The Scarman Enigma

[|Scarecrow|]

Starwood Hotel, Landing Platform Terminal, Floor 75

“Come on, come on!” Jadyn hissed as he rifled through the small lockbox full of aircar controllers. He grabbed one after the other, thumbing the locking mechanisms on them. All the while, he visually scanned the surrounding landing platforms for any signs of a match. At least, he scanned those that he could see. The landing platforms encircled the uppermost floors of the Starwood tower. Many of them were further along, in both directions, clear of his line of sight. None of the parked aircars in sight were flashing at him in compliance. Frustrated, he emptied the box on the floor. The plastic controllers skittered across the tiles in all directions.

One of these must control that damned car.
A small, family sized airbus sat on one of the pads not too far from the ferry terminal where Sayne had taken cover. It looked like a relatively luxurious example, although that was all Sayne could glean from this distance. He couldn’t make out the make or the model of the vehicle, it was too far away, and he knew too little about aircars to be able to identify any telling shapes. To him, most of the planet-bound aircars looked largely similar; uninspired boxes or wedges packaged with skirt-like Anti-Grav systems around the chassis. However, this one had what he wanted: discretion. It looked a lot like every other airborne civilian vehicle that flitted around the skies of Los Angeles Capital. It would have no trouble blending in with the rest of the aerial traffic, despite the police lockdown that was now in full effect.

“Daddy?” Jadyn looked up at the sound of Heather Scarman’s puzzled voice. She was peering over the back of the bench that he had dragged over to the security booth for cover.
“Get down,” Sayne ordered, pulling her back. She flopped into a sitting position on the bench, a look of fear in her eyes. Jadyn turned to see what she had been looking at. His eyes widened with shock.
There you are! He had presumed it would happen, but he hadn’t let himself consider how he might react when it did. A tornado of emotions spun up from the pit of his stomach; a vengeful rage taking precedence. There he was. For the first time since the attack on Senator Scarman’s million-dollar home, Sayne found himself looking at the face of his enemy. The focus of his entire mission, Marcus “Scarecrow” Scarman, had launched himself at his twisted alternate self; the mad Tyrant of the Black Flag. The two men were fighting, hard. It was a bitter and unforgiving match, the two men close contest for one another. They were each landing blow after blow, like bare-knuckle boxers at the height of intense violence.
Sayne furrowed his brow as Tyrant Scarman landed a heavy strike across Scarecrow’s face. The Admiral staggered backwards; his arms spread out to retain his balance. They were certainly closely matched, but what if…
No. A dark thought crossed Sayne’s mind. No, you can’t have him. You can’t kill him!

Marcus’ thoughts reeled as his vision blurred. The Tyrant’s attacks seemed to be hitting a lot harder than they had done in the Danaan’s loading bay. He shook his head and steadied himself, bringing his guard back up to protect his face. The Tyrant came at him instantly with a left jab to test his defenses. In one motion, Marcus swatted the jab away and struck back with a clean uppercut. His clenched fist connected with Tyrant Scarman’s midriff, punching up into his abdomen. The Tyrant doubled over, the wind wheezing from his lungs. Marcus savagely followed up by bringing his knee up into the Tyrant’s face. The shock of the blow knocked him backwards. Buoyed by the success of his onslaught, Marcus readied himself for another push. But the Tyrant took only a couple of steps backwards, soaking up all the punishment with apparent satisfaction. He snapped his head back down, his nose broken and bloodied. His maniacal grin seemed even wider. Marcus felt hatred well up within him. Not only for the death of Kurt, and the brutal injuries to Victoria, but of the change within him. Marcus had never felt as biting a rage as the fury he now harboured for the Tyrant. He wanted nothing other than the death of his alternate self.
“You don’t deserve to live,” He hissed, slowly. Tyrant Scarman’s grin broadened into a laugh, which in turn became a cackle and howl. Marcus narrowed his eyes and brought up his guard.

Sayne slowly drew his blaster pistol, keeping his eyes locked on the two versions of Marcus Scarman as they fought. The Tyrant again launched himself at his enemy, his rapid jabs disorienting Scarecrow has he tried to deflect. Their clash resumed as if it had never paused; a brutal slugging match that would undoubtedly see one of them dead. Tyrant Scarman was keeping himself close to Scarecrow, too close to be held at arm’s length. Scarecrow was soon doing all he could to protect his head against the Tyrant’s relentless barrage. Despite the chaotic nature of his rage, the Tyrant appeared to still be fighting with a degree of control. He deftly feinted against the Freedom Fighter Admiral and tricked him into a strong swipe that knocked him off balance. The Tyrant then spun Scarecrow around and caught him in a vicious headlock.
“You really are mad,” Jadyn muttered as he levelled the pistol in the direction of the two men. He waited, every muscle in his body tensed. The two men were almost facing him, with the Tyrant blocking Sayne’s shot with Scarecrow’s body. All Jadyn needed was a sliver of opportunity, the tiniest gap. But Scarecrow and the Tyrant were locked together, grappling with one another in a test of strength.
“Come on…” Sayne growled as he closed one eye. “Move, damn it.”
Scarecrow had dug his fingers into the Tyrant’s forearm, desperately trying to wrench himself free. But he could not gain an effective purchase. Sayne could see the two men were talking to one another, although he couldn’t make out any of the words. Eventually, the Tyrant forced Scarecrow down onto his knees, exposing his torso.
“I can’t have you take my prize from me. Our agreement is at an end, Tyrant Scarman.”
With a delicate exhalation of breath, Sayne took the shot.

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| S C A R E C R O W |

"See you space cowboy..."