Jim Carrodine
Avid Affiliate
- Joined
- Aug 19, 2016
Author's Note: I do not own Metroid, etc, etc, etc.
Summary: After making political enemies at the end of Metroid Fusion, Samus goes out with a whimper in perhaps the way no one had ever dreamed ... no one except one sick SOB, anyway.
Felix Fox sat in his office chair, rubbing his gloved hands together while watching the wall-sized monitor behind his desk where Federation prison personnel prepared a highly dangerous criminal for transport. Laser shackles. A special visor over both eyes that served as a high tech blindfold and would have to be unlocked by one of the guards, and attached to that a cold-shock collar in case the prisoner tries to escape or remove the blindfold-visor. It would freeze the subject in place until recapture was possible. And lastly, a remote tracker in pill form that the convict would take, and the staff would verify it had, indeed, been ingested.
“Perfect.” Felix smiled and let out a satisfied sigh. “Absolutely perfect.”
* * * *
Half an hour later, four guards under protective Federation armor, armed with ice-beams, escorted the prisoner from the hover car into the tall skyscraper through the back door. They marched through empty hallways and up the elevator to the top floor office and penthouse suite. The prisoner, a young beautiful woman with long flowing blonde hair, dressed in form fitting blue shorts and matching sleeveless cutoff top, walked with them. The once famous bounty hunter, Samus Aran, who saved the Galaxy no less than four times. They marched her like a common criminal, and stopped her outside the suite’s massive double doors. They knocked. Not a word was said. After a long pause, the doors opened, and a tall slender man with golden blonde hair and an overly wide, menacing, Cheshire cat smile answered. “Ah, my guest of honor, at last. Please, come in.”
The guards started to advance, but the man stopped them. “No, no, gentleman. Just her.”
Samus looked up even though she couldn’t see.
“Councilor Fox, sir—”
“This kind of treatment is an unspeakable injustice. You would not be standing here were it not for this woman. I wish to have a civilized private conversation with my most honored guest…”
How long had it been since she had a conversation? Not interrogated, not “answering questions”, but spoken to?
“Your orders are to wait out here, soldier.” And producing a small what looked like a solid sheet of glass lit up with text and codes, orders, he held it out in his gloved hand for the guard to read. “From the Federation General, himself. Now, I don’t believe I need to repeat myself.”
The guard gulped, reading over the document and verifying its legitimacy. “Very well.” He signaled for Samus to enter.
“Undo her restraints. All of them. We have nothing to fear from her, and more importantly, she deserves to be worshipped for what she’s done for this Federation. Not be treated like an animal …”
Appreciation? Thanks? So why did this Councilor Fox’s words give her such a feeling of … foreboding?
The guards paused, looking at each other uneasily. They all knew how capable she was even without her power suit. However, after the councilor cleared his throat, they acquiesced. A flip of the switch and the lasers disengaged, and the remainders of Samus’ bindings, blindfold, and shock collar fell to the corridor floor.
Free to see her surroundings, Samus looked up at her host and apparent savior and blinked … and strangely felt a dark cloud pass over her. Something wasn’t right. Something about that smile. Like he’s hiding something. But not just hiding something … like he knows something. Something she doesn’t know.
Like he’s leading her into a trap …
“Now, my dear, come in.”
Samus gulped. Her instincts told her to refuse. To go back with the guards and take her chances with her small cell and laser bars. But why did she feel this way? She was already a prisoner, and the preliminary hearings regarding the destruction of the Biological Space Laboratories (BSL) Research Station did not go very well for her at all. In fact, she couldn’t escape the feeling of an impending conviction. Many convictions. For many crimes. So, why would he trap someone who was already doomed?
You’re out of your element, Samus. She told herself. And this whole tribunal business feels like a stab in the back after what I went through to save these people. I’m being paranoid that everyone is out to get me…
So, putting aside her irrational fears, Samus tried to smile as she walked past her four escorts into the cold domain of her strange host who continued to radiate menace despite his seeming hospitality. She felt his eyes feel up her curves and his mind grope her as she walked by. The temperature must have dropped thirty-five degrees from the hallway outside. She could see her breath. Her skin instantly broke out in gooseflesh, and she instinctively crossed her arms and rubbed them for warmth. The door closed behind her, and Samus instantly regretted her decision.
Why is it so cold in here?
“Thank you,” she said, forcing herself to sound sincere and trying not to let her teeth chatter. “I just want to say how much I appreciate—”
“You will speak when spoken to.” He said, that menacing grin never leaving his face. She couldn’t help but notice his complexion had color but neither his nose or his ears were red nor nor was there a single bump of gooseflesh. He wasn’t cold. “Come.” And he lead Samus through the living chamber with large viewing screen, book cases, sofas, hunting trophies, and even a fire place. The Bounty Hunter took stock of her surroundings out of habit, spotting a bathroom and bedroom down a corridor to her right, formal dining room and kitchen to her left, and behind her, in a separate chamber, a full-sized swimming pool and jacuzzi … with thousands upon thousands of large chunks of ice floating in the water?
No, it couldn’t be … she thought, turning her head to get a better view. … but why else would someone fill them up with ice? And why would he keep his home so cold? Unless he thought—
The door suddenly closing and locking behind Samus snapped her out of her thoughts. She found herself in a large office with an oversized desk, a giant window, flanked by more bookshelves and filing cabinets. Her unnerving host turned around and sat on the des. There was nowhere for Samus to sit. She stood there and shivered.
“C-could I get a blanket or someth—”
“Turn around.” He said.
“Wh-what’s this about?”
“You’re in quite a bit of trouble, Ms. Aran. More so than you realize. You crossed the wrong people destroying that Space Station. Very powerful people. And your career as a Bounty Hunter is over. Your life of freedom is over. There will be more charges. The charges will get worse. They will add up. And they will stick. And when the verdict comes down, you’ll be locked away on a prison ship and formally sent away to the labor camps on the farthest side of the Galaxy. But that’s not actually where you’re going to end up. You’re actually going to be auctioned off to the Space Pirates along with information regarding your new … aversion to cold.” Felix said, reaching out to touch her cheek.
She turned her head and shied away from his touch … even though she could feel the heat of his warming gloves and yearned for it.
“You can imagine what they’re going to do with you and how happy they will be learning of your new Metroid inspired weakness. Do Space Pirates understand irony? Well, even if they don’t, they’ll appreciate it when they get their claws on you. That is unless you do what I say. I have connections that can get you out of this mess. Send you on your way after some minimal jail time. Perhaps even community service. I might even be able to restore your status as an official Federation sanctioned bounty hunter. I can do the world for you, Samus, but first, you must do something for me. You can start by turning around.”
“I’m to be your p-plaything.” Damn the cold. She could hear how pathetic she sounded, her voice cracking while stuttering and teeth chattering from unreasonably low temperature.
Felix laughed and rubbed his hands together. “Indeed, Samus. Indeed. What greater thrill than to conquer the mighty Samus Aran? To have her submit and obey my every whim. To bring her to her knees and make her beg. Oh, yes, my dear. I do want you as my personal plaything.”
“C-call your g-guards to take me back. I’ll t-take my chances with the T-tribunals.”
“Aw, is the cold getting to you? That outfit doesn’t look like it’s made for this temperature. Most women I know don’t like the cold. I can imagine that only being magnified now that you have Metroid in your DNA.”
“It doesn’t work like that.” She answered, “M-metroids are weak against temperatures approaching absolute zero. T-temperatures only reached in the deepest regions of intergalactic space. Weapons that can instantly freeze a living organism in place. This is just inconvenience c-cold. Metroids wouldn’t even n-notice it. With the r-right p-protection, it’s fine for humans and m-most life forms. This is a p-purely human response to c-c-col—”
“C-c-c-c-COLD!” Felix mocked in a dramatic outburst, “Please! Give me more credit than that, you condescending cocky cunt!” The councilor made a dismissive sound, standing up and walking to a dispenser on the wall which poured a steaming cup of some liquid. He sat back down on the desk and taunted Samus by drinking it with a tad too much pleasure. “Mm. That hits the spot. But anyway, I knew this wouldn’t kill you. I didn’t want it to. I wanted it to make you uncomfortable. I want to see you suffer, Samus.”
“I’ve b-been through worse.” She said defiantly.
“No shit? You know, I’m glad you’re this arrogant. It’ll make deflating your hot air—forgive the pun—all the more satisfying. But that comes later. For now, let’s talk business,” and the perverted politician splashed the remainder of the scorching hot liquid on Samus. It burned, provided momentary relief from the cold, but it would only be a matter of time before it channeled the cold air and made it worse. Meanwhile, Felix leaned back, tapped something on his desk, and the window behind him went black. Text, pictures, and diagrams started appearing as if it’d become a giant screen. “Here’s some interesting evidence that has been dug up on you recently. A psych-evaluation, stating that your fusion with the Metroid has caused vivid dreams, nightmares, and hallucinations from your past that has affected your ability to tell reality from fantasy—I believe you’ll recognize the top ranking psychiatrist’s signatures on this document. No one will doubt its authenticity …”
And as he spoke, Samus felt like she entered a bizarre freefall as she felt a lump in her throat that threatened to choke her and simultaneously a knot in her stomach that threatened to topple her and force her into the fetal position. Sure, she’d fought off Space Pirates and Metroids in life or death situations that far overshadowed this pitifully little room and this pathetic little man and his ridiculous plan to intimidate her with a thermostat … but what he said... The Federation actively betraying her? The people she fought to protect? The very people she saved conspiring against her? She couldn’t believe it. She came back prepared to face a Just trial where the evidence of her decisions were weighted with fair consideration of the consequences. Sure, she destroyed Federation property. Sure she disobeyed an order. Sure, she even broke the law. She was prepared to face justice because justice might still reprimand her, but ultimately it would be lenient for saving the Universe, right? And yet, as she studied the screen, she realized this civilization—this society—actively sabotaged her coming Tribunal. The Corruption that broke intergalactic laws and experimented with bioweapons—the very crime the Space Pirates paid for with the lives of their entire society—that corruption was willing to buy off her conviction, perhaps even her execution, to protect themselves.
She couldn’t believe it.
Felix watched the confusion, the disbelief, the horror—the despair—on Samus’ beautiful face. In her beautiful eyes. Eyes that looked so attractive, so sexy, in that expression of complete and utter helplessness. Opened wide and scanning the screen faster and faster for something—anything—that didn’t condemn her. Eyebrows up. On the verge of tears. Mouth open slightly. Her breathing slow and shallow. She was so perfect. Perfect in every way. Even perfect in her helplessness. The plan had worked.
Perfectly.
Earlier, they had given her a pill, saying it was a device that would track her position. A tracker she couldn’t get rid of in case she tried to escape. But it wasn’t a tracker. It was a poison. A mild sedative mixed with a hallucinogen to keep her docile, make her more persuasive, emotional, and susceptible to manipulation. Coded for her exact DNA to get the exact response desired. She would never suspect the chemical changes in her body, subtly affecting her interpretive and decision making process. She would never suspect something was wrong with her. She, as far as she knew, was perfectly fine. And without her ship, power suit, or zero suit, she would never realize what was happening to her on a molecular level.
And if he provided the right stimuli, carefully planned and prepared, he could convince her to do anything. She had laughed at his comment to make her suffer with the cold. But the stupid arrogant bitch didn’t know or even suspect it was keeping her distracted, keeping her from concentrating, and being one of many factors that would bring her guard down and let him get inside her head. And she would pay for it. She would pay for her arrogance. She would pay for her ignorance. Oh, she would pay dearly.
She would be his …
Now to cement her status as a servant, a slave … a plaything: “… oh, and I wouldn’t bring up your dear sweet ship computer as evidence, if I were you. You see, Adam Malkovich never had his personality uploaded into any computer. It was all in your head, Samus. There were no Metroids on that station. There are no X Parasites. You lost your grip on reality. And you, Samus, murdered Federation soldiers and scientists in your delusion. You destroyed that research station. And you will pay for your crimes.”
She looked away from the screen. The falsified logs—the lies. A chill went down her spine. Not from the cold. “The t-tribunals will s-see through your lies.”
“Have you not been reading the screen? We have all the evidence, Samus. All of it. All you have is your word.”
“I have the logs in m-my P-power Suit—”
“That was confiscated when you were arrested. We have your Power Suit, and its logs confirms our story.”
No! This couldn’t be. Her legs felt weak. She felt sick. The lump in her throat … “The ship—Adam—if his personality wasn’t uploaded, then—”
“Deleted. All instances. Except on your ship. And wouldn’t it be a shame if the very last remaining remnant of your lover just … disappeared at a key stroke.”
Samus looked up suddenly and her jaw dropped.
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. That look in her eyes. Terror. Pure disbelieving terror. The look of a woman whose world was in the process of crashing down. He had her precisely where he wanted her. She would play into his hands. She would try to argue, but he had researched and rehearsed and prepared and practiced for this for so long that he was the pinball machine and she was the ball.
“Yes, Samus, if you walk away from my offer, you will truly be alone with nothing but your word. And Adam will be nothing but a memory. And it will all be your fault.”
Adam …
Balling up two fists, Samus clenched her teeth. “S-so what’s keeping me from just breaking your neck an-and taking down those four guards and … and what’s stopping me from b-busting out of here?” Impotent venom. Empty threats. God, he loved it. His smile only widened and he found himself getting more and more aroused as she continued. “I survived SR388 and Zebes on my own. I sure as hell can take you down.”
“Because of this,” and he dramatically tapped the desk again, bring up a set of vital signs on the window/monitor, “if my vitals register me as dead or unconscious, Adam gets deleted. If I give the command, Adam gets deleted. If I fail to check in, Adam gets deleted.” It was like stripping off that unshapely, bulky, and clunky Power Armor from her one piece at a time as she stood mesmerized and helpless, breaking through that protective outer shell to the shapely, soft, and sexy woman underneath. “You see, Samus, this wouldn’t be nearly as thrilling nor erotic if there weren’t some risk to me. I don’t want to crush you while watching on a monitor from a thousand miles away. No. I want to be right here when I beat you. I want you on your knees before me. I want you to totally and completely submit at my feet. Now, bitch, turn the fuck around.”
Samus knuckles turned white as she glared and considered launching herself at him, sending a fist right to his face, shattering that mocking grin, and sending him flying across the room to crack that damned screen. But what could she do to stop him from erasing Adam? That was the dilemma. She couldn’t kill him. She couldn’t knock him out. Maybe she could incapacitate him—
“Tick tock, Samus. If I don’t check in—”
“All right!” She couldn’t believe the words came from her mouth. And she gulped as she considered one last time assaulting him and making a run for her freedom. Maybe if she ran back fast enough, she’d make it in time and—
“Goodbye, Adam.”
“NO!” She cried out, stepping forward and reaching towards Felix Fox, but not to attack him. To plead. To beg.
To submit.
And then realizing that she’d just made her decision, she dropped her hands to her sides and did as he asked. Slowly turning around in a circle, letting him drink in the fine lines of her perfectly formed, perfectly proportioned, figure. And he laughed aloud. A condescending mocking laugh. A smug laugh letting her know that he had won. That he dominated her. That he conquered her.
Damn him.
She could beat him, and she could overpower him. She could literally do anything to him. She was physically superior to him in every way … and yet he had still won on threats alone. Threats she couldn’t take chances with. Not with Adam, what’s left of him. She lost. For the first time in her life, she lost.
As Samus finished turning around in a circle so he got a 360 degree view of her flawless figure, Felix metaphorically finished stripping the last of her Power Armor off, leaving behind the completely vulnerable woman beneath. And now, at his mercy, his mastery over her and reign of terror began. Snapping and pointing to the floor in front of him, he ordered, “on your knees, bitch.” The Bounty Huntress reluctantly took a step forward and lowered herself to her knees. “Hands at your sides.” He said. She obeyed. “Keep them there.” And he slapped her. Her head snapped to the side. And as he straightened her out and mockingly tapped her nose, he instructed, “and don’t move unless I tell you to.”
And then he slapped her again.
And again.
“A bitchslap for a bitch!” He laughed maniacally and backhanded her. “Appropriate, isn’t it?” Slapped again. Her cheeks stung, but her pride stung more. Her cheeks felt a resurgence of warmth, but the rest of her went icy cold. She couldn’t feel her fingers or toes anymore. Her head snapped to the side from another backhanded blow. He straightened her out only to strike her again only to straighten her out and repeat. “How does it feel, Samus?” Degrading. Humiliating. She fought her whole life against a sexist society, taking on terrifyingly deadly monsters in unforgiving hazardous environments, to beat “the boys” at their own game. To become the best. To be seen and recognized as Samus Aran, the elite Bounty Hunter, and not just Samus Aran, the little girl.
Now she was reduced to this. On her knees before a man, getting slapped as regularly as a pendulum, and being unable to fight back. And the worst part? It wasn’t because of any weakness. She had the strength. The determination. But she was ordered to just sit there and take it. Ordered to be helpless. Because he held something over her head, she was reduced to the very thing she feared most. The thing she promised herself she would never become.
A damsel in distress.
A slight whimper escaped her lips as his palm smashed across her cheek. She lost count of how many times he struck her. Each new blow brought with it a greater and greater sense of dizziness. When would it stop? Would he keep slapping her until she lost her balance? Would he then straddle her and continue to slap until she lost consciousness? Then would he continue until he killed her? With slaps? Was that even possible?
The slaps stopped. “Aww, is that a tear?”
Samus started to reach for her cheek when another slap sent her sense into orbit.
“Hands at your sides!”
And Samus obediently lowered them again.
He touched her chin and tilted her head up. Gloating. “You are a weak, worthless woman. Aren’t you?”
She gulped, closed her eyes, and nodded.
“Say it.”
Samus bit her lip. She wanted to say no. But she had no options. Her own survival and, more importantly, Adam’s depended on her obedience. So despite every inch of her wanting to tell him to go fuck himself, she whispered, “I am a weak, worthless woman.”
“Louder.”
Samus took a deep breath and slowly repeated, “I am a weak, worthless woman.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
Swallowing hard, Samus held her head up like she was back in Federation Boot Camp and cried out, “I am a weak, worthless woman!”
Felix smiled and pat her reddened cheeks. “Now say you are a sad sack of space garbage who deserves to be thrown out like the trash you are.”
Eyes still closed tight, Samus licked her drying, chapped lips, and called out, “I am a sad sack of space garbage who deserves to be thrown out like the trash I am!”
Oh, Samus, Felix thought, you look so sexy saying that which you do not want to say. He ordered her to repeat it again. It gave him pleasure seeing mere words crush her soul so thoroughly—more than physical blows—and after reciting the self-crucifying statement yet again, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Pleading. Begging him to stop. And all he had to do to further break her down was say one word. “Again.”
Samus swallowed hard again and obeyed again. This time he slapped her and laughed before demanding she repeat it. “Again!” And again. And again.
Slapped and forced to insult herself, “I am a sad sack of space garbage …” over and over. And slowly, brick by brick, he tore down the temple of confidence she’d built up across her adventures and her career by having her endlessly repeat, “…deserves to be thrown out like the trash I am” only to be slapped again. Every time she said, it felt more and more true. Every time he slapped her, he hammered the point deeper and deeper into her heart, undermining her very belief in herself. And every time, the poison coursing through her veins made her believe it more and more.
Why am I letting him do this to me? What would Adam think?
“Now,” he touched her chin again and helped steady the weary woman, “now I want you to say that you’re not a brave bounty hunter. You are a pathetic, helpless, little bitch.”
No…
It felt like a confession. She should know those words were untrue. She should know they were lies. But as she opened her mouth, two tears ran down her cheeks, and she couldn’t bring herself to say it. As if the act of saying it would make it true.
Because it would.
It was true.
A bounty hunter wouldn’t stand for this. Samus Aran wouldn’t stand for this. Adam Malkovich wouldn’t let Samus, the bounty hunter, stand for this. So why is she doing this? Why is she letting this pompous arrogant conceited pencil pushing politician do this to her?
“What’s the matter, Samus?”
Only a pathetic, helpless, little bitch would let someone walk over them like this. Someone who never set foot off the planet, who never held a weapon in his hand, and who never faced anything more dire than a paper cut.
“Please …”
She didn’t want to stand up to Councilor Fox, but at the same time …
“Begging?”
… she didn’t want to be a pathetic, helpless, little bitch, either.
“No!”
“Yes, you are. And a begger belongs on all fours. Like a dog.”
Samus shook her head frantically. “Please, no…”
“Like.”
She reached out and grabbed two fistfuls of his pantleg. “You’ve had your fun with me.”
“A.”
She broke down and cried out, “I’ve done what you’ve asked!”
“Bitch.”
“I beg you—” and she realized too late what she just said. She looked up and whimpered. Once again, pure unbridled terror filled her expression. And that evil, menacing, sadistic smile stretched to the extremes of his expression. It hovered over her and haunted her. Taunted her. Because she played right into his hands. He was the pinball machine. She was the ball. He could verbally knock her around all day long and he knew it. “Please.” She begged.
“You brought this on yourself.” He said and snapped his fingers, pointing to the ground. “All fours. Now.”
He beat me. He really did beat me. Samus thought as she lowered herself to her hands and knees. I tried to resist, and I just dug my grave even deeper. I gave him an opportunity and excuse to humiliate me further.
“You’re not a bounty hunter,” he began.
To degrade me further. Samus, in her defeat, admitted the truth. The new truth. The truth she now believed with every fiber in her being. “I am not a bounty hunter.”
“What are you?”
Samus Aran confessed, “I am a pathetic, helpless, little bitch.”
His plan couldn’t be going more perfectly. She became sexier and sexier with each new rung of degradation. Of domination. With his shoe, he touched her chin and forced her to look up pitifully. “Yes, you are a pathetic, helpless, little bitch. And now, you’re going to say it again, and then you’re going to lick my shoe. Then, my little bitch, you’re going to say it again and lick my shoe again. And you’re going to continue until you’ve completely cleaned it with your tongue. And THEN you get to start on my other shoe.”
Her eyes begged no, but she dared not open her mouth to let it out. Instead, Samus only gulped.
Time to let her know, she hadn’t fallen so far that she couldn’t be hurt any more. That she could still be stabbed through the heart. That her suffering had only just begun. “Any objections, lady?” And Felix felt a euphoric arousal seeing a tidal wave of guilt and shame slam her. The mighty Samus Aran, overwhelmed and drowning in a violent ocean of emotional despair. The look of pleading—of “how could you?” She was powerless. She was helpless. She was vulnerable. Completely vulnerable.
And she knew it.
He could do anything to her. She was clay in his hands. He could barely contain himself as the bounty hunter—the goddess—lowered her face to his shoe and dragged her tongue across the black leather. “I am not a bounty hunter. I am a pathetic, helpless, little bitch.” And then she tilted her head to lick the side of his shoe.
“What would Adam think of you, now?” Felix taunted because it wasn’t enough just to destroy her. Oh no. He had to completely destroy her. And then he had to rub her face in her utter destruction. “What would your former commanding officer, your lover, say? Look at you. The mighty Samus Aran. Annihilator of the Space Pirates. Destroyer of Metroids. Savior of all mankind. On all fours, licking boot. Adam gave his life for civilization, for you, and in doing so never compromised his integrity. He stands proudly by his actions in the next life. How do you think it makes him feel seeing where you are now? What you’ve done with his sacrifice? Squandering all of your honor and all of your dignity, and for what? What will you have to show when this is done?”
Samus bowed her head and whimpered, “enough.” The lump in her throat so overwhelming she could barely breathe, much less speak. She imagined Adam shaking his head sadly. Looking down at her with neither sympathy nor mercy. Just disappointment, disdain, and disgust. Then she imagined him turning his back and leaving her alone to suffer more disgrace. Forever. “Please. I can’t take any more.” She hesitated over her next words, but there was no way around it. Look where she was. So for the first time, she admitted her utter defeat, “you win.”
“You might be finished, bitch, but I’m not through with you.”
She told herself to keep licking his boot, to keep obeying, but her body physically would not respond. The knot in her stomach kept her from moving. She tried. She tried with all her might. But she couldn’t. And then she collapsed into a ball and cried. “I … I can’t.”
He did it. He broke her. Samus Aran was no more. And the poison within her body would ensure that she would never rise again.
From this moment forward, she was his bitch.
Summary: After making political enemies at the end of Metroid Fusion, Samus goes out with a whimper in perhaps the way no one had ever dreamed ... no one except one sick SOB, anyway.
- = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = - = -
DOWNFALL
THE COMPLETE DESTRUCTION OF SAMUS ARAN
Phase I
HER MIND
THE COMPLETE DESTRUCTION OF SAMUS ARAN
Phase I
HER MIND
“But how will the beings of the universe view our resolve? I doubt they will understand what we did...the danger we barely averted. They will hold tribunals and investigations. They will hold us responsible ...”
-Samus Aran.
* * * *
Felix Fox sat in his office chair, rubbing his gloved hands together while watching the wall-sized monitor behind his desk where Federation prison personnel prepared a highly dangerous criminal for transport. Laser shackles. A special visor over both eyes that served as a high tech blindfold and would have to be unlocked by one of the guards, and attached to that a cold-shock collar in case the prisoner tries to escape or remove the blindfold-visor. It would freeze the subject in place until recapture was possible. And lastly, a remote tracker in pill form that the convict would take, and the staff would verify it had, indeed, been ingested.
“Perfect.” Felix smiled and let out a satisfied sigh. “Absolutely perfect.”
* * * *
Half an hour later, four guards under protective Federation armor, armed with ice-beams, escorted the prisoner from the hover car into the tall skyscraper through the back door. They marched through empty hallways and up the elevator to the top floor office and penthouse suite. The prisoner, a young beautiful woman with long flowing blonde hair, dressed in form fitting blue shorts and matching sleeveless cutoff top, walked with them. The once famous bounty hunter, Samus Aran, who saved the Galaxy no less than four times. They marched her like a common criminal, and stopped her outside the suite’s massive double doors. They knocked. Not a word was said. After a long pause, the doors opened, and a tall slender man with golden blonde hair and an overly wide, menacing, Cheshire cat smile answered. “Ah, my guest of honor, at last. Please, come in.”
The guards started to advance, but the man stopped them. “No, no, gentleman. Just her.”
Samus looked up even though she couldn’t see.
“Councilor Fox, sir—”
“This kind of treatment is an unspeakable injustice. You would not be standing here were it not for this woman. I wish to have a civilized private conversation with my most honored guest…”
How long had it been since she had a conversation? Not interrogated, not “answering questions”, but spoken to?
“Your orders are to wait out here, soldier.” And producing a small what looked like a solid sheet of glass lit up with text and codes, orders, he held it out in his gloved hand for the guard to read. “From the Federation General, himself. Now, I don’t believe I need to repeat myself.”
The guard gulped, reading over the document and verifying its legitimacy. “Very well.” He signaled for Samus to enter.
“Undo her restraints. All of them. We have nothing to fear from her, and more importantly, she deserves to be worshipped for what she’s done for this Federation. Not be treated like an animal …”
Appreciation? Thanks? So why did this Councilor Fox’s words give her such a feeling of … foreboding?
The guards paused, looking at each other uneasily. They all knew how capable she was even without her power suit. However, after the councilor cleared his throat, they acquiesced. A flip of the switch and the lasers disengaged, and the remainders of Samus’ bindings, blindfold, and shock collar fell to the corridor floor.
Free to see her surroundings, Samus looked up at her host and apparent savior and blinked … and strangely felt a dark cloud pass over her. Something wasn’t right. Something about that smile. Like he’s hiding something. But not just hiding something … like he knows something. Something she doesn’t know.
Like he’s leading her into a trap …
“Now, my dear, come in.”
Samus gulped. Her instincts told her to refuse. To go back with the guards and take her chances with her small cell and laser bars. But why did she feel this way? She was already a prisoner, and the preliminary hearings regarding the destruction of the Biological Space Laboratories (BSL) Research Station did not go very well for her at all. In fact, she couldn’t escape the feeling of an impending conviction. Many convictions. For many crimes. So, why would he trap someone who was already doomed?
You’re out of your element, Samus. She told herself. And this whole tribunal business feels like a stab in the back after what I went through to save these people. I’m being paranoid that everyone is out to get me…
So, putting aside her irrational fears, Samus tried to smile as she walked past her four escorts into the cold domain of her strange host who continued to radiate menace despite his seeming hospitality. She felt his eyes feel up her curves and his mind grope her as she walked by. The temperature must have dropped thirty-five degrees from the hallway outside. She could see her breath. Her skin instantly broke out in gooseflesh, and she instinctively crossed her arms and rubbed them for warmth. The door closed behind her, and Samus instantly regretted her decision.
Why is it so cold in here?
“Thank you,” she said, forcing herself to sound sincere and trying not to let her teeth chatter. “I just want to say how much I appreciate—”
“You will speak when spoken to.” He said, that menacing grin never leaving his face. She couldn’t help but notice his complexion had color but neither his nose or his ears were red nor nor was there a single bump of gooseflesh. He wasn’t cold. “Come.” And he lead Samus through the living chamber with large viewing screen, book cases, sofas, hunting trophies, and even a fire place. The Bounty Hunter took stock of her surroundings out of habit, spotting a bathroom and bedroom down a corridor to her right, formal dining room and kitchen to her left, and behind her, in a separate chamber, a full-sized swimming pool and jacuzzi … with thousands upon thousands of large chunks of ice floating in the water?
No, it couldn’t be … she thought, turning her head to get a better view. … but why else would someone fill them up with ice? And why would he keep his home so cold? Unless he thought—
The door suddenly closing and locking behind Samus snapped her out of her thoughts. She found herself in a large office with an oversized desk, a giant window, flanked by more bookshelves and filing cabinets. Her unnerving host turned around and sat on the des. There was nowhere for Samus to sit. She stood there and shivered.
“C-could I get a blanket or someth—”
“Turn around.” He said.
“Wh-what’s this about?”
“You’re in quite a bit of trouble, Ms. Aran. More so than you realize. You crossed the wrong people destroying that Space Station. Very powerful people. And your career as a Bounty Hunter is over. Your life of freedom is over. There will be more charges. The charges will get worse. They will add up. And they will stick. And when the verdict comes down, you’ll be locked away on a prison ship and formally sent away to the labor camps on the farthest side of the Galaxy. But that’s not actually where you’re going to end up. You’re actually going to be auctioned off to the Space Pirates along with information regarding your new … aversion to cold.” Felix said, reaching out to touch her cheek.
She turned her head and shied away from his touch … even though she could feel the heat of his warming gloves and yearned for it.
“You can imagine what they’re going to do with you and how happy they will be learning of your new Metroid inspired weakness. Do Space Pirates understand irony? Well, even if they don’t, they’ll appreciate it when they get their claws on you. That is unless you do what I say. I have connections that can get you out of this mess. Send you on your way after some minimal jail time. Perhaps even community service. I might even be able to restore your status as an official Federation sanctioned bounty hunter. I can do the world for you, Samus, but first, you must do something for me. You can start by turning around.”
“I’m to be your p-plaything.” Damn the cold. She could hear how pathetic she sounded, her voice cracking while stuttering and teeth chattering from unreasonably low temperature.
Felix laughed and rubbed his hands together. “Indeed, Samus. Indeed. What greater thrill than to conquer the mighty Samus Aran? To have her submit and obey my every whim. To bring her to her knees and make her beg. Oh, yes, my dear. I do want you as my personal plaything.”
“C-call your g-guards to take me back. I’ll t-take my chances with the T-tribunals.”
“Aw, is the cold getting to you? That outfit doesn’t look like it’s made for this temperature. Most women I know don’t like the cold. I can imagine that only being magnified now that you have Metroid in your DNA.”
“It doesn’t work like that.” She answered, “M-metroids are weak against temperatures approaching absolute zero. T-temperatures only reached in the deepest regions of intergalactic space. Weapons that can instantly freeze a living organism in place. This is just inconvenience c-cold. Metroids wouldn’t even n-notice it. With the r-right p-protection, it’s fine for humans and m-most life forms. This is a p-purely human response to c-c-col—”
“C-c-c-c-COLD!” Felix mocked in a dramatic outburst, “Please! Give me more credit than that, you condescending cocky cunt!” The councilor made a dismissive sound, standing up and walking to a dispenser on the wall which poured a steaming cup of some liquid. He sat back down on the desk and taunted Samus by drinking it with a tad too much pleasure. “Mm. That hits the spot. But anyway, I knew this wouldn’t kill you. I didn’t want it to. I wanted it to make you uncomfortable. I want to see you suffer, Samus.”
“I’ve b-been through worse.” She said defiantly.
“No shit? You know, I’m glad you’re this arrogant. It’ll make deflating your hot air—forgive the pun—all the more satisfying. But that comes later. For now, let’s talk business,” and the perverted politician splashed the remainder of the scorching hot liquid on Samus. It burned, provided momentary relief from the cold, but it would only be a matter of time before it channeled the cold air and made it worse. Meanwhile, Felix leaned back, tapped something on his desk, and the window behind him went black. Text, pictures, and diagrams started appearing as if it’d become a giant screen. “Here’s some interesting evidence that has been dug up on you recently. A psych-evaluation, stating that your fusion with the Metroid has caused vivid dreams, nightmares, and hallucinations from your past that has affected your ability to tell reality from fantasy—I believe you’ll recognize the top ranking psychiatrist’s signatures on this document. No one will doubt its authenticity …”
And as he spoke, Samus felt like she entered a bizarre freefall as she felt a lump in her throat that threatened to choke her and simultaneously a knot in her stomach that threatened to topple her and force her into the fetal position. Sure, she’d fought off Space Pirates and Metroids in life or death situations that far overshadowed this pitifully little room and this pathetic little man and his ridiculous plan to intimidate her with a thermostat … but what he said... The Federation actively betraying her? The people she fought to protect? The very people she saved conspiring against her? She couldn’t believe it. She came back prepared to face a Just trial where the evidence of her decisions were weighted with fair consideration of the consequences. Sure, she destroyed Federation property. Sure she disobeyed an order. Sure, she even broke the law. She was prepared to face justice because justice might still reprimand her, but ultimately it would be lenient for saving the Universe, right? And yet, as she studied the screen, she realized this civilization—this society—actively sabotaged her coming Tribunal. The Corruption that broke intergalactic laws and experimented with bioweapons—the very crime the Space Pirates paid for with the lives of their entire society—that corruption was willing to buy off her conviction, perhaps even her execution, to protect themselves.
She couldn’t believe it.
Felix watched the confusion, the disbelief, the horror—the despair—on Samus’ beautiful face. In her beautiful eyes. Eyes that looked so attractive, so sexy, in that expression of complete and utter helplessness. Opened wide and scanning the screen faster and faster for something—anything—that didn’t condemn her. Eyebrows up. On the verge of tears. Mouth open slightly. Her breathing slow and shallow. She was so perfect. Perfect in every way. Even perfect in her helplessness. The plan had worked.
Perfectly.
Earlier, they had given her a pill, saying it was a device that would track her position. A tracker she couldn’t get rid of in case she tried to escape. But it wasn’t a tracker. It was a poison. A mild sedative mixed with a hallucinogen to keep her docile, make her more persuasive, emotional, and susceptible to manipulation. Coded for her exact DNA to get the exact response desired. She would never suspect the chemical changes in her body, subtly affecting her interpretive and decision making process. She would never suspect something was wrong with her. She, as far as she knew, was perfectly fine. And without her ship, power suit, or zero suit, she would never realize what was happening to her on a molecular level.
And if he provided the right stimuli, carefully planned and prepared, he could convince her to do anything. She had laughed at his comment to make her suffer with the cold. But the stupid arrogant bitch didn’t know or even suspect it was keeping her distracted, keeping her from concentrating, and being one of many factors that would bring her guard down and let him get inside her head. And she would pay for it. She would pay for her arrogance. She would pay for her ignorance. Oh, she would pay dearly.
She would be his …
Now to cement her status as a servant, a slave … a plaything: “… oh, and I wouldn’t bring up your dear sweet ship computer as evidence, if I were you. You see, Adam Malkovich never had his personality uploaded into any computer. It was all in your head, Samus. There were no Metroids on that station. There are no X Parasites. You lost your grip on reality. And you, Samus, murdered Federation soldiers and scientists in your delusion. You destroyed that research station. And you will pay for your crimes.”
She looked away from the screen. The falsified logs—the lies. A chill went down her spine. Not from the cold. “The t-tribunals will s-see through your lies.”
“Have you not been reading the screen? We have all the evidence, Samus. All of it. All you have is your word.”
“I have the logs in m-my P-power Suit—”
“That was confiscated when you were arrested. We have your Power Suit, and its logs confirms our story.”
No! This couldn’t be. Her legs felt weak. She felt sick. The lump in her throat … “The ship—Adam—if his personality wasn’t uploaded, then—”
“Deleted. All instances. Except on your ship. And wouldn’t it be a shame if the very last remaining remnant of your lover just … disappeared at a key stroke.”
Samus looked up suddenly and her jaw dropped.
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. That look in her eyes. Terror. Pure disbelieving terror. The look of a woman whose world was in the process of crashing down. He had her precisely where he wanted her. She would play into his hands. She would try to argue, but he had researched and rehearsed and prepared and practiced for this for so long that he was the pinball machine and she was the ball.
“Yes, Samus, if you walk away from my offer, you will truly be alone with nothing but your word. And Adam will be nothing but a memory. And it will all be your fault.”
Adam …
Balling up two fists, Samus clenched her teeth. “S-so what’s keeping me from just breaking your neck an-and taking down those four guards and … and what’s stopping me from b-busting out of here?” Impotent venom. Empty threats. God, he loved it. His smile only widened and he found himself getting more and more aroused as she continued. “I survived SR388 and Zebes on my own. I sure as hell can take you down.”
“Because of this,” and he dramatically tapped the desk again, bring up a set of vital signs on the window/monitor, “if my vitals register me as dead or unconscious, Adam gets deleted. If I give the command, Adam gets deleted. If I fail to check in, Adam gets deleted.” It was like stripping off that unshapely, bulky, and clunky Power Armor from her one piece at a time as she stood mesmerized and helpless, breaking through that protective outer shell to the shapely, soft, and sexy woman underneath. “You see, Samus, this wouldn’t be nearly as thrilling nor erotic if there weren’t some risk to me. I don’t want to crush you while watching on a monitor from a thousand miles away. No. I want to be right here when I beat you. I want you on your knees before me. I want you to totally and completely submit at my feet. Now, bitch, turn the fuck around.”
Samus knuckles turned white as she glared and considered launching herself at him, sending a fist right to his face, shattering that mocking grin, and sending him flying across the room to crack that damned screen. But what could she do to stop him from erasing Adam? That was the dilemma. She couldn’t kill him. She couldn’t knock him out. Maybe she could incapacitate him—
“Tick tock, Samus. If I don’t check in—”
“All right!” She couldn’t believe the words came from her mouth. And she gulped as she considered one last time assaulting him and making a run for her freedom. Maybe if she ran back fast enough, she’d make it in time and—
“Goodbye, Adam.”
“NO!” She cried out, stepping forward and reaching towards Felix Fox, but not to attack him. To plead. To beg.
To submit.
And then realizing that she’d just made her decision, she dropped her hands to her sides and did as he asked. Slowly turning around in a circle, letting him drink in the fine lines of her perfectly formed, perfectly proportioned, figure. And he laughed aloud. A condescending mocking laugh. A smug laugh letting her know that he had won. That he dominated her. That he conquered her.
Damn him.
She could beat him, and she could overpower him. She could literally do anything to him. She was physically superior to him in every way … and yet he had still won on threats alone. Threats she couldn’t take chances with. Not with Adam, what’s left of him. She lost. For the first time in her life, she lost.
As Samus finished turning around in a circle so he got a 360 degree view of her flawless figure, Felix metaphorically finished stripping the last of her Power Armor off, leaving behind the completely vulnerable woman beneath. And now, at his mercy, his mastery over her and reign of terror began. Snapping and pointing to the floor in front of him, he ordered, “on your knees, bitch.” The Bounty Huntress reluctantly took a step forward and lowered herself to her knees. “Hands at your sides.” He said. She obeyed. “Keep them there.” And he slapped her. Her head snapped to the side. And as he straightened her out and mockingly tapped her nose, he instructed, “and don’t move unless I tell you to.”
And then he slapped her again.
And again.
“A bitchslap for a bitch!” He laughed maniacally and backhanded her. “Appropriate, isn’t it?” Slapped again. Her cheeks stung, but her pride stung more. Her cheeks felt a resurgence of warmth, but the rest of her went icy cold. She couldn’t feel her fingers or toes anymore. Her head snapped to the side from another backhanded blow. He straightened her out only to strike her again only to straighten her out and repeat. “How does it feel, Samus?” Degrading. Humiliating. She fought her whole life against a sexist society, taking on terrifyingly deadly monsters in unforgiving hazardous environments, to beat “the boys” at their own game. To become the best. To be seen and recognized as Samus Aran, the elite Bounty Hunter, and not just Samus Aran, the little girl.
Now she was reduced to this. On her knees before a man, getting slapped as regularly as a pendulum, and being unable to fight back. And the worst part? It wasn’t because of any weakness. She had the strength. The determination. But she was ordered to just sit there and take it. Ordered to be helpless. Because he held something over her head, she was reduced to the very thing she feared most. The thing she promised herself she would never become.
A damsel in distress.
A slight whimper escaped her lips as his palm smashed across her cheek. She lost count of how many times he struck her. Each new blow brought with it a greater and greater sense of dizziness. When would it stop? Would he keep slapping her until she lost her balance? Would he then straddle her and continue to slap until she lost consciousness? Then would he continue until he killed her? With slaps? Was that even possible?
The slaps stopped. “Aww, is that a tear?”
Samus started to reach for her cheek when another slap sent her sense into orbit.
“Hands at your sides!”
And Samus obediently lowered them again.
He touched her chin and tilted her head up. Gloating. “You are a weak, worthless woman. Aren’t you?”
She gulped, closed her eyes, and nodded.
“Say it.”
Samus bit her lip. She wanted to say no. But she had no options. Her own survival and, more importantly, Adam’s depended on her obedience. So despite every inch of her wanting to tell him to go fuck himself, she whispered, “I am a weak, worthless woman.”
“Louder.”
Samus took a deep breath and slowly repeated, “I am a weak, worthless woman.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
Swallowing hard, Samus held her head up like she was back in Federation Boot Camp and cried out, “I am a weak, worthless woman!”
Felix smiled and pat her reddened cheeks. “Now say you are a sad sack of space garbage who deserves to be thrown out like the trash you are.”
Eyes still closed tight, Samus licked her drying, chapped lips, and called out, “I am a sad sack of space garbage who deserves to be thrown out like the trash I am!”
Oh, Samus, Felix thought, you look so sexy saying that which you do not want to say. He ordered her to repeat it again. It gave him pleasure seeing mere words crush her soul so thoroughly—more than physical blows—and after reciting the self-crucifying statement yet again, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Pleading. Begging him to stop. And all he had to do to further break her down was say one word. “Again.”
Samus swallowed hard again and obeyed again. This time he slapped her and laughed before demanding she repeat it. “Again!” And again. And again.
Slapped and forced to insult herself, “I am a sad sack of space garbage …” over and over. And slowly, brick by brick, he tore down the temple of confidence she’d built up across her adventures and her career by having her endlessly repeat, “…deserves to be thrown out like the trash I am” only to be slapped again. Every time she said, it felt more and more true. Every time he slapped her, he hammered the point deeper and deeper into her heart, undermining her very belief in herself. And every time, the poison coursing through her veins made her believe it more and more.
Why am I letting him do this to me? What would Adam think?
“Now,” he touched her chin again and helped steady the weary woman, “now I want you to say that you’re not a brave bounty hunter. You are a pathetic, helpless, little bitch.”
No…
It felt like a confession. She should know those words were untrue. She should know they were lies. But as she opened her mouth, two tears ran down her cheeks, and she couldn’t bring herself to say it. As if the act of saying it would make it true.
Because it would.
It was true.
A bounty hunter wouldn’t stand for this. Samus Aran wouldn’t stand for this. Adam Malkovich wouldn’t let Samus, the bounty hunter, stand for this. So why is she doing this? Why is she letting this pompous arrogant conceited pencil pushing politician do this to her?
“What’s the matter, Samus?”
Only a pathetic, helpless, little bitch would let someone walk over them like this. Someone who never set foot off the planet, who never held a weapon in his hand, and who never faced anything more dire than a paper cut.
“Please …”
She didn’t want to stand up to Councilor Fox, but at the same time …
“Begging?”
… she didn’t want to be a pathetic, helpless, little bitch, either.
“No!”
“Yes, you are. And a begger belongs on all fours. Like a dog.”
Samus shook her head frantically. “Please, no…”
“Like.”
She reached out and grabbed two fistfuls of his pantleg. “You’ve had your fun with me.”
“A.”
She broke down and cried out, “I’ve done what you’ve asked!”
“Bitch.”
“I beg you—” and she realized too late what she just said. She looked up and whimpered. Once again, pure unbridled terror filled her expression. And that evil, menacing, sadistic smile stretched to the extremes of his expression. It hovered over her and haunted her. Taunted her. Because she played right into his hands. He was the pinball machine. She was the ball. He could verbally knock her around all day long and he knew it. “Please.” She begged.
“You brought this on yourself.” He said and snapped his fingers, pointing to the ground. “All fours. Now.”
He beat me. He really did beat me. Samus thought as she lowered herself to her hands and knees. I tried to resist, and I just dug my grave even deeper. I gave him an opportunity and excuse to humiliate me further.
“You’re not a bounty hunter,” he began.
To degrade me further. Samus, in her defeat, admitted the truth. The new truth. The truth she now believed with every fiber in her being. “I am not a bounty hunter.”
“What are you?”
Samus Aran confessed, “I am a pathetic, helpless, little bitch.”
His plan couldn’t be going more perfectly. She became sexier and sexier with each new rung of degradation. Of domination. With his shoe, he touched her chin and forced her to look up pitifully. “Yes, you are a pathetic, helpless, little bitch. And now, you’re going to say it again, and then you’re going to lick my shoe. Then, my little bitch, you’re going to say it again and lick my shoe again. And you’re going to continue until you’ve completely cleaned it with your tongue. And THEN you get to start on my other shoe.”
Her eyes begged no, but she dared not open her mouth to let it out. Instead, Samus only gulped.
Time to let her know, she hadn’t fallen so far that she couldn’t be hurt any more. That she could still be stabbed through the heart. That her suffering had only just begun. “Any objections, lady?” And Felix felt a euphoric arousal seeing a tidal wave of guilt and shame slam her. The mighty Samus Aran, overwhelmed and drowning in a violent ocean of emotional despair. The look of pleading—of “how could you?” She was powerless. She was helpless. She was vulnerable. Completely vulnerable.
And she knew it.
He could do anything to her. She was clay in his hands. He could barely contain himself as the bounty hunter—the goddess—lowered her face to his shoe and dragged her tongue across the black leather. “I am not a bounty hunter. I am a pathetic, helpless, little bitch.” And then she tilted her head to lick the side of his shoe.
“What would Adam think of you, now?” Felix taunted because it wasn’t enough just to destroy her. Oh no. He had to completely destroy her. And then he had to rub her face in her utter destruction. “What would your former commanding officer, your lover, say? Look at you. The mighty Samus Aran. Annihilator of the Space Pirates. Destroyer of Metroids. Savior of all mankind. On all fours, licking boot. Adam gave his life for civilization, for you, and in doing so never compromised his integrity. He stands proudly by his actions in the next life. How do you think it makes him feel seeing where you are now? What you’ve done with his sacrifice? Squandering all of your honor and all of your dignity, and for what? What will you have to show when this is done?”
Samus bowed her head and whimpered, “enough.” The lump in her throat so overwhelming she could barely breathe, much less speak. She imagined Adam shaking his head sadly. Looking down at her with neither sympathy nor mercy. Just disappointment, disdain, and disgust. Then she imagined him turning his back and leaving her alone to suffer more disgrace. Forever. “Please. I can’t take any more.” She hesitated over her next words, but there was no way around it. Look where she was. So for the first time, she admitted her utter defeat, “you win.”
“You might be finished, bitch, but I’m not through with you.”
She told herself to keep licking his boot, to keep obeying, but her body physically would not respond. The knot in her stomach kept her from moving. She tried. She tried with all her might. But she couldn’t. And then she collapsed into a ball and cried. “I … I can’t.”
He did it. He broke her. Samus Aran was no more. And the poison within her body would ensure that she would never rise again.
From this moment forward, she was his bitch.
