Sam Interlude One
In times of stress and tribulation we tend to learn a lot about ourselves and the world around around us. For instance, Sam was learning to hate things that they had previously held barely any thoughts about at all. Currently, Sam was becoming aware of a growing hatred for air.
As a helpful chaser to that learning experience was this one, Sam was also learning to hate the concept of hating air. As someone who had something of an anger issue, they realized that beginning to hate air was something of a bad omen. Sam was quick to rationalize this hatred, as it barely seemed like air at all after whatever processes it had been run through before being pumped into the facility that they found themself in. There was no smell in it, not even a memory of a smell. Too perfect, too bland. Additionally, any negative feelings Sam was feeling towards this environment were being filtered and amplified by their spectacularly terrible mood that had haunted them ever since Jack’s disappearance.
As the thought of Jack grazed across Sam’s mind they found themself about to slip into the familiar rut of depressive thoughts that had haunted them as of late. Luckily, their attention was pulled from that trap as the door to the room clicked open, swiftly followed by the arrival of Larry. Sam shot to their feet like a spring uncoiling, fast enough their former seat skipped back a couple inches over a smooth white floor. “Well?” Sam asked, not keen on waiting for Larry to start the conversation.
“The Boss says we’re good to go.” Larry said, the capital 'b' clearly implied.
Sam, who knew Larry well enough to spot the obvious missing statement, pushed for clarification. “Are you?”
Larry looked askance for a moment, eyes resting on a far wall. Time seemed to stretch on in the silence, unraveling out into the empty air. Sam did not find any tranquility there however, and in that silence the spring was put under pressure once again. Then, Larry looked to Sam. Eyes red, sleep deprived, running on coffee and not much else. Sam hadn’t seen him look this bad since college. “No.”
Sam stood in silence for a second, sliding hands into jeans pockets. “But-“
“But you have to go, I know.” Larry rubbed his eyes for a moment before collecting himself. “Look, the Boss wants you to take this with you.” Larry said, back to his normal neutral. Carefully, he produced a stainless steel cube from his lab coat pocket. It shined under the perfect white lights above it, the only definition on its smooth surfaces being the grain of the metal.
Sam took it carefully, feeling the heft of the thing as they turned it in their fingers, looking for an imperfection in the metal and finding nothing. Not even a seam to grip to rip it apart. There was something inside it though, they could tell by the imbalance of weight in their hand. “What is it?” Sam asked after a moment in silent inspection.
“Transdimensional Survey Beacon.” Larry said simply, putting hands back into pockets. “It’s technically already running, but right now we’re only getting junk data from it. Basically, when you get to the other dimension it’ll start sending back data to our end so we can properly calibrate our machines. With that data we should be able to create a way to bring you and Jack back. If he's not- If you can find him." Larry quickly course corrected. "Should make it easier to send people over in the future too."
Sam’s gaze grew clouded, staring past the cube now. “You’re going to send more people?” They asked, voice distant.
“That’s the implication I get from the Boss, yeah. They won’t tell me for sure what we’re supposed to be sending people over there for, just that that’s the end goal. A stable transportation of an individual or individuals to this new world.”
Sam didn’t speak, still holding the cube, mind whirring in an unreadable silence.
Eventually, Larry managed to bring himself to break the silence. “We should get going Sam. We’re running behind schedule as is.”
“Yeah.” Sam said, coming to their senses. They gave the cube a small toss, catching it easily as it fell back into their hand. “Sorry, you’re right. We’ve got places to be.”
Larry turned to lead Sam out of the room but stopped with his hand on the door handle. “I’ve done what I can to make the trip as smooth as possible, but you’ll be out of my hands once it actually happens. We can’t contact you on the other side, you’ll have to be careful.”
“Oh please Larry, you know me, I’m the pinnacle of care.”
This managed to coax a smile from the usually implacable scientist. “Sure Sam.”
Sam was screaming.
It was the kind of scream that could only be found somewhere between an adrenaline high and absolute soul crushing terror.
The aftermath of the teleportation had left their eyes overexposed to the harsh white light of the facility. A fact that was proving extremely unfortunate as they had arrived in this new world in the middle of the night. Their eyes were not quite able to divine the subtleties of a world cast in shadow and instead left them looking out into a vast inscrutable land, deep and dark as death.
They were in freefall, with their survival instincts screaming to pull the parachute cord or they would die RIGHT NOW. Sam, however, was familiar with this grip of terror on their heart. What they actually needed to do right now was orient themselves before pulling the cord or things could go pear shaped fast.
This was complicated as, looking into the pitch of darkness that surrounded them, they thought they could see stars in more than the one direction that you might hope they were in. Sam closed their eyes instead of facing the confusing tableau. The point in this was twofold, first to hopefully accelerate the dilation of their eyes to better see in the pitch darkness surrounding them, second to focus on the air rushing past their ears.
In the absolute darkness of their mind they could feel the movement of the air on their skin, the way it pulled at their hair. It was not the perfect way to identify the direction to the ground, but it would have to do. Carefully, they oriented their body parallel to the world they assumed must be below them and then pulled the cord on the parachute.
There was a gut wrenching moment as their descent drastically slowed, then settled into a much less terrifying speed. With a deep breath, Sam opened their eyes. The night vision still wasn’t all there but Sam could see now what they had assumed was a patch of stars mere moments ago were instead the lights of a civilization.
The lights were a warm orange, like old fire lights, like aged tungsten wires humming so hot they would combust, like the sodium lights of a small town. Inviting in a familiar way that the pure white of the facility had not been.
The air here too was familiar, like camping. So far from civilization that you could smell the age of the world. It was imperfect and old. Sam had missed it in their city apartment.
Almost subconsciously they found themself steering the parachute into the town, caught in some exotic gravity. They snapped to awareness shortly, but even in conscious thought the town still seemed like an ideal place to land. Both because of the terrain and because it seemed an ideal first step to finding Jack, so they let the strange pull take them closer and closer, drawing them in like a moth, perhaps, but moths still managed to live and thrive didn’t they? They didn’t all die from fires and bug zappers.
Just as Sam had started making plans for where to start the search for Jack a sudden chaotic wind caught the parachute. It dragged them far off course, into a treeline that Sam could now see with the help of acclimated pupils. Before they collided with the canopy they braced themselves for collision, expecting to meet a tree branch that did not like their sudden arrival.
Instead, however, they glided cleanly through the slimmest branches, barely receiving much more than a couple scratches. The chute, however, was less than lucky. It tangled in the treeline, fully arresting Sam’s descent.
Sam gave a tug on the suspension lines to confirm that, yes, it was absolutely stuck, then, with a sigh, looked down to ground below. Judging it to be not much more than five feet, they retrieved one of their butterfly knives from their pants. They should hopefully be able to get a grip on a tree branch, but even if they fell it wasn’t entirely lethal. Perhaps it would’ve been easier to simply unbuckle the chute and deal with the fall on their own terms, but there were supplies in the pack that Sam was not keen on leaving up in the canopy of an unfamiliar forest and, in Sam’s mind, any excuse to use a butterfly knife was a good one.
They had cut through three or so lines when they heard a sound like clapping. Twisting suddenly, knife in hand, they faced a figure emerging from the cover of the trees that was, indeed, applauding. Sam looked, face unmoving, at a frankenstein-like creature that was currently approaching them, and tightened their grip on the butterfly knife.
“My my my!” Said the creature with exaggerated surprise. “You do work fast! Why, I only just pulled you into the forest and you’re already almost onto the ground!”
Sam’s grip on the knife was likely causing their knuckles to go white, though it would’ve been hard to see under their gloves. Sam offered no words to the creature, instead taking stock of what they could. A lion’s paw? A chicken talon contorted like a hand? Antlers? No, just one antler. A pair of mismatched wings as well, clearly too small for any kind of actual flight. It was almost grotesque, all those animal parts contorted into the facsimile of a biped. Perhaps in bright light Sam wouldn't have minded it too much, but in the dingy light of the forest it looked like nightmare made manifest.
The creature gave a performative cough and gave a pointed look to the butterfly knife that seemed now like a weapon far too small for this particular opponent. “I understand things must be absolutely… chaotic… for you right now.” Said the thing, clearly giving some kind of dramatic pause that Sam did not understand. “But I would appreciate it if you would lower the weapon.” Then, the face contorted into a sly smile, like a mask was falling away. “I promise it wouldn’t do you any good anyway.”
Sam kept the blade leveled for a breath of time longer before being forced to agree with whatever this thing was. They went back to cutting the parachute lines. The silence kept at bay by only the sound of blade on nylon before the creature spoke again. “Not much of a talker are you.”
“Not much to talk to you about.” Sam retorted, focusing on the movement of their knife.
“Oh that’s where you’re wrong!” Said the creature, gleeful to have gotten any response at all it seemed. “I have a lot of helpful things you should know. After all, you don’t know anything about this world you’ve found yourself in. Why, you’re all alone here. How will you ever find Jack if you don’t talk to people?”
Sam’s blade slipped and jumped suddenly in their grip as their attention did much the same and they cursed themself for it. Knowing that whatever this thing was had been looking to get a rise out of them and had gotten something for its trouble. Deciding playing aloof was looking more and more pointless by the second, they caved to conversation.
“And what would you know about Jack?” Sam asked, focusing harder on the nylon now.
“Oh not much.” Said the creature, plainly feigning some kind of aloofness of its own. “But I understand you’ll want to seek him out. And I have it on good authority that the princesses in the town there will have all sorts of questions for you before they let you anywhere near him.”
“Good friend of the princesses then are you?” Said Sam with the intonation of someone who had ‘guillotine a member of nobility’ somewhere on their bucket list.
“Oh those dusty old maids? Haaaardly. They despise me. Trapped me in stone, you know.” Said the creature, nodding.
“Oh? How’d you get out?”
“Well you know, one thousand years in a prison teaches one how to pick locks.”
Sam paused then, only a few more cords away from freeing themselves. They glanced to the creature but found themself looking into a face absolutely impossible to read. Slowly, they turned back to their work. “And then what?”
“Well what do you think?” The creature gestured grandly. “I’ve been hiding out in this forest all this time since my escape just waiting to inflict my revenge upon my previous jailors!”
Sam scoffed, managing to take the creature slightly off guard with the reaction, but they were unable to elaborate as they gripped a nearby branch and carefully pulled themselves into a stable position as they severed the last collection of suspension lines. Sam took a moment to double check that they were completely untethered before sliding along the branch to the tree trunk. “You definitely didn’t do that.” They said. “You strike me as more of an immediate bitter revenge type.”
“Oh, and what gives you that impression?” Said the creature, looking at Sam as it batted long cartoonish eyelashes in a display of innocence.
Sam glanced once more at the creature, at its morphed distorted figure and unfriendly silhouette. “Takes one to know one I guess.” They said simply before turning their attention to descending the tree.
There were no more words, the creature proving uncharacteristically silent even to Sam, who had only known it for a handful of minutes. Then, at last, Sam finally touched down at the base of the tree. They turned a gaze to the creature who appeared lost in thought. “So what actually happened?”
The creature seemed to become suddenly revitalized at the question. “Why immediate bitter revenge of course! I imprisoned the two princesses who had inflicted their punishment on me and then began to toy with the last remaining hope! Toying with the eldest of the two's beloved protege as I manipulated her friends into hating her! And manipulating her into hating her friends! Driving them further and further apart, fracturing them like a stained glass window!”
“So how’d you lose?” Sam asked pointedly, rummaging in the remains of their parachute pack.
“Well I-” The creature began, then something seemed to click. “Hey wait a minute this isn’t how this was supposed to go at all!” It whirled on Sam but was stopped mid turn a fraction of an inch from a wooden baseball bat that had swung into it's peripheral vision moments before.
“You are a clever little weasel aren’t you?” Said the creature, clearly intending the statement as praise and smiling widely with the grin of something that recognized it had been outsmarted, though not to the point of defeat. After all, even Sam could sense that if the bat had connected it would've been nothing more than a minor inconvenience at best for this creature.
“Takes one to know one,” Sam repeated, then smiled. “My name’s Sam. Yours?”
The creature rested a claw on the baseball bat and gently forced it away from its face. It grinned so wide that Sam paid no attention to the flash of gold that darted along the length of the bat as the claw departed from its surface. “Discord.”
“Nice to meet you Discord, what can I help you with?” Sam said, all pleasantries now.
“I was going to say I’d like you to cause a little chaos in town since they get mad at me if I do it, but now that I’ve gotten to know you a little better, I think you’ll do plenty of that without my guidance.”
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Interesting change of pace. I may need to reread some earlier chapters to remind myself how much of this was alluded to beforehand.
Great to return to this fic!
So, the plot thickens. So, Discord knows about our ghostly protagonist, eh? I wonder if he can bring him back... Discord's gonna be notoriously unreliable. Maybe once he's done toying with them? We'll see... But certainly, Sam is gonna make a gruesome discovery. TBH, he probably already knows the cause of death...
Besides the they or their is confusing to me when Sam is just 1 person person is kinda confusing. Besides that so far I give this story a 5/10 not good but not bad either.
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The theythemming is a fairly blatant attempt at muddying the GI of Sam; are they a Samuel, or a Samantha?
It is used more than a bit too often for that purpose, however, and at multiple points I thought that the use was referring to more than one person.
If the Author wants to take this approach, sure, but a piece of advice from me; theythemming too often not only makes the intentions obvious, it makes it harder to read, in no small part because theythem is grammatically both singular and plural, where the binary GIs are almost always, if not always, singular.
Not to say that theythem cannot be used whatsoever, the pair should only be used where it is dead clear that it's referring to a singular person, not a pair or group.
As for my opinions outside of the objective grammatical take.... I'll leave those up to others to project what they want to think I believe upon me
WOOO DISCORD IN THE HOUSE
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They are a Sam.
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cdn.codm.gg/assets/scorestreaks/skins/scorestreak_176.jpg
A SAM; got it
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Anthropomorphic Surface to Air Missile confirmed.
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Should have guessed immediately, considering arrival point.