The Fifth Life: London's Bloody Cry
I return once again!
I set the Reviews to show only those for Ch. 79, and I was really confused as to why there were Reviews from back in May. Then I was like, "Oh, yeah. That's when they unveiled black Annabeth."
A bit late to reopen old discussions, but whoever that Guest is that told me that blackwashing doesn't exist—you're not just wrong, you're stupid.
Moving on.
Only one person, at least, only one person commented on the question from last chapter about Priscilla's genetic condition, taking a shot at the theory that Priscilla is a hermaphrodite. Close, but no. Hermaphrodites are creatures with both male and female genitalia, in that they can produce sperms and eggs, and Priscilla does not have a vagina tucked under her testicles.
What Priscilla does, in fact, have, is an extra X chromosome, so she has an XXY genetic code. Priscilla has what's called Klinefelter Syndrome. That's a real thing, look it up.
Kinda makes you wonder how a demigod with KS would fit into CHB and/or CJ
Anywho, here we have the last chapter of the Fifth Life arc, featuring Karl Marx and Jack the Ripper!
Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or AC
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Inspired by historical events and an over-active imagination, this work of fiction was designed, developed, and produced by a single-cultural team of one religious faith and belief, sexual orientation, and gender identity.
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Priscilla and Ned stood there and listened as the German revolutionary argued with a policeman.
"For the last bloody time!" the policeman said, exasperated, "move on or else!"
The German refused. "You cannot frighten me! I insist on being heard!"
"Has a crime been committed, sir?"
"Indeed! A crime against humanity! I demand you live up to your responsibilities!"
The policeman scoffed. "You're a fine one to talk about responsibility. You look like a bloody tramp!"
Which was true. The German was wearing dingy clothes that could stand a good washing or three, and his beard was thick and bushy, his hair just as wild though he was balding.
"Now you listen to me," the policeman continued. "I have been ordered to keep your rallies off the streets," he pulled his baton from his belt and put into the German's face, "by any means necessary…"
And then Priscilla threw a knife into the policeman's neck, and he went down two seconds later.
The German frowned, "Unfortunate," then he looked over and his eyes widened. "You are Peter Frye and Ned Wynert!"
The couple shared a look. It wasn't like they'd advertised their names, so how did this old tramp know who they were…?
"Uh, Priscilla, actually. I'm a girl. Peter was just an alias."
"You're right about me, though. I'm Ned."
"And you are?" Priscilla prompted.
"Karl Marx."
Ah. That was why the policeman was harassing the German. Karl Marx was the German radical proposing a new system of government that he called communism, the root word being community, that had a huge focus on putting power in the hands of the working class people. Naturally, rich people didn't like the idea of their hundreds of pissed on underlings having more power than they did, and so Marx was viewed in a generally unfavorable light by the rich, and by the people that the rich told them to hate or else it would be their jobs.
"You two have done for the people of London in the past two months than anyone else has in a decade!" Marx praised. "But those citizens were already well-provided for. I challenge you both to help those the really need your assistance: the working people."
"Okay," Priscilla shrugged.
Ned looked down at her. "Shouldn't we at least-?"
"No."
"But-"
"I said no, darling," Priscilla said sweetly.
"Y-Yes, dear."
Priscilla liked being a girl. It was fun wrapping her man around her finger.
Marx's eyes darted between them, filing them away as a couple in his mind. "Does this mean you'll help me?"
"The lady here has deemed it so," Ned said sagely.
Priscilla nodded enthusiastically.
"Wundabar!" Marx exclaimed. "Follow me."
He started off and the couple followed him.
"I am organizing a discreet meeting with some like-minded friends to discuss trades unions. Alas, the police seem to have noticed my activities. They've stuck to me like flies on schiza. In any case, I need you to help me get to the meeting without the interference of the police."
They made it to back alleys of Whitechapel when Marx pointed at a man skulking in the shadows. "You see? There's one of their damned spies now."
Priscilla activated her Eagle Vision, and sure enough, the man glowed red. There were also police in the area, and they glowed blue.
"Let's try to keep things quiet, hm?" Marx suggested. "The less police attention we have, the better off we are."
Priscilla and Ned nodded, and so when it came to the spies, there were some conveniently hanging barrels that Priscilla tossed a knife at, severing the rope. The barrels came down on the trailing spies and crushed them.
After Marx met with his contact, he said, "I had similar problems in Paris. Well, Paris and Brussels. And also Cologne…ahem. Our next worthy ally works in a nearby pub. Follow me!"
And so they went to this nearby pub and saw police waiting inside. There were also some Blighters on the adjacent street corner, and a group of Rooks nearby.
"Oh, I'll handle this one," Ned insisted, feeling a bit put out by Priscilla having done all the work with the previous spies. Ned whistled at the Rooks. "Oi! Get them!"
He pointed at the Blighters.
"Right, you are, Mr. Ned!"
The Rooks drew guns and knives, and engaged the Blighters right there in the middle of the nighttime London streets. The commotion drew out the crowd in the pub, including the police and their accompanying spy. Ned killed the spy in the midst of the chaos, while Priscilla tossed a smoke bomb into the mix. The Rooks bolted the scene before any police could be killed.
Marx, Priscilla, and Ned met behind the pub.
Marx said, "I believe our work here is complete. Come, let's slip away and get to the meeting. I do appreciate your assistance in this matter. Only when workers are able to assemble freely and in strength will we be able to achieve the reforms we most assuredly deserve. Might I trouble you to stay nearby until the meeting is over? I fear we may yet meet with some mischief."
Mischief met them no more than ten seconds later when they passed an adjacent alley.
One of Marx's contacts was talking with police.
"I told you, Marx will be here! Heard it from the man's own lips. Now, about my payment."
"You'll get your thirty pieces, chum, don't you worry," said the policeman.
Marx was visibly deflated. "It seems the movement is ever doomed to be betrayed from within. Will you fetch that gentleman back here? I would look him in the eye and ask why he betrayed us."
It was a short retrieval, and Priscilla and Ned brought the traitor back to Marx.
"Simon," the revolutionary said dejectedly, "my friend. Why did you do this thing? Has the Party not taken care of you?"
Simon glared. "The governor at the mill said any man that joins a Union will be out of work by sunup. How long will the Party feed my family for, eh?"
Marx was silent as he thought of a rebuttal. Unable to come up with one, he said, "If we do not stand together, we will fall divided. My heart is broken, Simon. Please, go home. Go to your family."
Ned let Simon go, and the man ran off into the night.
Marx looked back at Ned and Priscilla, his eyes heavy. "I thank both of you. I hope you will continue to aid the struggle when it presents itself."
"We'll see what we can do," Priscilla said. "Good luck, Mr. Marx."
Priscilla grabbed Ned's arm, and after a respectful nod of his own, Ned properly looped his arm for Priscilla to slip her hand upon, and he led her off to their own devices.
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The struggle presented itself not too far off into the future, just two days later, when Ned and Priscilla found Marx outside a small factory that was abusing its workers. Too many injuries and yet the place still ran, so Marx suspected that the reports were being kept hidden. It was his idea to get those reports.
"There must be records of the accidents somewhere inside, which would surely prove their malfeasance. I should think you'd need to find the foreman, but how you'd convince him to give you the reports..." Marx trailed off.
Priscilla snorted. "I'll handle that."
"Uh…"
Priscilla was already jogging up to the factory's open door.
Marx looked at Ned. "Will she be…?"
"Definitely," Ned said. "She's a big girl. Can use the toilet and wipe her butt all by herself."
"Uh…wunderbar?"
Priscilla had some really good ears, and she turned around to make a very rude gesture at her boyfriend. Ned goes poking through her dirty laundry, finds a pair of her underwear, and now he won't shut up about it. It wasn't like he had never made the mistake of thinking he got it all.
Now a bit miffed at the unnecessary jab at her hygiene, Priscilla stomped her way through the factory to where she had seen the foreman glowing gold. Despite looking like the Grim Reaper in her black leather poncho, no one stopped her.
Priscilla reached the foreman and produced one of her revolvers. The man stiffened. "I want all the money you have in the safe in your office. Now."
"Y-Yes, ma'am. O-Of course, ma'am."
Priscilla followed the foreman through the factory to his office, and when she shut the door behind her, it was reopened. A pair of guards entered, and before anything else could happen, Priscilla shot them both dead and then looked at the horrified foreman.
"Get on with it," she prompted, wagging the gun.
The foreman scrambled to undo the safe, and it popped open with a click. Inside were hundreds of bills, and also a stack of papers.
"Those papers there, what are they?"
"Th-These? In-Incident r-reports-"
A third gunshot.
Priscilla popped the top of her revolver, took the empty casings out, and reloaded. She flipped the top into place and holstered her weapon at the back of her waist under her poncho. She grabbed the incident reports, skimming through the stack to make sure these were the right ones, and then nodded after confirming this.
Priscilla found Ned and Marx making idle chitchat. "Got the documents."
Marx's eyes lit up. "These are even more than I had originally hoped for! Thank you, fraulein."
"You're welcome,"Priscilla bounced a little bit in place at the German term.
It still made her feel bubbly when her identity was confirmed.
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What followed next with Karl Marx was the sad story of Frank Morris.
The man's son died of exhaustion following an 18-hour shift with no breaks. Since the British government had no labor laws, no protection for the workers, employers could literally get away with working children to death. Because of this supreme lack of legislation, Frank's grief over his son's untimely passing turned to rage against Parliament. His plan was to steal a cartful of nitroglycerin and basically ram the Houses of Parliament.
Suicide bomb before it was cool.
Marx had something to say about that. "I understand his pain, but killing people and destroying property solves nothing."
Priscilla and Ned shared a look, and recalled all the people they'd killed, all the property they'd destroyed, and the results of their actions. In Marx's own words from last week, the two of them had had a huge impact on London, and what had they done to achieve those results?
Killed people and destroyed property.
They supposed it was the context behind the killing and the destroying.
Them killing Blighters and Templars in order to cripple Starrick's monopolies across the board, breaking trains, sinking boats, crashing carriages? That's okay.
A grieving father seeking to bomb the capital building in order to send a message to the government about the working class weren't going to take their shit anymore? That's bad.
"We'll stop him from blowing up Parliament," Priscilla promised.
She and Ned succeeded in that, hijacking the nitro from Morris after he stole it from the Blighters, but the Blighters stole the nitro back during the commotion of a fight that resulted in them being ambushed. After that, Priscilla and Ned tracked the shipment of nitro to Southwark, where they found Morris, who tried to steal a crate of nitro, and got shot by a Blighter.
The bullet struck the nitroglycerin and parts of Frank Morris went everywhere.
A sharp breath left Priscilla and she began to shake in rage.
"Priscilla…?" Ned asked.
"They…they…"
The two were up on the roof of the Blighter stronghold, and Priscilla's grip on the brick ledge was so strong that the brick started to crack under her strength. Ned blinked.
"They killed him," Priscilla growled. "He was a father…grieving for his son…he was a father that loved his son…and they murdered him…"
Ned didn't know who Priscilla was referring to in regards to "they" and "him," but he had never seen Priscilla this enraged before.
"Unforgiveable," she muttered.
And then she leapt off the roof, her poncho fluttering around her as she fell right on top of the Blighter below, stabbing him through the neck on impact.
"Oi!" another Blighter cried. He got shot in the face for his troubles, and the gunshot alerted the other Blighters. They came running from elsewhere on the premises, from inside the building and outside, and Priscilla had bullets for all of them. When the cylinders ran out, she had plenty of knives.
Not once did she have to engage in any melee combat.
Ned made his way down.
"If you ask me if I'm okay, I'm going to kick your lips," Priscilla said flatly.
Ned didn't know if "lips" referred to the lips of his mouth or the lips between his legs, but he didn't ask if his girlfriend was okay. He said, "If you need to talk, I'm always here for you."
Priscilla just nodded. "Let's destroy the nitro and get out of here."
They worked in silence as they destroyed the crates of the volatile chemicals, Ned often shooting a worried glance at Priscilla. Her father was about the only thing that could really piss her off, and seeing Morris, a man that loved his son so much that he was willing to go down such a daring path as bombing Parliament, must've hit a huge nerve with her.
Jealousy, perhaps.
Jealous that her own father hated her so much.
It made Ned feel bad, because his father had loved him a long time ago, and his showing of gratitude for that love was to run away in the night and turn to a life of crime, eventually ending up in London with a whole new identity. Ned hadn't even left a note, nor had he even bothered to check in on how his old family was doing in all these years.
The two destroyed the supply of nitroglycerin, and outside the compound they found Marx.
"Ah, Morris—oh."
Ned explained Morris's death.
Marx was visibly dejected. "I see. I was afraid something like this may happen. He was a good man, but even the best of us can be blinded by grief. Still, I thank you for preventing further tragedy."
"You're welcome," Ned said.
Priscilla was still besides herself, and so Ned excused them. They just barely made it back to the train before Priscilla collapsed in tears. Ned held her until she fell asleep on his chest.
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The next time they saw Karl Marx was also the last time. The man gave a big speech that the Blighters crashed, but Ned and Priscilla, in a far better mood after a good night's rest, a relaxing day, and another night of blissful sleep in her the arms of her man, were there to save communism.
They bid their farewells, Marx embarking elsewhere to continue his social crusade for the working class.
Like with Darwin and evolution, Ned asked Priscilla about her opinion on Marx and communism.
Priscilla shrugged. "It's like all governments, really. They all sound good on paper, but in practice? They all fall apart because of the same reason."
"Which is?" Ned prompted.
"People suck," Priscilla smiled.
Ned chuckled.
"I mean," continued the trans girl, "look at democracy. The people get to have a direct say in the actions of the government thanks to public vote based on the rule of the majority. But what happens when the vote is split 51/49? Not at all decisive. What happens when the losing side is really sore about it, and they don't concede? What happens when people are bribed or threatened? Same things with a republic; elected officials are elected because they stand on a platform that people want to support, and it's their job to deliver on that platform. What happens when the elections are rigged, the politicians bought and paid for, or they flat out don't do anything they said they would? Then there's monarchies and dictatorships. Power is concentrated in the hands of one person, and that person is to use that power responsibly for the good of the people under their control. Then they grow corrupt with their power and become tyrants.
"All government ideas are inherently good, but they all share the same fundamental flaw: humans. Humans always come in and fuck it up. Elections get rigged, kings and dictators go bad. Communism isn't any different. Sure, it sounds good, everyone working together, everyone sharing the profits, everyone provided for, everyone basically happy and healthy with all their needs and wants met because wealth and resources are distributed in such a way that no one has any unmet needs or wants…but then you have these two guys. One works ten hours, one works two hours and slacks off. Why should the second guy receive an equal share of what the first guy receives? Basically, communism is the way to laziness and jealousy. It robs people of their just rewards and undermines the blood, sweat, and tears they put into something. Eventually, some guy in a position of power will jump up and say, 'You don't like that? Well, vote for me and I'll fix it for you!' and then communism is completely torn apart because now it's back into the centralized hands of the government, where they get to decide how stuff is distributed."
Priscilla shrugged again. "Human beings just suck all around and will always find ways to cheat whatever system exists for their own personal gain. However, that's not to say there aren't solutions to that."
Priscilla flicked her Hidden Blade out with a grin.
"We work in the dark, to serve the light."
Ned nodded and spoke with sage-like wisdom. "We are electricians."
"Ned~!" Priscilla lightly smacked his stomach, making him laugh.
"But seriously." Priscilla schooled herself. "Bad people will always exist, but that's only a bad thing if good people don't exist to stand up to them. Even if communism takes off, and then no matter how twisted it becomes, as long as people like you and me are here, fighting back the evil, the world's going to be okay."
Ned stared at Priscilla. "Gods, I love you."
Priscilla blushed. "I love you, too."
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Darwin hadn't really known for sure one way or another what Priscilla's gender was, and had taken her claim to be a girl without question. Marx only knew Priscilla as Priscilla. Following that, Priscilla was only two for two when it came to her coming out, those two being Henry and Ned.
The Rooks really didn't count as Priscilla hadn't really told any of them one way or another who she was. They kinda just picked up on it and went with it. Like Henry, most of them had seen Peter as a girl anyway, and some were even convinced Priscilla had always been a girl, and was just using Peter as a disguise.
Sergeant Freddy Abberline being chief amongst those who thought Priscilla had been a master of disguise, running around as a boy.
Clara had fallen more in line with Henry, always having seen Peter more as a girl, anyway.
So, Priscilla was two for two in finding acceptance, technically four for four, and now it was time for the biggest hurdle.
Jacob and Evie.
Priscilla was understandably nervous with coming out to the two people that basically hated her solely because their father told them to, but it was even worse because tensions between the twins were at all-time high.
To put it in a vulgar, yet accurate, analogy, Jacob had been shitting his pants, and Evie had been cleaning him up.
When Jacob assassinated John Elliotson, the Templar in charge of the Soothing Syrup, he had plunged Lambeth into a medical catastrophe that Evie had to fix.
When Jacob assassinated Pearl Attaway, Starrick's cousin, he opened a huge hole in the transportation industry that was quickly filled by the Blighters, and Evie had to fix that, too.
When Jacob assassinated Philip Twopenny, he almost plunged the whole British Empire into economic disaster. Luckily, his big sister was there to wipe his bottom yet again.
When Jacob killed the Earl of Cardigan right there in the very halls of Parliament, that somehow didn't send Britain into a state of emergency with a city-wide lockdown, so that was good, and when he killed Maxwell Roth inside of the burning Alhambra Music Hall, that also didn't lead to any outstanding consequences.
Essentially, Jacob went three for five in terms of almost crippling London, and Evie was three for five in saving London from her brother's blunders. His reckless haste, sheer lack of thinking, and complete disregard for the consequences of his actions had driven Evie up the wall to the roof of the building, and on the flip side, Jacob was angry at his big sister. She had been completely ignoring him these past many weeks, spending her time with Henry, chasing after the Piece of Eden, and the times they did interact, they always bickered and insulted each other.
The Frye twins' tolerance of each other was at its end, their patience exhausted after weeks of fighting.
In all honesty, this was not the night to come out to them, but there wasn't going to be any other night. Tonight was the night. The Templars were practically on their last legs, all of the burrows liberated, their operations crippled, their agents dead. All that remained was Starrick himself, and he was making his move tonight at the ball. The Piece of Eden, a Shroud, had been found, Evie had the key, and Starrick had mass murder on his mind.
After the Assassins killed him, London would be theirs, and Priscilla and Ned would be leaving.
Leaving because now Priscilla had this gorgeous ring on her finger that had been placed there after Priscilla had basically screamed yes after Ned got down on a knee.
Priscilla wanted to have at least one more good night with her big brother and sister and help them take full control of London before she closed the book on this chapter of her life to start a new one with her husband-to-be.
"Are you sure you want to do this right now?" Ned asked.
"I have to," Priscilla answered. "They need to know who I am. They're my big sister and brother."
"They've been nothing but assholes to you your whole life."
"I know, but I still love them. Even if this is the last time we ever see them, I don't want them to be thinking of me as Peter."
Ned closed his eyes in frustration. He really didn't care about the Frye twins. They'd been nothing but cruel and abusive to his beautiful fiancé all her life because their father told them to, and they lacked the brain power necessary to actually form an original opinion about Priscilla. Sure, her little flitting episodes were a thing, along with her penchant to space out, but those were adorable to Ned. The asthma was something to consider in terms of physical activity (like the first time they finally had penetrative sex and Priscilla was left wheezing and barely able to breathe in a way that was not comical, but actually very terrifying) but not enough of a detriment to warrant such antagonistic behavior.
Evie and Jacob should've been extremely protective of their little sister. They should've been standing up to their cruel father. They should've been holding Priscilla in the night, letting her cry on their shoulders. They should've been sharing their beds with her to protect her from the nightmares. They should've been treating her like glass, keeping her as far away from combat as possible to spare her asthma.
They should've been family.
Instead, they were complete, utter, total assholes. Ned still hadn't forgiven Jacob for leaving Priscilla alone in the asylum that night three months ago, and the only outcome he could predict for Priscilla's coming out to them was tragedy.
If it was up to Ned, they'd be gone already and wouldn't have even bothered with the twins. But alas, he loved his fiancé, and this is what she wanted to do.
"Let me come with you," Ned insisted.
Priscilla crossed her arms. "I thought I was a big girl that could use the toilet and everything."
"…you're never going to let that go, are you?"
"Nope," she chirped. Priscilla got serious again and gently touched Ned's arm. "I'll be okay. This isn't about finding their acceptance. It's about the truth. Hopefully, this is our last big mission together, the three of us taking down Starrick. If it's not, then oh well. It'll be me and you."
Ned still wasn't happy about this. "I love you."
"I know." Priscilla leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed her fiancé on his lips. "I'll be back before you know it."
With that, Priscilla left Ned at the station and boarded the Assassin train as it was setting off.
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She got to the car that housed her siblings just in time to hear Jacob explode.
"FATHER IS DEAD!"
"Enough!" Henry shouted.
Swallowing a lump that just formed in her throat, Priscilla gently knocked and entered.
"Peter," Evie blinked.
"Oh, perfect," Jacob grumbled.
The color drained from Henry's face. "Ah, now not be the best time-"
"It's the only time," Priscilla said.
"The only time for what?" Evie asked.
"And do make it snappy," Jacob said tersely.
'You're a big girl, you're a big girl, you're a big girl,' Priscilla mentally chanted, finding her previous confidence having waned in the face of Jacob's burning fury and Evie's hidden annoyance. With a deep breath, Priscilla steeled herself and ignored how Henry's eyes were frantically bouncing between the twins.
"I…wanted to join you both tonight. Our last mission together. Taking out Starrick, liberating London, retrieving the Piece of Eden—the three of us, one last time."
"Last time?" Evie gawped. "What nonsense are you talking about now?"
"I think it's very clear, sister dearest," Jacob said snidely. "Peter here has finally developed a sense of higher intelligence, and has finally come to realize that he's dead weight. Quite fitting that this is the last night for the Frye siblings. A big, grand finale for us all."
Evie glowered at Jacob. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"And now you've become dumb as Peter," Jacob rolled his eyes. "I mean that after this, we're finished. I'm done with both of you."
Evie stared at him, expression closed, and then she nodded. "Agreed."
"Um, not agreed," Priscilla cut in. "I can understand you two not wanting anything to do with me, but what happened between you guys?"
"Just a gross conflict of interest," Jacob said casually.
"Sheer stupidity," Evie returned.
Priscilla's eyes darted between her siblings. "Okay…well…since this is going to be the last time we ever work together," she kept the sadness out of her voice, "then there's something you need to know about me."
Henry's eyes widened. "I don't think now is-"
"It's the only time, Jayadeep," Priscilla's eyes flashed in warning.
Henry shut his mouth at the use of his given name. Priscilla only did that when she was deadly serious.
"Oh, this should be good," Jacob rolled his eyes. "Out with it, then. We don't have all night."
And out with it, Priscilla came.
"Like how Ned is a man that was born a girl, I've realized that I'm like him. I'm a girl that was born a boy. My name is Priscilla now. I'm your sister. Ned and I are also going to get married." Priscilla held up her hand, showing her engagement ring. "He's going to be my husband, and I'm going to be his wife. We're going to leave London and travel the world for a little while, before settling elsewhere to continue doing what we've been doing. Since this is the last time we'll be working together, I felt you deserved to know who I am and what I'll be doing with my life. I'm Priscilla Frye, about to be Priscilla Wynert, and I'm your little sister."
For all of three seconds, the only sounds in the car were that of the train's wheels. Then the barely coherent shouting started.
Nothing original, really. Priscilla was just confused, Ned had filled her head with lies, Ned was poison, this was unbelievable, the marriage wasn't going to happen, Priscilla wasn't to see Ned anymore, Evie was going to have a talk with Ned, etc. The negativity just made Priscilla sad, but not hurt. This is what she expected, after all, for her siblings to fly off the rails. She took it all in stride, letting all the hate just wash off of her.
And that's when Jacob said so horrible, awful, and reprehensible, that it will not be written, but it brought everything sans the train to a complete halt.
Henry stared at Jacob with a gobsmacked expression.
Evie stared at Jacob with a similar expression, before she schooled herself. "Not how I would've put it, but he's right for once."
A sharp gasp had left Priscilla at Jacob's words, tears brimming in her eyes, and with Evie's agreement, another sharp gasp accompanied a full, choking sob.
"Sure, go ahead and cry," Jacob rolled his eyes. "That's all you ever do."
Henry's face contorted. "Apologize!" he demanded.
Jacob looked at him with a raised brow. "For what? The honest truth?"
"I'd say you should apologize for your tone," Evie snarked. "You came off just a little too hard."
"Evie!" Henry scolded.
"What? It needed to be said."
"No, it absolutely did not! You will both apologize right now or-" Henry stopped short, face draining of color and whatever he was looking at.
Jacob and Evie followed Henry's sightline, and they both went absolutely still.
Though her hands shook with impotent rage and heartbreak, her aim was true as it ever was. Both of Priscilla's guns were pointed dead center at the twins.
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It was their nightmare come true.
Jacob and Evie were staring at the trembling Peter, and they could only see Spring-Heeled Jack.
Sure, they'd been on the business end of plenty of gun barrels before, but there was something indescribable about when you found yourself at the end of the barrel being held in the trembling hand of a person you just grievously insulted. Family on top of that.
Peter's face was red and streaked with tears that were still falling. He was shaking and sniffling, the hammers on his guns cocked backward, ready to strike the firing pins if his fingers squeezed hard enough on the triggers. He looked like he was really struggling to come up with a reason to not do that.
The twins could feel the danger they were in like they never had before. They'd dodged bullets thanks to their built-in early warning systems alerting them when a shooter had taken aim and was about to fire, enabling them to turn their body out of the bullet's trajectory just before the projectile left the chamber. This close, however, they weren't sure.
And Peter was far more accurate than any Blighter.
They could actually be about to die at the bullets of their mentally disturbed and emotionally damaged little brother whom they had just gravely insulted, and had monstrously mistreated all their lives.
Jacob raised his hands. "Hey, now-"
"SHUT UP!" Peter screamed, voice cracking. He trembled even more. "A-All my l-life, I've done n-nothing b-b-but love y-you both. I tr-tried so hard to-to-to be—to be the b-best little brother I-I could be. I tried…I tried so hard to make amends for wh-whatever I did, but you two…"
Peter's sniffling rendered him a stuttering mess, but his words came out clear enough that the twins almost felt his pain. He shook his head vigorously, took a few deep breaths, and then he bellowed at the very top of his lungs.
"YOU TWO ARE JUST EVIL!"
He fired his guns and fled the train in tears.
The twins collapsed, Evie catching herself on the nearby bar, Jacob's hand shooting out to grab hold of the nearby table edge. Both of their legs were shaking likes leaves, their bodies flooded with so much adrenaline they trembled and felt like they had fevers. Their breaths were coming in short gasps as their hearts hammered in their chests.
Peter had missed them both, the bullets having passed mere inches from their heads to go through the roof of the train.
Evie glared at Jacob. "This is all your-"
Henry ran forward to grab the twins by their throats, and he hoisted them to their feet. He slammed their heads so hard together their teeth clacked, and then he flung them to the floor. They groaned on impact.
"Inexcusable!" Henry roared. "Unacceptable! Reprehensible! This is the most disgusting behavior I have seen in my life, and I have seen grown men rape children! You two are worse than any Templar that has ever walked this earth or will ever walk this earth!"
Henry paused to steady his breathing because he was heaving like a madman.
"I should've followed my instincts the moment you both set foot in London. I should've sent that letter informing the council of your whereabouts, but I listened to Priscilla and she convinced me not to. When the council sent that retrieval team after they heard of you taking the Burrows, I should've let them have you, but Priscilla convinced them to go back and let the Council give you a chance. At least twice that I know of, your little sister put herself out there against the very Brotherhood itself for your sakes, and now…I should cut out your tongues. I should cut out your tongues, shave your heads, castrate you, Jacob, and have you, Evie, spayed, and have your eyes gauged out, your hands and feet cut off, and then dumped on the streets to fend for yourselves."
Henry's eyes blazed with such righteous fury that the very souls of the twins cried out in agony.
"But we have a job to do," Henry relented with a voice cold as ice and hard as steel. "We need to retrieve the Shroud and stop Starrick from murdering almost every important person in London. After we accomplish this, we will find Priscilla, and if she desires that you lick her feet as recompense for your sins, or eat your own dung, or her's, then you will do so. And then you will answer for your crimes before the Council."
Henry glared at Jacob, and then he glared at Evie, and then he stepped over them. He walked tow paces towards the door Priscilla had fled out of, and then he turned around. He reared his leg back and kicked Jacob in the head, and then he brought his other leg back to kick Evie.
And these were not gentle kicks.
It was only due to the durability of their Precursor gene-enhanced bodies that their skulls didn't break in. As it was, they were left with a bruise each. Not even a concussion.
Henry left them, a cloud of rage that tolerated zero nonsense from any of the Rooks currently onboard.
Jacob and Evie looked at each other.
They were in a lot of trouble now.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The twins escaped all the trouble they could've been in with the Council solely because of Priscilla four days later.
Henry didn't look happy when he presented the letter to the twins. "This is from Priscilla. It arrived via courier about three hours ago."
The twins swallowed heavily. Jacob accepted the letter and read it aloud.
"'Ned and I got married. You were intentionally not invited. I don't intend to ever see either of you ever again after what you said to me. Ned wants to kill both of you, but I won't let him, so don't worry. I know Henry wants to bring you both before the Council for trial, and I know you'll be executed, so I told him not to bring you to the Council. I'll never forgive you, but I don't want to see either of you dead. I still love you, kind of, but this is goodbye. So, goodbye. Good luck with London.' -Priscilla Wynert."
For a long time, the only sound in Henry's curio shop was the ticking clock.
"We need to find her," Jacob finally said.
"Her?" Evie asked.
Jacob looked at his sister. "Yes, her. Our little sister."
"Jacob-" Evie started to say with an annoyed tone, but Jacob pinned his sister to the wall.
With the most severe expression he had ever worn on his face, Jacob got so close to his sister that their noses almost touched. "It stops now. We will find Priscilla, and we will apologize, and we will do whatever it takes to make amends. Am I clear, Evie?"
Evie was so shaken that she barely managed to nod her head.
Henry crossed his arms. "I do hope this is genuine, Jacob, or I swear-"
Jacob rounded on his fellow Assassins with such a blazing intensity in his eyes that Henry shut his mouth.
He nodded. "Very well, then."
And it was genuine.
Jacob had finally broken free of his father's conditioning. Reading that letter, reading that Priscilla still loved him in some way even after everything he'd said and did—it had triggered a fundamental change in Jacob's very being.
Dead was the Jacob that despised his little brother. Dead was the Jacob that took issue with every minute detail of his little brother. Dead was the Jacob that treated his little brother as nothing more than a nuisance of a punching bag.
Alive was the Jacob that desperately wanted to find his little sister and do everything he could to receive her forgiveness. Alive was the Jacob that regretted everything he had ever done to his little sister. Alive was the new Jacob Frye that was going to be a far better big brother than he ever had been before.
As for Evie, she thought this was absurd. Yes, they needed to do everything they could to apologize to Peter, but this whole Priscilla thing needed to be nipped in the bud. Peter was not a girl, any more than he was a flowerpot. He was not a wife, because he was a boy. He couldn't even be married yet—he was only sixteen! This whole thing was a shame and a farce! Ned had poisoned Peter's mind with nonsense, and had taken advantage of a borderline mentally ill little boy.
Evie wasn't going to stand for it.
She would do whatever it took to earn Peter's forgiveness as she came to grips with the fact that she needed to atone for her sins, but as far as recognizing Peter as a girl named Priscilla, and recognizing the marriage between Priscilla and Ned…
Not a chance.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It would be three years before the Frye twins saw Priscilla and Ned. They had to travel all the way to Rome, and they almost missed the married couple. They just barely managed to catch them as they were headed to the train station.
Jacob and Evie could barely believe their eyes as they beheld the couple after three years.
Priscilla was the picture of feminine grace. A lithe, slender, and powerful figure was comfortably wrapped by a fine dress. She had actual breasts, not fakes, and her face was even more angular than before. By all counts, except for peaking under her skirts, Priscilla was completely a young woman of nineteen with to indicate she was a male.
Likewise, Ned had also transformed. Where his physique, face, voice, and wardrobe had once stirred confusion, now there was nothing but certainty. He was buff and filled out, seemingly bigger than Jacob. He had a respectable mustache, and his voice was now naturally baritone.
"You two," Ned observed with careful neutrality in his masculine voice.
"Interesting surprise," Priscilla said. "I can't say if it's welcome or not. What are you two doing here?"
"We came for you," Jacob opened, heart hammering in his chest.
Ned moved in front of his wife. "And what does that mean?"
Jacob held his hands up in surrender. "Poor choice of words, my fault. What I mean is that we came to speak to Priscilla. We want to apologize, and do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness."
Priscilla blinked. "You tracked us for three years and then hauled ass down to Rome to say sorry?"
Jacob's eyes conveyed more sincerity than his voice ever could, and so he just nodded.
Priscilla's jaw tightened. "I…see." She looked at Evie. "I don't feel the same energy from you."
Evie looked at Priscilla, and then her eyes slid to Ned, and her expression shifted into a glare.
Ned squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. "Something you would like to say?"
"You stole Peter."
"Evie," Jacob hissed.
"And like that, we're done here," Priscilla said shortly. "I can see you two aren't the same rotten assholes from three years ago, especially you, Jacob. You called me Priscilla. But you, Evie? You're delusional. Ned didn't steal anything from me that I didn't give him of my own free will."
The train whistle sounded.
"That's goodbye," Priscilla said. "Maybe we'll see each other again in three years, maybe not."
"Do not follow us," Ned glowered. "If we want to find you, we will."
They left, boarding the train, but not before Ned shoulder-checked Evie on the way past and Jacob had to grab his big sister.
Roughly.
"I hate you very much right now," Jacob growled.
"Oh, piss off."
"No, you piss off. You're costing us both our sister."
"Peter is not our-"
"Yes, she is. When are you going to get that through your head? It's not like the Creed is against something like this, anyway. Nothing is true, everything is permitted. I don't see any reason as to why boys can't be girls and girls can't be boys."
"That's not even what the Creed means!" Evie hissed. "The Creed commands wisdom, and there is no wisdom in the purveying of lies! If the two of them insisted they were dogs, would we allow them to bound around on their hands and feet, naked, leashed and collared, barking, begging for treats, sleeping in kennels, eating and drinking out of bowls? Take them to the groomer's? It's absurd, Jacob."
"That's just it, Evie: they're not insisting they are dogs, they are plainly a married man and woman. If we didn't know who they were, we would never know the so-called truth about them. They're not hurting anybody, they're not hurting themselves, they're not being a public nuisance or causing a fuss. They're not marching up and down the streets with banners and flags, shouting things at the top of their lungs, or harassing the government. To anyone looking, they are normal citizens doing normal things, living their lives content with who they are. Why can't you be content with that? Why can't you be happy that Priscilla is finally happy?"
Evie mouth worked open and closed, but she struggled to form words. Jacob had hit her hard with that. True, Ned and Priscilla weren't bothering anyone. They weren't harassing anyone, and they weren't saying anything to anyone. They were abiding their privacy and respecting the space of others. As for why she couldn't just be happy for Peter's sake…
Was it jealousy?
Was Evie jealous that Peter managed to find love, where she was still struggling with Jayadeep?
No, she couldn't be.
Evie shook her head. "Ridiculous."
She spun on her heel and started heading for the train.
"What are you doing?" Jacob demanded.
"Making sure they're not up to nay mischief."
"What?" Jacob balked. "Evie, they're married!"
"Not without my permission, they're not."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jacob shook his head.
The twins found a rooftop that gave them a view into the spacious compartment Priscilla and Ned occupied. Even from this distance, they were able to read their lips.
"They're watching us, darling," Ned said.
"I know," Priscilla returned. "Shall we give them something to watch?"
"Oh, do let's."
And they indeed gave the twins something to watch. Priscilla undid her dress to reveal she was still very much a male, and Ned removed his trousers to reveal he was still very much a female.
Jacob and Evie were sick. They both turned and puked off the rooftop. They had never seen anything as abnormal and unnatural as that. The body of a woman with the genitals of man, and the body of a man with the genitals of a woman. Curves, breasts, and a penis? Broad shoulders, big muscles, and a vagina?
NO.
The foil was too jarring for Jacob and Evie. Too sudden, too contradictory. Their minds couldn't handle that image, and their own bodies couldn't either.
Eventually, they were left dry heaving with nothing else left in their stomachs. Their mouths burned with acid and tasted revolting. Never mind the stench.
"Now," Evie breathed with a gaunt face, "do you believe me?"
"I admit," Jacob coughed, "I was not prepared to see that, and I never care to see that again, but I don't. Priscilla is our sister, not matter what."
"You're impossible."
"I'm trying to be better."
"Part of being better does not involve buying into Peter's lunacy."
"It's not lunacy, Evie. It's about what remains of our family."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It would be a whopping seventeen years before Priscilla would return to London. By that time, Evie and Henry had settled their differences and got married, with the couple moving to India. Jacob became the Mentor of the British Brotherhood, and watched over London, England, and a good portion of Northern Europe.
The reason why it was just Priscilla returning to London was that Ned, sadly enough, had died of cancer.
Priscilla was not heartbroken, though, with the advent of her return. She knew where her husband was at, and she was confident she would join him there in due time. In the meantime, Priscilla wanted to reconnect with her big brother. They had maintained a steady contact through letters, as Jacob hadn't been mentally ready to handle magical means of communication.
Yes, magical.
Ned had been a member of the Amazons, the ones right out of the Greek myths, and being married to him for a few months shy of a full twenty years naturally exposed Priscilla to the supernatural world. What an experience it had been, learning about the gods, and what a great many conversations Priscilla and Ned had between themselves as they wondered how the Precursors and the gods fit together, but it was never something they seriously engaged in, and they never brought it up amongst others.
Priscilla still had to keep her Brotherhood a secret, after all.
With Ned having passed, Priscilla having taken time to mourn and get ready for a new chapter in her life, she had sent a letter to her brother about the current circumstances, and that she was coming back to London. He'd better have room ready for her upon her arrival.
When Jacob got his little sister's letter, the 41-year-old had scrambled to write a reply and send it off to his 36-year-old sister, frantically warning her to stay out of London until he sent her another letter telling her it was okay.
The reason behind Jacob's dire warning was tied directly to the year and season.
1888.
Autumn.
Priscilla never got the letter, and due to how slow word could travel across the globe in the late nineteenth century, she never knew about Jack the Ripper.
Not until he jumped on top of her from a rooftop and stabbed her in the spine, anyway, before carving up the rest of her body now that she couldn't fight back on account of not being able to feel anything below her neck.
The fact that she couldn't feel the pain of her mutilation was why she was still alive when Jacob came running onto the scene.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Jacob's legs gave out on him next to his naked little sister. His hands were splayed over her carved body in shock, his eyes wide and his mouth open.
Jack had sliced off Priscilla's breasts and her penis, had carved the letter "J" in her stomach, though it was hard to tell with the guts hanging out of the deep incisions, and had flayed thick swaths of meat from her arms and legs, bone showing in some places. Blood was absolutely all over the place, Jacob even kneeling in it, getting his pants and boots soaked.
Both of Priscilla's lungs had been punctured in multiple places, and her breaths were barely coming out in rasping wheezes. How she was still alive, Jacob didn't know.
Priscilla looked at Jacob with watery eyes. She tried to smile, but it was only a horrifying grimace that showed several missing teeth. She tried to raise a hand to Jacob's face, but the ligaments, tendons, and muscles had been severed, so all she could manage was a shaking limb.
Jacob figured what she was trying to do and gently picked up her arm, gently touching her bloody palm to his face.
Priscilla tried to say something, but she couldn't speak. Not clearly, anyway.
Though unintelligible, Jacob identified three distinct syllables.
His lower lip trembled fiercely as tears spilled from his eyes. With all the willpower he could muster, Jacob said clearly, "I love you, too."
Priscilla died happy after finally hearing those words for the first time in 36 years.
A shuddering, sobbing gasp left Jacob. He closed Priscilla's eyes and cradled her bloody body, unable to breathe.
Some rubble hit the ground next to Jacob, and he looked up to see him. Big and bulky, wearing a top hat and a sack over her head, two holes cut for his eyes, and a big overcoat.
Jacob's face contorted in one of righteous fury. "JAAAACK! JAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
The Ripper gave him a two-fingered wave and ran off.
Jacob set Priscilla down and took his coat off, setting it over her body. His bellow alerted nearby people, luckily a couple of police who weren't stupid enough to find Jacob and a dead body and think he was the murderer.
"No one touches this body, understood!?" Jacob thundered.
The policeman nearly shit their pants. "Y-Yes, s-s-sir!"
Jacob ran after Jack, chasing him relentlessly across the Whitechapel rooftops until he caught up to his former student and body-slammed him off the edge. They fell three stories, Jack grunting as he landed on his back, Jacob on his feet.
They were in a small cemetery.
In the game, the story of Jack the Ripper went that he was once Jack the Lad, a novice of the British Brotherhood. He lived with his mother when he was younger, and Starrick's henchmen killed her in front of him. He went mad and was taken to Lambeth Asylum, where Priscilla's rampage two decades ago in 1868 did not help Jack's mental instability. Tossed onto the streets after the asylum closed, Jack was left to fend for himself for a few years until after Starrick's death and Jacob found him.
Jack showed great promise as an Assassin, but he was insane. After returning from a training trip to India, where he, Jacob, and other novices were trained in the Indian Brotherhood's fear techniques, Jack became disillusioned with Jacob's leadership style and his interpretation of the Creed. Jack became an extremist amongst extremists, and sought to instill his own Brotherhood, with his own Creed.
Historically, Jack the Ripper slaughtered prostitutes. In-universe, those prostitutes were disguised Assassins loyal to Jacob, posing as prostitutes to put themselves in positions to oppose Jack's rising regime throughout Whitechapel. The reason Jack knew about Priscilla was that he had intercepted her letter, read it, resealed it, and sent it back on its way to Jacob. Jack then went about periodically patrolling the train station until he finally got lucky.
The current confrontation between Jacob and Jack was also from the game, only in the game, there was no Priscilla Wynert. When Jacob fought Jack, it was with a heavy, guilty heart. Jacob felt responsibly for Jack's insanity, and spent the fight trying to placate Jack, trying to get the kid he practically raised to see the light.
In all honesty, the reason Jacob had taken so strongly to Jack the Lad was because the boy reminded Jacob so strongly of Priscilla, and he saw it as an opportunity to make some kind of amends. Ironically, it was Spring-Heeled Jack all over again, in that Jacob's worst fears were coming to light.
But that was the game mixed with some of this fanfiction.
Right now, in the current moment, Jacob wasn't feeling guilty or remorseful.
Only furiously vengeful.
Being born in 1860, Jack the Ripper was 28 in 1888, and Jacob was 41. The 13-year gap meant nothing as Jacob fucked Jack up like he had never experienced.
Jack's insanity-buffed strength meant nothing to Jacob's righteous rage. Any defense he put up was destroyed. Any attack he attempted was blocked, parried, or countered. Jacob's fists rained upon Jack, breaking and cracking bone, rupturing organs, making skin split.
Jacob grabbed hold of the barely conscious Jack, and punched him so hard his body broke right through a tombstone.
Jack writhed and groaned, his mask all bloody from all the blood he had coughed due to his injuries. He heard a sound through the ringing of his ears, and he rolled over to see Jacob rip a cross tombstone from the ground. The Mentor held the makeshift bludgeon aloft, making Jack's eyes widen.
"Wait-!"
Jacob brought the cross down with a primal roar, and the base smashed right through Jack's skull and was planted back in the ground.
Just like that, the terror of Jack the Ripper was over.
Jacob was inconsolable.
Henry and Evie weren't much better when they made it to London for the funeral, Evie more so than anyone, as she never got the chance to make true amends with her little sister.
Yes, sister.
It is fortunate, however, that they all got a second chance.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Priscilla blinked. "This isn't Elysium. Or the Underworld."
"That is correct."
Priscilla whipped around to see a robed man standing before closed gates. "Who…are you…?"
"Your friend for many years. You've been through a lot, and you have much more yet to go through, but do not despair. Call on me, and I will be with you."
"Wait—what—what's going on? What does that mean? Who are you!?"
The man smiled. "You already know who I am. And don't kill your sister."
Priscilla was just gaping, totally confused and at a loss for words. "Wha—Wha—Wha-!"
The light coming from the gates progressively got brighter and brighter, and then Priscilla knew no more.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Thalia caught Percy when he collapsed backwards. "Here we go," she muttered.
She gently set him down, then took off her leather jacket, folding it up to put it under his head as a pillow. Thalia wondered how long it would take for Percy to remember his life as Priscilla. For her, remembering Evie, it had been while she was comatose as a tree, so she had been fine. She hoped Percy wouldn't be comatose for years on end as he remembered the life of Priscilla Wynert.
Thalia repressed a small shiver. 20 years and over a century later, Thalia still found her stomach turning ever so slightly as she recalled the night she got to watch Priscilla and Ned engaging in foreplay right there on the train.
There were words in the urban dictionary that described Priscilla and Ned, and Thalia did not even want to mentally repeat them.
Thalia looked up at the Apple of Eden still faintly glowing. Well, that was one more for the Assassins and one less for the Templars. She needed to secure it, but she wasn't about to touch it and potentially get sent on her own mental journey. She couldn't do that with Percy knocked out.
With seemingly nothing else she could do at the moment, Thalia got comfy as best she could and ignored the nearby skeleton of Altaïr that had been sitting alone in an empty library for the past 700 years.
She didn't get to sit still long, as Percy suddenly bolted upright not even five minutes after going down.
"Woah!" Thalia cried. "Hey! Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?"
Percy turned to look at her with bleary, unfocused eyes. They were swimming with uncertainty. Clearly, he had just launched into the process of integrating Priscilla's memories.
Thalia edged closer. "It's alright. You're back now. You're safe. I know you probably hate me, Priscilla, but-"
At the name, Percy's face contorted into one of disgusted, revolted rage.
He punched Thalia in the face and blasted her through one of the empty bookshelves.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
And thus, the Fifth Life arc is finally concluded.
Now, I'm going to engage in an interesting project, to say the least. Unfortunately, it's not going to be the Shin'en/RWBY story, the PJO/Elden Ring story, or even another chapter of Sea Devil, Voidwalker, or Promised Year.
Instead, I'm going to work on a story that completely shatters my mold: a Piper-centric story that focuses on her time between the end of Burning Maze and her cameo at the end of Tower of Nero where she suddenly and randomly has a girlfriend.
Uncle Rick went through all of this trouble to break Jason and Piper up, retconning Piper's character to where's she suddenly questioning her Cherokee heritage and her sexual identity, setting her up for a whole new character arc, and then he doesn't deliver one iota of this new arc. He just slaps Piper into a new relationship and calls it a day.
It's been two years as of this chapter since we got any new Heroes material, so Piper has been stuck in development purgatory.
So, since dear Uncle Rick apparently won't ever give us the Piper arc we deserve, and the story she needs to explain her sudden jump from grieving over Jason to a happy lesbian…I will.
I don't know if I'll post the chapters here as this is mainly a subreddit project like my huge Trials essay, but we'll see.
I'm rather looking forward to it because of how fundamentally different the premise is from literally everything else I have written here. All my stories focus on AUs of Percy being a total badass, and this story focuses on Piper of all characters, and is set in entirely in the canon universe. I'm going to need to do some research into Tahlequah's school system and the Cherokee Nation as a whole for story accuracy, but it looks like fun right now.
Especially because I will be maintaining my signature dark, grim, grittiness. I've got side-characters planned out, a new villain, a big surprise with Jason, turmoil, trauma, and more!
I hope you enjoyed the chapter and the story of the Frye family, and I hope you'll still be here when I eventually make it back to this story to continue the rest of the Labyrinth arc and eventually move into the Sixth Life arc.
In the meantime, Fav, Follow, and Review please!
And please check out my novel if you have the time! The link is on my profile.