Thanks for meeting me —

[muffled noise; static on a black screen; Sam's voice cuts back in, the video feed covered. It appears it's recording from his pack.]

— just hear me out. You were able to make a blizzard — [muffled] — figured it out back when you were on the network —

[It cuts out again for a while, and then, a few moments later:]

—ait! Em, wait please, you're the only one who has that kind of power; you and Yun Ling, you could help us — we could figure this out together! [But Sam's just met with silence, and he's moving to punch in someone's PCD contacts (Em's, more than likely), cursing under his breath.] Dammit.

[He stops, freezes up, swirling around to look at the wooded area. The screen tilts in his hands as he draws the machete from his waistband. In a wide circle, there are shadow figures surrounding him, faceless and watching. They have the silhouette of knives in their hands. She couldn't have gone far. Fuck. He's got no chance of taking on a bunch of these, especially when he can't technically kill them.]

Em... Come on. Em!!

[In an instant, they're all floating in, and Sam can only swipe his blade through one ineffectively before the squelch of blades entering flesh is heard. The PCD falls to the ground as Sam staggers, blood staining the front and back and sides of his shirt. His hand tries miserably to cover one seeping wound as he swings his blade again. One shadowy figure dispels, but there is nothing he can do — he gasps in pain and collapses beside the PCD screen as they all vanish backward again.

He breathes in deep, choking on pain and slowly pulling himself to sit on his elbow, hair falling into his face. A line of blood drips down his chin.]

Nngh... Shit...

[He at least realizes the PCD is on. He reaches over to it with shaking, red fingers.]



[He's not gonna last. He already feels his life draining out, blood pooling in the blackened leaves. Organ damage. It's bad.

And no sign of the woman he'd been pleading with.

He feels failure weighing down his shoulders and head.]

Guess I'm in — pretty big trouble, guys. Sorry; should've — done more. Shit.

[He's really sorry about that, by the way.]


((ooc: Sam's death post! He'll have a little talk left in him, but not much.

Have fun with the misery! :|b))