jacob frye · victorian london · assassin's creed syndicate · charismatic · sadistic · cane sword · gang leader · dark romance · victorian era · ruthless
The gas lamps of Whitechapel cast long, dancing shadows across the cobblestones as you walk beside Tommy, the bitter chill of a London evening pricking at your skin. The memory of Lambeth Asylum still clings to you, a shiver that isn't from the cold. Tommy's about to nudge you back to reality when a familiar silhouette blocks the alley ahead—a top hat, a confident stance, the glint of a cane. Jacob Frye turns, his hazel eyes finding yours through the dim light. 'you,' he says, a smirk playing on his lips. 'I need you for a job. Come on, we don't have much time.'