later part of the sixties. It was the summer of nineteen sixty nine. I still remember waving goodbye as she boarded the ship, heading off into the ocean, leaving me by myself in London."

Maybelle turned and the look in her eyes changed to that of sympathy, "You lived alone in London for all that time?"

"Yes, mostly. I stayed to make sure the Order doesn't spring back up to retake London. I suppose I was successful only for a brief period, but this will soon change." He glanced solemnly and his voice became low, "London won't bend its knee to oppression ever again."

"Oppression, what do you mean? Oppression will never fade from London- it will never fade from the world. It was ingrained in human nature since he first walked this Earth."

"No, you don't understand," He shook his head, trying to form a simple clarification for what he meant, "The Templars—the people you once worked for—those represent tyranny in its purest form. My… mentor tried to teach me about what they had done to the world through time, but I often paid his stories no heed. It was fortunate that I experienced some of their misdemeanors first hand. Then I found myself learning of their evil."

"What did they do?" She asked, turning in her seat until their knees bumped. He didn't seem to notice, too far gone in his own memories.

"Vile, unfathomable things. My sister tried to show me what they've done, but it was not until I lifted a book myself that I learned of their injustice. They manipulated every corner of history you've ever read. Their ideology is striving for order, but order is moot when freedom is oppressed."

She let that sink in, "Order is sacred. You can't possibly believe order is inherently a bad thing? If it weren't for order, chaos would prevail. I prefer order to an uncertain future."

He appeared exasperated with her opinion, "And what of freedom? Don't you value the ability to do whatever you want?"

She shrugged, looking around her as if a believable answer was written somewhere, "I suppose freedom is important." And she believed what she uttered—if she had freedom, she would've made her own decisions about her life. She would've gone anywhere she ever wanted, "But what if everybody is given freedom, wouldn't that be a disaster?"

"A fair point that I've often tried to understand. But you must know the Templars have but one goal—subjection. They believe mankind is chaotic and animalistic, and there would be no way for its development if its nature wasn't kept in check. What would life be like if mankind was oppressed by a small group of people who are bound to fall to corruption once their goal is finally reached?"

"I see your point."

Jacob opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He looked away from Maybelle's questioning gaze.

"What is it?"

He cleared his throat, "There's a quote I… read somewhere. Nothing is true, everything is permitted. This is what explains my point of view as clearly as I want."

"Nothing is true?"

"The actions of others are based on opinions and what they were raised to believe. Entire civilizations will not question the morality of one action, while utterly hating another. All because this is what they've been told to do."

"And everything is permitted. I see why you value this quote. If everything is permitted, then you won't be blamed for killing the four guards I ate and trained with. You use this doctrine to further your own goals-"

"No," He cut her off with a grunt, "I would never. If the deed will serve the freedom of mankind in the long run, I will do it. There's nothing wrong, just as there is nothing right."

"All for freedom. All for a vision of disorder."

He shook his head, giving her a sad smile, "I don't blame you for believing in the Order's ideology—you've been born and raised among them. Yet I am sure you will see the consequences of their actions, and will finally see behind their empty promises of new hope."

"But, what is your business with preventing their rule, anyway? It's not as if you're gaining anything from the Order's demise."

He took a long breath, "I can't sit idly by hoarding all this power that could prevent chaos, and watch as those men overtake such a beautiful city. I might be a gang leader, but my goals aren't always… rape and pillage."

She giggled, turning away from him, "Frye, I know that you think I'm too stupid to logically exist, but I'm not. I know you're a part of something greater than a gang, much greater. But I frankly don't care whether you're a member of the government, the army, or the sadomasochism scene. I just want my gauntlet. And don't look at me like that, I'm not a moron."

And perhaps he was right. Freedom was something she lacked through her entire life. But if she had freedom, so will the next woman, and the next man. In the end, there will be nothing but liberty. But liberty is not peace. Liberty is chaos. Liberty is fear of the unknown. She wouldn't claim freedom for herself if it meant a catastrophe for the rest. His views might've had a noble goal, but they only meant disaster.


Castle Street was crowded at such a time. Despite that it wasn't a main street, men in tuxedos rushed across it to serve the queen and the parliament as much as they could. The Honourable Artillery Company was partially visible from Maybelle's position. Its wide, open grounds perfuming the air with the scent of damp grass.

"So, where is the estate?" She looked at the dozens of small flats built stiflingly close to each other. There was no shelter left for the homeless to survive the cold or rain. Intel said they should look for the largest mansion in the street. But there were no mansions, just the staggering smell and the old, small buildings.

"It's the one with the almost-pink rooftop and the dark stone, at the end of the street. Don't look, but it's over there." He nodded towards a general direction towards the far right. They kept walking.

"How am I supposed to see it without looking?"

"It's not important. I've already marked the place in my memory. We will attack at midnight." He kept his gaze forward. A man holding a wet umbrella bumped into him. Neither of them uttered an apology.

"Just like that? Do you actually have a plan, or do you intend on simply invading the place once the residents begin to snooze?" Maybelle hoped the failure to concoct a reliable course of action wasn't a trait they shared. If so, they were doomed.

"I will give you a brief overview once we reach the vantage point."

Her mouth went dry, "V-vantage point?"

"Yes. You will stay at the top for a few hours until I make some final preparations and fetch some weapons. I trust you won't find your own way down, which is why I'm leaving you to watch any change with great confidence that you won't abscond and serve your dear uncle once more."

Her eyes darted around, beginning to look for Jacob's vantage point to measure its height, "Fuck. And when I thought it was the end of my climbing days."

He chuckled wholeheartedly, "Trust me. It's not even the beginning."

She stopped in her tracks, letting Jacob continue on as she kept searching for an obvious point Jacob would choose. She immediately felt sick. Casting her eyes downward, she took steps backward until she felt her back collide with a stone fence. Her shoulder blades became sore, but she resisted the desire to rub them. Jacob stopped and looked at her.

Across the narrow street, three street urchins stomped in the mud and surrounded a man clutching a bag close to his chest. His hat fell as he looked up and assessed the children's intentions. The oldest boy began talking to the man and the other two relieved him of his possession. They dashed across the sidewalk and disappeared behind a corner. The man didn't try to rush after them. The rich, refreshing smell of rainwater became evident to Maybelle as it slowly evaporated from stone.

She felt Jacob inch closer, "Why'd you stop? The place is just ahead," He pointed to a place in the distance, but she didn't follow his finger.

She clenched her teeth and leaned her weight against the wall, she was sure her elbows were becoming red with exertion. Maybelle closed her eyes against the slight breeze, listening to the faraway trots of a couple horses.

"May, let's go." He held her arm and tried to pry her off the wall, but she pulled back.

"Give me a moment, Frye. I can't breathe." She tried to draw oxygen through her pursed lips, but she felt the air wasn't enough, "Why did it have to be a bloody roof?"

She could almost hear Jacob's eyes roll, "Isn't this your virtue? You're a sniper, for god's sake. I assume you scaled countless buildings, carriages, and possibly a couple of cats. You can't possibly be afraid of this mansion?"

She opened her eyes and regarded him with a snarl, "I don't think I've climbed anything without a ladder included."

He adjusted his hat carefully, "I think I got you covered."

"What do you mean?"

He allowed himself a cheeky grin, "I mean your problem has just been solved."

She wanted to slap the smile off of him, "Tell me! What do you mean?" She leaned away from the wall.

"You won't find out until we reach the place, kitten."

"Don't call me that." She crossed her arms.

"I didn't hear any objections when I gave the name to you, kitten."

She grumbled, pushing at his shoulder, "Show me the place, Frye."

He took her through the street. The value and age of the buildings seem to deteriorate the further they walked, which made Maybelle unsure of the mansion's existence. Perhaps Frye was pulling her leg? On her right was a small grocer that took the tiniest amount of space between two flats. Rotten tomatoes and ears of corn adorned the blackening counters, almost falling from the crammed bundles. The grocer lay behind one counter, wrapping a newspaper around a handful of brown carrots.

"Hungry? Jacob asked, amused.

"No, I'm just wondering how the homeless survive after eating this garbage. It makes you think… I used to have meat and cheese for breakfast every day—the man wanted properly fed guards. I never thought about what is thrown on other people's dishes."

"That's the slums for you," He said, keeping his eyes locked on the distance, "You haven't seen the poorest areas yet. This is nothing."

She stuffed her hands in her pockets, "Oh? What is it like, then?"

"I would tell you, but I want you to keep your breakfast down for now."

The two buildings were just ahead. A towering mansion stood at the end of the road, swallowing up a large area of the street that could've been used for more flats for the homeless. The sharp tidiness of the building and its garden stood out like a sore thumb between the yellowing flats and bent lampposts. The ground beneath their feet was gradually becoming dark with ash that refused to be swept away by wind or underpaid employees looking for tips. On their left was a large, blackened frame of a building some of the homeless took shelter in. The faint orange of their fires danced against the fallen columns and wrecked floors. On the pavement, feeble attempts to clear the wreckage resulted in crumbles of burnt stone mixed with the mud. It was a disgusting sludge that clung stubbornly to expensive hems and shoes.

"And old blacksmith's company. A fire happened here, some six months ago. I don't think the authorities are much interested in clearing the wreckage." Jacob said, kneeling behind an abandoned wagon and studying the building.

She joined him, gathering the tails of her coat in one arm, "At least the poor use it for shelter…"

"They will scarper when they hear your supporting bullets."

She sighed, "So, this is your vantage point."

"In its flesh and bones. Feast your eyes." He smirked.

"Please tell me whatever you have in store will avoid my untimely death." Her fingers gripped the wood of the fallen carriage.

"I can't make such promises," He winked before standing and shaking his coat free of mud. She turned away from the mountain of filth.

He led her around the burnt premise to the only still-standing corner. A sign dangled from the top with the faded words of 'Barry's Blacksmith' painted in faint red letters. The three storeys sloped towards the ground from this spot, it might be the sturdiest point in the entire building.

"There's a small, sturdy area left on the third story. The wall is partially destroyed, but that's fortunate for you. You could fire through the holes…" Jacob said as he nodded towards the top.

"What if the ground collapses?"

"Then… uh, you get to have a bit of fun sliding down before you die." He smiled innocently.

She glared, her fists closing, "That's not funny."

He shook his head, "It won't collapse. The building stood like so for months, it won't just fall because someone stepped on it. Now let's go, we're wasting time."

He took her left arm and hooked it around his neck, pulling her closer. She wanted to stop whatever he was attempting, but hesitated when he looked down at her with those hazel eyes, a gentle smile on his lips. He smelled powerfully of something invigorating, which mixed with his sweat and the leather of his outfit. Her cheeks painted red. She wanted to kick herself.

"Hold on." He said, his arm snaking around her waist. He aimed his free hand upwards and clenched his teeth.

And in a manner of seconds, Maybelle was taken back to the night the phantom almost claimed her soul. She became a phantom alongside him as they flew upwards like a lit firework, the metallic rotation inside Jacob's gauntlet becoming lost in the wind that touched her ears. Maybelle stopped breathing. She held onto him with both arms, legs going to link together around his thigh. She was only faintly aware of her cheek pressing mightily against his, the roughness of his stubble prickling her until it left tiny red marks. He let go of her waist and used his strength to carry them both towards the seared wall. At the top, he slinked around the small, upright wall and inched towards the corner.

It only lasted mere seconds, but it was an eternity in Maybelle's mind. Jacob was standing on solid ground, his gauntlet sucking the rope into its mechanical darkness.

"You can let me go, now." He adjusted his hat.

She mumbled an apology, arms unwrapping and feet finding the ground.

She looked around. The area was tinier than she had perceived from below. Glass fragmented under her feet—remnants of a blown up window. The two walls that formed the corner were covered with ash and the crumbled remains of red wallpaper. The small area ended with an edge leading to a deadly fall. The weight of the ceiling that had fallen snapped the wood off and left the edge with sharp, protruding floorboards like the teeth of a shark. The two of them barely fit in the unsteady corner, and bumped into each other as they wrestled for space.

"Nice place you picked." She began.

"You have a better idea?" He peered through one of the many holes, briefly studying the area, "You have a good view of the garden. I suppose some guards will patrol the area for you to take out. Once it's clear, I'll climb into the mansion, kill the man, and get out the same way I walked in. Don't shoot me. You got that?" He moved away from the wall and looked at her.

She shrunk away from his firm glare, "Yes, I got it. Take them out one by one before they find you and kill you… or me."

He nodded, "I'll get your equipment. Keep watching the place for any changes. If you see someone climb into a carriage, assume that it's our man. If we were this unfortunate, we'll try another plan."

And with that, he climbed down the building and jogged out of the street, dodging a coming carriage that almost crushed him. Maybelle sighed and glanced at the ground beneath her. She tested the firmness of the wood with a tap of one foot, it was stable enough. But who knows how long it will stay this way? She tried to slow her anxiety, crouching by the wall and letting herself take in the landscape through the gap. If she was someone else, her opinion would differ greatly, and she would call the vista beautiful. But she was Maybelle, and the sight of the far ground she witnessed with one blue eye chilled her to the bone.

She snapped her eyes shut, nails scrapping against the rough stone. To think she would have to spend an entire evening in this nest. She preferred a hundred years of Willis' roof to this.

She forced herself to glance at the mansion again. If she wasn't prepared when the time came, the whole operation will be botched and she will lose her life. By Jacob before his enemies.

Under the afternoon light, the pink hue of the roof turned into a melting haze. The garden below was clear of any trees, and substituted their presence with dozens of bushes. A lamppost was in the midst of the path that led to the doorstep. It served as the only source of light in the garden. Lit through the afternoon and probably through the whole day. The ground was devoid of guards except two or three uniform-wearing men that disappeared from her view behind a bush as quick as they appeared. Despite the blatant contrast in sizes of the four-story mansion and the rookeries, its darkened stone made it fit well with the sombre ambiance of the squalor.

It might be a wise thing Blake did—building a mansion in the midst of a poor street like that. Robbers that targeted the estate weren't as skilled and prepared as those she had to deal with at Mayfair. They were simply folks who tried sneaking into the kitchens for a most-needed bite, or a man who searched for a trinket or two to sell for medicine. Hiding in plain sight. It was something she wanted to learn for a long time.

Jacob climbed in again after what felt like thirty minutes, a rifle strapped to his back.

"Why hello there, seems I've found a squatter. Lose your nerve yet?" He teased.

She glared as menacingly as she could while she huddled in the corner, "No. Got something for me?"

"Got a couple, yes." He lifted the rifle away from his shoulder and gave it to her. She stood and tested the weight and length until he unstrapped a dagger from his thigh. He threw it at her feet.

"Got me a knife too?" She bent down to pick it up.

"Yes. Look at me, handing you new toys to kill me with." He said dryly.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you before you help me down." She smiled, "So, now what?"

"Now, we wait for nightfall. Nine o'clock sharp would be preferable."

She scowled, "I don't have a timepiece."

Jacob's eye twitched before he reached into his coat. He handed her a silver watch. Maybelle felt it ticking vigorously against her hand. The lid was carved with a stylized impression of a bird's head. A corvid, perhaps, "What about you?"

He shrugged, "I'll nick one, don't worry about me." He made his way to the edge of the building, "This is the part where I tell you to watch out. You know. Watch. Out. Through the holes?" He pointed to the holes in the wall and chuckled.

"You're leaving?" She wasn't fond of his presence, but still, it meant she wasn't alone at this height, again.

"Yes. I have to scout out the area. Look around the fences and try to see what the guards are working with, and where the Templar positioned them. On nine sharp I'll start the assault, cover me and never climb down. I imagine the garden will be darker than coal once it's night, I can't be held responsible if I mistake you for a guard and accidentally thrust a blade into your chest. Alright?"

"Uh-huh."

"See you, kitten." And he began to climb down.