Chapter Text
SCREAMING. The quiet chirps of electronic displays and the gentle hum of thrusters become overshadowed by a pained bellow. The distressed voice harshly bounced around the ship’s interior, as if trying to escape its tight confines. Chaotic in nature it may be, the lack of its weight heavily imprints on the air. All together ending with the atmosphere feeling infinitely more humid.
Lying at the center of this brief storm is a lone Bounty Hunter. Long Golden strands knot in messy weaves. It’s binding, a thin glint of discolored sweat that can be found on every uncomfortable inch between two layers of skin. A mix between organic and metal grips the warm excretion, making the already panicked being no less quick to soothe. Wide eyes, tightly clenched hand, uneven breaths. None of which is noticed as her mind continues to replay and process terrors from events lived not so long ago, Haunting horror that leaves unfocused sight for its victim. Sight that quickly locks when a shadowed portrait enters the inner window of the ship’s cockpit. Its outline hosts bouncing thin columns that convey greater details of sound, similar to an audio software. It takes a muddled moment to pick out the sound of a familiar voice. A voice that is listing off information she can't begin to possess.
It would be a long moment before the Hunter moved from their seat. A moment of quiet, taken to try and settle their mind. The images lingered, and would most likely stay for the majority of her time awake. Large explosions, Parasitic organisms, familiar lands turned to waste…
and bodies.
So many faces. So many names. People failed to be saved, people she had killed, People she-
The whirlwind of thought fell short as she shoved off the chair. Ignorance to the brimstone within her mind would be chosen over contemplation. A choice that would not waver. Not when she dematerialised her power armor. not when water cascaded over her skin, now alien to its host. Certainly not when a report was left unsent to The Galactic Federation.
This was nothing new. For the past two thirds of a cycle, The Hunter would wake with a start. Sleeping in her suit has become more of a necessity as of recent, due to the fact that not having emotional dampeners available right when she awakes would leave her in a panicked state that takes up most of her simulated day.
Ever since she was moved to the planet Zebes, these troubled nights would always plague her. ‘A way for the child’s mind to process such a traumatic event’ Was something her adoptive family had said from time to time. Past that age, however, the night terrors had only gotten worse. Every mission was some sort of mind numbing event that demanded to take her sanity. When the brain proved its resistance, fate had struck the body instead.
To this day, not a single reflective surface was allowed inside the gunship. After being injected with that metroid vaccine, her body was forever changed. A change that was enhanced by an X-parasite fusing with her body, and cemented by both becoming activated. She can still remember the doctor’s faces during her debrief checkup. Wide eyes and gaping mouths accompanied them, treating her like one of the creatures she had made extinct. One nurse even gasped in horror when they entered the room. After buying this new ship, its washroom mirror was quickly shattered and removed from its stand. And now? After having her body become more alien than human? It would never be replaced.
And now, she drifts through the cosmos. A mind broken into pieces, and a body made to resemble a monster. As the Lady gets ready for a workout regiment most likely spanning the rest of her time in space, she is prepared to wade through this constant pain once again.
—
The on board AI often had plans aside from silent suffering. They would often chime in about things that were possible to do, places to go, and people to contact. It was rarely effective, but Adam was nothing if not persistent.
It used to deliver news from nearby settlements as well. Recent scandals, situations that needed clearing, planet specific holidays, even the odd success story from local heroes. These don’t come in anymore, due to being out of the range of most settled systems, but they were nice while they lasted. Now it’s mostly just lectures that come from the AI.
As the ship speaker rattled, Samus knew that now would be one of those lectures.
“I highly advise undergoing a psychological evaluation when we next touch down on a colonized sector. Your sleep pattern appears to be getting worse.”
“...”
“We need supplies. 0 2 levels have reached 37% below what’s recommended. Food stores are not critical yet, but intervention will be needed.”
A null response settles between the two. The Hunter expected a similar string of things to be said before going quiet for a while. He often listed the closest known planets with a habitable cave system or suspected ruins. Such droning about things already said before often left Samus tuning out as best as she could. However, Adam’s next delivered line holds much more emotion than expected.
“Lady, You haven’t undergone a physical examination since the mission. There’s no telling how unstable your condition is. When we had left the BSL research station, they were amazed that you were even alive with the opposing DNA that inhabited you. It’s a statistical anomaly that you haven’t faced notable symptoms yet. Your calorie intake is half of what’s expected, you can’t sleep without raising your blood pressure, and communication skills can’t be recorded or improved without you participating in conversation.”
Caught off guard, The Hunter looks back to the lifeless portrait in front of her. None of these facts were incorrect, but she didn’t expect Adam to get so… upset over it. He-It has always cared for her well being, sure, but the idea of this self imposed punishment affecting more than just her wasn’t something she considered. Something Samus didn’t want to consider.
Emotions flicker across her face. Soft pulls that last only moments shape responses with no relation to most usual displays. To any living creature, they would lay nigh invisible. A tick or slanted offset on occasions they were close enough to notice, perhaps. But to Adam? Who spent his reborn life assisting in any way possible? Who has spent many cycles with the woman’s face visible? Who has taken Emotional responses from several hundred peer reviewed studies that documented similar people? To Adam, it was a waterfall of grief, reluctance, and pain. It was a symphony of all things inexpressible. To Adam, it was an apology. A silent plea to understand what is impossible. A deep mourning for the pain she causes.
To Adam? It was evident enough that this conversation will end like all of the others before it. He could only hope that Samus would open up when she was ready.
Hope is all he can do right now.