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Bolts rained down upon the discarded sheets of metal, lying upon oil-soaked fields. It was a massacre of leagues of automatons, all at the hands of only two androids. The machines, which appeared like rusted and forgotten wind-up toys, were certainly distinct from the human-inspired androids. However, the differences in their consciousness could just barely span the width of a hair. Two automated creatures, battling for masters who continued to go unseen, destroying each other at apocalyptic levels. Yet, all 9S, the male half of the battling android duo, could focus on was his partner 2B, and her gloriously designed booty.
9S wondered if there were ever humans who looked like her. He knew that the android models were based on what humans looked like, down to the smallest detail. Yet, as he watched her, his breath catching in his throat whenever her skirt flipped up during a high kick or leaping assault, he could not convince himself there had been humans like her. Masterpieces were nearly impossible to reproduce, at least according to the books on human art he had read.
Besides
, he thought,
there would be no way they would be able to get anything done if there were women like her walking around.
Even 9S, a highly advanced scouting android and master hacker, could barely focus enough to keep himself from getting killed by the occasional flailing machine that escaped 2B's onslaught. Humans were also allowed emotions, allowed to act on impulses.
He couldn't blame himself for staring, though he did still feel a bit guilty. He was designed to take in as much information as he can, to seek it out and store it and come up with solutions to complex problems. As advanced as his mind was, it meant nothing when his one and true desire was to lay his head upon her pert cheeks and sleep until the end of the world. His sensors allowed him to take in every jiggle of her ass fat, every flex of her glutes, every errant gust of dust and smoke that grazed against her cheeks while it lifted her skirt.
"Pod 153 to 9S: are you alright?"
The sudden, monotone, speech pulled him out of his stupor, making him realize he had been stabbing the same motionless machine for far longer than he needed to. "What? I'm fine, I'm fine."
"I disagree," his floating familiar said, gently gliding through the air as it circled him, looking for the source of the anomaly. "Your combat performance is well below average, yet your adrenaline and body heat are higher than average. Perhaps you have contracted a logic virus. Shall I run a scan?"
"I don't have..." 9S sighed, frustrated by the unnecessary attention from hid pod, and the sad fact he had no solution to his real problem. Though they were androids, they still felt emotions. Sadly, emotions were prohibited, a rule that 2B had to remind him of on several occasions. He wanted to tell her how stupid that rule was, how frustrating it was to have to ignore something that came naturally, but that would be displaying the emotion of anger. "I don't have a logic virus, okay? I'm just...distracted, is all."
The pod floated silently there, running through ones and zeroes to determine the meaning behind his vague answer. Finding no suitable answer, itself, it came up with a solution. "Your combat performance is vital to both the mission and your survival. I must consult with Pod 042, who may shed some light on why you are distracted."
"No!" 9S yelled in a whisper, not wanting to alert 2B that something was wrong, but it was too late. 153 had already reached 042, the pod belonging to 2B, and was discussing 9S's performance and admitted distracted state. He wished the pods had lips, like the androids, so he could read them from a distance and tell what they were saying, but the pods were clean slates. He felt like his heart might explode when he saw 042 turn away from 153 and turn toward 2B, grabbing her attention and speaking to her. He felt like he might die when his heart skipped a beat as soon as 2B looked over her shoulder at him.
2B carried herself with elegance and grace, not at all befitting someone who was navigating her way through hundreds of slain machines. 9S wanted to focus on something else, anything else, but it was no use. He knew all there was about everything around him, except 2B. His natural inclination to gather information forced him to watch her, to study the way her stockings pressed into her thick thighs and caused them to bulge out just at the stockings' hem. He couldn't help but notice the subtle bounce in her breasts each time her foot made contact with the ground. He told himself he couldn't look away because of his primary function, but deep down he knew that was a lie. 9S couldn't look away because he didn't want to.
"9S," 2B simply stated, addressing him by his official name, rather than the nickname