This story was written before Syndicate came out and basically follows a story line I wanted to see

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Chapter Two: Darkened Days to Come

Mercutio parked his carriage before the turn at the end of the street and climbed down onto the pavement below. Turning to his right, he spotted two males dressed in tattered clothes standing nearby, lips pressed into a thin line. They acknowledged him with a nod and he responded with one of his own.

To the average citizen, they were just low-class commoners, but he knew what they truly were. They belonged to one of the seven gangs of London and patrolled the Whitechapel district. Disguising themselves as one of the unfortunate drew less suspicion from unwanted eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, Mercutio sauntered towards the two undercover guards, carrying two pouches of coins in both hands.

Every Monday he would visit the Whitechapel Templar base and bring his boss his earnings of the previous week. Bloody Nora would take ninety-five percent of the total, and give him just enough to make it to the following week to continue his payments. In exchange for the currency, he was given food, water and shelter. If he hadn't sworn his allegiance to the Templars, he would've been living in the heart of the slums as well.

The Templars grabbed the money bags off him and escorted him down a dark alleyway. Despite having walked down this path many times, Mercutio couldn't shake off the feeling he was in danger. The streets of London had never been safe, but over the past couple of years, the crime rate had increased significantly. The increase in the crime rate caught the attention of Templars who decided their presence was needed to control the chaos.

There were seven Templar leaders; one leader for each of the seven districts. What started off as a means for controlling the chaos turned into an opportunity to make a lot of money by exploiting the people. Those who were already poor became poorer whilst the rich, the Templars and their allies, became even richer. Despite the unfairness of the entire situation, there was no one neither brave nor smart enough to rally against the Templars and overthrow them. The only option was to form an alliance with the Templars if you wanted survive.

"Bloody Nora awaits you in the courtyard," the first of the Templar guards said. Mercutio didn't know their names nor bothered to ask. The Templars weren't exactly kind people to those outside their order though he suspected Bloody Nora's influence had rubbed off on them a bit.

Mercutio nodded, knowing it was best not to speak. He followed the Templars towards the courtyard bypassing a few more open alleyways, thankful they were no thieves around. The thieves never dared to attack whilst there were Templars about, but they were known to follow people for a short distance then make a robbery attempt. Fortunately, there were never any reported deaths, but it was still a nerve-wrecking experience walking around alone.

They continued walking past a few dull and beaten down buildings until they reach the courtyard. In the centre of the courtyard was a ring of pebbles around a single plane tree. Standing beneath it, was Bloody Nora herself, dressed in her usual navy blue coat. The Templar insignia, a red cross, was clearly displayed on the right lapel of her coat.

"You are late, Mercutio," the woman said, raising her right hand to reveal a revolver. "I was about to send a search party for you. I trust you have brought our payment?" she added, turning her head to the left to face him, her dark eyes as cold as ice.

Mercutio nodded. "Y-yes madam," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

She walked forward and stopped a few inches in front of him, her cold and calculating gaze never leaving his face. "Excellent. Hand it over." Mercutio's escorts handed the pouches of money over to their leader. She jingled the two bags in the air testing their weight. "Lighter than last weeks. Do I have to fire you and recruit someone else who can meet the minimum each week? Well?"

He cleared his throat. "I-I will raise the prices."

She smiled. "Good. Charge people an extra five pounds. If anyone complains, give them this permit." Placing her gun back into its holster on the right side of her hip, the woman reached into her pocket pulling out a piece of parchment. She handed it over to him.

Mercutio took it and unfolded it. The words were written in ink and gave him the power to raise the prices of transportation as he saw fitting. Below the ink was the Templar insignia to make it official. The symbol was well-recognized here – people knew not to disobey or there would be trouble. He folded it up and put it in his pocket.

"Th-thank you." Mercutio cursed himself for his inability to speak properly, but Bloody Nora was a vicious woman. She had little tolerance for failures. Those who had failed were removed from their service and sentenced to live in the slums. Many former workers were made examples of and left crippled so they were no longer a threat to the Templar Order.

"Have you any news to report then? Perhaps you can make up for being short this week with important information about the murderer of our men. Have you seen any suspicious people around? Perhaps heard anything down at the Seven Bells bar?" she demanded, studying his features intently.

His thoughts focused on the man he had met late yesterday afternoon, the one with the gloved hand. When asked about it, his passenger simply stated it was to hide an injury, but Mercutio wasn't so sure. Whitechapel wasn't known for its wealth – people here didn't have the money to purchase gloves. Injuries to the hands were covered with scrap pieces of material instead.

He also wore a black trench coat which he found suspicious. Again, people living in this area were poor. Even simple rags were hard to come by let alone a trench coat and a top hat. He also seemed a little too evasive with some of his responses, in particular the ones relating to the murder of George. It was almost as if he had been trying too hard to pretend he knew nothing of the incident.

Mercutio took in another deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. What if the man was the criminal behind the murder of George? What if he was one of the feared Assassins he had heard much about during tavern gossip? He may not hold the Templars in high-regard, but they were his source of security and income. Their laws might be cruel, but at least the streets were much safer than they once were.

"I met a young adult male yesterday," Mercutio said, hoping he wasn't making a mistake. If the man wasn't what he suspected, then Bloody Nora would have him flogged for wasting her time and resources. "He seems quite wealthy," he added. "I've never seen folks around here wearing gloves before in all my years of life."

Bloody Nora raised an eyebrow. "A glove you say? What did it look like?"

"He wore it on his left hand only. Black it was. I remember hearing gossip about the Assassins of the British Brotherhood who wore gloves as well down at the Seven Bells bar in Central London," Mercutio added. "He said he wanted to meet with you."

The Templar leader glanced down at her revolver. "An Assassin… here in London…" she murmured. She pulled her finger on the trigger, but fortunately it wasn't loaded. "Would explain the deaths of my men."

"I have reason to believe he's the murderer."

Bloody Nora chuckled. "Then we'll lure him out into the open."

Mercutio frowned. "Isn't that dangerous? If he's an Assassin then they've come here to fight you." He had heard many stories about the legendary deeds of Assassins. Names such as Altair, Ezio and Connor were mentioned frequently in the tales and rumours though he couldn't tell if they were exaggerated or not. In the tales shared at the tavern, men claimed the Assassin's were masters of stealth, and would attack without warning. The victims in most cases never even had a chance to defend themselves.

"I relish the challenge, Mercutio, haven't you learned anything yet?" she replied, heaving a sigh. "I'm not going to start anything until this Assassin makes the first move. We don't want the good people of London to fear us, do we? If this Assassin wants to start a war then we'll happily accommodate his wish," she added, pushing a strand of loose hair away from her right eye behind her ear.

"What should I do?"

She moved forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You continue looking out for information and keeping an eye on things," she said, digging a hand into one of the pouches. She grabbed a few coins then handed the money pouch back to Mercutio. "Take a few extra pounds for your efforts, Mercutio. You have done well. Return to your work. I will see you at the same time next Monday." Mercutio helped himself to a few extra coins, grateful for the reward. It wasn't often allies of the Templars were praised.

He nodded. "Thank you, madam." He bowed then turned his back and headed towards his carriage, escorted by the Templar guards.

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Finding a carriage willing to take them to Central London early in the morning was proving to be more difficult than he had thought. Normally, he travelled during the middle of the day since he liked to sleep in, but Evie insisted they leave early. They were now standing outside on the street in the dark since the sun had yet not risen.

"This is ridiculous," Jacob muttered.

"We should be prepared for anything. The Seven Bells is the most popular bar in the city – Templars will be great in number, and I wouldn't be surprised if there will be a few stationed there tonight. There'll probably be more than usual patrolling the area thanks to your actions. We'll need to study the area – know the best escape routes rather than leaving it the last moment," she explained. Evie had the entire thing planned out already. He was just there to do all the talking.

"Just stick to the shadows and don't reveal yourself." Evie didn't reply. She turned her head away from him, glancing to their right, searching for a carriage to arrive. There were none present. "If we start walking now, we'll get there by nightfall," he added as an afterthought.

She raised a hand. "Do you hear that?"

He stopped talking and listened carefully. Concentrate and your senses will pick up on things the average person ignores. It was one of the teachings he remembered his father giving. He called it 'Eagle Vision', a sixth sense all humans possessed. Though everyone could harness the sense, many people did not know it existed or only learned to use it in their later years of life. Only those who were born with the gift, known as the naturally gifted, were able to use it to its full potential.

Jacob preferred not to use it when possible as he felt it made things way too easy. Being able to see who his targets were from a distance wasn't his idea of an enjoyable fight. What fun was there when the victim had already lost before the fight had even begun?

"There's a carriage approaching," Evie said.

He heard it too. It was coming from the right. "I see it." The carriage was approaching at a slow pace. As the carriage drew closer, the rider's features became clearly visible to him. It took him a few seconds to recognize it was the same man from yesterday, the one who had given him the name Bloody Nora.

Mercutio didn't seem surprised to see him. "You need a ride again?"

He nodded. "To Central London."

"Visiting family and friends?"

He nodded once more. "Yes."

"The trip to Central London will cost you ten pounds."

An extra five pounds? He narrowed his eyes. "It cost me five for the same trip yesterday."

"You can pay the price or you can walk to Central London," the driver replied in a bored tone, as if he had heard this debate many times before. He reached down into a pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment. "I have received a permit from the authorities in this district, granting me the power to raise the price of transportation costs."

He held it out and Jacob and snatched it off him. Unfurling the parchment, he read the words on it. The man spoke true. He had been granted the right to charge at the approval of the Templar Order who obviously had the power here. Did all the drivers in the region work for the Templars? It would make sense if they did. What better way to learn all the ins and outs of London from the transportation service?

"We'll gladly pay the required cost," Evie said, reaching down into her coat to pull out a pouch of pounds. She opened it up, counted the required amount then handed a few pounds over to the man. He gave her a hard stare then nodded, motioning for them both to climb on board. "Please, take us to Central London."

"Of course." The driver pulled on the reigns, prompting the horses to move forward. He didn't make an attempt to start a conversation until they reached the end of the street. "I hope I don't sound like I'm prying, but would you mind telling me who you are? You already know me as Mercutio, and I've lived in this city for twenty years now."

Jacob didn't reply. He was still annoyed over the price increase and how his sister was happy enough to pay for it. At least it hadn't been his earnings – it had taken three street victories to earn fifteen pounds. Still, it was a big price to pay and money was hard to come by.

"I'm Jennifer, and this is my brother, George."

Jacob snorted. How original using false names. He supposed it would make it a little harder to track them down should people start asking questions, but George? He glowered at his sister as if to say, 'really?'

Silence fell. The only source of noise came from the horses' hooves as they trotted along another deserted street. Horse droppings littered the street, making it obvious it was a popular route for drivers to take. The poor probably spend their days washing the road and removing wastage for little coin, whilst the rich were able to enjoy the finest things life had to offer.

He spotted a few police officers on the opposite side of the street, milling around in front of a shop. Each man was dressed in black uniform and wore a matching black helmet atop their heads. The Metropolitan Police of London, servants of justice, or so they liked to assume. The truth was these men didn't care for the people – the only cared about their pay check at the end of week. "Police," Jacob said.

"They won't bother us," Mercutio said. "We're not criminals so we have nothing to worry about," he added, turning around the corner into another street. Unlike the former streets, this one was occupied. Mercutio seemed surprised – Jacob noted how his fingers tightened around the reins of the horses. "Thugs do not normally venture this close…" he murmured.

Up ahead, Jacob spotted a group of five men leaning up against a wall, each bearing a symbol that marked them as part of a gang of some sort. It was of a plain white 'X', though it meant little to him. These men were dressed in simple garments – two of the men were even lacking shirts – suggesting that a group of poor men had come together in hopes they'd find better success working as a team.

"We must turn back and warn the authorities of their presence," Mercutio said, preparing to turn his horses around.

Jacob shook his head. "No. They'll take you for a coward if you run. They've seen our faces - they'll remember to deal with us another day. Running isn't an option. We deal with them now." It had been a couple of days since his last encounter with a gang. In his eyes, they were not criminals. They were just people hard done by the system the Templars had put in place.

Evie grabbed his left arm. "We have other matters to attend to, George."

He knew that look all too well - that one where she looked directly into his eyes and held his gaze until he looked away and he always surrendered. Drawing in a deep breath, he sighed and said, "Fine." He turned to Mercutio. "Well, you heard her. Turn these horses around and take us to the Seven Bells."

"Of course."

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