Assassin's Creed X Reader One-shots

My Savior, Mr Frye (Jacob x Reader)

The Autumn of Terror

The year was 1888 when London was plunged into shadow and fear by a long string of gruesome and unsolvable murders. The brothels of Whitechapel were a safe haven compared to the streets, where prostitutes are mutilated and left on grotesque display for the public to ogle.

But one man plans to hunt the elusive killer, and put an end to his twisted game.

A hired coach rattles down the cobblestone streets of London. Jacob Frye sits within its shabby interior, the muscles in his jaw clenching as hazel eyes scan across the newspaper in his hands. Another letter from the Ripper, published for the whole world to read. "Weaversbrook," the Assassin seethes, tossing the paper onto the torn leather seat. This situation was spiralling out of control. What don't these journalists understand? The more publicity Jack the Ripper receives, the more women are put at risk.

This has to end. Now.

The coach grew closer to its evening destination. He pulled the window curtain closed, a tear in the darkened fabric being the only thing to allow in light as they passed the occasional street lamp. Gloved fingers strummed rhythmically atop his knee, his anxiety building. Four women had been slaughtered and placed revoltingly on display in the past two weeks; Irene, Camilla, Janet, Nancy. Jacob knew them all. They were friends, not only to him but to the Assassins as well, and for them to be stalked and murdered with such brutality...Jack will pay for this.

A petrified scream rips through the night air. Jacob hangs out the window, pounding his fist against the carriage door, urging the driver to quicken his pace. "This time, Jack...," Jacob's hazel eyes darkened, his voice a husked whisper, "...you won't get away."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

A petrified scream rips through the night air.

Your scream.

The once hot blood running through your veins turns to ice, a violent shiver wracking your body. A breathy gasp escapes your painted lips as (colour) orbs struggle to maintain focus. The mutilated corpse sprawled across the cobblestones wrenches a name from your throat, "Anna..."

No...not another one.

No!

The dark-cloaked figure, stooped and drenched in blood, inclines his head towards you in a graceful, near elegant nature. Oh God. It's him...the Ripper. Quick, shallow gasps for breath were all you could manage, a terror unlike any other digging its claws deep into your heart, as the demon before you tore his blade from his victims flesh, straightened to his full imposing height and whirled to your trembling form all in one fluid movement.

You wanted to run, but couldn't.

An ominous hessian visage examined you from above a dark cloaked body that appeared large and powerful in the narrow, blood soaked alley. His eyes, visible only through tiny slits slashed through the fabric, they were the worst. They gazed back at you, strangely blue and bright in the smoggy dimness of the night, dancing with ecstasy and madness.

"Unfortunate timing, my lady," he whispered in a hushed, eerily pleasant voice which was all the more terrifying for its calmness. Especially compared to those psychotic, dilated eyes. "Now I'll have to kill you, too."

Your knees buckled. In this blinding instant, all previous hours of what appeared to be an ordinary day whirled before you. How normal and mundane and tedious everything had been until the moment you stepped foot in this alley. In the blink of an eye, your life can change.

The Ripper raised his knife high.

In that split next instant, the scene before you seared itself in on your brain: the black, smoggy dimness caused by surrounding buildings belching black soot into the air, rats gnawing on the month old flesh of some half starved mutt that had chosen this alley to be the place of its demise, blood working its way through the seams in the cobblestones and pooling around the toes of your heeled boots, the nose crinkling stench of stale piss and shit, blood and....death.