Day One: Part 1

[Samus Aran]

Once Samus was certain that she could be seen only by the creeping light of the moon, she began to carefully search through the bag she had been provided. She regarded the map and compass. I guess this is to stop me running into those danger zones. In the near pitch blackness she could just about make out the lines and numbers. The bottles of water and MREs were standard and expected. Samus found herself looking through the meals she had lined up for the next few days and sighed at the selection. Beef brisket. Chili with beans. Chicken loaf. She supposed Syntex was right to expect that killers-for-glory wouldn’t be picky about eating meat. Not that it particularly mattered. By the end of the week she’d be hunting game to make do. That is if she even survived that long.

Finally Samus drew her weapon from the bag. She half-wanted to hold a grudge against it for hitting her in the back on the way down, but she couldn’t. It was in this competition too, stuck with her until the bitter end. Even swords had to feel degraded. Appearing in Dante’s Abyss had to be a humiliation for anything of such quality masterwork. Samus was no sword lover but even she could appreciate the fine filigree of the scabbard. This was no ordinary sword. But where had she seen it before?

Slowly, so as not to make a lot of noise, she took her left hand and drew the sword from its sheath. In the moonlight its blade seemed almost to glow. Was this more than a mere blade? It felt like it. Even as she formulated the thought, Samus felt the voice of her inner sceptic chastise her. Magic was one thing, but mysticism was another.

But even Samus could be sentimental sometimes. She needed to believe something now. So she brought the sword close to her face and whispered to it:

“I trust you with my life.”

And it was the strangest feeling. Because, as silly as she felt alone in that forest, talking to a sword, Samus somehow felt that … she could. Like there was some source of goodness in the blade, reassuring her. It felt strong in her hand. Right.

And surprisingly light. Samus raised it up and took a few swings. She could almost feel the air rushing to make way for it before she’d even begun her swing. She sliced the tip off of a nearby leaf. Then another slice. Then another, until all that was left was the twig.

As she tested the blade, her anxiety began to recede and the sickness in her stomach settle. All was not lost. There was still hope and goodness in the world. She just had to find it.

With some difficulty, Samus looped the strap of the scabbard around her back and hefted her bag back across it. She replaced the sword and the echo of its voice sang in her ears.

Samus stepped out of the trees and smelled the air. Seven days. Her eyes shone in the darkness, and then disappeared.