A/N - So apparently there's some Americanism occurring in the previous chapter. Point it out to me because I miss these things!
Thanks to tgonthefiery for reviewing the previous chapter and the guest as well.
Anyway. I probably mentioned this before, but this story is old and was completed just a month from Syndicate's release.
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Chapter Five: Clash of Egos
Needless to say, this was the most exciting thing to happen at Seven Bells in a long time. Most days it was just catching up with friends and drinking yourself until you were passed out on the floor, but an actual fight? Abraham moved away from his table, holding a mug of ale in his left hand, and wandered over towards the newcomer.
"What are you doing?" his friend asked. Abraham gave him the nickname 'Tiny' though he was anything but small. He was at least a good foot taller than everyone in the room, standing at a height just over six foot with shoulders so broad it made everyone else present look small. The man didn't speak much – he preferred to talk with his fists, but when he did decide to use his mouth, his sentences were brief and direct.
"Let's get a closer look at this new friend of ours," Abraham replied, tilting his head towards the young adult male wearing the black trench coat. He was currently standing in the centre of the room, standing just a few inches away from the shattered glass on the wooden floorboards. "Seems like someone we could use."
"You're not thinking of recruiting him, are you?"
A slow smile spread across his face. "Why not? We could use a lad like him."
Tiny grunted, shooting him a disproving look. "I thought I was your right-hand man."
"You are… but I need a left-hand man too. Someone who won't hesitate to get the job done correctly. Someone who isn't afraid to get their hands dirty and I believe this is our guy." He pulled his gaze away from Tiny, turning his attention back towards the newcomer. The crowd was silent. Everyone was so shocked by what was occurring that no one dared to speak.
The bartender, Paul, wasn't impressed. "There will be no fighting in my bar! Leave at once or I'll drag you out myself!" the man threatened.
Their potential ally remained in place, giving Paul a defiant look that could be interpreted as 'try me'. Abraham was surprised Paul hadn't hired any guards to protect the place from troublemakers, but he supposed he hadn't found anyone that fit the mould yet. Troublemakers were rare however – often the worst was simply drunks getting a little too loud. Many of the drunkards fell asleep on the spot; they could only take a couple of steps before falling flat on their faces so fights were a rarity.
Paul took several steps towards the troublemaker then attempted to grab his arm to lead him out of the bar. Their hopeful ally didn't take kindly to being touched, and retaliated, driving a fist into the man's stomach. Paul staggered backwards, hands clutching his injured spot. The simple action caused the entire bar to break out into an uproar.
Fights broke out. It was as if seeing the bartender attacked triggered something animalistic in everyone else. A few mugs sailed through the air, some plates made contact with the walls, and even food was flung. Intoxicated women started throwing verbal insults at other women, and a few of them even engaged in a physical fight.
The man who had caused the fight stood on the sidelines watching the chaos around him before making an exit. Abraham tried to follow him, but the lost the man in the excitable drunken crowd. "Tiny!" he called out, summoning his burly companion. Glancing over his shoulder, he searched for the man, and found him holding back one guy from fighting another. He waved him over. "I need you over here now!"
Tiny released the young adult male and pushed his way through the squabbling crowd. "What now? We lost him."
It was like he just disappeared. One moment he was there, and the next moment he was gone. It was amazing how he had even been able to escape considering how much movement there was happening. Everywhere you turned, there were at least two other people there. "Dammit," he murmured. So much for the chance of approaching the guy, but at least he knew what to look out for.
Abraham ducked just in time to evade a glass thrown at his head. It sailed past and made contact with another man's back. He turned around, laid his eyes on Abraham and charged. Abraham ducked, allowing Tiny to throw a punch. Knuckles met with a nose and seconds later, a body dropped to the floor. "The place is out of control. We should leave," Tiny said.
For once, Abraham didn't disagree. Nobody here would be able to stop the fighting. Eventually, someone would escape and alert the Templars, and the bar would be forced to shut down for a couple of hours whilst the place was cleaned. It could even take a few days for it to be re-opened considering how out of control the situation had become. People were holding bleeding hands to their chests, whilst others now had black bruises under their eyes. He would've been laughing if he wasn't caught right in the middle of it.
Abraham gave Tiny the nod. "Let's move." Standing behind Tiny, Abraham remained close as the taller man cleared a path towards the exit, pushing countless people out of his way. Some people tried to pick a fight, but one glare from Tiny was enough to stop a man dead in his tracks. What only took a few minutes felt like hours, but eventually they reached the exit.
Stepping outside into the cool air was a pleasant change from the smells of alcohol and the sounds of merry laughter and drunken roars. It wouldn't be long before the Templars were alerted of the noise, and he certainly didn't want to be hanging around when they came. Templars could be a particularly nasty group of people when they were bothered.
"Where do you think he went?" Tiny said, searching left and right. "Perhaps he caught a carriage."
Surely, he can't have left the district already? The man had only left a few minutes ago. "Carriages arrive by the hour. There won't be any here until another thirty minutes," Abraham answered, moving a hand to his neck, giving it a rub.
"Maybe he climbed the roof," Tiny said.
Abraham rolled his eyes. Climbed a roof? Yeah, right. "Come on, let's keep looking."
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Jacob exited the bar whilst the crowd was distracted. Punching the bartender hadn't been planned, but it had worked in his favour, at least for now. The locals would be far too busy fighting with each other to even bother coming after him. However, not all his problems had been solved. There was still the matter of his sister to deal with.
"That was uncalled for," she said.
They were both standing on a rooftop belonging to a building just a block away from the tavern itself. There weren't any carriages around to use so his only option was to go up to escape. "Did you follow me just to give me a lecture?" Jacob retorted, turning around to glower at Evie. Her arms were crossed over her chest. She was giving him the usual, 'I'm very disappointed in you' look. He hated that look.
"One hour, Jacob. One hour."
She always referred to him by his name when she was displeased. His father often did the same as well when he was disappointed. He'd take a seat across from his son, look deep into his eyes, and say, 'I'm very disappointed in you, Jacob.' And that was all he needed to say for the hurt to cut deeper than any knife could. He could never come up with a response to counter those words, and that just left him feeling even more irritated and prone to outbursts of rage.
"Don't give me that look."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He pointed a finger at her. "That look. That same look of disappointment father had perfected."
Evie glanced upwards at the sky, as if expecting an answer, then turned to face him again. "I have to watch over you, brother."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped, temper rising.
She came forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, and said, "We're family. We're all that we have left. I made a promise to myself that I would always watch over you."
Jerking his shoulder back, he forced a dry bitter laugh and replied, "What? Because you don't trust me? Is this what this is about? You don't have enough faith in me to do the right thing? Is that why you insist on treating me like a child?" He wanted to throw something, but there was nothing around to use that he could break. All he could do was stand here and fume.
"I'm not treating y-"
Defensive, he retaliated. "You're always constantly on my case, lecturing me, scolding me for doing things that go against your precious fucking code," he hissed. "I had that fight under control! If you hadn't of shown up when you did, then I-"
"Calm yourself, brother. This is no time for us to be arguing," Evie replied, as calmly as ever, stopping him mid-sentence. He didn't know how she did that – he could complain, shout, rage and scream for hours and she would never raise her voice to match his. It was like she never felt anger. Either that or she was just so accustomed to his tantrums, she knew better than to fight fire with fire. "Clara has some information that might interest you. The Templars we seek? They're called the Blighters, and they're led by Bloody Nora."
Right. Bloody Nora. Leader of the Templars. Speaking of the Templars there'd probably be a swarm of them coming down to the bar to do a sweep. Fuck. Perhaps starting that fight hadn't been such a great idea after all. Of course, he could ask Evie to talk with the bartender and convince him that he could be trusted. Evie could be very persuasive when it came to cleaning up his messes. "You think Bloody Nora will come," he replied slowly, anger diminishing.
"If she does, I doubt she'd come alone. Your antics would've attracted the local Templars to the bar, and I'm sure they'll want to close the place down for a couple of days whilst they investigate. The police might even involve themselves." She brought a hand to her chin and stroked it, most likely conjuring up another plan of attack in her head. "Templars are probably on their way as we speak. You'll need to stay low until the fuss dies down."
"I can handle a couple of Templars."
"In broad daylight? Do you plan to murder a group of Templars right here in the open streets?"
He hated to admit it, but Evie raised a fair point. They'd have to wait until nightfall when it was much easier to blend in with the darkness of the night and escape. "Then we'll wait until its dark before we attack. Could be a chance for our new recruits to get their hands dirty too."
"New recruits? Do I even want to know? Perhaps not." She paused then sighed. "No. It's much too soon to use your friends. I haven't even met them yet – besides, how do you know they won't turn their back on you?"
Another good point. Evie was always naturally gifted in picking out the flaws in his suggestions. "I can't promise they won't, but once they've had their first taste of victory, they'll be less likely to flee. That's why I suggest bringing them along tonight. Practice run. They could stand guard outside, and I'll deal with the rest."
"You'll deal with the rest," she repeated.
"We need to take that bar back from Templar control. The people in it, like that Clara girl? They're important to our cause. That bar is our new home. If what you say is true, then the Templars will have control of that place… I intend to take it back tonight, with or without you. What's it going to be, Evie?"
"We need to plan ahead. Going in there without some sort of plan will be foolish and will lead to mistakes."
A muscle jerked in his jaw. "And you don't think I have plan," he growled, patience beginning to wear thin.
"If we're going to take this city, it's going to be by my blade."
His mouth twisted wryly. "You're forgetting who runs this operation."
"Correction, you've forgotten. The people will see you as the leader, but I control how this works."
If Evie had been anyone else but his sister, he would've thrown a punch. That normally was enough to show who was boss, but not in these circumstances. It was no surprise Evie had risen to the ranks of a Master Assassin so quickly. She had the skill, the intelligence, and she could be quite assertive when needed. Just like father. He grumbled. "What do we do about Bloody Nora? I think she'll be smart enough to realize not to come tonight. She'll send her lackeys to do it for her."
Evie nodded. "You may be right, but a war isn't won in a day. We'll deal with her after we've regained control of the bar."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Talk to Henry. He'll fill you in with the details of Clara. Head to the left, then take the second street to your right. He'll be waiting for you by medicine shop." She started walking away and stopped at the ledge of the building, then glanced over her shoulder to look at him. "And I mean what I said – we're taking this city by my blade." Before he could get in another word, she climbed down the building, leaving him alone to ponder his next step.
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Evie's only flaw was that she was far too forgiving. Although she never failed to express her disappointment in his methods, she would always forgive him, no matter how vile the deed. As she had said earlier, they were family, and all they had left was each other. He used that to his advantage. There was no way he was going to sit here and listen to Henry talk while his sister was getting all the action.
His plan? Take out the Templars himself before his sister had a chance. Besides, he felt it was his responsibility this time since he was the one who started the problems at the bar in the first place. He supposed Evie worried that he would make a mess of things again. Other people would find the concern flattering, but he found it more of an annoyance. She forgave, but did not trust him fully.
He climbed down the side of the building and made his way towards the main street. His latest recruits would be arriving soon, and he'd need to give them a brief crash course on how things would be from now on. Fortunately, they were the punctual type. He found his men standing on the corner of the street, just a couple of metres away from the bar's entrance.
"Where have you lads been hiding? Well, doesn't matter, you're here now anyway," Jacob commented. "I've got good news for you – tonight you're going to get paid. You are going to take what's rightfully yours," he added, referring to the coins in the pouches of the Templars.
All but Charles exchanged excited looks. "What's the catch?" Charles said. "You get the biggest pay cut?"
Jacob raised a brow. "No, course not. You'll get first pickings – I'll take what is left."
Charles's expression softened, relieved. "My men also want to know… Do we have a name for our… gang?"
"Yes, the Rooks."
Charles coked his head to the side and nodded. "The Rooks… Fitting name. I like it. So, what's the plan, boss?"
Jacob gestured towards the Seven Bells down the street. "Templars are taking over the bar. We're taking it back tonight. You five will wait outside in hiding – I'll let you know when it's your turn to get in on the action, all right? We have to take this carefully. We can't afford to make any mistakes." He'd prove to his sister that he could get the job done without any problems. Maybe then she'd learn to trust him enough that she wouldn't have to watch over his every move.
"Oh, I thought you should know we found a couple of guys watching you during the fight. We saw them a short time ago," Charles said. "I know their faces and I think you should be cautious."
"I have nothing to fear."
Charles bit his lower lip, and brought his palms together, then brought the tips of fingers to his chin. "They were charged with murder, boss. Abraham and Joseph, but I hear they call him 'Tiny'. They joined a gang then killed a leader and took control themselves. They were released from jail a few months ago, and I don't think you should trust them. What if they want to join us?"
Jacob studied Charles's face. Fear. Concern. He wondered if Charles and his men had crossed paths with this troublesome duo, and that led to their fear. He closed the gap between himself and Charles then placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and looked straight into his eyes. "If we cross paths with them, I'll let them join. I understand your concern, but no one gets the jump on me. I'll make good men out of these lads. What makes you think I can't do the same with them?" He pulled his hand back. "Now come on, let's find ourselves a place to drink."
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