*deep breath* I guess I am able to say I can thank my imagination for this at 12:35 in the freaking morning to write this piece and it'll be slowly chugging myself to write chapters, because good lord I should not be doing this. Who needs sleep? I don't! This idea came to me a little over a year ago, around March, where the only person who knows about it is Smash King24, and that's it. This... ladies and gents, is Brinstar Depths. Written in the style that now seems to define me as four of the past pieces I now have as main stories are written in present tense, because I like it.
It has been a long while since I wrote horror for this fandom, when I genuinely feel it had been since Pluto Vacation, and this needs some good horror, action, and suspense. Also this is the second time I've written a Smash story with a male Smasher not as the main character. Icarus Chronicle had Robin and Peach, granted, but that featured Pit more. Here, by the title with that suggestion, is Samus! I haven't given her a story in so long and I'm so happy. And since Cross freaking Examined this story is taking place in a 'Smash' mansion, which I think I haven't done because it feels so generic. However, some just have to go back to their roots and in a typical Smash Mansion story were my roots that earned me nearly 50k views on one story alone, so let's do it. Also, I'm taking some fanfiction adoption like Circuit Dead's name of the Wii Fit Trainers, they're Willa and Will, and since this story is to use the male character, it's Will.
I couldn't find a better cover for the story, so I used that sick looking fan art of the Subspace Emissary... (just wish I could edit some of them), oh well. I don't know if I'm going to do review replies, probably not. I also don't think I'll be updating this all too much as Syrenet really just needs to get completed much faster. I deleted Bandit of St. Bernard as I wasn't feeling it. This story shouldn't be too long [there's evidence of me saying this. Hold it to me readers. We shall get it to shorter than 20 chapters!]
So, enjoy, Chapter #1: Premonition of Brinstar Depths.
Of all the things you choose in life, you don't get to choose what your nightmares are. You don't pick them; they pick you. ~ John Irving
There's something relaxing to Samus Aran about watching the waves lapel the shore. She cannot exactly pinpoint the reasons why, but it settles underneath her skin and stays there, warm, comforting, and resting. The moon sits in its own silver hammock above, perched on clouds that glisten with the comings of rain and thunder and weather phenomenon. She sits out on the terrace, listening to the crickets, absorbing every sound that peaks through, and life is zealous. Life is rich, and life is wonderful.
However, life is painful. The scars sit and weave their way into people's storylines, though these human beings never asked once for their perfect visions to be desecrated. The gash on Samus's shoulder stays, and will forever stay as a bleach twist of sinew and tar till the end of her days - a reminder of the corrupt world they used to live in, an emissary, and she is unable to look at the robot who is so nice. He's caused the pain, and she wants him destroyed, but Samus Aran does not and never will run the show - and in that minute, the moonlit sky is not as friendly as it had been moments before.
A rose crown still sits on the blonde's head, and she almost smirks at it when she feels like the ocean is not watching.
She hears the murmurs along the walls, her win is not deserved, and she knows it but something sits in her soul that she's no longer bothered by this anymore. Chance wins happen and those who can no longer deal with them need to get their priorities straightened out. She runs a hand over her ribs where the arrow had barely hit her, fired from Link's bow, and there's no pain now. Whatever magical protection that saves the Smashers from being genuinely injured in battle on the stages works, and Samus is grateful. The number of wounds and life-threatening injuries she's sustained against any plethora of people would have killed her ten times over at this point.
Samus sighs deeply, resting her elbows against the terrace, closing her eyes and embracing the salty wind with open arms. Everything is so tranquil outside, away from the eerily creepy paintings on the walls, or the looming staircases with heavy banisters lined in ivory.
"You okay?" The voice is warm to her ears, and it's all too familiar. Samus smiles, and the added presence of one foot on stone, the other stuck in carpeted floors makes all the difference. The easy-going tone belongs to only one individual, and that's Will Forrest. She remembers shaking his firm grip, staring into empathetic wide eyes, and happy to have someone new joining the group. He and his sister profess a lifetime love for fitness, and Samus wishes at times – though she'll never say it aloud, the woman has manners – the Forrest twins did not push everyone to the absolute max. Her glutes still feel the burn, - "The burn is good," professes Will's sister, Willa, and Samus grits her teeth, pushing herself harder – but their effect worked wonders as she's vaulting higher, running faster, and lasting longer in battle.
Will's one of the new Smashers to join the group since 2014. Samus hates to think of the times, when thirty-two bruised and battered souls stumble back into the mansion, a high rise left vacant for too long. The curtains are shredded against the walls, candelabras ripped from the roof and shattered in a pool of glass in the foyer… Samus leans against Fox, a nasty cut lining down from the shoulder to the small of her back, crimson stains appearing through her Zero Suit, and she's tasting copper in her mouth. It's lining her gums, her clothes, her heart… Samus Aran does not like recalling those times. Master Hand floats in, the Smashers are devastated, and still there are some who cannot get it out of their head that they all had died at one point. Death is a strange idea to Samus.
The fitness twins sit in the grand room by a fireplace, eyes wide, just like all the other Smashers getting told stories of bravado, destruction, certain doom, love, failure, and loss. Will's wide and gleaming emerald eyes glisten with tears hearing as Ness and Lucas discuss their separation, Kirby's loneliness in the Subspace world, and so much more. Samus leaves out the story of being rammed against the side of a research facility's wind tunnel. The pain lingers along her spine, but the blackness dissipates every once in a while. If Pikachu hadn't been there- Samus shudders, tongue feeling heavy.
She turns around to Will, and she's content. While he may not necessarily be the person she wants joining her on the terrace, company compared to being alone is better than nothing, so she'll take whatever she can get. His emerald eyes twinkle underneath the shadow of the awning above, a delicate rosy pink settling on his cheeks as he smiles. Samus admires the looks in Will, but she never dwells on any of the men in the mansion as she's found romance to be too distracting. She's seen what it has done to Zelda, and although the princess of Hyrule is more than competent at everything she does, the brunette can definitely be known to have a bad day once in a while because Link has broken her heart.
He's dressed in nothing all too fancy, simple workout clothes, but she can see his lean curves and muscles bulging underneath. Will steps up to her, and she hardly hears a sound, effortless and lithe on his feet. "What are you doing out here?"
"Just relaxing," Samus exhales. "I won a match today and out here is a place where I can relax and enjoy myself. You?"
"Going to bed," Will laughs. "It's almost midnight. I have a match tomorrow, actually, so I need the rest."
"Who are you going up against?" She can never remember the fighting schedule, as she often feels like Master Hand changes it on a whim nearly as much as Peach changes the accessory to go in her hair. She – Samus – swears that the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom will walk to lunch with her crown, then at dinner it is some mini parasol stuck by the crook of her ear. Samus's wardrobe is quite easy to understand. They are classified in two categories. Things to run in. Things to war to formal events. Samus finds it disappointing, because damn her lack of style, that there's four dresses total in the formal event section, and a good hundred or more tracksuits and sleek jackets that'd make Mac drool.
"A free-for-all between myself, Palutena, Diddy Kong, and Greninja," Will says. "I'm only worried about Greninja, to be honest," he admits. "If you stay away from Palutena and her caduceus, she can't hit you. Diddy is fast, but I'm faster. Besides, he uses a jetpack to get into the air. I leap and we match the same height!"
Samus giggles into her hands, and she feels completely out of place by doing such a childish action. It's as if she's been transported into a fairytale, combed in pixie dust with a gilded dress hitching at her heels. The walls deteriorate, lush walls of ivy and ivory that crumble into withered trees with rotting flesh and the stinking smell of a dead animal. Her expression sours, and the image vanishes, replaced by Will's frowning face.
"What's wrong? You alright?" His voice is comforting, but all of a sudden Samus finds that the outside no longer seems that comfortable. She wants to say that the inside seems inviting, it's calling to her, but she's going to let her feelings settle. A warrior does not admit they are afraid of something that genuinely is not scary. A vision twisted and broken, nothing more.
"I'm fine. Just… I'm thinking of before," Samus runs a hand through her blonde locks, hair pulled back into a ponytail. "The Brawl era."
Will nods, closing his eyes, and the picture is complete. "Subspace."
Samus's arms explode in goosebumps, cold chills sliding down her back and the moonlight turns into a wicked ray of maliciousness, malevolence bounding off of every ray, sinking into the bounty hunter's core till a dry husk remains. Too many robots surround her, and Pikachu's cries muffle into oblivion as there's too much machinery around them, so many robots drenched in crimson coats of the paint of their victims, soulless black eyes that bear into her. She's suffocating, reaching out for a light she can see on the horizon, but nothing makes much sense before the world is torn from her.
Falcon's assuring hand around her shoulder, hugging the blonde tight, smirking that they're safe, everyone is safe and Samus has nothing to worry about. The Falcon Flyer zooms past the tunnel, jagged bits of iron wire poking out like the maw of a landlocked leviathan, steel and copper, silver and gold, diamond encrusted graves for her to leap in when the roar echoes. It rattles the Falcon Flyer, Pikachu tenses, and the world begins to spin for Samus Aran.
She looks out the window, the world going by her in a blur where everything conjoins into one mess, and Samus lets loose a scream, something still terrorizing her thoughts. Meta Ridley bears down on the craft, and the glare of a fireball appears in the mirror. Falcon is shaking her, as she's blacked out visibly, eyes squeezed shut, arms trembling and then they fight, they fight the metal beast from hell. Samus sees the tattered wings of silicone and fiber glass, flaxen shards decorating the roof of the Falcon Flyer before the world is consumed by an all-eating mass of purple, amaranthine shadows where the wail vibrates against the tunnel that feels as if it'll collapse.
Samus hasn't seen the dragon in ten years, yet the scars weigh down her memory more than she lets on. She turns to face Will, who's watched the entire ordeal, eyes wide, jaw open and he's terrified. "Don't mention that to me," Samus grits her teeth. "Please."
"I was-" Will starts, but she's not having it. Samus Aran does not need another chauvinistic asshole like Wolf O'Donnell to be in her face, jaw jutted out and smirking at her the way he always does. She knows that appearances are misleading, and she's here with a guy that could perhaps be what she looks for, but there'll never be a peaceful, tranquil escape from the past that's broken the very foundation she stands on.
"I know what you were doing, and I don't like it." Samus's mouth is locked down, and the pain hurts, it stings deeply but Will's words are fresh and scraping the sides of her ribcage, pecking, plucking, a carrion with foul whispers among tainted winds and screams of dearly beloveds. "I'll see you tomorrow for morning stretches," Samus says dismissively. Will opens his mouth to rebuttal, and she almost feels sympathy for the man, but nothing arises in her heart. He's nice, but he's new, and those on the bottom of the totem pole need to learn their place.
Will bows away from the bounty hunter, neck a putrid scarlet with embarrassment tinging at the sides of his face. His jaw slacks, hands fall limp to his waist side, and he's gone. Samus squeezes her eyes shut and cusses to herself. She does not mean to push friends like that away, but it happens on her worst nights, her best nights, and every night in between. It's upsetting, when she actually thinks about it, to have something act as a switch to turn someone into a snarling monster rather than the cute and bemused angel from seconds before.
Samus hugs her arms tight, looking up into the moonlit sky, stars dancing into their halos of light in the cosmos, places she'll never reach, areas she can only fathom to go into from Earth. She knows that she's been there before, to destroy Zebes and encounter red soil and the monsters in the dark, but it's not like the blonde can jump into any ship she wants and go for a joy ride. Or, since she's in the sky, joy fly.
Faces come and go while the bounty hunter sits out on the terrace. Master Hand never discloses the reasons as to why some come and some go, as like Snake, the gruff Metal Gear agent quite intimidating, yet she's fascinated by him and his knowledge of combat, with guns that seem to be faster than the blink of an eye, bullets of steel and fueled with the desire to kill.
She steps away from the terrace, deciding that she's overstayed her welcome by the way the air tenses around her, clinging to her skin like leather and it's coarse, an uncomfortable feeling as if she's been sized up. Samus turns to leave, feet gracing the carpeted floor of the mansion. Sketches of roses are drawn on the teal fabric, and Samus imagines a bouquet placed in her hands – stunning, vicarious, vicious, deadly, and beautiful, just like her when she wants to be – as she's won something imaginative. She remembers that Lucas, the shy toddler, bless him, wanted sunflowers to be placed all over the mansion, but Peach wins the kid over by detailing romantic stories with roses and thorns, and it even swoons Master Hand's heart.
Her hand lingers on the wall, fingers still grasping out to the cold air, when the whispers pass over her ears. Samus pauses, frowning. The whisper glides from the left ear to the right, and then the whispers amplify. Her heart begins to pound in her chest, voices rising from underneath her feet in a voice that the bounty hunter does not recognize.
Suddenly, a world blips by and Samus's breath hitches in her throat. A delicate flower stampeded in a fray of chaos crumples under the footfall of a thousand shoes. Screams ricochet off blindingly white walls, the pallid paint warping into a foul, brackish green that mimics sickness, vomit, and nausea. A pool flows with fresh blood, a smell carried on the wind, dry and heavy that infiltrates Samus's nostrils as if she's standing there and being pushed into the crimson lake.
Swords clash and metal bits fly out everywhere, pain lacing a joint in the bounty hunter's wrist. She hisses, clutching the body part, yet no blemish appears, no scarlet lacing the skin, no bruise forming… as if she's imaging this all from within.
Everything comes to a halt, and Samus sees out on the terrace an image that strikes fear into her heart. A cold chill slides down her body, and she's never missed Will Forrest's company more than she ever has than in the moment. A lone body stands out in the middle of the platform, and the sounds of crashing aquamarine waves to a sandy shore still linger. There's no wind blowing, nothing but eerie quietness that creeps up Samus's legs and choke her neck.
She cannot see the face of the being standing in front of her, but maliciousness exudes off in waves. The head is lifted, and Samus looks into a void of emptiness, a plethora of colors dancing about in a manner that sickens her. A hand beckons her closer, and the whisper lingers before the apparition… or whatever it is, vanishes. She notes that the figure strangely looks like herself. "The depths moan for you, Samus Aran…" the voice says, and then it's gone.
Samus closes her eyes, rubs them for good measure, and checks the terrace again. Another spell of calmness washes over the vicinity, and the noise resumes. Crickets chirp, the shores roar, and Samus's heart continues to beat.
She shakes her head, sighing heavily. "I'm seeing things. Great."
The bounty hunter double checks the outside once more, slightly paranoid, and then walks inside the mansion, done for the night.
Little does she know that the depths indeed want her, and more than that, they need her.
A clock strikes midnight, and the ground moves.
And voila, there we are ladies and gents! That's Chapter #1: Premonition, of Brinstar Depths. I am super excited for this like I am for genuinely everything I write, because there's nothing better than getting a blip of imagination at one in the morning. Took me nearly twenty-four hours to write this, but that's okay, I'm happy with the end product. Since I know my promises are more often void than not nowadays of truth, I'll only be updating this every other week because I really do need to give Syrenet and Vermillion Shorelines my undivided attention for awhile. I'm also upset as I can't distinguish between the male and female Wii Fit Trainers, because everyone assumes that this is a girl x girl shipping and it's not, because Robin and Corrin have genders yet we can't do the same for the Trainers? Okay, makes total sense. Anywho... please review and let me know what you thought! What do you think Samus saw on the terrace and what does the 'depths' refer to? I am so happy to be writing horror again, it feels like I've missed a long time friend. I will be writing this in my spare time, but not updating as I'm trying this strategy of waiting before posting something, which I really need to get better at than my hot off the press work to then edit later, but I digress. (I say that a lot lol). Chapter #2: Volition, will be somewhere between the 16th to the 22nd, and we'll see where we go from there, shall we? I'm already liking this project much more than I was with Bandit of St. Bernard. Thank you all so much for reading! Love you all! Bye! Happy 4th of July everyone!
~ Paradigm