Sam-Fiction from spaaace!

Or not. Anyhow, here's my Sam story.

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Snow blew in the faces of armored guards standing on either side of a blast door in an arctic desert. Neither of the gaurds seemed to mind--they had been standing in just such a fashion for many hours now, as they had been trained to do, and it was considered the most important part of what they'd learned, although, granted, the only other thing they ever really needed to do was pull a trigger on the enemy and hope no one ever did the same to them.

There was a dull clicking noise.

"Didja hear that?" One of the guards asked, his accent bluntly illustrating the fact he was from Australia.

"Hear what?" The second guard's accent mirrored the first.

The clicking noise came again.

"That!"

"I dun' hear nothing."

There came a forboding ker-chak noise.

"C'mon mate, you gotta hear that!"

"Hear wha--?" The second guard turned around and noticed a vague outline holding another vauge outline which looked suspiciously like a shotgun. "Oh, crap--"

The first blast hit the unlucky guard in a very uncomfortable location. The second missed as the other guard leapt expertly out of the way.

"D*mn!" Sam yelled in an impressive feat of speech. His ACME cloaking device deactivated as he made tracks away from the remaining guard, who stood firing his weapon haphazardly at Sam, but he'd already fled behind a convenient ice pillar.

"Gotcha now mate!" The guard reloaded his weapon and was about to expose the infiltrator when he heard a hissing noise from the vicinity of his foot.

He looked down to see a sticky grenade which had latched on to his toe.

"Crikey!"

The small explosion that followed blew the guard high into he snowy sky. Sam came out of his impromptu hiding place and noted with pleasure that the guard's boots had been left standing in the snow.

"Criiiiiiiikeeeeeeey..."

The guard landed in the snow with a heavy thud. His bootless feet twitched. "Bollocks."

"Why's every secret base gotta be in some place cold?" Sam muttered as he shot the door open. He stepped inside into a suspiciously well-lit corridor, and booted feet made snowy prints on the carpeted floor as he made his way down to the elevator.

There was a clicking noise as someone turned a lightswitch off. Sam was plunged into darkness.

And then, there was a noise.

Well...not so much a noise, as a change in the texture of the air, as if something had just flown by very quickly and very silently...

...and why couldn't Sam feel his shotgun anymore?

Oh, no...

"Ninjas..." Sam whispered.

"Indeed," a voice somewhere in front of Sam replied. "Wouldja care to explain just what you're doin' inside our fine facility, mate?"

"Austrialian ninjas," Sam corrected himself. "Uh...I'm here because you guys stole my jacket."

"Ohhhh. Would this be the one that's capable of holding copious amounts of armament?"

"Yeah."

"Ooh, sorry mate, but it seems it's not here. And by the way, have your eyes adjusted to the darkness yet?"

"I think so, why?"

There was a click as a flashlight beam was directed right into Sam's eyes.

The Australian ninja laughed as sam lay twitching on the floor, one hand over his abused eye.

"I thought you ninjas considered it dishonorable to strike at a weak spot," Sam said betwen whimpers.

"It ain't dishonorable to strike at a weak spot openly, mate."

"'Openly'? Please, I can't even see you--"

"Well, we'll have to do something about that, now won't we?"

The lights came back on abruptly.

And there, standing a scant meter form where Sam lay on the ground, was the Aussie Ninja (in typical ninja garb), holding Sam's shotgun in one hand and a katana in the other.

"So, how should we do this, then?" The ninja asked.

"Well," Sam replied as he picked himself up, "You give me my shotgun and I guess we fight hand-to-hand...er, shotgun-to-katana, I mean."

"Now, isn't that just a bit unfair, mate? I mean, what with you having a big boomstick and all..."

"Yeah, except the chamber's empty and I haven't reloaded."

"Really?" The ninja raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I'm inclined to beleive that but then...let's get on with it, shall we?" He tossed Sam his empty shotgun.

Before Sam even had his most cherished weapon in his hands, the ninja was moving toward him in a blur of blue-black motion. There was the sound of something being sliced, and Sam felt around his body searching for an injury before he noticed one of his eyebrows falling lazily to the ground.

"Impressive," Sam said. "But wait 'till you see this!"

He whirled and threw his shotgun at the ninja, who dodged it easily simply by flying out of the way and latching onto the wall.

"Sorry, mate, but'cha missed."

Sam smiled. "I never miss."

It was then that the Australian Ninja looked down and saw a plastic explosive taped neatly to his chest. He looked up in shock. "Crikey! How did you--?"

"I knew a guy once," Sam answered simply. "He taught me a few of your tricks."

The ninja snorted, ripped away the fabric the explosive was attached to, and tossed it down the corridor where it detonated harmlessly against a lighting fixture.

"Again, I fail to be impressed, mate."

"No worries," Sam said as he picked up his shotgun. "I lied, anyway."

The ninja gaped. "You did? About what?"

"There is still a round in the chamber." Sam aimed high and blew away the strings holding up a massive sign marked "THIS WAY TO CORONER'S OFFICE". It landed on top of the ninja with a heavy krong.

"D**n sign," the ninja said in a feat of linguistics more impressive than Sam's. He collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Sam smiled and moved on.

***

An entire army was waiting at the elevator's destination. A pair of tanks and dozens of soldiers aimed various types of armament that could individually wipe out an entire house in one blow or together could vaporize a small continent.

The elevator doors opened with a ding. But, just as the squad leader was about to give the order to fire, he noticed, too late, the wall of light that was spreading outward from the elevator doors in a massive explosion.

When the dust settled, Sam jumped out from above the elevator and held a hand out and watched, triumphant, as his coat floated down lazily into his grasp. Ash was raining down from above.

A disembodied voice somewhere broadcast "Sam wins! FATALITY!" just as the jacketed hero entered the shaft and began the long climb back up to the surface.

He was beginning to regret blowing up the elevator.

Sam against the Amish

Title says it all, really.

SAM AGAINST THE AMISH!!!1!ONE!ELEVENTYONE!

Sam walked through the idyllic countryside, his destination lying only a few kilometers ahead. He was on vacation, and he planned to enjoy it.

What better way to enjoy a vacation than at an Amish farming community?

The little village lay ahead, the inhabitants working in the fields. Sam smiled and waved at them as he walked past, hearing the cheery sound of birds chirping.

The windmill turned in the light breeze, perfecting the picture of peace and happiness that surrounded Sam.

He smiled happily, his coat flapping in the breeze as the elder shambled up to him.

“graaaaaaaagh. Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaains.” The elder moaned some incomprehensible dialect.

Sam scratched his head. He didn’t know any German, and that could prove a problem. Then he smiled as he figured it out.

“eurrrrrgghhhh. Liiiiiiiiiiiiveeeeeeers.”

The elder clapped him on the shoulder and led him towards the town hall.

Inside, there was a feast laid out on the tables… uncooked brains, apparently. Sam had thought the Amish were excellent cooks, but it seemed he was wrong. Ah well! Can’t offend the locals! He quickly tried to think of something to say to get out of eating raw brains.

“graaaaaaaaaagh. Beeeeeefsteaaaaaaaak.”

The elder turned his head, and looked Sam sharply in the eye. Then he lifted up Sam’s hand and examined it carefully. Sam was confused, but accepted this behavior with good grace. At least, until the elder tried to bite it.

Sam jerked his hand back underneath his coat, and quickly pulled out his trusty shotgun, pointing it at the elders head. It was then that he noticed the odor of rotting flesh, and the fact that the elder was, in fact, rotting. His shotgun blast ensured that the rotting would take place all over the room.

The other feasting zombies all jerked upright, and started shambling directly towards Sam. He fired his shotgun twice more, blowing the horde back, and then sprinted out the door towards the mill.

As he darted across the roads, he noticed the sun was beginning to set, yet another definite advantage for the zombies. He shook his head angrily, and headed into the mill, the wind beginning to pick up at last.

Inside, gears rumbled, casting moving shadows over Sam’s face as he heard the moans of the approaching zombies. He quickly barricaded the only door on the lower level, cutting off the zombies’ access. Not much was going to get through a Sam-built barricade, after all.

After he finished, he dashed up the stairs to the maintenance balcony, and watched the swarming hordes below trying to turn the doorknob. He laughed, and sat down to wait.

Now, a few little-known facts about Ninjas!

Ninjas are mammals.

Ninjas fight ALL the time.

The purpose of a Ninja is to flip out and kill stuff.

Ninjas can fly.

Sam was well aware of the first three Ninja facts; however, in his deadly Tokyo duel with the cyber ninjas, he wasn’t aware that flight was an inherent capability of the Ninja. So, it is excusable that he wasn’t prepared for the five Amish Zombie Ninjas to leap onto the balcony just before he fell asleep.

They landed silently, their long blades glittering in the moonlight. One of them raised his sword above Sam’s head, but before he could land the killing blow, Sam swung his own sword out, and a desperate duel began.

Their blades glinting and flashing, sparks flying when they hit, Sam parried every blow made by the Ninjas, his own blade slicing out across flesh every few moments. He dropped to the ground to avoid one blow, then leaped up, flipped over the zombies head, and neatly decapitated him. Unfortunately, there were still four Amish left, and he had just flipped onto the railing of the balcony.

A blade sliced down towards one foot, and Sam dropped down, doing the splits as he drove his sword into a ninja’s head, pinning him against the wall, he used his sword for leverage to vault off of the railing, grabbing the zombies sword, and blocking the next strike an Amish threw at him.

Another flurry of blades erupted, this time Sam being pushed heavily onto the defensive. He took one step back, then two, then dropped to the ground and rolled back, his hand diving inside his coat to pull out his shotgun. He fired, and the ninjas jumped away, two of them off the platform, where they got wailed by the windmills arms, now moving incredibly quickly thanks to the motor Sam had hooked up to the gears inside.

The last ninja landed on the roof, and struck a pose, before leaping onto the arms of the windmill, grasping onto it and staring defiantly at Sam. Sam followed, landing on the same arm as the zombie, and their dual began again. Sam blocked the Amish’s blows easily, and finally drop-kicked the ninjas rotting head, exploding it into several gory pieces. He hopped back onto the balcony, and watched the sun come up, evaporating all the zombies who were still battering on the windmill door.

Sam leaned back and breathed a sigh of relaxation. The country was so nice.