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Berakka Dogbolter could not help but smile at the sound of so many in the room gasping in surprise and expressing great interest with murmured gossip that she would resort to using something so old fashioned as a physical contract. She slid one page of it with intentional slowness across her desk towards the bounty hunter. It didn't need to be a physical but father had taught her the power of symbols in the world of business, they were important when coming to agreements and establishing an understanding. The balance of power.
Who ruled who.
Who owned who.
This piece of paper, the last of a one thousand page long contract, embodied everything someone was willing to do to keep things ticking over for that little bit longer.
The contract, all nine hundred and ninety-nine page of it, single-sided printing, redrafted sixteen times, inspected and composed by six teams of lawyers drawn from various arms of Intra-Venus Corporation, was stacked face up in two neat piles next to her.
Like so many in the galaxy, Samus Aran was not immune to this humdrum fact of life. Money was everything. Reputation and reverence by the citizens of the Galactic Federation, something Samus had in abundance and Berakka could not wait to harness in the interest of Intra-Venus Corporation, was a useful tool to have (a proverbial cherry on top, she thought) but those two things couldn't pay the bills. A person, no matter who they were, could only coast on them for so long before they weren't good enough. No one liked a freeloader.
Berakka leaned forwards and gave the world her most PR friendly smile, great for cameras, of which there were many from all the most “reputable” news outlets that were part/outright owned by none other than Intra-Venus Corporation, waiting for the moment of truth, before asking with a voice oozing faux-concern, "Is there something not to your liking, Ms Aran?"
Samus did not venture to meet Berakka's gaze, choosing to stare at the contract with its unassuming choice of font, perfectly aligned text, not a single blemish to be seen with the quality of the print, and ending with an empty space waiting for a name to be written into it. She was in no position to argue the terms. The galaxy was at peace and she needed the money.
"I am…" she said, speaking with the soft touch of a Chozo derived accent clear in the pronunciation of her vowels (Berakka knew it would be part of the appeal when people heard her speak) and a tension lurking underneath, "without a pen."
"Ah!" gasped Berakka with mock surprise and looked at everyone in the room. "Always the way, isn't it?"
A quiet laughter circled the room.
"Teaches me for being so old fashioned with these pen and paper contract signings," she said with a self-deprecating laugh, then looked to her left where a robot with a feminine design, yellow plating, dressed in a purple suit and holding a tablet device stood by her side. "Sandola, would you kindly provide Ms Aran with a pen, if you so happen to have one."
Sandola, without missing a beat, produced a pen of simple design, nothing fancy, which stood in contrast to the gaudiness of Berakka Dogbolter's office, bedecked in signs of what her wealth was capable of buying on a whim, and offered it to Samus.
Berakka smiled pleasantly. "Well, Ms Aran? Sign on the dotted line and all your money troubles will be a thing of the past."
Samus only response was to meet Berakka's intense gaze in the moment she took the pen with a sharp motion, not snatching, not accepting, somewhere stuck awkwardly in the middle, and quickly scrawled her name into the empty space, pen pressing hard into the paper.
The moment of defeat was caught on camera in pitch-perfect detail.
—
Big Burger, much like Dogbolter Broadcasting & News Corporation (DB&NC), was a subsidiary of Intra-Venus Corporation. In a recent effort, instigated and pushed heavily by Berakka Dogbolter, an imitative to expand and diversify the company's already vast portfolio had been put into effect, the takeover of several (an understatement) lesser known and dying fast food chains to be found throughout the galaxy.
The market for unhealthy living had been a trend Berakka noticed in these times of peace and wanted to get her foot firmly in the door to capitalise on it before anyone else could get ahead of the fattening curve.
"We might not be a trend starter, but we'll be a trend definers." Had been the pitch she'd made to the Board of Directors, not that she needed their approval. Their collective role was to provide and create the illusion of legitimacy, and be perfect cannon fodder for taking the blame and making an example of. Sometimes they did try to voice opposition, hoping to make a name for themselves, but it took little for them to remember their place and slink right back to where they belonged.
Those hostile takeovers and vast investments to refurbish all sites (close to one-point-one million of them with an eye to expand further) to come under the Big Burger branding had taken Intra-Venus Corporation share of the market from an accounting error to thirty-one percent within three cycles.
Each of those fast food chain on their own had been marginal blips on a pie chart dominated by the big three before, all catering to their teeny-tiny corners of the galaxy, content to be unremarkable nobodies, sorely lacking ambition on the menu. Now they were on the forefront of boosting Berakka's profile as an influential force for her foresight and vision.
Father, Josiah W. Dogbolter (RIP), would be proud. "If you weren't my daughter, I would have dealt with someone of your ambition years ago."
What followed was a need for marketing and what better way to garner public interest than to have Samus Aran, THE SAMUS ARAN, BOUNTY HUNTER, LEGACY OF THE CHOZO, become the face of a newly birthed galactic juggernaut in the fast food industry.
Everything about her was primed for capturing the public's imagination. Samus Aran was everything in one (formerly) amazonian built package, perfect for splashing across every conceivable marketing angle (print, broadcast, social media, everything). Berakka couldn't deny she found the allure impossible to resist on first meeting them in person.
It had taken some wrangling and time to make contact with the elusive bounty hunter, but the effort had born bountiful results. In times of peace, and the galaxy was seeing an unprecedented period of it since the threat of the Space Pirates and Metroid had been dealt with, Samus Aran had found herself relegated to work far beneath her abilities and, more importantly, pay grade.
Samus had needed the money.
Berakka had taken advantage of the opportunity to its fullest.
"Never allow sympathies to cloud your judgement. People will do anything when desperate enough, why let any of it go to waste. Use it." - Josiah W. Dogbolter (RIP)
Thirty-two months (Cosmic Standard - GF) later and Berakka was reaping the hefty returns on her investment and effort. Big Burger had overtaken its competitors in popularity thanks in large part to Samus Aran fronting Berakka's brainchild of an ad/promotion campaign: "One More Bite Ain't Enough".
—
Samus is dressed in a Casual Outfit designed to promote the Big Burger brand (the use of colour and logo) and tailored to show off all seven-and-half-foot of her amazonian figure (special attention being given to add a boost to her petite cleavage - more pec with mosquito bite nipples - and chiselled six-pack).
Her beauty mark is visible. Her blonde hair is tied back into a short ponytail. Her manner is a desire to be somewhere else without a hundred set of eyes following her every move.
Today is her first day of shooting a commercial for Big Burger - no expense spared - and eating one of its burgers.
Every take is marked by the same energy. Samus takes a slow, far too slow, bite from the burger (each one freshly prepared for the next take), chews and swallows awkwardly, then looks at the camera to give it a stilted wink and smile.
"One More..Bite Ain't..Enough," she says and, a few seconds longer than directed, takes another dispassionate bite.
The director, Kanporian, shouts cut and sighs loudly. "Is it possible for Ms Aran," they say, the annoyance in their voice clear as crystal to Samus, to someone standing next to them, "to bring a little of that get-the-mission-done energy to her performance?"
Sandola Dell is that someone, acting as a representative for Ms Dogbolter on-set (Berakka regrets being unable to share in the first day of shooting) and as a temporary assistant to Ms Aran.
She makes it abundantly clear to the director that they can't expect someone of Samus Aran's nature to get it right on the first day.
The money is there.
The time is there.
The deadline is flexible and can be adjusted.
"Perhaps," says Sandola, meeting Samus' gaze from across the set and making her voice be heard by everyone, "there are directors better able to understand how to work with someone like Ms Aran."
Samus cannot help but sniff a laugh at the sudden change in the director's manner.
—
Competitors would've settled for the licensing of the name and likeness rights from the one, the only, Samus Aran, so others could pose as her at meet-and-greets. Berakka Dogbolter went one better, the best, with the One More Bite Ain't Enough campaign.
—
Before getting into position and waiting for "ACTION!" to be called, Samus gives a quick tug on her what feels like one-size-too-small short shorts to keep her ever so slightly softer bottom from peaking out above the waistband. Her six-pack is less defined than it was several weeks ago.
Behind the director, who's managed to keep their job since the first commercial, Berakka Dogbolter, accompanied by Sandola Dell, is giving a prize winning performance to the press.
Samus catches bits and pieces of what Berakka is saying, most of it lost to the chatter passing back and forth around the set (A pretty decent replica of a Space Pirate base, Samus thinks, though it's less gloomy and more sanitised), but soon it and everything else dies down as the moment of truth draws near.
"Take three! Action!"
Samus performs the script for this scene with a confidence, determination and professionalism once reserved for missions. The saunter (smooth), the burger (slow and thoughtful), the bite (enjoyable), the chew (lively), the swallow (yummy), the wink and smile at the camera (enticing). There is a subtle softness to her face brought out by the makeup and lighting.
"One-" she stifles a burp before it can ruin the take (she's down from needing tens of them to get it right, now nailing them in four or less) "-More Bite Ain't Enough." She goes in for a second bite with relish.
"CUT!"
Berakka erupts into applause and looks at everyone. "As you can see," she says, gesturing at Samus, "our working relationship with Ms Aran is a fulfilling one for both parties."
-
The campaign premise was multifaceted yet simple (all aspects in service to one another, an ecosystem of beneficial relationships). Samus Aran would visit every key (Berakka played fast and loose with what constituted key, allowing any to fall under its criteria and up to now it had been all of them) Big Burger locale in the galaxy, one by one; meet and greet with fans who had collected enough power-up points with every purchase; and eat key items from the menu to promote 1) The big hitters, 2) Locale exclusives, 3) Less popular items, which always saw sales trend upwards afterwards.
-
Three maids, personally selected by Berakka Dogbolter to assist the former bounty hunter with day-to-day matters, are busy getting Samus primed and ready for another intense day of shooting a new commercial (nothing cinematic as the last few have been - all reworking of documented missions to end with her grabbing a bite to eat).
The first is cleaning her up. Samus has gotten into the habit of snacking - all of them products by Intra-Venus Corporation - and isn't much pleased by the maid's thoroughness to wipe her face clean before applying makeup.
The second is readjusting her newly tailored Casual Outfit to better fit and handle her thicker figure. Samus is outgrowing them every two to three weeks, even the ones meant to accommodate for the extra poundage are proving short-lived.
The third is going over last minute script changes. Samus has finally got the knack to not knock it out the park in two takes but little issues are starting to manifest.
"Ms Aran, you need to enunciate your words clearly. One…More…Bite…Ain't…Enough," says the maid with blonde hair and eyes half-lidded, moving her lips in such a way to make every syllable clear as possible.
"One-" Samus focuses on the movement of her thicker lips (everything is starting to feel heavier these days) and ignore the touch of a wash cloth held by the first maid "-Morsh…More Bite Ainsh't…Ain't Enourrpgh." She belches directly in the first maid's face.
"One more time, Ms Aran. This time without the burp," she scolds with a teasing tut-tut-tut wag of her finger.
Samus feels a burning embarrassment. What would the Samus Aran of old think?
—
Berakka hadn't heard the end of it when she presented the project to the Board of Directors. The expense. The expense. The expense. Think of the expense. The resources. The resources. The resources. Think of the resouces. "Your feedback will be taken into consideration," she had said with her usual manner of politeness one exuded if carrying a weapon. None of the board members dared meet her eye-to-eye at that point, they knew what "consideration" meant in Berakka's books.
-
A spin-off ad campaign aimed at an older target demographic is in the midst of production. The first of which is a photo shoot with two unofficial co-stars.
Samus is dressed in a cowhide themed Power Suit (a new item has been added to the menu, the first in a new range of burgers, meatier, heftier, juicier, made from Intra-Venus Corporation's own patented OrGano meat - the next best thing to the real deal), with little bovine horns to match, and posing with two scantily clad women (bikinis), one on each side.
The Power Suit is doing a bang-up job handling Samus' chunkier figure with how rounded every aspect of it is. The middle curving to give a good idea of the large belly the former bounty hunter now has, the heft of the backside protruding out; the chest plate now contending with a pair of sizeable-though-not-quite-sizeable breasts; and plump arms and legs to give the impression of stockiness even as she looms over her co-stars. She is slowly becoming as wild as she is tall.
In one hand she's holding the new burger like it's a reward enough for saving the day. It is indeed meatier, juicer, heftier, and Samus is thinking about scarfing it down during the break (she's gotten into the habit of finishing off burgers between takes, nothing going to waste). Its sauces and grease drip onto her gauntlet covered hand, oozing flavour and texture, made all the more appealing with every snap of the camera capturing it in pitch-perfect detail.
The other hand, stuffed tightly into the replica of her Arm Cannon, is raised up as if intending to put up a fight. Flash.
The woman on her right, short black hair, eyes never quite able to resist gazing at her expansive girth, cheers her on with "Go for it, Samus!!". Flash.
Even after eating so much throughout the day and feeling stuffed, Samus' gut gurgles for something for more. Flash.
The woman on her left, long blonde hair, holding a fan in one hand, adds to the jubilant moment with "You're our hero!!" Flash.
It stirs something deep, much deeper, inside Samus hearing the adulation, even if it's to get into the mood with every flash of multiple cameras capturing each moment. Playful. Teasing. Daring.
As if she's played the hero and saved them from dastardly Space Pirates, they cling to her, pressing themselves against her armoured body that is flabby and sweaty underneath it all. Flash.
That's a wrap. Samus lets out a massive belch, wet and loud, and sighs in relief. A soft tittering of laughter from her two unofficial co-stars brings an intense warmth. If she wasn't wearing the helmet, they would see her sometimes pale complexion redden.
"Hey, Sammy, fancy us joining you for a BIG meal tonight?" Asks the one with black hair and gives Samus' armoured girth, soft yet firm, a gentle pat-pat-pat.
"Yeah, we can give you a…helping hand," offers the blonde, and winks.
The visor of her helmet fogs up. It is not a no.
—
Ten minutes later and back in her office (one of many), Berakka has Sandola Dell produce a complete transcript of the meeting; every detail included, right down to the nervous tics and tells each member of the board expressed when she met each of them eye-to-eye; and tore it apart with vicious glee until it was nothing more than confetti to be collected up and dumped into a waste-paper basket she kept under her desk for such occasions ("We at Intra-Venus Corporation strive to reduce our waste output by up to five percent every ten cycles.").
—
The promotion/campaign tour to visit "key" Big Burger locales throughout the galaxy had begun awkwardly. Samus would walk in, stiff and distant, clearly wanting to be anywhere else than fulfilling contract obligations, and go through the motions. One day at a time.
Much like her waistline, Samus loosened up after a bit, finding the food and drink more and more appealing as time went on, much better than downing cans of nutrition shake and eating nothing but packs of protein bars to stay in tip-top shape. She would stroll in casually as if dropping in by chance, order something at "random", and enjoy the whole damn thing.
Samus waddles into the Big Burger locale, slow and heavy (even her unique hybrid biology isn't able to withstand the forces at play).
Arms linked with the fattened up bounty hunter like a pair of prize winning trophies, Tee and Ay (on-and-off co-stars) accompany her, who show signs of what a Big Burger fuelled diet can do to anyone's waistline.
The group of maids, once numbering no more than three, has grown to ten, follow close behind, serving to do everything and more to keep Big Burger's mascot/asset presentable and ready.
Two film crew are last; the first dedicated to producing promotion videos to be posted within the hour and the second tasked with filming a "day in the life" making-of doc that's progressing day by day for the past month now.
Customers gawk and point, starstruck by THE Samus Aran coming to this corner of the galaxy.
There used to be a strict list for what Samus had to order when she arrived at a "key" locale, but now she's ordering everything by habit and with a lot of extras piled on top to be eaten after she's done and dusted with this visits "need-to-eat/drink" list.
Tee and Ay are more than happy to help Samus eat once they take a seat. It's specially designed to handle Intra-Venus Corporation' most prized asset's growing frame. The chair still groans and whines in protest when Samus plants her double-door wide filling bottom down, its heft sinking and spilling out heavily.
How the short shorts haven't given out yet is a question everyone is thinking and, for some, hoping to see the answer to.
Tee and Ay tease her about this (all affectionate). After the last few locale visits had grown heated (they've become a fixture thanks to rumours), they've been warned to keep everything PG, and they do, minus a few innuendos and making a point to feed a choking hazard sized hog of a hot dog to Samus slowly (not a problem for her, she takes it like the champ she is, mouth open wide, biting down hard, chewing heartily and swallowing it down in one go for her throat to bulge out visibly).
—
Sales were up. Brand recognition was up. Market dominance was a few percentage points short of a majority. One of the big three had been hit by a scandal "discovered", as it happened, by one of Berakka's own news outlets, causing their share prices to tumble and bring about a takeover by Intra-Venus Corporation. Not a hostile one, no, this was a predator capturing its prey and ripping it to shreds for the fun of it.
—
One second Samus is wheezing and thinking of food more often than not as she stands on a stage designed and built to withstand every blubbery inch and pound of her fattened up self. A huge crowd, already numbering in the thousands and growing (word had "leaked" this Big Burger would be next on this galaxy spanning promotion tour), are here to see the legendary (former) bounty hunter in person.
Samus is about to speak, intending to thank everyone for braving the weather and name-drop several new items on the menu (Meatball Upgrade, Gunship Special, Arm Cannon Sub Supreme, Metroid Nuggets, Phazon Gulp), when it happens.
The next second her tank top and short shorts give out with a rip and snap to let everything flop out like a glacier speeding through a valley.
Her breasts hang heavily down her immense girth and bottom sags.
She is stood naked, except for a pair of barely holding it together boots, and looks utterly lost for words. The maids are quick to rush onto stage. Tee and Ay are as shocked as everyone else.
A twinkling of camera flashes go off from the crowd, immortalising the incident (Intra-Venus Corporation legal department is quick to copyright the image – everything is a resource to be extracted)
Sales for that month and several after see a hefty boost.
—
Berakka Dogbolter was not superstitious by nature. Father had instilled a great many lessons about avoiding such pitfalls ("The moment you associate success with the unprovable will be the first step to your ruination, Berakka."), but she couldn't help musing on the correlation between Big Burger's ascent and Samus Aran's blossoming waistline.
—
Samus chews, swallows and looks at the camera, lips greasy, face so soft and round it's difficult to imagine how defined and sharp it had once been with muscle of old a distant and fading memory, to give Big Burger's trademarked (copyrighted, patented, one hundred percent owned by Intra-Venus Corporation) wink and smile (the extra chub makes her look cute - so the round-the-clock market research says) before topping it off with a slobbered/wheezed/belched "Onshe…Mush…Bishte…Ainsh't Enourrrpppsh!".
Subtitles are becoming a must but it doesn't matter. It's like a earworm jingle, people don't need to quite know the lyrics but they know the tune well-enough.