Maid Automata [MeyRinxMahoromatic}

1.1

 Twenty years ago, emissaries from the far reaches of space began an assault on the residents of Earth. Namely, a species known as Humans. To combat this threat, humans created an android of their own, a warrior against invading alien machines. The Android was named...

"Mey Rin. You've served us well. You have fought against many enemies we ourselves could not. As you are no doubt aware, only a short amount of your functional time is left. If you continue as a soldier, your body will cease in 30 days. However, I've received a report stating; so long as all armaments are removed, you may continue to function as long as 398 days. For your services, we leave the decision up to you entirely." The words, though filled with praise, were nothing but a formality. That's how the Marchioness always sounded, at least. She always spoke formally, without any hint of softness or excessive harshness. Everything about her was clean and flawless, so much so, it was often mistaken who here was the mechanical android. Even the small wrinkles beginning to show in her wizened face were straight and clean. Such a steady and scrutinised gaze, the robot in question straightened up a small bit more, even though her stance was supposed to be at rest. "Mey Rin," For the first time since creation, Marchioness Francis's face softened an almost indiscernible amount. "You've done more for the Midford Military Unit than imaginable. Therefore, all your remaining days are for you to decide."

The android in question blinked in surprise, a flustered flush rising on her face. "Up to me? Entirely? Eh, I mean, I don't really-" A solid thought struck her. She lived longer if she lived in peace, but combat was all she knew, and all she was programmed to do. "If it's anything, then my wish will be..."

A hipster-trap cafe burst at the seams with college students shoving food into their faces before their next class. At an outdoor table near the door, two students sat and watched people go by, studying each one, while another drew a very detailed diagram of the muscular structure of a human. The taller of the two people-watchers hummed softly, his eyes closed as if he were ruminating intensively in the direction of an angel faced girl.

"I bet that one's just broken up, and looking for some food therapy." He finally said, sitting back and flicking his long black ponytail over his shoulder to hang like the tail of a panther.

"I was going to say rejected, she doesn't look like she lost anything she had except hope." The shorter of the two had short blue-tinted hair and a beauty mark. Instead of looking punkish, however, the blue merely looked cool and sophisticated, befitting a law major like himself.

"Ah, but Vincent, isn't hope already lost?" The anatomy artist grinned widely, moving aside his lengthy mess of silvery white hair to look up from his hunched over position. "Hope without logical reason is merely a delusion."

"Dri, as much as I love your input, what the fuck, dear?" The beauty marked blue haired one, Vincent, turned his piercing gaze toward the speaker, raising one quizzical eyebrow. Adrian merely chuckled and went back to his musculature.

"He has a point," The tall, ponytailed man pointed out, though it was unclear which he was indicating. "You think I should make my next collection servants' wear?"

"Lau, where did that even come from?" A fourth member of their group, a strict-looking man in a sharp black three piece suit, had come up behind Lau. "You just finished a formal-wear collection. I thank you for allowing me to keep this suit, by the way." The newest addition stood with posture becoming of a plastic toy soldier, and his hair was gelled back enough to withstand a hurricane. Lau had never been more correct in choosing such a stiff square to model that suit, even if the stoic square had ridiculed another for being nervous about 'merely standing straight and walking the way one ought, as rehearsed'. Poor new girl. She never did have a powerful presence.