Jim knows there's no point in fighting, but that doesn't stop him from trying. He's disoriented from that fall off the scaffolding, and he's hopelessly outnumbered, and outgunned.
Still, he can't let them win so easily. So he fights. He manages to break one of the Hyena's noses, even knocks another unconscious. It's a short-lived victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Then they drag him out of a door hidden in the shadows - and out of the game.
That messes with his brain more than anything. He's grown so used to the pixelated, animated settings of the game, being thrust back into reality stills his struggles. The Hyenas don't hesitate, unaffected by the change of atmosphere, and shove him through the the familiar foyer of the mansion.
He stumbles along, his eyes struggling to adjust the reality around him, wondering how he ended up in this situation.
If they wanted him dead, they would have shot him already. They wouldn't be bringing him... wherever it is they're going. Clearly, they need him alive for something. But what? What could they - what could Scar - possibly want with him? He's nothing more than a rowdy kid with intense anger issues. Besides, they said they wanted the mermaid. Could they be using him as bait to draw Ariel in? Would she turn herself over to rescue him, a stranger she just met hours ago?
Whispering amongst one another, one of the bigger, burly minion's shoves Jim through the wide front doors of mansion, and he's met with the great expanse of the front yard. Briefly he wonders how far he can make it if he ran, but the meaty hand grasping his upper arm diminishes that thought, and he fights to contain his rage.
He swings a fist around, aiming for the fat man's jaw, but a swift palm catches his wrist before it can make contact. Banzai scowls at Jim, his grasp surprisingly strong. "Give it up, kid. You're not getting out of this one alive if you keep fighting us."
Jim mirrors the frustrated scowl, but lets his tense muscles relax. Banzai is right; it's him against at least a dozen of Scar's groupies, and there's no way he can escape them without being shot in the back, or putting his friends at risk. He just needs to bide his time, wait for an opportunity... and strike. Maybe kill Scar. Definitely shut off the game.
The air outside is crisp and still, with a lingering chill. The men walk Jim around the side of the house, keeping close to the shadows. Not that it makes any difference. Nobody appears to be around for miles. The surrounding mansions are dark, not even a cricket stirring. It's uncomfortably eerie.
Then a smaller yet still imposing building comes into view, roughly the size of a fancy house. It sits an acre or two away from the Westergaard mansion, and Jim realizes with a jolt this must be a guest house; and a nice one, at that. Has this where Scar has been hiding? Holed up in this place like a coward while his minions do the dirty work?
A new rush of hatred purses through Jim's veins, and he almost anticipates his meeting with Scar. This man hasn't shown his face all night. He hides behind the scenes, orchestrating the entire gameplay, never once having to fight the battles or play the levels. This man is nothing - he's weak. Chicken.
Just as he suspected, the Hyenas lead Jim into the brightly lit guest house, and once against his focus is forced to adjust to the newest scene. The door leads straight into a large room, roughly half the size of a football field. Couches and tables are haphazardly strewn around the room, with no organization behind them whatsoever. Miniature staircases lead to floors not even five feet off the ground, with a wraparound balcony winding its way through all four walls.
But none of this is what Jim cares about.
It's the man sitting at the head of one of the tables, his leg crossed over the other, arched back in a relaxed pose, a calm smile stretched across his paper thin lips.