AC Syndicate: Isolated Files [OS]

Talion Law

The room was barely lit by a few candles along the walls. The dim light from the small chandelier in the centre of the room revealed a dark shape. It was a woman sitting in a chair, her hands behind her back, her chin against her upper chest. It was difficult to tell if she was still alive, but the slight breathing and the very slight shaking from the heartbeat and some pain that woke her up gave her away.

She squeezed her eyes shut at yet another pang of unpleasantness in her ribs before lifting her head slightly. Her long, messy hair from being hit made it impossible to see clearly what was around her. All she could understand was that she was still stuck in this painful nightmare, which replayed the rales of the kidnapper's relentlessness that had beaten her.

The brunette made a noise with her pasty mouth while continuing to raise her head painfully. She was thirsty, and tried to call out to someone despite her very weak voice. She just wanted water. Straightening her head was an ordeal for her, so she gave up this usually easy effort.

Despite the ringing in her ears, making her feel deaf, she heard the din of furniture being pushed and kicked as well as the screams of the man who had taken his anger out on her several hours before. Then she heard knees hitting the floor just above her head before she heard crying. It was a man crying for a loved one.

Soon after, the anger returned and determined footsteps kicked up dust above the ailing woman's head. As they passed, a chair was violently pushed aside before the footsteps moved away and towards the door that was in front of the brunette held under the floor. The inmate's gaze went to the sound of the lock of the only access to the room.

"Wake up, you little whore!" the man shouted as he moved towards her.

The woman did not answer, which made him even more upset. He took a firm grip on the bottom of her jaw, the hollow between his thumb and forefinger fitting perfectly on her chin, and leaned her head back. He saw her face coloured by more or less recent bruises, caused by the multiple blows he had dealt her, and also hollowed out by open and superficial wounds. His left eye was closed, still swollen and slightly purplish, while the iris of the right eye was surrounded by red.

"Who are you really to Jacob?! Why isn't he coming?! He should be here!"

"He-he... maybe doesn't want to... to see your scarred face..." she supposed very dimly.

The man had heard her voice perfectly, and his blood rushed to his ears. He threw the woman's face back and turned his back on her, growling. He didn't want to hit her right away, he had to keep control of himself, not kill her on the spot. To do that, he wanted Jacob to see the brunette's kill. He wanted to do to her what he had done when his faithful friend and right-hand man Lewis had been killed by the leader of the Rooks. He wanted to make him suffer even more. The brunette struggled to get her head upright, holding back a groan of pain. The Blighters' leader's reaction did not stop her from continuing to provoke him. She wasn't afraid of him and what he was going to do to her. He was just a capricious and frustrated man.

Following this umpteenth provocation, stinging the ego of the owner of the Alhambra, he struck the young woman violently in the face, whose head flew to the side. She moaned with pain, but stifled her complaint and just smiled. The kidnapper then paced in front of her, running his hand through his hair. When he stopped, he saw her lips stretched into a smirk. He approached her and was about to raise his hand to her to remove the amused look from her face. The prisoner was knocked unconscious by the umpteenth blow to her face. Maxwell felt a form of power come over him. He had liked to wipe that smile off her face, he wanted to hit her again while she was neutralized. Without waiting, he gave in to his urge and raised his hand. Just as he was about to bring it down on the face hidden by the hair, a creak of the door behind held the man with the scar.

"You wanted to see me, Roth," a familiar voice told the other two.

Though he hid it, Jacob saw with horror and pain Victoria's condition as Maxwell looked at him. The man with the top hat had his arms folded in the doorway. He finally let them fall to his side before moving towards Roth.

"Leave her out of this," he ordered darkly. "This is between you and me."

"Oh no, my friend!" retorted the man. "I got used to it at the end of our adventure," he said. "No, I only want to make you suffer as I have suffered since the death of Le..."

"I didn't know that you and... Lewis? were so close," the Assassin scoffed, stepping aside as Maxwell looked on. "I thought he was just your good dog."

Hearing this, Maxwell's blood heated up. He was insulting the memory of his friend and right-hand man. He clenched his fists, and this did not escape Jacob's gaze, who finally paced in front of him. He continued in his provocation, he knew him well. He knew perfectly well that Roth would act stupidly and violently.

As he expected, the Blighters' leader pounced on the Rooks' leader, wanting to strangle him with all his might. He wanted to break his neck as he had done with the young raven after the explosion of one of Starrick's factories. But the Assassin did not let him. He pushed Maxwell away and took the opportunity to draw his kukri. This time, leaving Roth alive was out of the question. He didn't want to waste any more time, he wanted to get Victoria out of there and take her to a doctor.

As Roth lunged at Jacob again, the latter turned sharply towards him, pulling out his blade and quickly thrusting it into his carotid artery. The Alhambra owner's eyes widened as blood began to spill from his throat. Jacob's face, still grimacing, unclenched before he pulled the blade from his flesh. He went with Maxwell as he fell.

"Lewis saved your life, I spared you, and this is how you repay us."

Roth couldn't answer, the blood drowning him from the inside before spilling into the basement of the theatre. Jacob took out a white cloth and wiped part of it across the victim's throat. He tucked the cloth into his coat and stood up, his eyes on Victoria still unconscious but still alive.

He went towards her and raised his face once in front of her. He saw the damage Maxwell had inflicted on her, and it wasn't a pretty sight. He perceived a strange little hissing sound coming from the brunette's throat. He knew then that she was still breathing. He went behind her and untied her. He lifted her up after putting his arm over her shoulders. He bent his legs slightly so that his free hand was behind her knees. His other hand went behind her back. Ready to bear the weight of her body, he straightened up and held her close. With Victoria's head cradled in his neck, the Assassin took the opportunity to press his chin against her temple. Like a promise, he told her:

"It's over, Victoria. I am here."

With these words, Jacob slowly left the basement to avoid worsening the internal injuries of the still unconscious brunette. He walked out of the Alhambra into the rain and the grey light of London.