powered by insomnia, typed up in forty seven minutes.
"Speech."
'Thoughts.'
(Memory.)
Words spoken with emphasis.
enjoy.
That Assassin, Reborn
Jacob sat atop the train car, a starry night sky obscured by dense smog up high. He was stranded in a land not too dissimilar to his own, but while he'd often leave the thinking to his dear sister, right now that wasn't an option. London at the very least had the decency to remain the same, if a little strange at times. A plenty of shops had been replaced with a more cheerful rebranding, something he'd visited personally and left with a pleasant demeanour and a block of chocolate. Even now he still had it in his hands, the plastic wrapping of the nutritious confection was torn for the goodies inside but it hadn't felt entirely right to eat it in one go either.
"Pensi che Louis prenderà piede?" Asked a man in a suit to his friend, again it showed that his sister was a step above him when it came to the more intelligence oriented side of the order. Italian, that was about as far as his knowledge could go when he listened in. The clouds above - was that Blackburn Bellows he spotted? - only grew darker as the train turned to ride towards the more industrious side of London.
The thugs murmured to themselves, quiet and unassuming. As if everything would go smoothly, Jacob in turn folded up the wrapper and set it snugly in his inner-pocket, away from the bloodied handkerchief of course. It was time enough that he got to work before the train looped up to the East End.
A man beneath him wore a flat cap, funnily enough Jacob was in the mood to replace his. Having lost it in the scrap earlier. The memory floods in without restraint, (blood on the cobblestones beneath London- his blood.) Jacob winced at the violent memory before easing back into it, this nightmare needed to pass before he tried to fight or it may very well be the last time he closed his eyes... (the cackling laughter of a pitiful man passed over and around him, of whom was armed with no mere piece but an Apple and the cruelly pleasing noise of marble breaking bone.) It was an intense and vivid memory and still fresh in his mind, but of course it was having only been some ten hours since it passed.
"Ehi ... è un gatto lassù?"
(-)
The element of surprise had begun to wane, so Jacob struck quickly. Launching himself off the edge of the train car and onto the next, in his left hand an outlandishly gaudy cane. The perceptive thug was the first one to go down, still breathing though not easily after Jacob used him as a round pillow to soften his own landing.
Looking up, the Englishman saw the faint outline of a gun raised in his direction. Click.
("You might be able to use this." Said Henry, slipping out a pair of firearms from behind him. An artistic trick or sleuth of hand, the distance between himself and the Master was that of a marksman and a crook. Unknowable to one unfamiliar to their craft, to the learned man? A difference like night and day.
Jacob held the weapon in false apprehension but in the end couldn't mask his excitement, a derringer. More fit for the dead gambler or a lady of vengeance, but a firearm nonetheless. "Oh God I hope so.")
Krit-choo! The thug hadn't hesitated to fire, and neither did Jacob. Ducking down and ditching his cane to rush forward, the police grade vest he wore under his jacket saving him from a very nasty check up at the doctors'. The hood obscured his face but it meant little aside from giving him a more menacing appearance really, sure there were more applica- Click! 'Muse later, live now!' Jacob screamed himself mentally as his gauntleted fist rocketed upwards to wrestle away the armed hand, fishing his own firearm. The Smith & Wesson ripped itself out of from his holster before firing into the man's chest twice, or was the plan before the train bed shook terribly, disturbed by something on the tracks.
Kri-BOOM
Only one bullet found its mark, burrowing deep inside the Italian gangster. Another soared into the sky, being so close to the sound alone left the impression of a fly buzzing past his ear at the speed of those London automobile's he'd witnessed once near the palace of Westminster. Confident that his assailant's gun was now empty, Jacob pushed him up against the railing before heaving the still breathing man off. No doubt to face a grisly fate, either dying on the tracks or facing punishment from the Mafia.
Evie was a proper smart girl, but people often mistook and underestimated Jacob for his brutish disposition. With a lazy kick did Jacob lift his cane back into the air and begin his walk towards the front of the train. He was sure that Freddy would've liked to know that he wasn't doing it for money… entirely. A train car was ahead of him, lit up with a proper circuit of lights and gents inside paying more attention to the rowdy racket the gram was playing. Enough to not have noticed his entry until the door shut behind him.
An easy going smile plastered on his face, Jacob rest his hands on the cane treating it like a longsword. "Well lads, I don't suppose any of you could tell me where I could find the manager for the Ferro Company? I've a complaint to lodge." Ten people gave him stony looks in response, some cracked their knuckles and prepared sets of brass - another couple in the far corner took out a nastier looking shiv and bludgeon. An indoors fight, tight space, loud music. The carriage wasn't sturdy enough to block out the sound of gunshots, especially if a bullet made its way out a wall.
Evie was the smarter twin. Jacob? Jacob was a much better Assassin.