Assassin's Creed: Genesis

2: Coin Pouch Girl

"It is not safe for a young girl like you to be walking through Whitechapel at this time." A fellow worker informed Elizabeth while walking toward the factory's exit.

In return she said, "No need for concern, everything'll be alright." He was kind man, a worker who helped her on her first day nearly eight years ago. She appreciated his worry yet understood it was unnecessary, her trek home was safe every other night and tonight would be no different.

He seemed wary but obliged, "Be safe, Elizabeth."

"You as well." She said nonchalantly. Elizabeth was usually more polite to the man, respectful enough to say goodnight and even offer a small smile but she was immensely grumpy from her frustrating day of work.

She removed her worker's cap and slipped on the hood of her cloak as she walked out the brightly lit factory. Other children were still working, taking the overnight shift unlike Elizabeth who had finished. She nearly felt sympathy for lads but quickly remembered they were paid more than her because of their gender.

Never glancing behind her shoulder, she walked along the sidewalk. Elizabeth loudly sighed while wiping her sweaty forehead with an equally dirty forearm. Because of working with coal and ash thirteen hours a day, her skin was never clean neither her complexion fair. A coat of dirt always covered her skin. Some days she would scrub water from Thames river until her skin began to bleed and peel even though she was unable of removing the layer. She required soap which was a necessity she couldn't afford to waste money on. Elizabeth would have the new law of London to thank for that.

Bloody hell Elizabeth reeked of a horrid stench nor fail to mention was starving and deadly tired.

The Whittock sister hated that factory with every ounce of her being. Every so often, she dreamt of it burning to the ground with everyone inside except for the child labors. She dreamt of all their goods, documents and damned machines turning into ash. And for Elizabeth, today was the 'every so often'.

She even believed the day would progress well after she successfully pinched a coin pouch from an Assassin before work.

Suppose not.

Dear god, when the foreman scolded her for an hour about piling coal too loudly, Elizabeth strongly restrained herself from choking him right then and there. Piling coal too loudly. What a shoddy excuse to yell at her. It seemed he was always waiting for Elizabeth to do something wrong to peer over her shoulder for the remainder of the day. Previously, she would have allowed it but this time was strange. Elizabeth swore she felt his eyes rake her body several times. It made her paranoid enough to tell the foreman to bugger off. Obviously, she was a little more aggressive than asked for and was quite surprised when he ignored the comment.

But that didn't necessarily mean she was off the hook. He was going to make work tomorrow a living hell. All she could hope was for him to get hit by a stray carriage tonight.

Workers were never supposed to be seen or heard. That was London, the industry. The rich man was the puppeteer who controlled all the strings and when the show was over, they audience applauded the puppet master. Not the puppets, who without them the puppeteer would be nothing, irrelevant. Many were puppets in London, always controlled by someone higher than them.

Elizabeth didn't dream of being a puppet master, she just wished to cut her strings free.

Yet she knew that would never be possible. At least not in her lifetime.

Although she pickpocketed a rich Assassin, she wasn't a fool. If anyone in all of London knew the value of money, it would be the Whitechapel folks. She understood the money in the pouch would disappear yet her factory income wouldn't. The money in the pouch would drastically help her family although it was temporarily. It certainly wasn't enough for her to quit. Elizabeth was tied to that factory permanently, whether she liked it or not.