1858
The sun shone bright through the hazy glass panels of the Whitechapel train station. Trains screeched and hummed, and the smoke rising from them choked the loud air. People gathered in crowds, muttering and lulling themselves around. The busy streets and buildings of London were aweing to any outsider, but mundane to any soul that had the misfortune of residing there. Among those outsiders was a pair that had recently arrived to the troubled city.
"I've never seen so many people all at once," said the younger of the two, his eyes flitting this way and that, attempting poorly to observe everything all at once.
"'The churning seas of London.' It's just the way father described." The eldest had a less curious glint in her eye. "Now to find Henry Green and formulate a plan against the Templars." Never one to stop in her trail, she moved quickly, refusing to engage in the tempting awe that the usual newcomer has.
"Who is Mr. Green again?"
"The assassin watching over London," she looked at her brother in disbelief and stopping in her tracks, "Did you not listen the first three times?" Her voice raising in pitch and annoyance.
"Listen to what?" He laughed, stepping away cockily, a dangerous look in his eye. "Oi! Watch it!" He bumped into a small boy, before quickly recoiling.
"Beg pardon, sir," the urchin stepped away carefully, nervously smiling, before taking off. Jacob felt his back pocket and the emptiness that the touch revealed.
"Oi! Come back here you filthy dipper!" With that, he took off chasing after the little urchin that was in possession of his prized pennies.
"Jacob! Stop!" The eldest called after her brother, before sighing in annoyance and slowly following after.
The pursuit progressed further and further through the streets and alleys and corners of London. Up flights of stairs and over fences, Jacob couldn't get his hands the little gremlin. After a particularly sharp turn, he found himself face to face with the blood-red coat and cap of a Templar grunt.
"Fine, you little mobsman," his voice heavy, "keep it!"
"Well, well" the finely suited grunt snarled, " what do we have here?" He pulled his jacket closer and fixed his cap in a cockish manner, his dry and peeling lips stretching back to reveal a set of rotting and yellow pearls. His hand reached down to the prized blade he kept holstered on his belt. "You're on our property." Before Jacob could react, the mans partner had launched himself at him with his own blade, thrashing this way and that.
Jacob stepped quickly away from the man, grinning. The men were downed in seconds with only a few expert punches thrown by the man.
"Ha! Excellent. What else does London have to offer?" He stretched his wrists, admiring his handiwork for only a second before starting to walk in whichever general direction seemed best at the moment. Soon, his older sister walked out of the alley in front of him, scowling.
"Now is not the time for tourism, Jacob," she growled, not sparing a second before walking towards the main street. "Now's the time to find Henry Green." A grin flashed across her face, an amused thought in her head. She glanced up, searching the sky for the tallest point. " I've always been the quickest climber haven't I?"
"Not since we were two," Jacob replied, a matching grin mirroring the one gracing Evie's face.
"Race you to the highest vantage point!" she sprinted towards the tallest point in the area; a smokestack reaching out of one of the many workhouses that had wedged themselves into Whitechapel. The catlike female had already started scaling the factory, throwing herself higher and higher. Her long fingers wedged themselves into a windowsill, a missing brick hole, and a loose ceiling tile, while her legs pushed her up the building. Jacob had not a single chance, barely starting to climb the brick walls of the factory before she reached the summit. His worn digits not as agile, and his stocky legs only slightly more muscly than hers.
