Dogfighting Season 1 (Super smash bros. ultimate story)

Samus?

I locked myself inside my room and sat down in my bed. Would anybody miss me that much if I... I mean, am I really that important? I'm not sure. God, I can't live like this, telling myself over and over that I suck. That I hate myself. The only thing keeping me going so far is Isabelle. Her and the tournament. I reach under my chair for my emergency vodka, and chug that fucker down quick. Sadly, my alcohol tolerance is through the goddamn roof, so it'll only feel like a single shot. But it's almost all I have now. Is this all there is to this shit? Just kill off an entire fucking species and call it a day, get paid, and quit ya bitchin'. That's how I always lived my life, as a mercenary. I wiped out two whole fucking species of organisms and gave no fucks whatsoever. So why the hell am I suddenly so damn depressed?! I guess that shit builds up and eventually bites you in the ass. That's how everything works. If it doesn't want you dead, it wants your money. If it doesn't want your money or your life, it wants you to suffer for its own personal benefits. I've learned that the hard way. KNOCK! KNOCK! "Hey, Samus! Let's go get fucking wasted!" Said someone outside my door. I open it, and found Falco. Right on time. I exit my room and walk with him to the local bar, as it's super akward to drink in your room, especially since you're not allowed to bring alcohol anywhere else outside of your room. We arrived there after a short ten minute walk. Thankfully I had saved a fuck ton of money on the side, so I could go out and blow it all on weed and whiskey. The glorious "two W's". We found a seat near the front of the bar. "Hey, bartender! Give us a few shots of whiskey." I said, and slid the money across the table to him. "Sure thing!" He exclaimed, and pulled out two shot glasses, filling each to the brim with whiskey. "Sweet! Hey, don't tell Fox. Hell have a damn cow." Said Falco. "No worries, I'm not a snitch." I responded. He downed his shot instantly. Damn. Just how fucked is his shit? I downed mine shortly after. I caught some fatass looking at me the wrong way from the other side of the bar, and I quickly 'accidentally' dropped my taser, then bent down to pick it up. He turned away real quick.