When she was a little girl her fathers showed her an exact vision of her life in thirty years, painted on the main wall of a cathedral. If you knew you would be alive and killing then, what would stop you now?
Did they paint her pacifying the outer reaches of space because it was a holier image than getting wasted at a shitty bar?
A femme alien sways by her chair as she sips flavored tequila. She watches. People only walk past the drinking blond girl in armor if they trust the gun she's laid in front of her. She looks into the alien's eyes before they pass into the crowd, biting her lip, smirking when they notice. They kiss the air and wink at her.
She gets up from the barstool and looks over a thick crowd. With her armor she stands a full head above most of them, a short sea of multicolored heads throbbing in sparkly club light. The femme she'd been admiring is walking towards the opposite wall. People dancing to the loud, bassy music notice them and turn as they move. One guy takes their arm. He tries to yell something in their ear over the noise. Walking forward, she hides her gun in the crowd as they force a smile and pull away from the guy. He's about to walk after them.
She grinds the barrel of her gun against his backside. "I'm talking to them. You can bite my dick."
He starts to turn around, reaching for something pinned against his waist. "Bitch, you don't talk t—" His eyes rise up against her suit to meet hers. She doesn't respond, her gun on his stomach now. "Uh…"
"Keep dancing, prick. I'll fucking kill you."
He starts moving aside and she pushes him the rest of the way, clearing a path through the crowd until she makes it to the far side of the bar. The cute femme has their foot leaned against the back wall. They look the armored girl up and down once she makes it off the strobe dancefloor. She watches them breathe, pushing their chest out, the light from the ceiling reflecting off her armor on their shirt. The blond girl pushes her hair behind her ear.
"They call you Samus, don't they?" They yell. "I saw you on the news today."
She grins. "They say a lot of shit about me, none of it true. What do they call you?"
They bite their tongue before they reply. "What's it to you?"
She steps forward, casting the femme in her shadow. "You ever hooked up with a federation girl before?" Her long hair drops around their face. "We're especially good at giving orders."
They put their hands on her gun. "And what if I'm bad at following orders? Will you show me how this works?" They stroke it.
"I'll show you more than that."'
"Like what's under the suit?"
"If you let me drive you home first."
They giggle. "Then I'm Satine."
They kiss, Samus biting their lip before kissing down to their neck. The alien hums. She brings her mouth up to their ear, talking above the music. "Are you carrying, Satine?"
"For you? What do you need?"
"Xanax. Or ketamine."
"Mm, I've got a full prescription of xannies in my bag. Where are you parked?"
"Out front, you ready to get out of here?" They nod with their hands around Samus' waist. "It's got autopilot but only one seat. You'll have to sit in my lap."
"Only if you hold me."
She takes Satine by the hand and leads them through the room. Samus opens a communication link to her ship as they navigate between the people dancing.
"Avo, I'm bringing a civilian aboard. Shut the fuck up and stay out of the way or I'll junk you. Boss' orders."