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Samus tinked her helmet back against the stone wall, breathed in and out, then tapped back again. She rested her head in place, eyes on the Chozo statue standing tall, hand now empty but still reaching toward her.
Samus still didn’t trust it. Too many times they’d burst into activity, destroying the chamber or attacking her with familiar technology turned against her. She set a scan for energy fluctuations on a loop and pushed off the wall, dragging gauntleted fingers across the seams in the stone.
There’d be a way out. Always was. Samus flexed her cannon, feeling the new configuration deep inside with satisfaction. She knew Chozo tech well these days, but it’s adaptability was honestly fun in what it provided when it encountered the infinite biological diversity of the galaxy. A new plasma bolt was a new plasma bolt, but this time it had a sort of contained cleanness unlike the splatter she was used to.
On a whim she tried outlining a few bricks with a slow controlled release of plasma, but to little effect. Oh well.
Maybe she could justify a break. She was as safe as could be on a planet like this, and she trusted her reaction time if anything did go wrong. Casting one more look at the statue, she ran down her checklist. Air quality: good. Temperature: slightly chill, but that would feel nice. Seismic activity: low.
Samus sat heavily, back to the wall again with the locked door and the statue both in her peripheral. Her helmet glowed bright and dispersed into her body’s cells. She gratefully pushed her short hair up off her forehead. Real air, stale as this room was, felt better than the controlled atmosphere of her suit as it cooled her sweat.
Her muscles dropped some of their tension as she scraped noisily into a more comfortable slouch, taking in the sound’s reverberation without the usual filtration and processing.
Settled, Samus took a mouthful from the water tube that had pushed up from her suit’s neck, letting it retract away again. Her eyes creased at the sides as she let herself feel the simple pleasure of swishing the water around. Staying clean wasn’t a big part of the job, but sometimes a suggestion of it was nice.
Letting herself get decadent, Samus scratched around her scalp with big metal fingers, hair bristling between them. The short cut look was still only a couple of years old but she couldn’t imagine going back now.
She dropped her hand to the ground with a clank, noticing the resonance again. Tapping a finger produced a richer sound than most stone, so she did it a few more times, looking around curiously as the tone echoed each time.
Soon Samus had a steady rhythm, as well as a slight smile that lined the sides of her face. Barely loud enough for her to hear herself, she began to hum.
Somewhere in the melody, that quiet buzz turned into whispered words, low with a creak of a voice rarely used.
Got so god damn hungry
I could hide behind a straw, poor boy
I been all around this world.
And who’s fault was that, really? It had been years since she’d been obliged to drop everything and save a planet - or the whole galaxy. She was here, now, because she’d chosen the job, knowing it’d be a good week or three before she saw a proper meal again.
She picked up the volume, but the gravel stayed.
Went up on a mountain
There I made my stand.
Went up on a mountain
There I made my stand.
Rifle on my shoulder
And a dagger in my hand, poor boy
I been all around this world.
It really was same shit different day. But at least it didn’t involve Ridley or metroids anymore. That made it okay to do it again. And again.
So hang me, oh hang me
I'll be dead and gone.
Hang me, oh hang me
And I'll be dead and gone.
I wouldn't mind the hanging
But the layin' in a grave so long, poor boy
I been all around this world.
Being on the move worked. It sat at the back of her head, that she couldn’t do the settled life - and it was a shame, Samus had really liked her. But you can’t pretend to be someone you’re not. Her voice drops a little lower than she's usually happy with, but she's alone.
So hang me, oh hang me
I'll be dead and gone.
Her voice petered out, the lack of practice closing her throat. She took another swallow of water, closing her eyes tight then opening wide to let the room in.
How old was she now? Depends what planet you were counting on. As long as she knew the suit wasn’t carrying her, that she could do the job.
Samus shook off the tune as she stood. Rotating each shoulder to loosen up again, the helmet faded back into place. There was an odd channel she’d noticed, running around the base of the statue. Maybe some slow-flowing plasma...