A low, venomous chuckle started to eminate from Sam, as he looked at the floor, his fingers steepled in front of his face.  As it continued, it became stronger, and grew in pitch until it was almost a cackle, as Sam pushed himself up from his seat.<br/><br/>"Well, isn't that just great?"  Sam asked, rhetorically.  "We've got our amazing rear-guard sniper, who'd gonna freeze up every time we meet this sumbitch in that goofy Zeke suit."<br/><br/>Sam paced the floor, still uttering his laugh.  He let his eyes wander from Isabel to Samson, and he didn't spare either of them a glance.<br/><br/>"And, sir, if I may..."  Sam said, as he tirned to face the Boss.  "If things are going to stay like this, do me a favor, huh?  Get me out of this chicken-shit unit."<br/><br/>Before Samson could respond, Sam went on.<br/><br/>"See, sir, I don't mind if ol' rear-guard, here, freezes up."  He said, indicating Isabel with a pointed finger.  "But really, I think that if you're going to go rushing to her defense every time...  AND LEAVING ME EXPOSED AGAINST A WHOLE ZEKE TEAM, THEN I WANT OUT!"<br/><br/>Sam felt a bit better after roaring at his commanding officer.  Still, he wasn't quite done, yet.  He took another step towards Samson, and raised both of his arms in front of him.<br/><br/>"Yeah, I know...  I addressed an officer improperly."  Sam said.  "So, if you're gonna get the MPs, then go ahead and do it.  I'm ready.  But before you do, I just want you to know...   if things keep going like this, I'll be pressing for a transfer...  sir."<br/><br/>Sam stepped back, still holding his wrists together, as if to await the guards' shackles.