The Scarman Enigma

[|Scarecrow|]

Starwood Hotel, Centre for Commerce, Floor 73

The final couple of tables parted as Tyrant Scarman flung them away with both arms. Victoria lowered herself, ducking and rolling to one side to avoid the torrent. The Tyrant lunged for her, his blade whipping through the air where she had once stood. Victoria skidded to a halt, knocking into a grouping of discarded tables. She had evaded his strike, but her body was wracked with pain from all the cuts and bruises she had sustained over the past ten minutes. The Tyrant was toying with her, that much was clear. None of his blows were intended to cause serious injury, although at the rate he was going, it would surely be 'death by a thousand cuts'. Victoria’s head pounded from where she had taken several knocks to the skull. Dried, encrusted blood had run down her forehead and filled her right eyebrow. A smattering of blood had also dried around her left nostril, and her jawbone ached on both sides. She still had her senses, for now. And some of her reflexes. She dodged again as the Tyrant shifted his weight and swung at her with another attack. This time she wasn’t quite fast enough, and the blade caught her just above the stomach. The keen edge cut through the fabric of her combat gear and sliced open another gash in her skin. She grimaced as she reeled away, staggering backwards and almost tripping over an upturned chair.

She tried again to loosen her hands; her gaze locked onto the savage monster that opposed her. Her wrists were now agonisingly raw as she tried desperately to free them from the tape. Since her previous breakout, the Tyrant had secured them much more tightly. The sharp, sticky plastic edges were biting into her skin and cutting off the flow of blood to her fingertips. With every swift movement, she felt a renewed buzz of pins-and-needles through her fingers and hands. And they were starting to take on an alarming shade of light blue.

Tyrant Scarman’s sinister grin was fixated on her. She still found the fact of his existence hard to believe, despite all these months of travelling through parallel dimensions. The face was that of the man she had come to love, although she hadn’t yet faced up to that fact within herself. Except this man, this face… It wasn’t Marcus. It was a twisted nightmare. This creature was evil wearing Marcus’ face.

The creature attacked again. Weary, Victoria was once again caught off guard. However, this time, the wound was more severe. She tried to duck away from the Tyrant, towards the wide line of windows that spilled out toward the row of opposite skyscrapers. Tyrant Scarman had lunged with the blade outstretched, beneath his hand. The knife sunk into her shoulder, deep. Almost to the hilt. Victoria crumpled mid effort and screamed in agony. She fell to the floor, knocking aside a trio of discarded chairs. The knife hilt protruded from her left shoulder, and an an alarming amount of blood started to run down toward the ground, soaking her already stained and tattered underlayer.

Tyrant Scarman stood over her. He had leg go of the knife as he had struck, allowing it to fall with Victoria. He looked down at her, as she glanced from him to the blade embedded in her flesh.
“Go on,” He coerced her, “Take it. Pull it out.”
Victoria’s breath was rapid. She could see the hilt clearly when she looked down to her left. She lifted her tied hands up and wrapped her fingers around it. The pain almost filled her completely, enough for her to instantly release her grip, open her eyes wide, and curl up into a ball. “Oh- God!”
The Tyrant knelt on one knee before her and rolled her onto her back. He avoided the blade protruding from just beside her left collar bone and gently caressed her face, wiping a strand of blood-matted strawberry blonde hair from over her eye.
“You are…” He whispered as he marvelled, “… the most beautiful…”

The door behind the Tyrant clattered with a heavy impact. Scarman turned to look just as it banged again. This time, the strike knocked loose the table that was blocking the entrance. The tabletop screeched as it was pushed along the floor. Sayne Jadyn stepped through the gap and his eyes locked onto the Tyrant.
“Scarman, what the fuck are you doing?” Sayne demanded, an almost incredulous tone in his voice. “Scarecrow and Merlow are here! Now!”
“They’ll get theirs,” Tyrant Scarman stood and turned to face Jadyn. “I’m making sure I get something else that’s owed to me.”
Sayne looked down to the near-broken form of Victoria Wade lying on the floor. She looked back at him, a pathetic, broken thing, devoid of any hope.
Jadyn looked back up at Scarman, “You’re a psychopath.”
The Tyrant snarled, “It takes one, Jadyn.”
“We’ve spent hours- days- pulling this plan together.” Sayne stepped in closer, walking toward the Tyrant, “And you’d jeopardise everything for this! You do realise that this is what put you here in the first place, don’t you? You killed this woman- her alternate self- because of Merlow!”
“Yes!” Scarman almost shouted, “Don’t you see! This is my chance to have it all back! Everything that bastard took from me! Mine again!”
“If you kill her again,” Sayne matched the Tyrant’s volume, “You’ll have no one to blame but yourself!”
“Don’t test me Jadyn,” the Tyrant took a menacing step forward.
“You’re a fool Tyrant Marcus Scarman.” Sayne smiled darkly, “Go rot in hell.”
At that point, Sayne knew there was nothing left in this. The Tyrant was too obsessed with Victoria to be trustworthy. Sayne must let his perverse fixation run its course, or put him down for good.

The rage in Tyrant Scarman’s eyes boiled over, but he remained still, puzzled, as Sayne raised a placating hand. Seemingly out of nowhere, Victoria broke free of the pair of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Sayne had watched her. She had been inching herself away from the Tyrant as Sayne held his attention. As soon as she had a clear line to the door, she made a break for it. Sayne stepped to one side, allowing her to pass.

The pain was unbearable, but there was nothing else she could do. Victoria cannonballed for the door, leaping across overturned chairs as she ran. She slipped through the door before the Tyrant had time to yell. Once outside in the wider auditorium space, Victoria began sprinting for a large set of double doors on the far side of the room. She was vaguely aware of another two people standing outside the door to the conference room, but she didn’t stop to check. She needed to put as much distance as she could between herself and that monstrous creature.

Sayne broke into a howling laughter as Tyrant Scarman charged after Victoria. “Careful Scarecrow, she’ll slip away.”
The Tyrant burst from the room and almost ran into Pete Connors, who was standing guard by the door. Connors’ only remaining hand held a tight grip on the arm of the young Scarman girl. Her red face was stained with fresh tears, although she had now learned to keep her whimpering to a minimum.
“Connors!” Tyrant Scarman boomed, “Victoria, where did she-”
Connors immediately pointed toward the set of double doors. Victoria disappeared through them as the Tyrant looked.
“With me!” He yelled, setting off after Victoria in a sprint.

Pete Connors took one look down at young Heather Scarman. He released his grip and fell into a sprint behind his Tyrant.
Sayne Jadyn exited the room behind them all, watching them go.
“Screw you Scarman,” He muttered under his breath, “I hope you find a slow and painful death. I’ll have my revenge; I don’t need you for it.”
Sayne looked down at the cowering form of Heather Scarman.
“You,” He put a steering hand on her shoulders, “Come with me.”

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| S C A R E C R O W |

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