The Scarman Enigma

[|Scarecrow|]

Starwood Hotel, Penthouse Village, Floor 77

The Starwood Hotel’s penthouses were a small village unto themselves. Situated within the protective shell of the building’s reinforced glass cap, the penthouse village looked more like a scattered and asymmetrical rural town than the uppermost levels of a skyscraper, except made from smooth white concrete and steel and not centuries-old stone and terracotta. The suites resembled a bundle of homes, but they were still bound together by the common logic of the skyscraper. The final five stories of the building broke the village into logical sections, despite the irregularity of the layout. Each floor was essentially a ring, with the penthouses on the outside of the loop, facing outward. That left room for entertainment suites, gyms, bars and restaurants, and the elevator shafts in the middle.

The penthouses themselves were the peak of wealthy luxury. They were spacious, comfortable apartments that made use of natural light and broad, open spaces. Some of them spilled over more than one floor, adding to the irregularity of the section. Under normal conditions, they were the height of extravagance, a refuge for the wealthiest travelers and holidaymakers. However, since the Black Flag Corsairs had made them home, they had fallen to ruin. The pirates had taken up positions on balconies and through wide windows, setting up heavy weaponry and anti-air missile systems in an almost three-hundred-and-sixty-degree arc around the top of the tower. Their weapons had blown through walls and shattered glass, both internally and externally. Some of the panes of the outer glass cap had been completely destroyed, raining lethal shards down on the streets below. This had led to strong gusts of wind that rattled the walls of the penthouses, swept light furnishings from tabletops and surfaces, and created odd wailing and groaning sounds that droned throughout the penthouse complex.

At points, the village contacted the reinforced glass cap in the form of a bridge. These bridges provided essential access to the exterior maintenance decks. This was where Scarecrow’s party had made their way into the penthouses. The team from the Thunderhawk was an unusually high profile one; Admiral “Scarecrow” Scarman, the Freedom Fighters Fleet Admiral, Robert Merlow, Special Agent Thomas Serov, and Admiral Jayce Wilder, supported by a retinue of originally six but now down to five 1st Fleet Marines. It wasn’t regular protocol to have so many high-profile targets in one unit, but they had rushed to arms following the escape of Black Flag Tyrant Marcus Scarman from the Tuatha de Danaan in orbit and the escalation of events on the planet’s surface.

The party had by now fought the pirates throughout floor 78 and pushed their way down to floor 77. Scarecrow led the way, the butt of his SCAR pressed into his shoulder. The team of Freedom Fighters pressed forward through the penthouses, room by room, covering each other with military precision. Marcus’ breathing was long and controlled, regulating his oxygen and adrenaline levels. He had done this a thousand times, long before his days amongst the Admiralty.

As the party entered the inner circular route of floor 77, Marcus caught a glimpse of movement up ahead.
“Contact,” he said plainly, his voice clean and even, loud enough for everyone to hear. He followed his warning with a short burst of fire from his SCAR. The muzzle of the weapon lit up the corridor, and the inner wall several metres ahead of him exploded in a shower of sparks and shattered paneling.
The Freedom Fighters fanned out, nearly two thirds of them facing forwards whilst the remainder covered their rear. The leading members aimed their weapons at the point Scarecrow had tagged. Sighting down his own rifle, Thomas Serov also let off a short burst of fire, impacting the wall close to Scarecrow’s mark. Behind his line of fire, he could just make out the form of one of the pirates. She had pressed herself up against the wall and was rapidly backing off.
Crack. Crack.
Merlow stepped across, ahead of Serov, firing his twin rail pistols as he moved. One of the high velocity projectiles punched into the wall ahead of the pirate but the second found its mark. The woman fell away from the wall with a howl, an ugly bullet wound in her gut.
“One down,” he said, lowering his second pistol to the injured woman on the ground, “Possibly more.”
Merlow executed the gut-shot pirate at range in a merciful coup de grace.

Scarecrow and Serov took point again, pushing forward to run down any more pirates. Short bursts from their rifles lit up the corridor, covering their companions as the whole party advanced. Their rounds shattered the wall paneling along the furthest visible edge of the circular passageway and punching holes in the plasterboard.
“Hold,” Marcus called, suddenly stopping. Serov paused next to him, casting a glance across.
“This isn’t right,” Marcus continued, they are pulling us into something.
“Good call,” Serov hunkered down, scanning the corridor ahead.
Behind them, Merlow and Wilder were close by, with two of the marines.
“Same as the last level,” Merlow said plainly, “We must check this place room by room. Our top priority is rescuing the native Scarman girl. They could be holding her anywhere here.”

They had painstakingly cleared the previous floor, pushing through each of the suites and central rooms in a methodical, by-the-book sweeping pattern. This floor had been no different. They had covered all the rooms within the central ring as they had come down the stairwell. All that was left was the penthouses facing outward, but that was typically where the pirates had dug themselves in.
“There,” Serov pointed toward one of the doors to the penthouse apartments. It was ajar, but the angle of the corridor inside the apartment in relation to their position made it impossible to see inside. However, if they had continued along in pursuit of the pirate, they would have blindly fallen into a clear and potential enemy line of sight through the door.

Marcus dropped to one knee and unclipped a grenade from his belt. “Flashbang.”
He pulled the pin and tossed the grenade in through the open door. It struck the interior wall running perpendicular to the ring corridor and disappeared out of sight. A dull crump followed in its wake.
“Move, move,” Scarcrow pushed himself forwards and descended on the door. A burst of rifle fire from behind him signaled Serov covering him as he moved.
Marcus’ fears were confirmed as he rounded the corner. He discovered the trap that had been set for them. A high-energy rotolaser nest had been set up a few metres back inside the doorway. It would have no doubt melted half of the squad had they stumbled into it. It’s two operatives had stumbled and lost possession of their weapon, temporarily blinded and deafened by the flashbang. Marcus finished them with two quick bursts each. Blood spattered along the walls as they went down. Marcus quickly stepped forward and disconnected the power-pack from the rotolaser.
“Entrance hall clear,” He called back, stepping over the gun emplacement and pushing further into the apartment. “You were right. Heavy laser cannon.”

As he pushed further into the suite, Scarecrow realised that this apartment was one of the blocks that spilled out over two floors. The entrance corridor on the 77th floor opened into a wide mezzanine landing area that branched off into a couple of rooms, presumably bedrooms or bathrooms. A staircase led down to the wide-open living room and kitchen space below, on the 76th floor. The furthest wall from the mezzanine banister; the outer wall of this section of the penthouse village, was almost entirely made of glass. The view beyond was spectacular; a stunning panoramic out of the Starwood’s rooftop, out over the city of LAC. Marcus could see a couple of the hotel’s floating landing platforms, each with landed aircars resting on them. One had a native police Patriot class light fighter hunkered down on its skids, it’s blue and red lights flashing with urgency. Small, scattered figures indicated the local police presence.
Possibly shooters, Scarecrow thought worriedly, this is getting way out of hand…

Scarecrow carefully traversed the stairwell, covering every angle with his SCAR. Serov followed, along with two of the 1st Fleet Marines, and Merlow bringing up the rear. With a quick glance, Marcus saw that Wilder and the remaining marines had taken up positions by the mezzanine banister, covering the room below. Marcus delicately stepped off the bottom step and into the living room area. He slowly spun on the spot, covering the room down the sight of his rifle.
“This still feels off,” He muttered as Serov joined him on the bottom floor.
“Yeah,” Thomas nodded as the pair of them fell in step, back-to-back. “Something-”

Serov didn’t have time to finish his sentence. The explosion began with a series of small pops around the outer edge of the room. Then, a searing ring of fire punched up out of the ground, emerging as if from nowhere, and swallowed them whole. The thundercrack of the explosion came nanoseconds after, deafening them both as the floor fell away below their feet. The last thing Marcus remembered before blacking out was the surprised look on the face of one of the 1st Fleet Marines as the flames engulfed him.

---

| S C A R E C R O W |

"See you space cowboy..."