The Gunship could admittedly get rather lonely, at times. Even the Tallon-class model she piloted at present, built for combat and utility on multi terrestrial missions, still served as her home away from home. Business and trauma by the cockpit, rest, relaxation and relation in the back, where her living area resided. Very few of her closest allies had ever joined her in her quarters - partly because there was barely enough space for her back there, and partly because almost no one dared ask. Perhaps that was her own fault - most people only saw the business side of Samus Aran, and thus that was the persona she ran with. Casual Samus was a myth only bartenders on the farthest reaches of Federation-controlled space believed in, engaging in impossibly preposterous and unheroic acts, like drowning herself in liquor with the ever elusive end-goal of just getting some god-damned sleep for once, even if it was drooling on the cold, hard bar counter under the eyes of nobodies she'd never meet, and who'd never know her name.
"I'll be alright, Pyonchi," Samus sighed, stroking the fur of one thing in the world she still held dearly. Pyonchi - one of the last remaining remnants of her home colony. It was a furry creature native to K-2L called a Rabbilis - a rabbit-like rodent. Through him she became acquainted with the first of many important lessons the Chozo would come to teach her.
Patience, the strongest tool in surrounding oneself with allies...
In the countless years since then the two had split up and reunited many times between missions. They'd grown incredibly close, and in her lowest moments, where she wouldn't dare let anyone else see her, Pyonchi stood by her side. As she crumbled, as she broke, and as she mourned. After the mission to Phaaze, her first stop was picking him up from among the many allies she'd made throughout the galaxy. Pyonchi was among the few of them that could keep her sane at her worst. With features halfway between a rabbit and a squirrel, and fur white as snow. Its big, shining eyes gradually drifted shut, and before long it had fallen asleep in Samus' lap.
The Hunter took a deep breath, letting her worries breeze away from her. She carried Pyonchi to the small bed she'd made for him by her own, covering him with a blanket. "I don't know where I'd be without you," she whispered.
Walking into the Fortress of Doom, the atmosphere was...different today. Samuel didn't greet her as she came in, there wasn't any music playing throughout the base, and the lights were dimmed. It was unnaturally quiet. She quietly made her way to the Slayer's room, only the Zero Suit's boots click clacking as she traversed the halls.
The alien, mechanical clicks and whirs of the door didn't illicitate any sort of response, Samus cautiously walking in as the door shut behind her. The room was torchlit - not the usual Sentinel torches that burned with quiet, foreign energy throughout the fortress, but with primal, wood-and-fire torches. They crackled with the great intensity of life.
The Slayer was down the stairs, in the space between his computer and workdesk. He was out of the armor, again - the disembodied Praetor Suit awaiting him patiently against a wall. The man kneeled over an empty rabbit cage, a bag of pet food at his side, and a jug of fresh water on the other. She could see a rabbit's foot keychain wrapped around his wrist. Facing them on the other side of the room was a portrait Samus had glossed over last time, now taken down and surrounded by candles. It was of the Slayer, in what she guessed was a previous iteration of the Praetor Suit. His Sunday best, she thought, smirking somewhat. In the painting he held carefully in one of his arms was a brown rabbit. Well-fed, healthy looking, and happy. Past the helmet in the portrait, that feeling was also present in the Slayer's eyes.
Looking back to the man before her, any presence of that emotion appeared long-gone. His movements were slow and solemn, emptying the pet bowl into a nearby can, before filling it again with fresh food - the same with the water. He sat there, his head held down, staring into the cage as if he was waiting to watch an unseen creature respond to his kindness, and feed. Samus stood watching him from the door, no desire to interrupt his ritual, and content with observing the man.
"It's...alright," the Doom Slayer said to her, still focusing on the cage. "You can come in."
Samus made her way down the stairs and joined him. She sat right next to him on the floor, hugging her knees. She looked into the cage with him, waiting until he wanted to speak.
"Today's her birthday," he said, with some sense of wonder in his tone as if he was just discovering the news himself. "Don't remember how long...time is…"
He trailed off, shaking his head. He breathed, sighing exasperatedly.
"What's her name?" Samus asked.
"Daisy."
They sat together for a while in silence, mulling over the empty cage before them.
"I...still see her," he said in the process of clearing his throat to speak again. "Everywhere...in dark corners, in peaceful fields. Out of the way of harm. Watching."
He closed the cage's door, then. "Keeping me safe when I need her the most."
He looked at Samus then, almost as if he were looking for approval. "It's the least I can do to repay her."
"That's very thoughtful of you," Samus said softly, placing a hand on the man's stiff shoulder. "I know she's thankful for it."
"Yeah…" the Slayer agreed, looking back down at the cage, a tiny smile trying to form on his tired face. It drained before long. In time, he snuffed out all the torches in the room, leaving the portrait and cage where they were. Samus watched as the Slayer quietly, yet furiously efficiently, donned his armor, grabbing only the Combat Shotgun and Chainsaw off his wall. He made his way to the Ripatorium elevator, not acknowledging Samus as she followed at his side. When they arrived at the chamber, the Slayer held up his hand before Samus could follow him. He only shook his head, traversing alone into the simulation matrix.
From a monitor in the chamber, Samus watched the Doom Slayer throw himself upon the demons over and over and over, worrying not about any amount of damage they inflicted upon him, only using the strain to further his fervorous rampage. He fought with a degree of brutality and cruelty he typically didn't. The Doom Slayer's fighting style was tempered. Incredibly violent, at times needlessly so, but always efficient in getting what he needed from a target before moving on to the next. Here...he seemed to dwell on the violence. Tearing these creatures apart and breaking them in the most excruciating ways, all the while another would be tearing into him with hardly any acknowledgement until he was finished strangling the life out of whatever he was occupied with.
"He's almost fighting like...them," Samus observed, watching with a look of concern.
"Daisy's death is one of the few things in his life he still gets upset over," Dr. Hayden explained to her. "Every year he holds this ritual...throwing himself at the Ripatorium past the point of exhaustion, to make them pay for the life they took from him. Daisy wasn't just a pet...she was one of the last stakes he held in whatever world he hailed from."
"How long ago was this?" Samus asked, looking back at the monitor.
"That I do not know. It was long before he acquired that cage, however. VEGA told me it had always been empty. He's responsible for that portrait in the Slayer's room as well - an effort to strengthen their bond. I believe it worked."
"It sounds like they were close," Samus mused. "Is VEGA still around?"
"Unfortunately, no. His whereabouts are...unknown," Samuel said slowly. "There's not much to see, here...he'll be going at this for the rest of the day. It's his way of grieving."
"Not the healthiest way of doing so," Samus said, wincing as she watched a Pinky bite into one of the Slayer's exposed arms, the man turning around and stabbing it repeatedly with his blade, in excess even. She left, riding the Ripatorium elevator back up alone.
. . .
In the middle of the horde. Demons on every side. Poking, prodding, scratching, biting, burning, punching, kicking, smashing. They take. All they do is take, take, take. Then I'm going to give. They can take it. Take it all, you take everything else…!
Suddenly the Slayer was ripped from the carnage he'd surrounded himself in for hours on end, sliding across the ground still standing as his attackers looked upon him with confusion. Before he could jump back into the fray, the whole field erupted in a golden nova of energy. The light blinded the Slayer as he put up his arms, blocking the absolute tidal wave of heat and radiation bombarding the area. There was so much unrelenting heat...like a localized, nuclear explosion. Whereas all other lifeforms caught in the blast had been vaporized, the Hunter walked dutifully out of the hellfire. She was an armor-clad shadow before the destruction that surrounded her, and as the damage wound down, there wasn't a scratch on her aside from steam from the heat.
"I've got something for you, Slayer," the Hunter called to him, the battlefield empty save for the two of them.
"A fight? You took mine…"
"Enough fighting for right now. Come on."
"Nerve," the Slayer growled, but followed her through the exit portal anyway.
. . .
The Hunter led the Slayer outside of the Fortress, for once. It was a bit tricky getting him up to the balcony her ship rested on, partly thanks to the Fortress' artificial gravity and atmosphere, but his hook got the job done.
"There are demons to fight," the Slayer growled at her as she had him board the craft.
"You're right. So let's take care of that."
Whereas the front of Samus Aran's Tallon-Class Gunship was largely reserved for the cockpit, as well as the ship's two entrances and exits, the back of the ship is where her medical bay and ammo microfactories resided. In the case of long-term missions where she'd be lightyears away from any place she could dream of settling for a while, this area also served as her personal room. The medical bay's bed was well-dressed, there was a private study with all manner of books, papers, and reading glasses strewn about the table. A cheap rug added some slightly mismatched color to the makeshift room, and any other required facilities were tucked away further in the ship.
"No time for this," The Slayer grumbled, armor dripping wet from the disinfectant routine the ship enacted as he rode the lift up. He turned to leave the way he came when Samus stopped him, joining the man as the exit hatch shut below her.
"I just want to show you one thing, and if you still feel the same way, I'll let you go," the Hunter said simply. There was a burst of steam around her as she disengaged the locks keeping her helmet in place, setting it onto her bed as she reached down for something, out of the Slayer's view. "Pyonchi...this man is the Doom Slayer. He's a friend of mine...and probably won't bite," she joked.
Samus smiled to herself as she noticed the man tilting his head, trying to see what it was she was talking to, while also seeming reluctant to step into her room.
"I don't bite either, you know. Come on in," she teased, pointing to an alien-looking...rocking-chair across from her.
The Slayer was about ready to walk out again when he saw the creature she was holding. It was...undoubtedly a rabbit...mostly. It was a lot fluffier around the neck and tail, and a fair bit heavier looking in general...but between the big, beautiful round eyes, its long, slender ears, its small, innocent paws…
A similar series of clicks and hissing noises rung out as the Slayer's helmet decompressed, idly setting it next to Samus' on the bed. His eyes didn't break from the creature as he, somewhat awkwardly, took a seat in the chair across from Samus.
"I thought he might've been able to get your attention," Samus sighed with relief, looking down at her pet. "Go on, Pyonchi. Introduce yourself."
The rabbit-like creature leapt from Samus' lap to the Slayer's, surprising the man as if he didn't quite understand how to respond. Pyonchi helped him out with that part, nuzzling into his armored chest as he squeaked and sniffed him. The Slayer looked at his monstrous, armored gauntlet, crafted solely for the purpose of war, doling out punishment and protecting him from the harshness of combat. The animal before him was far too delicate, too beautiful and peaceful to be handled by such a brutal instrument of war. He carefully interacted with a few of the mechanisms on the underside of the glove, the piece of armor clicking with a low hum as it powered down. He removed it with a finesse he'd rarely shown, sitting the gauntlet on the floor at his side, and then looked at Samus, as if asking for permission. She nodded, standing up and walking behind the Slayer, placing two supportive hands on his shoulders. There would be no more words, and no further interference from her. The Slayer's time...was now.
. . .
Neither party had cared to keep track of the time, and at some point or another Samus had fallen asleep, the Slayer having passed out rocking Pyonchi in his arms. Samus drifted awake at intervals, noticing the two soundly sleeping together in the rocking-chair, and a waste bin full of tissues near them. At one point she de-armored, realizing there wouldn't be any more excitement that night. She returned Pyonchi to the rabbit's bed, and found a blanket to cover the Slayer with, before passing back out again under her own covers. The Slayer raised an eye when he noticed the Hunter had drifted back into slumber, staring at her a moment and sighing to himself. Something told him to chin up, and his eyes darted the dim, warm room…
A brown rabbit snuggled up to Pyonchi as the creature slept, looking back at him. There was a satisfied smile in her eyes...and this was the first night the Slayer slept with one in his.
[A/N: Shoutout to a user named Christopherprime22, who suggested the idea of us seeing how the Doom Slayer celebrates Daisy's birthday. Considering the time of the month, it was just too good to pass up. Hope you enjoyed!]