This is mostly description, not much dialogue, though there is some by our favorite evil guy!
Dash cast Sam a look that she was supposedly not meant to catch and mouthed the very valid question 'what is she doing here?' Jazz frowned slightly, seizing him by the collar and tossing him bodily across the room to avoid a beam of light headed in his direction.
"You could've just pushed me!" He complained, dusting himself off spitefully before returning to the task at hand.
"Coulda, shoulda, woulda, what does it all mean?" Tucker questioned innocently, only to receive a death glare from the object of his offhand statement, a rather disgruntled Dash.
"I'd stay out of this Foley." He sneered, though stopped upon reviewing the expression on Jazz's face.
"When you're done with this macho contest, we have bigger ghosts to disintegrate." She warned dangerously, and Sam followed her example like any model pupil would. It was certainly worth the relieved smile she received courtesy of the jumpsuit-laden lady by her side.
Lancer was surprisingly well learned in the area of ghost fighting, more so than Tucker. He had nothing on either Jazz or Dash, but in comparison to the bumbling techno-geek to the side of them, frantically attempting to reset the protective wards to no avail. "We don't even know how many of them there are!" Sam called out over the noise, her eyes met by a very aware Jazz.
"Yeah, lets just hope that they give up." Neither of them believed it, they knew Danny…before, well enough to know perfectly well that he would not surrender unless every last one of his 'men' were dead/disintegrated and there was a gun pressed squarely to his temple. The thought gave the others hope while Sam and Jazz continued to battle in vain, certain that they were outnumbered and out-skilled but still optimistic.
Out of survival methods the group found themselves forming a circle and firing off at odd angles until the inevitable came. Two were out of ammunition and none were willing to brave the darkness in hopes of recovering any. Within ten minutes Jazz, too was out of ammo and Sam and the large woman were the only one with anything left.
Reacting without thought, Sam tucked her weapon against her hip and rolled to the floor, awaiting attack. Upon the first ghostly beam to narrowly miss her she retaliated swiftly before army crawling across the dusty linoleum and toward the cabinet where she had seen Jazz remove banshee-bullets. "DON'T SHOOT! I REPEAT, DO NOT AIM AT SAMANTHA MANSON!" She heard a familiar voice roar, and it took her a few moments to distinguish this as Danny…or whoever it was that he had become.
The siege on her ceased, apart from a neon-yellow light that seemed to narrowly miss her with every shot. Her hand flew to the drawer and with intentional hastiness she slid herself beneath the structure, fortunately shielding herself from the rays. Without thinking she snatched her gun and slid it across the floor to the nearly-weaponless, realizing within an instant that it might be necessary for her own survival.
Blindly she thrust a hand upward, feeling blindly for the handle. The revelation that her shoulder would not offer such a range of motion came briefly after and despite this knowledge she attempted in vain to do so, only ceasing when she was momentarily stunned by the rapid-fire of the yellow device.
Sam retreated back into the safety of the bureau, in her mind's eye replaying what she recalled Jazz doing hours before. It was with this that it struck her; the bullets were in the bottom drawer. With this realization fresh in her mind, she thrust her knee into the rigid wood atop her, splinters raining down upon her. Her nylon pantyhose tore after the second attempt, shards of broken lumber digging into her knee painfully. She did not feel the blood so much as see in dribbling onto the floor, but this did not stop her mission. Wrapping herself up very much like a contortionist she dug through the remaining wood using her feet, which were protected very snugly by her signature combat boots.
When the hole was large enough the debris stopped falling Sam rolled onto her side and inserted her hand, the grainy material splicing into her flesh. She let out an involuntary shriek of raw pain as one of the splinters dug into her forearm, the pain so blinding that she forgot her task for more than a brief moment. She believed her wail to have fallen upon deaf ears, so she continued her quest to the chagrin of her bleeding limbs.
It felt as though hours had passed before her hand closed upon the recognizable case and she maneuvered it out of the opening, wincing in pain. The sounds of shooting had faded and she was most certain that only one gun was working, if that. She stumbled in her own blood, her jaw connecting with the tile painfully before she was able to shimmy out from under the dresser. The instant her head was in plain shot a blast of yellow light skimmed the side of her cheek, leaving a scald mark. Quickly she rolled, the ammo in hand, and came to her feet and ran. The other ghosts did not dare to aim at her, but the yellow light seemed to be behind her at all times.
For the first time the holder stepped out of the shadows, his weapon visible and a grin dancing on his face. His white hair stood on end and his green eyes glowed menacingly, his biceps bulging and his thighs tensing as he moved in on her. If it were not for her longstanding anti-hunk position (apart from Tim, naturally), she would have stopped dead in her tracks just to stare in awe at him. She appeared immune, the adrenaline pumping through her veins and making her momentarily forget that her knee, arm and hand were badly injured.
"Hello, Samantha." With the blink of an eye he had split into two…no, three! One of his copies reached out for her and if it were not for her instincts he most definitely would have caught her. She dove forward, stumbling into the open arms of the furious Jazz before weakly passing her the ammunition.
"Goodbye, Daniel." She snarled before promptly losing her vision and collapsing into an unconscious heap. The smile playing on his untouchable lips haunted even her dreams.
Ha, I like the way this chapter turned out, and I hope my humble readers do as well. My math final's in ½ hour, so sayonara! And please, tell me what you think!