Thanks to everyone still reading this! Apologies for the update - things have been pretty hectic over the past couple of months!
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Chapter Twelve: Reign of Chaos
Concentrating was proving to be more difficult than usual. He blamed Evie for that. The recent argument with her had left him boiling with fury. She supported his plan to retake London, and yet it sounded like she was going back on it now, as if she regretted it! He sprinted across the roof top and made a running leap to the other side, but failed to make landing correctly.
He stumbled backwards, and almost fell over the side, but managed to grip the ledge with both hands in time. Bloody Evie. With a grunt, he forced himself up over the ledge, clambered to his feet, and walked to the opposite side. It wasn't often he came up here to see the sights of London. He preferred to be the ground – that's where all the action took place. Still, being up here allowed him the best possible view of London. Finding Robert Strain wasn't going to be an easy task.
Finding the Templar wasn't his only problem. The newspaper had noted the weather was going to take a turn for the worst, and glancing upwards now, he could see they were right. Dark menacing clouds stretched right across to the horizon, blocking out the rays of the sun, covering any patch of blue sky. He heard the faint rumble of thunder in the distance, and even spotted a flash of lightning to the right where the clouds were darkest.
"Fucking perfect," he muttered. A chase in the rain meant sliding carriages which could make him lose sight of the enemy much easier. On the bright side, he hoped that would mean less people crowding the streets. Harming the innocent was something he avoided – but if people dared to get in his way… Well they would only have themselves to blame for what came next.
He searched the streets. People were starting to take notice of the weather and were heading inside to take cover. Rain wasn't rare to London by any means, but traipsing around in a storm was dangerous. Though stories of people being struck by lightning were rare, it did happen, and he didn't want to include himself in the count. However, if it meant killing Strain, it was worth the risk.
"Robert Strain, show yourself," he said, looking both left and right, searching for a glimpse of the foolish pompous brat. He shouldn't be too difficult to find – how many people walked around the streets looking that ridiculous?
"On your knees, now!"
His head jerked to the right. Down below in an open busy street, he spotted a three Templars interrogating a couple of beggars. Rising to his feet, he walked over to the ledge where a perch stuck out. With caution, he stepped onto it and edged over to the end. There was a haystack down below. Convenient yet again.
One of the beggars was slapped in the face. A Templar came forward and forced the beggar onto their legs, and shoved him up against a carriage. A public beating session? He focused his attention on the carriage itself. Keen senses told him the man seating on the right side was Robert Strain. Now he had a target to direct his anger at.
He leaned forward over the edge then jumped down, plummeting to the ground, like a falcon making a dive. He landed in the haystack, scaring a few locals nearby then climbed out. At least there was no horse manure hidden this stack either. Removing strands of hay off his clothing, he strode over towards the carriage waiting line.
Fortunately, there was a carriage waiting already. He looked up. There was a blonde female in the driver's seat. Her hazel eyes met with his. "Where would you like to go, sir?" she said in a bored manner, as if she had asked that for the tenth time this morning.
"Nowhere with you," he said, jumping up into the carriage.
"Hey! You can't just climb in! You need to pay!" she shrieked, climbing to her feet, reaching for her red purse.
Jacob rolled his eyes. Seriously? What was she going to do with that? Whack him over the head? "Listen lady, I'm goin' to borrow your carriage for awhile, all right?"
That was the polite term for it. He had no intentions of returning it. Her jaw dropped in shock. She then realized what his words meant and sprung into action, swinging her purse in random directions, yelling obscenities. She even tried to kick him below the belt. For that, he punched her in the face. He then shoved her out of the carriage for good measure, making sure to keep the purse for himself. He'd use it to reward the lads later.
He sat down and grabbed the reins. He had driven a carriage once before in his lifetime when he was racing in the streets against some of his friends. It had been many years since then but surely the basics were the same? He jerked the reins hard. The horses screamed and bolted forward. The Templars up ahead climbed back into their carriages and moved. The chase was on.
"Get out of my way!" he bellowed at a woman crossing the road. She turned to face him and screamed, yet refused to step aside, as if she didn't believe him. She gave him a defiant glare one which he took as a challenge. "Fuck you, bitch." He jerked the reins. The horses surged forwards. He made sure to steer them in her direction.
The woman then realized he wasn't fooling around. She threw herself out of harm's way a few seconds later, a string of curses leaving her mouth. Smirking to himself, he yanked on the reins harder, prompting the horses to go faster. That had been fun. He wondered if he could scare a few more people. That would teach them. People yelling. Horses screaming. People diving out of the way and swearing. Carriages skidding to a halt. Ah, the beautiful sound of chaos.
As he charged after Strain's carriage, he was caught unaware when another carriage rammed into him. The impact was so strong he was almost thrown over the side himself, but managed to remain steady. He turned to face the newcomer. Three Templars. One driver and two shooters. The first Templar stood on the seat then placed a foot on the side of the carriage. He then made the jump, tackling Jacob.
Swearing, Jacob threw the Templar off him, making sure to slam his head hard into the railing. When the man recovered, Jacob kneed him in the stomach then pushed him over the edge. The man hit the ground hard, skull smacking the path. He'd be lucky to get out of this one alive. One Templar down, two more to go. The second Templar watched him warily.
"You goin' to jump?" Jacob taunted.
The Templar didn't look so confident. "Make the jump, you idiot! Stop him!" the driver panicked.
He lunged, but miscalculated the timing, and ended up colliding with the side of the carriage. Needless to say, he was no longer a threat. Jacob grabbed the reins again and steered his horses to the right, narrowly missing a street light. A few more people leaped out of the way. One called him crazy. Another tried to throw a shoe at him.
The driver reached a hand down into his pocket and pulled out a revolver. A gun fight then. So be it, he thought. He snuck a hand beneath his own coat, and pulled out his own ranged weapon. Before his opponent could pull the trigger, Jacob fired. His shooting skills were less than ordinary, but he managed to get the job done. The bullet struck the driver in the side of the shoulder. Wounded, he released his grip on the reins and jumped out of the carriage. Startled at the sound, the horses took a sharp turn to the left, charging down another street before crashing into a wagon.
With a smirk, Jacob grabbed the reins of his carriage again, and prompted his horses to gallop faster. Up ahead, he saw another carriage pull out of a street. Once again, there were three Templars. One of Templars fired at him. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the bullet. The horses screamed, panicked. They galloped through the streets in a frenzied manner, swaying back and forth, throwing Jacob from side to side.
The swaying motion made his stomach churn. Any more of this and he was going to be sick. The horses made a sharp turn as they crossed to the opposite side of the street. Jacob was thrown off balance, and smacked his head against the side. A sharp implosion of pain erupted in his forehead. He recovered, but felt a little dazed by the impact. Moving items temporarily blurred with each other, and for a split second, he wasn't sure what was going on.
"Slow down, men!" a Templar roared.
The carriage slowed down, allowing Jacob to catch up. His horses screamed again, and made another rough turn. He clung onto the side for dear life, and held on until his horses settled. There was no other option – he had to abandon the carriage and steal another one. He climbed to his feet and hopped up onto the seat. The bouncing motion made his nausea feel even worse. Come on, you can do this, he told himself.
Bending his knees slightly, he stretched his arms out to both sides to maintain his balance. The Templars didn't fire, temporarily bemused by the idea of watching him jump. He counted to three. One… two… a Templar fired. The bullet struck one of his horses in the side. As the horse screamed and tried to rear, Jacob flung himself at the opposite carriage.
He tackled the shooting Templar to the seat. The other Templar grabbed him by the nape of the neck, and pulled him up, before delivering a sharp jab to his stomach. With a growl, Jacob thrust both hands forward. Caught by surprise, the Templar staggered backwards, stepped on the driver's lap, and jumped when the driver screamed. He toppled over the side and out onto the street.
He felt someone grab his leg. The first Templar. Raising his leg, he brought it crashing down, making sure to apply as much weight as possible. The Templar screamed. Jacob turned his attention to the driver and kicked him in the head.
"Ow, fuck," the man swore, clutching his head with both hands.
Jacob grabbed him by the collar, slammed his forehead into the man's own skull then lazily pushed over the edge. The driver hit the pavement. Last but not least, the shooter. He bent down, grabbed the collar using both hands and shoved him up against the side. "For fucking with me and making me lose my horses, you deserve this." Activating his hidden blade, he thrust the weapon into his stomach then withdrew. Seconds later, the Templar joined his comrades on the ground.
With a grunt of satisfaction, Jacob sat back down and took control of the reins. Robert's carriage was up ahead – he could hear the man yelling orders. He also saw a bridge fast approaching. A bridge could only mean one thing. There was water below. Now more than ever he had to ensure he could control the horses. A jump over the side meant a few minutes of wasted time and that could be just enough for Strain to escape.
"Fire!"
Before Jacob could veer the horses out of the way, the carriage was struck. The horses were still running so they obviously hadn't been hit. The aim had been to scare them, and it worked too. They veered to the left towards the bridge's side. "Fuck me," he swore, bracing himself for impact. Screaming, the horses jumped over the side. Jacob flew out of his seat. He had seconds to react.
Throwing his left arm in the air, he activated the rope launcher. A sturdy rope shot out, a hook at the end which locked onto the side of the bridge. He swung from side to side until it steadied then waited for the rope to pull him up. Very useful item in tight situations. He climbed over the bridge then freed himself before continuing on with the pursuit.
Members of the public rushed to the side to get a glimpse of what happened. Some people tried to talk to him, but he ignored him. One woman tapped him on the shoulder. It was often said it was wrong to hit women, but Jacob didn't discriminate – he would happily hit anyone regardless of their gender. He turned around and hit her in the face. All that mattered was finding Robert Strain. He didn't care about the horses, the carriages or the trail of injured and dead Templars on the streets. He was going to find the bastard, and kill him.
"The poor horses!"
"Someone save the horses!"
Jacob sprinted along the streets, searching left and right. Where could the Templar have gone? There were a few residential buildings to the right, a few more to the north, but to the left he saw a sign that read, 'King's Cross Station'. Of course. Strain would use the train as protection. Riding a train was more dangerous than riding a carriage, but it would be fun to try something new.
He hurried towards the train station, shoving a few more people out of his way. The place was packed – crowds everywhere. The final boarding call was being read out. He didn't know which train to catch but he figured Strain would be on the one leaving next on platform one. Rather than take the long way around and take the stairs, he took the easy option and crossed the tracks. Someone called him out. He didn't know who and he didn't care. Robert Strain and his Templar pals were up ahead boarding.
"Do you have a boarding pass?"
"No."
"Then you can't board the train. Turn around and leave please, sir."
The train started moving. Fuck. Only one thing to do. Take a risk and jump on the back.
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"We're looking for a woman called Evie."
Evie glanced up from the newspaper on the table and spotted two men standing at the doorway. It was breakfast time now, and the Rooks had joined her downstairs, keeping her company whilst her brother ran off to blow off some steam. She recognized them as the two men from the other day during the brawl at the tavern. They knew her name which meant they had recently crossed paths with Jacob Frye. Most likely he had directed them here to obtain her approval… or distract her.
To her, these men were of no concern, but Charles seemed worried. He turned around, and tapped her on the back and whispered into her ear, "That's Abraham and Tiny. Two notorious ex-criminals." He pulled back, his lower lip curled.
Evie rose to her feet and walked over to greet the two men. The tall one, whom she assumed was 'Tiny', was certainly an imposing figure with broad shoulders and a strange tattoo on his face. His companion, the man with the green coat, wore a smirk. The man looked her up and down the held out a hand for her to take. "You must be Evie, then. It's a pleasure to meet you, madam."
"And I you," she said curtly. "What brings you here?" The entire tavern had fallen silent. The Rooks had stopped eating their breakfast, more fascinated with watching her interact with these two 'infamous' criminals. She wasn't concerned in the slightest. Should these men try anything, and she'd have a blade pressed up against their throats before they even had a chance to counter.
"We bumped into someone called Jacob Frye. We told him we were looking for work, and he said to send us both to you," Abraham said, then turned his head, dark eyes taking in his surroundings. He was judging; that much was certain. Perhaps he found it weird there was only one female in the room.
Henry appeared besides her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised. He had appeared out of nowhere without warning. He held her gaze. "We can turn them away. Notorious ex-criminals… could attract us the wrong attention, and your brother makes enough trouble for all of us," he whispered.
"If Jacob trusts them, I can as well," she replied, her voice low enough for only Henry to hear. "A gang can only become stronger with more people. We'll need them if we're going to take this city regardless of their history. My brother will lead them, and I will watch from the shadows." If she needed to step in, she would, but she trusted her brother would do the right thing would these men. As he liked to mention, he knew these people better than she did. If anyone had a chance of uniting them, it would be her brother.
"So… will you accept us?" Abraham drawled.
Evie averted her gaze from Henry and nodded at Abraham. She accepted his handshake. "Of course. Now let me tell you a few things about the Rooks and our cause."
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Jacob kicked the man in the shin and charged forward, throwing himself onto the train, grabbing onto the ladder. He clambered up, and glanced down at the platforms. Hundreds of people were watching him. Some children were pointing. Strangely, there were no policemen in sight. Where had all the police gone?
He walked across the train, knees slightly bent to ensure balance. The train slowly picked up speed as it left the platform behind. Rain began to fall. "Just my fuckin' luck," he cursed. He slowed his movements. The surface was slippery. A misstep and he'd slide off the side and lose his chance at killing Strain. Lightning flashed in the distance which was followed by a deep rumble of thunder. How atmospheric, he thought. With any luck, Robert might get struck by some lightning instead.
"So you're the killer that has been headlining the papers," a man drawled, stepping out from behind the safety valves. Robert Strain. Two more men popped up behind the whistle, each man equipped with a gun. "Jacob Frye, wasn't it?"
So, the man knew his name. Evie or Henry had probably mentioned it during their short stay at The Falcon's Nest. "And you are Robert Strain. I have your money bag. Well, correction. I did. It's in the trash now."
There was another flash of lightning followed by another clap of thunder. The rain picked up in its intensity, beginning to bucket down. Within a few seconds, he was drenched from head to toe. "Did you come here to London believing you could save the people here? Don't you understand how it works? We've laid out the foundations of order and we're building upon that."
"You're taking away the basic right for people to live freely," Jacob retorted.
Robert Strain threw his head back and laughed. "Don't be a fool, boy! How do you think society improves? There will always be a division between the poor and the rich. You have to work hard to be rewarded – why should we care for those who cannot help themselves?" He spat at the floor. "Your people speak of freedom, but you are never truly free."
Jacob tightened his jaw. "You have people working in your factories, slaving away day and night, for less than a pound! These people work until they're broken."
"And without these people working, who else is going to do it? There's a place for everyone on the social ladder. It just so happens to be these people are at the bottom. They are unskilled and have no education – they are not missed when they die," he said, shrugging his shoulders, giving him a mock pitying look. "They're easily replaced. If the parents aren't available to work, we take on the children. Children will do anything to help their parents."
Jacob took a few steps forward, but stopped when the Templars raised their guns. The rain was bucketing down so hard now it was hard to see exactly what was in front of him. But he could hear them and that was enough to fight back. "There won't be a place for you on the social ladder anymore. Not after today."
Again, the man laughed. "These people you want to save… Do you really think you can actually help them?"
"Yes."
"How sweet, really." Robert's eyes narrowed. "But you're wrong. You see, Jacob Frye, you and I are not that much different. We both have a goal – to better society except out methods differ slightly. We will both do whatever it takes to achieve that goal no matter who gets hurt in the process." He raised both hands up into the air, as lightning crackled above. "Welcome to the new world, Assassin."
The first Templar fired. Jacob sidestepped and slipped over. Fortunately, he hadn't gone too close to the edge and was able to climb to his feet without problems. The Templars still had their guns raised, fingers resting on the trigger, ready to pull on command. Jacob searched for his revolver again.
"Don't shoot him dead," Robert Strain ordered. "Nora wants him alive!"
Well, at least they weren't going to shoot to kill, but that didn't mean he couldn't return the favour. He concentrated on his surroundings, focusing his senses. The sounds of the train chugging along the train tracks, the claps of thunder and the calming sound of pouring rain. Robert Strain was somewhere at the far end, still most likely behind the safety valves.
He heard someone pull a trigger. He rolled out of harm's way, narrowly avoiding the bullet. Without sparing a second thought, he fired back through the blinding rain. A shout of pain confirmed he had hit his target. He hurried forward, making sure he remained in the centre of the train as to not slide over the edge. He heard the other Templar pull the trigger.
Another gun shot. A foot away this time. "Even if you succeed today, your reign of power will be short-lived. You haven't the skills to raise an empire," Robert Strain taunted. More lighting. Another deep rumble of thunder. The rain was beginning to ease now. The worst of the storm was starting to pass. "Nor do you have the temperament for it."
Jacob fired again. The second Templar shouted. With the rain now easing, his visibility had improved greatly. The first Templar was still on board the train, sitting down on the ground, face scrunched up in pain, blood pouring out of a leg wound. His gun was nowhere to be seen. As for the second Templar? He had slipped over and fallen off the train. Idiot.
Jacob moved towards Robert, making sure to kick aside the first Templar. Now there were only two people left atop the train – Robert and himself. The man didn't even show any fear. He seemed to enjoying it. Jacob lowered his gun, putting it back within his coat. He wasn't going to spare a bullet on this man. No, he deserved a beating.
Robert's mouth tipped ruefully. "What's your plan then, Jacob Frye? Unite the working class people under one banner? How is that any different to what we're doing now?" He took a few steps backwards as Jacob continued moving forwards.
"We don't exploit the poor for personal gain."
"And if you succeed in your plans, how will society function? Who will do the ground work in your world? Deny it all you want, Assassin, but this is how the world needs to be to grow though I suppose it's too much to ask for someone of your kind to understand the complexity of order."
The rain had reduced to a gentle shower, but the ominous clouds remained. The lower parts of the city's streets were now small pools. Surprisingly, there were still people walking about, though many of them were wet. Those that were fortunate to have a limitless supply of pounds wore extra coats to provide an extra layer.
He turned to face Strain again. "Your reign of chaos ends here, Robert."
"Then so be it."
He charged forward, and made a running leap up onto the elevated platform. The brass knuckles weren't equipped right now, but he didn't need them to beat Strain. He lunged. Robert Strain withdrew a small knife and thrust it forwards. To evade the blow, Jacob stepped to the left, just far enough for the knife to pass by. He grabbed Robert's knife arm, gripped it firmly then slammed his head forward, striking him in the nose.
Robert let out a startled cry, releasing the knife from his hand. He tried to pick it up, but Jacob stomped on his hand, crushing the fingers as best as he could. Seeing Robert's face scrunch up in pain was a sight to behold. For all his talk, the man could not fight to save his life. He supposed that's why he had bodyguards with him.
He kicked him in the head with his knee, throwing Strain onto his backside. Before Robert could sit upright, Jacob pinned him to the ground, hidden blade at his throat. "Now you know what it feels like to be helpless, much like the working class people you like to exploit."
"Then kill me, but know this will not change anything, Assassin. Despite your efforts to stop us, the Order will always rise again from the ashes." His lips curved upwards into a sneer just as Jacob thrust the blade through his heart. The life in the man's eyes faded, but the smile remained on his face. Jacob withdrew the bloodstained blade. This was a victory, yet he only felt hollow inside.
He left Strain's corpse on the train. By the time the train reached its next destination, Strain's body would be well outside London's borders. No one would bother trying to track down Strain's killer. He started heading over towards the streets, pleased the place was devoid of people in this area, though it was a bit strange seeing it so empty when moments earlier it was busy.
"You are under arrest!"