"Goodbye, Reisen." 

The words were barely audible. Such an expression carried a heavy finality that felt inappropriate for the time; her manner of speech betrayed her thoughts as a consequence. Then again, the strangeness of what had transpired would leave anyone at a loss for words. Regardless, the solitary YoRHa unit knew that she would cross paths with this newly-acquainted eccentric character again.

"Or maybe you hope that you'd run into her again." The thought invaded her consciousness as she sat on the building's edge, delicately running a gloved hand along her new, ridiculous acquisition.

A group of machine lifeforms wandered about aimlessly on the asphalt below.

She furrowed her brow at the sentiment. What was it about the chance encounter that was so perplexing? Sure, the apparent eccentricity of the girl could have been considered a bit much, but it wasn't as if she hadn't dealt with colorful characters before. And yes, the adversaries she had squared away were fierce, but she had contended with enemies easily ten times more vicious within her lifetime. "What on Earth was so damn special about this weird bunny-eared girl...?".

One of the Stubby-type lifeforms tripped off of its feet with an audible clank. The nearby machines paused in step to stupidly blink and stare at their fallen comrade.

It dawned on her. "Huh? Bunny? Surely you meant rabbit. Of course, the terms are interchangeable but 'bunny'? You were never one for cutesy talk. Let's keep that slip-up to ourselves.". What the proud, austere YoRHa unit felt was warmth; a seemingly unconditional form of kindness, familiarity, and acceptance that had manifested in such a brief, chance encounter. 'Seemingly' being the operative word. Suspicion but also curiosity roused in the YoRHa unit's mind; suspicion, for there was no shortage of records within the server's historical archives demonstrating that a large part of humanity's success was attributed to an engagement in fair, equitable exchange. It didn't matter whether this was in an interpersonal or economic domain: something was never earned or acquired from nothing. Pragmatic sensibility could not, however, quell the hopeful curiosity that began to grip her black box.

Out of the stillness of the group of machines, a Small Flyer-type hovered over to the Stubby that was futilely kicking its feet in the air. With a mechanical whir and two clacks, it had managed to right its incapacitated ally with its tow cables. As if no incident had occurred, the machines resumed their ennuic, clockwork patrol once more.

The YoRHa unit threw herself backwards onto the cold, hard concrete of the rooftop with an exasperated sigh. "Foolish girl.", she muttered to herself as she cast off her combat visor. She knew all too well that this was the natural order of things: a never-ending, ever-repeating mandala of intention, action, and consequence. Yet even on this 14th iteration, despite countless instances of failure, she felt her deontological programming compel her just as strongly as ever before.

"You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.". The words crystallized within her psyche as she leisurely swung her legs back and forth from over the edge of the rooftop. The origin of this favorite mantra had long since been forgotten, but she knew it was something picked up from one of several late nights she had spent poring over humanity's archives. "Which database was it from?". She held the back of her hand against her forehead, squinting slightly as she traced the outlines of grey clouds penetrated by rays of light; their brilliance imbuing the surrounding bleak landscape with a dreamlike quality.

Unable to successfully retrieve the information from beyond the ominous forms in the sky, she closed her eyes, her thoughts turned once again to the girl and the recent incident. 

"Stay out of it!"

She stopped swinging her legs. The soft mechanical whirring grew louder.

"You're like somekind of superhero, huh?"

Her countenance grew sullen. Gravel crunched rhythmically under heavy hydraulic footsteps.

"I'm a refugee from the moon."

Ichor ran through her veins. Steel noisily clanged against steel.

"I fled a war I didn't want to fight."

Her hand clenched tightly into a fist, her jaw tightened.

The YoRHa unit slowly rose to her feet. "Pod, initiate program R050.", she whispered as she shot a glance at the ground below. After a brief whirlwind of heat and flash, the asphalt was stained with machine oil and littered with broken gears, nuts, and screws. The bottom half of a Stubby-type machine chassis feebly stumbled a few meters before falling over itself.

"Contact Command, send a request for an Ho-229 unit.", she said, her voice filled with renewed conviction. "Relay a message to all local YoRHa forces as well; the mark is in her twenties, hair color: orchid, height: approximately 155 cm, distinguishing features: bu--rabbit ears and a smart blazer with necktie. We're going to need all the help we can get.", she added while refitting her visor. Her fingers caught on the rabbit ears she had forgotten she was wearing.

Reflexively, she scanned her surroundings for witnesses. Thankfully, there were none to be had. The YoRHa unit sighed a breath of relief as she slipped off the ears, clutching them tightly to her chest.