The sound of the flushing toilet foretold the bathroom door being nearly thrown off its hinges as Sam burst through, fixing his belt. "Ready for battle!" He laughed, dressed in standard issue garb but chest clad only in the tanktop undershirt. He grabbed his bag, a massive bright red backpack which held untold amounts of firepower, and visibly had the six barrels of a minigun sticking out. To normal hands, it would prove to be extremely stressful, or at least be a chore, to lift up momentarily, but to Samuel, it was like a kindergarten bookbag. He pulled out an M4A1, and two magazines, one for his gun, the other in his pocket for easier access. Like a hollow plastic prop, he flipped it around in the air and snatched it by the handle. Modestly armed, Sam tossed his over his shoulder and jogged out of the ship. 

Seeing the destroyed Tel Aviv turned dustbowl, Samuel shook his head. Reminded way too much of his previous service. He had to remember that he wasn't dealing with normal guys with normal guns anymore. Then again, he wasn't a normal guy with a normal gun. Shaking it off, he looked around. "Uh, where'd that suit guy go? He seems to be one of the only people around here that's properly equipped-" Gunshots echoed from a nearby house, stopping Sam mid-sentence. "Uh oh. I'll check that out first." With great pace, Sam jogged over to the once desolate house, gun pointed ahead and eying potential pieces of cover as he passed, should guns start pointing at him. 

Sam barged into the house. There was a distinct lack of dust in places; it's been recently upturned. One simple turn left put him in the living room and watching the scene unfold in front of him with Liam and Harry. "Hey! What's going on? I was on the porcelain when we landed." Samuel looked over to the discarded smoking gun and at the man creeping out of the hole with his hands above his head. "Yeah buddy, I don't think your average bullet will do him in. You're gonna need a bigger gun, I'd suggest elephant rifle."