The Scarman Enigma

[|Scarecrow|]

Starwood Hotel, Rooftop Maintenance Area.

Marcus lowered his SCAR rifle and grabbed the handrail beside him, bracing himself against a strengthening front of wind shear. The Starwood tower was over three hundred meters tall, and intense gusts at such a height were to be expected. There had been a brief mention of them in the mission outline, but Marcus hadn’t physically prepared himself for how disruptive they’d be. He glanced behind him, checking to see how his comrades were faring. The closest member of the team was Jayce Wilder. Similarly, to Scarecrow, the Admiral had shored himself up against the railing, ducking low to remain out of the line of sight of the enemy.

A deafening crack tore through the sky, forcing Marcus to flinch and duck low. The earsplitting sound was loud enough to shatter glass and came from somewhere in the sky above. Marcus squinted upward. It was hard to miss the bright fireball that now lit up the night sky. Their Thunderhawk transport had been hit by anti-air munitions. The hardy dropship was still in flight, but her port engine was ablaze, and she was listing severely to one side. A smattering of scorched debris cascaded out around her, leaving faint smoking trails as they spiraled downward. Her remaining engine whined with increasing strain as her pilot fought to keep her level. Her troop cables still dangled from her open hatches, although by now all her personnel had disembarked. A team of gunners had set up sponsons out of both side doors and were raining fire down into the Starwood’s rooftops.

A second rocket propelled projectile tore upward from some unseen source on the other side of the building. The explosive punched into the prow of the ailing dropship, exploding in a fresh ejection of flames and wreckage. Still, the Thunderhawk persevered, although thick columns of inky black ochre were spilling from almost every opening. Her pilot was now backing her off; attempting to gain height whilst also putting distance between his stricken ship and the hot zone. He was unable to climb, however, as all around the Thunderhawk, native LACPD aircars and Patriot class light fighters had gathered; a swarm of flashing blue and red lights and screaming sirens. A few of the aircars were blocking the Thunderhawk, calling to her with loudspeakers.
“Move your vehicle away from the building!” The synthesized voice was loud enough to be heard over the roaring gunfire and howling winds.
Crippled from the attacking pirates, and under the threat of renewed violence from the local police, the Thunderhawk dropship swung away and made for a gap between two skyscrapers across the block. The ship was streaming fire and smoke as it fell away, flanked by the trailing police aircars.

Marcus returned his attention to the problem they faced. The maintenance gangway they had dropped onto was a relatively linear path around the top of the hotel tower. There was seemingly only one way in and out of the building, and it was currently well guarded by pirate forces. Marcus had counted only two, maybe three pirates inside the threshold of the doorway, but their position was far superior to that of the gathered Freedom Fighters. Marcus and his comrades were pinned.
Scarecrow turned to Robert Merlow, who was crouched behind an exterior vent across the walkway, slightly further ahead.
“We need to get in behind them somehow,” He called across the din of the racing winds.
Merlow had pressed his shoulder up against the vent and was peering ahead at the target. He briefly looked back at Scarecrow.
“I could possibly make it around, but those glass panes don’t look like they’d hold much weight for long.” The Fleet Admiral nodded across to the adjacent string of penthouse lightbox rooftops. The array of glass windows formed open skylights for the immaculate Starwood penthouse suites, offering a clear and beautiful view of the night sky for any wealthy residents. What they didn’t offer was secure footing for a troop of Freedom Fighter marines.
“Doesn’t look secure,” Marcus shook his head.
Without turning, Merlow continued, “I’ll be fast. Get around them, maybe above them.”
He turned around to look back at Scarecrow, “But you need to hold their attention, I’ll be wide open out there.”
Marcus gritted his teeth and nodded, bringing his SCAR up to his chest.
“Eyes on me,” Marcus called out to the others, “Covering fire on my mark.”
He gave Merlow the nod.

Robert Merlow lay down his own SCAR, propping it against the vent he was using for cover. He then took a deep breath and unsheathed his katana from the scabbard at his hip.
He gave Marcus a quick smile, “Relax, brother. This is what I live for.”

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