There were too many people in the Mansion these days.

Samus wasn't opposed to adding new faces to the roster, she was just opposed to the crowds and noise in places she used to like spending time in. No longer could she spend mornings in the garden without a herd of children shattering the silence. The lounge rooms were no longer fit for lounging, for they seemed to attract rowdy fistfights despite management's management. And don't even get her started on what transpired on the rooftops at night.

Ultimate rolling around meant that she either had to delay or hasten her usual schedule just to avoid crashing into hordes of people in the hallways. She was lucky to be friends with Bayonetta, for her portals to Purgatorio turned jumbled noises into blurs, allowed Samus to phase through transparent versions of people, and generally made her short trips to and fro a little bit less painful.

She either took the effort to do that, or just stayed inside forever. The latter was the more attractive option.

It wasn't a terrible fate, really. Samus did pick up some self-care tips from Rosalina. Some things about making her own living space a wonder to live in. Decorating, refurbishing, picking up new indoor hobbies...

Soon enough, Samus became even more of a recluse than before.

It wasn't what the princess intended, but it helped.

So Samus spent most of her time in Smash living in her dorm. Social interaction? Roommate. Exercise? Smash battles. Personal enjoyment and fulfilment? Guitar, birdhouses, video games.

It all worked very well... Until Samus got hungry. Food never stayed in the fridge for long. Samus had an appetite, and her witchy roommate was more of a snacker than she let on. Cooking their own food? Only if Bayonetta felt romantic. Otherwise, it's takeout and instant meals.

So there Samus was — on a day where their fridge was empty and instant ramen had lost its kick — reclined in her chair, waiting for a cue from Bayonetta that the Mansion had shut up and relaxed, just so she could go downstairs and eat.

The Hands should offer room service, she thought.

Her phone buzzed to life with the Metroid Item Acquisition fanfare, and she picked it up. Miss Gun-Shoes had an update.

Bayonetta
Cafeteria's calmed down
I saved a generous helping of carbonara for you ;)

Samus
do you deliver

Bayonetta
You've been holed up in our dorm for days, sweetheart. Take a short walk today, at least?

Samus
:/

Bayonetta
This pasta is getting very lonely...

She sent a picture of the meal, with a dumb sparkly pink filter over it. Samus's stomach rumbled before she had a chance to critique the witch's photo editing.

Samus
fine
keep it company while i get there

Samus stretched her limbs. Getting on her feet, she opened the closet and absentmindedly pulled out something to throw over the grey T-shirt she was wearing. The lucky winner was a white hoodie with blue and silver accents.

This one was gifted to her rather recently, but she didn't wear it often. Something about the inner texture of the cloth rubbed her the wrong way, and the shiny silver threads on its sleeves would catch the light and distract the bounty hunter at random.

Well, she could just tie it around her waist, for comfort's sake. It was a short trip, anyway. Samus couldn't be bothered to put it back and take another one out of her closet.

Her phone buzzed with yet another notification. This time, Bayonetta sent her a voice recording. Samus pressed play without a second thought.

"Hunter Aran, your meal is under siege!" Her words were laced with amusement and raised in pretend panic. "The culprit is a squishy pink sphere, aged baby—"

A sorrowful 'poyo' could be heard in the background, followed by a now genuinely anxious British voice yelling "No!", before the recording abruptly ends.

Despite the dire situation her food was in, Samus cracked a smile. Bayonetta, the famed God-slayer, wrangling a marshmallow infant... The chaos of the Tournament could be nice, sometimes. She slipped her phone back in her pocket. Hoodie tied snugly around her waist, Samus opened the room door.

Her fist immediately clenched around the handle.

There was Dark Samus. On the opposite side of the hallway. Sitting on the floor, legs sprawled in front of her. The essence of Phazon looked up at the blonde, the "eyes" behind her visor visible but betraying no emotion.

Releasing a deep exhale, Samus closed the door behind her, listening to the resounding lock. The phrase "fleeting moment of joy" seemed to apply to Samus very frequently these days.

The Hunter's voice was flatter than ever. "What do you want?"

The mutagenic properties of Phazon were nullified in the Smash Universe, and both Samuses knew that. Dark Samus couldn't absorb, or possess. Her Phazon effects in battle were just for show. She could be as flashy as she wanted with it, without the cost of horrifically altering the minds and flesh of the innocent.

In all honesty, Samus didn't worry too much about her clone considering the rules that the Hands have already set in place. Plus, as far as she was concerned, Dark Samus ceased to exist back in their home universe. Why the Hands chose to grant her life in the Tournament was beyond Samus's understanding, but unlike Ridley, Dark Samus wasn't at the forefront of Samus's worries.

Ridley was stubborn, to put it bluntly. He didn't seem to understand that the odds were stacked against him in this universe. Or maybe he did, and he was just doing everything to spite Samus. It gave her migraines to think about, so she recently decided to leave that fight to the crafty teenagers of the Mansion: Clever young minds who found fun in inflicting many, many wounds on the geoform.

It was heartwarming, really. Upon learning the space pirate's true nature, the Smashers seemed to simultaneously come to a consensus that everyone should make his life as miserable as possible.

How did they do it? Pranks. Non-violent inconveniences. Pouring glue on him and slapping him with feathers, bedazzling his bedroom with a sea of glitter, turning him into a marketable plushie, the list goes on.

Well, it was a very non-violent list... until Bayonetta somehow removed every tooth, nail and blade from the pirate. But Bayonetta kinda just did whatever she wanted; no one could stop her once she set her mind to something. Before she got to work, she nonchalantly claimed that "children and sharp edges under one roof spell disaster", but it seemed like mutilating a dragon was something on her bucket list, anyway.

Though, watching the Umbra Witch casually throw Ridley around like a toy was quite a way for Samus to spend her Saturday evening. And the bounty hunter even got a cool dagger made with an authentic Ridley tail-blade out of it. No complaints there.

If Ridley was a terrible conniver whose cunning was stumped by the chaos of the Tournament, Dark Samus was... an odd-looking cat.

No one knew quite what her deal was. One thing for sure, there was a sinister aura around her. Capable of terrible things, but seemingly uninterested in doing so in this Universe. The most threat she had demonstrated out of battle thus far... well... she could maybe knock over some pots and vases.

And stare at you. For a very. Long. Time.

Samus returned her stare. She wasn't trying to be intimidating, but she gave off the vibe anyway. The Hunter knew her clone was close to powerless here. Unlike Ridley, who — despite his circumstances — still attempted pirate-y stunts on those he deemed easy targets, Dark Samus did nothing. She was brought back to life, in a world where she had no purpose.

There was a chance to empathise — after so long, living uneventful years in Smash, Samus couldn't recall the last time her home universe needed her for a mission. Her warrior spirit had been reduced to living day-to-day tasks in an overwhelmingly social setting, and feeling useless was only one of the symptoms.

But the mere notion of empathising with Dark Samus made the Hunter's stomach turn.

And yet...

Samus untied the hoodie from her waist.

Dark Samus watched the blonde with something akin to curiosity in her visor.

Holding the blue hoodie by its shoulders, the bounty hunter brought it towards her clone, and said, "This is the best I can do."

The essence of Phazon... didn't move.

Samus suppressed a groan. I have to do everything, don't I?

She stepped towards the clone, crouched down, and slipped the jacket's hood over Dark Samus's helmet. Its sleeves hang loosely over her rounded pauldrons.

Samus tipped her head to the side. While it did look funny... with all the floating around Damus did, the piece of clothing was probably going to slide right off.

Keeping the hood over Dark's head, Samus tied the loose sleeves together, tightening them around her neck. When she was finished, Dark Samus looked like she was wearing a headscarf... Like a little blue riding hood.

"There. You're more like me than you were before. Isn't that cool?"

Samus tried to inject some enthusiasm in her voice. She wasn't sure if it worked, but her clone didn't seem to react negatively (which was always a good start). Damus was staring down at her chest, where the two sleeves rest against her dark blue armour.

Okay. That's done now.

Samus got up, reminded of her initial objective: Food.

She felt a little lighter, walking away from the clone. Was it the missing piece of clothing on her waist? The relief of getting rid of a gift she only kept to be polite? The satisfaction of not getting mauled for decorating a suit of armour? Who's to say.

"Samus."

Dark Samus's voice sounded eerily like her own.

Ignoring the chill that ran down her spine, Samus exhaled. Dark pulled that stunt before. It never lost its unnerving quality, unfortunately.

Logically, the dark counterpart didn't have a reason to do anything to her. Even if she stole her DNA yet again, this time either from her blood, hair, skin, whatever, it wouldn't bear any fruit. Her ability to mutate was gone. She ceased to exist back home. Revenge was plausible, but the dark clone had many opportunities to do so already.

Did Samus put it past her to try?

No. Of course not.

Purposeless or not, Dark Samus exhibited intelligence. Samus had the sense to know that her clone was capable of veiling her intentions. If Dark was stalling... waiting for the right moment... Then so be it. Samus would be prepared.

So The Hunter kept walking, leaving Dark Samus alone in the hallway.