The Scarman Enigma

[|Scarecrow|]

Starwood Hotel, Landing Platform Terminal, Floor 75

Manning pulled himself to his feet, having managed to compartmentalise most of the pain flowing from his snapped collar bone. His right arm swung limply by his side as he hauled himself up. With an immense amount of willpower, he thrust the hand of his lame arm into his belt to steady the sway. He then turned his attention to the mad Tyrant. Victoria had fallen prone, and the monstrous parallel version of Scarman had leaped on top of her, grabbing her by the neck with both hands. She held onto his wrists helplessly as he strangled the life from her.
There’s only one thing for it now, Manning bitterly thought to himself, fight the Tyrant with everything you have left.
“Marcus, wherever you are-” Kurt muttered to himself, “You’d better get here quickly.”

With a rageful bellow, Kurt rushed the Tyrant’s exposed back. He sprinted, leaped, and then drove his left shoulder deep into the Tyrant’s ribs. Agony exploded across his upper torso at the jolting impact. The two of them crashed over the top of Victoria, and the monster’s grasp was wrenched free. Manning clattered to the ground and gasped for air, stunned by the pain. He rolled over and slowly rose, supporting himself on his knees and his left elbow. He swallowed and braced himself as he caught a glimpse of what was coming his way. The Tyrant had recovered much faster than he had. Scarman came at him alarmingly quickly, swinging a heavy booted foot up toward the stricken bounty hunter’s unprotected stomach. The boot connected with a meaty smack, stamping the wind from Manning’s lungs and punching deep into his gut. Manning gulped for air as he fell forward once again, unable to shout for the pain, his lungs deflated and desperate. The Tyrant rolled Manning roughly over onto his back and raised his boot into the air. He held his foot over Kurt’s face and allowed a smile to crack across his maddened features.
“Sweet dreams, bounty hunter.”

Before Tyrant Scarman could drop the killing blow, A metal chair clattered into the small of his back, stalling him and forcing him to plant both feet firmly on the ground. He whirled to find Victoria, beaten but driven with determination. She had hefted the chair with her bound hands and swung it at the Tyrant, releasing it with all the momentum she could carry.
“Brave of you,” The Tyrant sneered as he turned. He slowly started walking toward her. “But foolish.”
Victoria had nowhere to go. Her back was up against the scattered café chairs and tables, and she wasn’t fast enough to run away from him. The tape around her wrists had by now cut so deep that the feeling in her hands had almost gone entirely. It was a miracle that she had been able to summon enough dexterity to be able to grab and lift the chair. She raised her blackened hands in front of her, in as defensive a posture as she could muster. Tyrant Scarman advanced toward her, menacingly. She held her ground until they were standing face to face. Victoria closed her eyes as the Tyrant drew close enough for his hot breath to touch her cheeks.
“You’re nothing,” She croaked through gritted teeth, her voice hoarse, “You’ll never be anything close to the man he is.”
The skin underneath the Tyrant’s right eye began to twitch, and a guttural snarl emanated from somewhere deep within his gullet. He slowly brought his hands up to her neck, wrapping his fingers around her already bruised larynx.

Kurt’s mental blocks were wearing thin; the encompassing pain from his multiple injuries was starting to bubble over. He was only human, no special enhancements or implants. He had always thought of himself as resilient when it came to pain and injury, but this time, he found he was quickly reaching his limit. Through all the hurt and the breathlessness, he once again dragged himself up to his feet. This time, it took him twice as long. Blinking, he forced his watering eyes to focus on the scene before him. Tyrant Scarman was again at Victoria’s throat. She writhed under his grasp, scrabbling ineffectively at his hands. With all the strength he had remaining, Kurt started to limp forward. Wordlessly, he arrived behind Tyrant Scarman and with his final ounce of strength, he wrapped his good arm around the madman’s neck. He then clamped down hard, driving all his might into the headlock. Scarman tensed instantly, releasing Victoria and grabbing for his own neck. Kurt held on for a few crucial seconds before the Tyrant dug his fingers in around Kurt’s arm and wrenched him free. Victoria staggered backwards as the Tyrant’s eyes boiled with incandescent rage. Scarman reached out and grabbed the hilt of his combat knife, still embedded deep in Victoria’s shoulder. She screamed in agony and collapsed backwards as he wrenched the knife clean, a narrow spit of blood arcing out after the blade. Tyrant Scarman released Kurt’s arm and spun on the spot. He then drove the knife deep into Kurt’s esophagus.

Despite the intense mixture of laser fire and projectile rounds incoming from the grouped unit of Black Flag pirates, Marcus “Scarecrow” Scarman still heard Victoria’s anguished scream from behind him. He twisted round, leaning past Serov to look in the direction of the cry. He was just in time to watch Tyrant Scarman sink the blade into Kurt Manning’s throat.
“No!” He yelled in disbelief.
Scarecrow broke around Serov and resumed his sprint across the open terminal, paying no further heed to the torrent of weapons-fire. Stabs of laser energy popped and burst around him, punching through surfaces, knocking over chairs, and sending debris flying into the air.
“Marcus!” Serov yelled after him.
But there was no stopping the Freedom Fighter Admiral.
He was fixated on the Tyrant.
And Victoria.

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| S C A R E C R O W |

"See you space cowboy..."