(This will be the opening post.)
Jetta didn’t know what time of day it was, was not entirely sure how long she had been in the dark catacombs beneath the church. The guards changed every twelve hours but she had lost count with the many black outs the Templars forced her in to. Now as she woke and beating she had received the last waking had her breath ragged in her chest. Long ago she had been stripped of her precious robes and left in her now torn, ragged and bloodied purple tunic and tights. Even her favorite boots had been removed as if they’d known about the hidden blades in the heels.
The cold air didn’t bother so much, reminded her of the peace she had known before The Emerging. The little girl they had chained up in the cell next to hers coughed and that dragged Jetta out of sluggishness. Painfully she moved into a sitting position on the hard ancient stone floor and her shielded eyes took in the sight of her dirty cell and the one next. The child’s cell was not bloody or soiled which Jetta was thankful for, taking punishments and men’s brutalities for the child was the good Jetta gave to the world. Her suffering could be handled but a child should never know the horrors Jetta herself had known these last weeks.
The child coughed again and whimpered into the darkness lit with only a single flickering candle. There was no male voice yelling for the child to quiet down, or mocking Jetta as she woke. There was a commotion above ground and Jetta realized the ruckus had woken her. Grunting in pain from her fractured ribs Jetta slowly stood, pulling herself up using the mental cells bars as leverage. Into the darkness she narrowed her eyes and saw no one, very strange...but very convenient!
There was a table just outside the child’s prison that the cell keys had carelessly been left. Obviously the guards had left in a hurry to make such a dumb mistake. Jetta breathed through the pain as bent and lifted a small stone in her hand. Tossing it through the bars Jetta had the rock bounce off the ground and roll to the child’s back. The small girl winced and whimpered slowly turning her head; the bruise on her cheek made rage fuel Jetta but her voice was as soft as any mothers. “Little one, the mean ones are distracted. We can…we can get out of here, sweet, if you’ll only reach through the bars and grab up those keys.”
Jetta pointed with the hand not holding her weight up against the bars. “Just there, see, the fools...they left us an escape...”
“They will hurt me...” whispered the child, shaking her head those tease stains cutting at Jetta’s heart. “I will not let them, baby. Just...just get me those keys and I’ll make sure we get out of here.”
She used her softest tones with as much persuasion as she could.
The child coughed again as she got up, the sound rattling in her small lungs which worried Jetta. The brave little thing looked out of her cell for a long time, listening as Jetta was, for footsteps. Then, thankfully, the small hand slipped between cold steel bars and picked up the large ring of keys. Jetta sighed with relief and held a very grateful smile on her bruised, bloodies and dirty face. Once the girl had placed the ring in Jettas outstretched hand The Black Rose went to work.
Within a few moments she had unlocked her chains, left her cell, opened the child’s and removed the girl’s chain as well. Then it was out into the cold, damp, dark catacombs on their third escape attempt in as many weeks. Jetta gave the flickering candle lantern to the child and picked up her chains as the only weapon handy. On and on they ran through the catacombs, climbing up and up. Just as Jetta pushed open the hidden door an old manor there were Templars trying to flee something in their direction? Jetta yelled at the child to run and flew into action. Jetta was slow, wounded and possibly ill but that didn’t stop her. Before the Templars could give chase to the small girl Jetta had two of them strangling against her chain and falling unconscious to the ground.
Then she had a dagger in her hand from the boot of a fallen Templar and was in a graceful fury of killing. Six Templars fell to her dagger and the almost dance-like movements of her battle to escape. The captain of this group knew she was hurt, had been the one to hurt her and kneed Jetta in her fractured ribs, breaking one. That had her on her knees where the other Templars were racing, some running past in fear and others attempting to capture her once more.
Jetta fought as hard as she could and downed two more guards with quick thrusts of her dagger into their soft throats. Then the Templar captain kicked her in the ribs and she couldn’t hold back her scream. The captain smirked behind his helmet, finally getting a pained sound from the Black Rose. Days and nights of torture had only gained him a glare, the same one in her eyes now only her filthy, matted blood red hair shielded him from. Jetta didn’t want to stop fighting but pain was a white haze behind her eyes and stole breath from her burning lungs. ‘This is the end..'
she thought with a broken heart. ‘Jupiter I have failed..’
Then like an avenging angel suddenly there was a figure there, one the Templars cursed and feared above all others. That was the last conscious through Jetta had as, embarrassingly, pain pulled her into unconsciousness.