Clearly, I suck at updating. Ayways. I should probably remind any readers this story was finished (a few weeks before Syndicate came out) and uploaded in 2015. I am re-uploading it as it was written - no edits have been made.
Thanks to denebtenoh and doubtedbus406. I'm updating for you (and for anyone else silently reading)
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Chapter Six: Take the Fight to the Enemy
Blood streamed down his face, spilling down onto his clothes and his hands, as he limped towards the carriage waiting zone. Belinda was at his side, providing him with much needed support, fretting over his injuries. "There is a blood everywhere! People are looking! It's like you were in a fight!" she said.
John glared at her. "I was in a fight, yer bloody woman!" Well, it was more of a one-sided match. No wonder his opponent looked so smug about it – he knew it was over before it had already begun. Obviously, he was trained in battle. He was probably one of those alley way rats that beat up people for a few pounds. He certainly hit with a lot of force.
Bringing his left hand to his nose, he caressed the tip, the flesh all numb and tender. Surprisingly, his nose wasn't broken, but he'd certainly be feeling it for a couple of days at the most. He was fortunate enough the bridge hadn't hit the edge of the table otherwise his nose probably would've broken.
People continued to look. Some of them even screamed and ran. No one tried to help him. They were probably worried he was still being targeted… or that he was some drunk who had stumbled out of the tavern. He spat at the ground. People were vile. Many of them deserved to suffer. It was for that reason he had joined forces with the Blighters, feeding them information he gathered from the Seven Bells in exchange for coin.
Bloody Nora was a cruel woman. He was pretty sure her heart was made of ice because it never seemed to thaw – kind words never left her mouth. It was all about power and control when it came to Bloody Nora and the Blighters. So far she had been doing an excellent job – more than three quarters of the city was under her influence. She had the transport system under her control, the local authorities heeded her every word, and many of the business owners followed her law. The next logical step would be to take control of the government and the Queen herself.
There were small groups of people that opposed the Blighters. Small gangs of men and women prowled the streets at night, looking for methods to take advantage of Templars. However, the gangs were disorganized and often failed to succeed in any of their plans, but they still continued to try. He snorted. It would take a great and skilled leader to challenge the authority of the Templar Order. Fortunately, the British Brotherhood was no longer a functioning order meaning the Templars had nothing to be worried about.
A carriage passed by. John stuck out his arm and called the driver over. "Over here!" John called.
The carriage pulled over to the side. He recognized the man as Mercutio, a fellow Templar supporter. "Climb on board," he said. John clambered onto the seat. Belinda climbed in after. "What happened to you?"
John snorted, pinching his nose again. He leaned forward slightly, hoping that would lessen the blood flow. "Some guy at the bar… Must be new to these parts because I ain't ever seen him around before." He spat at the space between his black shoes. Great. There was blood on them as well.
Mercutio grimaced. "No spitting in my carriage." He drew back a hand and dug it into a pocket, pulling out a white handkerchief and gave it to him. "If you need to spit, please use that. It costs a lot to make this carriage look clean. Now do go on. What did he look like?"
John shrugged. "Black coat. Top hat."
"Anything else? Surely, you must remember something?"
His mind drew a blank. "The last thing I remember was having my face smashed into the side of a table. Forgive me if I can't remember much detail."
"I remember," Belinda said. "He's a rogue beast who hurt my precious husband! Definitely young. Early twenties. Typical arrogance of a man at that age. Sideburns, devilish smirk. I wouldn't be surprised if he's the killer responsible for the deaths of those poor young men." She then paused, and added in a gentler tone, "There was also something. Something about the left sleeve. Golden glove, I thought."
"Assassin probably… Or pretending to be one," John murmured.
"He can't be one. I thought they liked to hide?" Belinda replied.
"Well, maybe they've gone rogue," John answered. "The British Brotherhood is dead and buried. Doesn't mean there aren't any more British Assassins about. Maybe he's some vigilante? Come here to London to remove Templars."
"An Assassin?" A thoughtful expression crossed Mercutio's face. "That was the same male I saw earlier in the week. I saw him a second time with a woman. Called themselves Jennifer and George. Now that I think about it, she had the same golden glove as well. You think they'd be trying to blend in better with the crowd and not having that so visible to the public."
"How many people even know about the Assassins?" John countered. "You probably didn't even know he was one yourself. Probably just thought he was odd. I wonder how many of them are here in London. Funny you mention a woman – I caught a glimpse of a woman with an Indian at the bar earlier. Maybe they're all in it together."
Mercutio looked worried. "Three Assassins? One is bad enough, but three? Bloody Nora is supposed to be meeting with the male tonight. It could be a trap."
"She's smart. I'm sure she'll have her own scheme to outsmart the Assassin," John said. "This Assassin here… I wouldn't call him stupid, but he doesn't seem too worried about keeping himself hidden like Assassins are rumoured to. Had a go at the bar owner as well before I hobbled out. I don't think Bloody Nora has to worry about being ambushed."
"We should still inform her. If the other two are Assassins as well, they could be hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike. Perhaps George is just a distraction from the real threat."
John didn't have a response to that. Mercutio could be right, but he hadn't seen the woman and the Indian male return, so he assumed they had left the area. Maybe they had other places to be. Hopefully. They continued riding in silence, passing by crowds of people, before making a right turn into an alleyway. This was the quickest route to Lambeth reserved only for transporting Templar allies around. Those not affiliated with the Order were taken down the long route and charged more. "Are you sure his name is George?"
"The woman said so."
"And you believe that?" No response. Mercutio was a little naive at times, but he had his uses. He did think the man was a liability – Mercutio would probably sell the secrets of the Blighters if interrogated and offered a better price. "That's one thing we have to find out. What his real name is."
They reached one of the entrances to Nora's base. Mercutio parked the carriage and all three climbed off. Normally, there'd be a few Templars around, but John suspected they were on their way to the bar now to temporary shut down operations while they investigated. There were only a few Templars in sight – a group of males dressed to look like commoners, and Bloody Nora herself. She was waiting for them in the courtyard.
"It's a bit early to pay your debts, Mercutio," she said. Her dark eyes turned to face him. "Ah, John. What a delight to see you. I wasn't expecting you so soon… I trust you have news for me?" She jerked her head at the Templar knights. "Clean him up. I can't have him walking around like that." The Templars nodded and moved towards him.
He was offered another handkerchief which he gladly accepted. The blood had stopped flowing for now at least. Spitting down on the cloth, he used it to wipe the blood off his face. He nodded. "It was an Assassin at the Seven Bells. He attacked me."
She stood before him. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. He wore a golden glove unlike anything I've ever seen sold here in the shops."
"What are we going to do now, Nora?" a Templar asked. "Assassins don't like Templars. We could be walking right into a trap."
Nora tilted her head to the side. John could already see a plan forming in her mind. "If this Assassin willingly attacks a civilian in a public place without little care then I highly doubt he's setting up a trap. I want you boys to go there tonight as planned. We'll see what he has to offer. Get an idea of what he's like so we can better learn to defend ourselves against him. Don't kill him – a dead Assassin is no use to me."
"Are you going to come?"
She shook her head. "I need to meet with the other leaders and inform them of what is going on. If the Assassins have come to London hoping to restore their Brotherhood here, then they've come to the wrong place of Britain. It will take some time, but the Assassins will be defeated. I want it to be a humiliating defeat."
"Of course. We will leave at once."
"And don't come back until you have something worthy to report."
The Templar nodded, motioned for a few men to follow him, and departed the scene.
"Now, you three have a job to do."
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Jacob soon realized the boys needed some weapons if they were to have any hope of dispatching Templars in close combat. They might have lived on the streets, but they hadn't the same level of experience as he did nor did they share the same skill set. He led them towards a merchant shop hoping to find a place which sold suitable weapons.
Stepping through the entrance, he was greeted to the smell of cheap liquor and tobacco. There a lone man sitting behind a counter, his feet resting on the surface, books and papers scattered all over the place. The man glanced up from his newspaper, pulled the pipe away from his mouth, took one good look then turned back to the paper.
"I'm looking for more some information. Perhaps you can help," Jacob started. The man ignored him. If there was one thing Jacob disliked more than Templars, it was being ignored. He brought a fist down onto the table. That grabbed the man's attention. He jumped in his seat, dropping the paper onto the ground. He immediately dove to the floor then climbed to his feet, holding a revolver in both hands. Ah, so the man was armed. Not really surprising since there was a 'murderer' on the streets.
"Don't make me pull the trigger!" the man warned.
Jacob rolled his eyes. "I need information. I'll pay you."
The man lowered the gun slightly. "How much?"
"Depends on the value of your information."
"What do you want to know?"
"You've heard about the Seven Bells right? Building is shut down until further notice. Know anywhere else we can get a few drinks?"
The man nodded. "The Thistle's Crown."
"Where's that?"
"Just down to your right at the very end of the street. It sits on the corner. Hard to miss. Got two trees in front of it and a lamp post. You won't be allowed there though – only special people are allowed to go there. Need a Red Cross or something. It's a gang hideout."
A Templar meeting place then. So the Templars had their own bar to call home. Fortunately, it wasn't too far away from the Seven Bells. This was a chance to recruit a few extra people to their cause. He'd have enough time to clear out both places. Besides, he had promised earlier he was going to treat his new friends to some drinks.
Jacob handed the man a few pounds. "For the information. Don't spend it all at once." Before the man could speak, Jacob walked out of the building, his men following behind him. "What do you boys say to a free drink down at the Thistle's Crown?" After all, he had promised them one earlier on. The boys exchanged excited glances – not one of them complained. "Sounds fine," Charles said.
Not that Jacob had been expecting them to complain. "We'll head on down to the Seven Bells as soon as night falls. Less likely to draw attention that way." He started leading the way to the Thistle's Crown then realized his new allies had stopped. "What are you lads waiting for? Don't tell me you're waiting for a carriage."
"You're heading the wrong way, boss," a Rook said. "It's the other way."
Right. Of course. "I was just testing you. Good to know you were listening to the directions."
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Evie climbed to the highest level of the tallest building in sight – a three storey building about three blocks away from the Seven Bells tavern. Arms stretched out to both sides, she crept forward down onto a ledge. From here, she could see her surroundings much better. She could see the crowds of people walking along the streets, all consumed by thoughts of their own daily troubles. She could see carriages arriving and leaving on the main street. She could even see her brother in the distance accompanied by a group of five men.
She suspected they were the recruits Jacob had been talking about. Where were they heading? They certainly weren't heading towards the place Henry was. In fact, they were going in the exact opposite direction. They appeared to be heading towards a shop. Perhaps Jacob was purchasing the men medical supplies to patch up whatever wounds the boys had sustained. They disappeared through the doors. Evie tightened her jaw. Hopefully, that wasn't a weapons shop.
"Don't give me a reason not to trust you," she said softly, then turned her attention from the building, gazing back down at the streets. That's when she spotted them. Templars. There was no doubt about it. She didn't even need to focus to know they were clearly the enemy. She counted five. No sign of a woman though. Perhaps Bloody Nora wasn't coming tonight.
She watched the Templars move inside the building. Hopefully, Clara and her father would be unharmed. But where was her brother? Last she saw he had gone inside that building. She was torn. Find her brother and save the bar another day or leave her brother and take down the Templars herself. She turned to the Seven Bells again.
"Dammit," she murmured. The bar would have to wait. No matter what, her brother always came first. If he wasn't with Henry then where was he, and what was he planning? He can't have gotten too far – surely, he'd still be somewhere in the city? She averted her gaze and muttered a curse. Her baby brother was going to be the death of her.
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The Thistle's Crown was a much smaller place then the Seven Bells. It was also home to less people since it was located further out from the city central. People just didn't want to walk this far to get a beer. Which was understandable. The prices were ridiculous! "-this is fucking expensive!" Jacob complained. "Ten pounds for one drink?"
Charles shrugged. "Glad I'm not the one paying."
So, that's why they hadn't complained. Crafty sneaky Rooks. Free expensive drinks. Jacob paid the money and stormed back over to the table in the far eastern corner. Fifty pounds poorer today thanks to the over-charging owners of this dump. The worst part? It wasn't even high quality ale! He felt like he had been robbed.
The tavern itself was a bland environment, lacking the joyful atmosphere the Seven Bells had. There were lights, but they were dim, giving the place a rather sombre feel. The windows were open, allowing cool air to fill the room, further adding to the hostile environment. There was no fireplace in this tavern nor any photo frames hanging on the walls. No wonder it was a base for Templars – they certainly weren't going to win over commoners with a bar set up like this.
"So, uh, you never told us your name," a Rook said. He was the one who had tackled Jacob to the ground during the alley way fight earlier in the week.
"It's Jacob Frye, but its boss to you lot."
"Oh, okay then, boss."
The boys tapped their mugs together and all took a sip at the same time. While the lads started up a 'who-could-drown-their-ale-faster', Jacob was more preoccupied with checking out the local people of the building. There were only two people working – a man and a woman, whom he suspected was the man's wife. He served the drinks and she carried them out.
Currently, there were only eight other people present, seated together on the opposite side of the room. He watched them intently, studying them. They appeared to be in high spirits about something… either that or they were drunk. One of them pointed at their table. All were dressed in simple brown coats and grey or black pants, and each man wore a black hat. He closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of their voices. He found it easier to concentrate when his eyes were closed as he didn't get distracted by all the colours.
A man with a hooked nose spoke first. "…Strain is supposed to be visiting in a couple of days. I hear he's been working on something."
"Strain? That tosspot? Can't say I look forward to seeing him again," said a man with a beard.
"Well, it must be something important if he's coming this early."
"Fuck Strain! He's not our leader. He's just one of Nora's lackeys. On that note, fuck Nora too. She doesn't pay us enough." His words were greeted by laughter from some of the other men. "I've been working my ass off overtime for the past couple of weeks, and I still haven't been paid the right amount. A man has got to drink." Again, there was laughter.
"You wouldn't say that to her face. You better be glad she's preoccupied with other business, or she'd shoot you dead, Thomas."
The man called Thomas threw his head back and laughed. "You are too serious, boy. No wonder you're still carrying out the grunt work." He patted his friend on the back. "Say, why don't you prove yourself a man and take on those lads over there? Not often we have visitors."
Jacob opened his eyes again having heard enough. They were Templars, that much was obvious, and it seemed like a few of them didn't appreciate their leaders. That was enough for him to think they could join the Rooks after some convincing. Though he despised the cost of the ale and its foul taste, he made a mental note to return at a later date. He would've worked on convincing them tonight, but he had plans elsewhere.
"We need to leave," Jacob ordered.
His Rooks looked a little disappointed, but they rose from their seats and followed him towards the exit. Jacob managed to cover a few metres when Thomas called them out. "Where are you boys going? Can't leave without introducing yourselves!"
"What do we do, boss?" a Rook asked nervously.
Eight men. He could take them on with ease, especially since they'd be a little more sluggish due to the alcohol in their system, but he had another fight to attend do. "Keep walking. Wait around the corner of the Seven Bells. I'll meet you there." The Rooks left.