From within the walk-in closet came a cacophony of servos whirling, bolts being pulled back, and start-up chirps. An obsolete humanoid servant, missing an arm and silicone flesh gracefully walked out and began prepping their morning soy-based gruel. From within sat the combat rigger, working on a combat drone while humming a lullaby. In AR, Inu-tan (in coveralls this time) held schematics, repair manuals, and presented diagnostic information. Their favorite firearms were disassembled, cleaned, and loaded half an hour ago.

     [color=ffbf00]"You should really be nicer to your robotic servants. They can feel pain you know, they just don't show it. There's enough vileness in the world. Anyway, go take a shower, I'm just about done with breakfast."[/color] Adam was quite the rigger. Through his fiber-optic datajack and command console, he could micromanage up to a dozen drones, and step into their aluminum and titanium bodies if the task required a human touch. He closed the top panel of the Nissan Roto-drone. He heaved it up to his face and said, with a coo, [color=ffbf00]"All better. Now you can actually see."[/color]

     [color=ffbf00]"Boss lady wants us to take her to a fancy cafe today. Then we're to 'accompany' her to some ritzy charity luncheon. After that, she wants to unwind by snorting nova-coka off of a male stripper's abs at the Electric Rose again. Eat a light lunch."[/color] In AR, Adam pat the little head of his assistant and got dressed himself. It was gonna be another one of those days.