The Scarman Enigma

[|Scarecrow|]

Starwood Hotel, Centre for Commerce, Floor 72

Sayne Jaydn burst into the large auditorium that took up most of the Starwood tower’s seventy second floor, gripping his assault carbine tightly in his hands.
“Scarman, where the fuck are you?” His voice boomed as he stood at the edge of the wide theatre.

The large space was oddly quiet, except for a couple of pirates at the windows, levelling weapons out at the attacking Freedom Fighters. Two of them had long barrel rifles and were steadily picking targets with their scopes. However, the third had a plasma rifle, and was calling out triumphantly whilst firing aimlessly from the hip. The entire form seemed more for show than it did actual combat effectiveness.

Sayne strode purposefully down the central aisle toward the lectern. Before the Black Flag had seized the building, the room had been set up for some kind of business presentation. The rows of seats were scattered with jackets, briefcases, and backpacks, and the screen behind the lectern was idly cycling through a series of charts and graphs. The people who had been gathered in the room when the pirates arrived had been quickly sent scuttling down the stairwell, toward the lower levels.

“Scarman!?” Sayne shouted again. This time, the gathered Black Flag pirates turned their attention to him. He eyed them all with distaste. “Where is he!?”
The nearest, the man with the plasma rifle, turned his body to face Sayne. “Relax. He’s close by.”
Sayne bit his tongue. These Black Flag Corsairs were insufferable, arrogant. Far too cocky.
“We don’t have time to mess around. This fight will be over before you know it. The local armed forces aren’t going to stand idly by whilst one of the cities’ most central towers is torn up by the weapons fire of two unknown factions.”
The Black Flag pirate stood impassively. He clearly didn’t care about the plan. He was here to revel in blood.
Sayne took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. He asked again, “Where is Tyrant Scarman?”

The clattering of a door at the end of the theatre space prevented the Black Flag pirate from answering. Sayne looked across to see the Black Flag Brawler Pete Connors approaching, dragging a struggling young girl behind him as he came. Connors was in bad shape. He was missing his right hand, after he had been blasted off previously during his and Tyrant Scarman’s escape from the Freedom Fighter flagship Tuatha de Danaan. Sayne paused as he saw the girl. Connor had grabbed her by the wrists in his only remaining hand and was giving her little consideration as he towed her along the aisle.

“The girl…” He muttered as Connors approached. Until now, he hadn’t given her much thought. He had subconsciously categorised her as an unfortunate but necessary casualty as he finally realized his years-long campaign of vengeance. However, a strange sensation struck him as he saw her in person for the first time since he had bombed the Scarman residence. Was that… remorse? She was real. Should she survive, this girl would reel from the effects of these days for years to come. Sayne closed his eyes as unpleasant memories arose from the darkest corners of his mind.

The sound of Connors’ voice snapped him out of it, “Tyrant Scarman is on the floor above. He has the woman, Victoria Wade.”
Sayne nodded, now back in the moment. “Yes, good. Scarecrow will come for her. What are your orders, Connors?”
The broad, stoic pirate remained almost motionless as he replied, “My Tyrant has ordered me to keep the girl secure; a bargaining chip, should he need it.”
Sayne was impressed by him. The man had lost his entire hand and wrist only hours before, and somehow remained completely composed. “Yes- But come with me. I may have need of you, and the girl.”

With that, Sayne broke away from Connors and made for the nearest staircase that would take him up to the next level. Connors followed, still dragging Heather Scarman behind him. The eight-year-old whimpered as she was dragged in a new direction, her face flushed and tear-stained. The Black Flag pirate with the plasma rifle watched them go, a sneer on his face. As soon as they had left, he returned his attention to the window, picked a target, and opened fire.

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| S C A R E C R O W |

"See you space cowboy..."