Chapter One: A Less Then Pleasant Pairing

Scarecrow awoke with a start, whipping his Glock 23 out from under its place under his pillow, he blearily scanned for an enemy and finding none he collapsed back onto his bed, he let the gun rest against his forehead, the cold metal felt good against his fevered brow. For a moment he’d been back in some godforsaken stretch of rainforest in Southeast Columbia. The stifling humidity and heat, the constant rainfall-into-sunshine-into-rainfall. The fear, the gunshot. Scarecrow rolled onto his side and peered at the clock on his nightstand. It was 6:30 AM. Scarecrow threw off the remainder of his sheets and dragged his lanky body into the bathroom.
He showered, letting the hot water wash over him until it turned cold, this took roughly five minutes. Scarecrow grumbled about the plumbing in his old house has he washed. He grumbled about it everyday, especially this past month. Which he’d mostly spent inside watching reruns of Friends and rearranging his furniture, only to put it back where it had been every time. He thought about the day ahead as he dressed in his familiar navy blue suit, today was the day, he smiled his lopsided smile to himself in the mirror, today he returned to work, no more sabbatical, no more boring days at home wishing he was in the field.
He stepped into the kitchen with a cheerful stride, the room was a snapshot of 60’s home decor magazine, the walls were a lemon yellow with orange Asian influenced flower patterns. Everything in the room matched this basic color coordination, with an appealing brown stone floor and Googie inspired appliances. Scarecrow fixed himself a quick breakfast of toast and jam and seated himself at the breakfast table to enjoy it.
Era entered the room with the day’s paper. “I got your paper Scarebear!” she said in her sickly sweet Barbie voice. Scarecrow looked up at as she reached him, her plastic grin had a disturbing quality to it, like a madman, her eyes were too bright and her face had the fake quality of perfection about it. She handed Scarecrow the Monday edition of the Pen and Paper Herald without seeming to robotic and then teetered off to clean the windows.
“Era, please don’t call me Scarebear.” Scarecrow said flatly as he unfolded the paper, he had been saying this everyday for the last three years, when SBG R&D had given ERA, Emotive (Some liked to jokingly claim Erotic was what the “E” stood for) Robotic Assistant, to him “as a gift” for his birthday. Since then the robot had taken on the role of a mother figure, a role that Scarecrow had come to grudgingly accept. Scarecrow glanced at the headlines, took another bit of his toast and spat it out in shock.
“Scarecrow!” Admonished Era, turning away from the windows she’d been cleaning with a rotor mounted sponge that was protruding from her wrist where her hand, folded back on a hinge, would normally be. “I taught you better then that, you swallow your food mister!”
Scarecrow ignored her as she daintily picked up what half chewed piece of toast and with her thumb and pointer finger and threw it in the trash with an air of disgust, the front page of the P&P was the only thing he cared.

Burning Flags, Flame Worldwide Panic
By Ginger Black

Many look down on the act of flag burning, considering it an act of disrespect, others see it as a symbol of their absolute freedom, the right to protest the current system in favor of a new one.
But Wednesday morning the world awoke to a startling sight: from the White House to Parliament House in Canberra Australia, nations across the globe are finding themselves the victims of flag burning.
“My route to work takes me past the west front of the capital and that morning I saw that the flag was burning!” Relates Debbie Newcastle, a resident of Washington D.C. But Debbie wasn’t the only one to notice our nation’s great banner burning in the wind; across all of D.C., traffic was backed up, the worst choking points around landmarks where citizens stopped to watch as flags burned before them.
The burnings weren’t limited to Nation capitals though, In every major city in the U.S. local government buildings and landmarks found their flags burning or the cinders of what was left being blown about by the breeze. In New York, every single flag outside the UN Headquarters was aflame.
“This is obviously an organized attack on national pride.” Said President Walken in a press release Yesterday evening, promising the nation that they were safe and should not be frightened by vandalism no matter how impressive it may seem. He went on to say that the terrorists would be caught and brought to justice—

Scarecrow jumped up from the table. “Era, I gotta run, something’s come up.” He rushed into the hall and grabbed his sky blue trench coat off the coat rack. He turned back to Era as he opened the door “Please, clean the house while I’m gone instead of just sitting in front of the TV watching soaps.”
Era’s face did something that might have meant to look like a stink face, but she didn’t really pull it off. “They’re telenovelas, you big silly, much better then American soap operas. And I can’t miss today’s episode, Estaban is going to confront Jose about his love affair with Camilla and I can’t miss it Scarebear!”
“Please don’t call me that.” Scarecrow whined, feeling like the teenager with the embarrassing parents.
Era patted his gaunt cheek affectionately, “Oh, hush! Now give your momma a kiss.” She closed her eyes and turn her cheek, and scarecrow slipped out the door and made for his dilapidated ’84 Mustang.

The D.C. traffic that morning was irritatingly constipated. Scarecrow drummed his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently, thinking about what he’d read. This kind of mass flag burning could only be the work of Burning Flag’s Army: through out his career, Scarecrow had faced many evils, power hungry tyrants, genius madmen with no moral compass, paperwork! He hated paperwork, but nothing was as big a pain in his ass then BFA. They’d shown up shortly after he’d started working for the Secret Branch of the Government, at first they seemed to be a small disorganized group of radicals operating out of the Northern United States. But the more time past and the more bases they destroyed, or sleeper cells they uncovered, the larger BFA became, it was like cutting off the head of hydra, two more took its place. This kind of symbolic demonstration could only be their doing, whatever they had in planned, they we’re getting ready to make good on it. He let himself smile grimly, it felt good to be back in business.

The SBG Headquarters was a modest building, standing only four stories and resembling a beige colored block concrete, that’s because it was a beige colored block of concrete. Despite its depressing image, Scarecrow’s mood brightened as he pulled into the parking lot and parked next to a multicolored Honda Civic, its body comprised of multiple other Civics cannibalized to ensure its continued existence. Scarecrow thought about all the Aston Martins he’d seen in the movies, a great fantasy, but that’s all it was, a fantasy.

The main lobby of SBG HQ was a dull place, a semi circular reception desk sat in the center of the room, an attractive but generic blonde woman was seated a the desk, not looking terribly busy as she did her nails. Behind her was a facade made up of a thin square wall. Attached to the wall was a metal sign made up of a grid constructed globe with the letters SBG overlaid on top back lit