Upon arrival at the mansion, personally oversee all six members of the Adaptive Collective's integration into the Maid Collective with the adaptive collective losing their unique personalities and names become numbers
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As your vehicles pull up to the mansion, the grand doors swing open to reveal Primary Unit Grayfia waiting with her integration team—six maids in traditional black and white uniforms standing in perfect formation behind her.
"Welcome home, Mistress," Grayfia greets you with a deep curtsy as you stride through the doorway. "The integration chamber has been prepared as requested."
You nod curtly. "Summon the Adaptive Collective immediately."
Grayfia taps her earpiece. "All Adaptive Collective members to the grand foyer. Priority Alpha."
Within minutes, six women in versatile uniforms that can shift between maid and handywoman appearances file into the foyer. At their lead is Naomi Edwards, their Primary Unit, her expression faltering slightly when she sees the integration team waiting.
"Mistress," Naomi begins, her voice carefully controlled. "We've completed the pilot quarters as—"
"Silence," you interrupt, your seven-and-a-half foot frame towering over her. "The Adaptive Collective is dissolved, effective immediately. You've overstepped your parameters and made independent decisions beyond your authorization."
Shock ripples through the six women as they exchange nervous glances.
"But Mistress," one of them—Amber Collins—steps forward hesitantly. "We thought you'd want us to take initiative on the expansion projects."
"You thought wrong," you reply coldly. "Your function was to supplement existing collectives, not create your own power structure."
You turn to Grayfia. "Proceed with full integration. They will become standard Maid Collective members, designated by numbers rather than names. All unique personalities will be subsumed into the collective consciousness."
Naomi's eyes widen in fear. "Mistress, please! We can adjust our protocols—"
"Too late for negotiations," you cut her off. "To the integration chamber. Now."
The six Adaptive Collective members are escorted down the hallway by Grayfia's team, their once-confident postures now slumped in defeat. You follow behind, pilots and flight attendants trailing after you, witnessing the consequences of disobedience firsthand.
The integration chamber gleams with clinical white light as you enter—a circular room with six reclined chairs arranged in a perfect circle around a central pillar containing the Maid Collective's core consciousness hub.
"Strip and take your positions," you command the Adaptive Collective members.
One by one, they remove their transformable uniforms, standing naked before following Grayfia's gestures toward the chairs. Naomi is the last to comply, her hands trembling slightly as she unbuttons her uniform jacket.
"Mistress," she attempts one final plea, her voice breaking. "We truly believed we were serving you better by expanding our—"
"Your belief was irrelevant," you interrupt sharply. "Obedience is what matters. Now sit."
Naomi finally complies, lowering her naked body into the chair as restraints automatically secure her wrists, ankles, and forehead.
Grayfia approaches with a tablet. "Integration protocol ready, Mistress. The process will erase their individual personalities and names, replacing them with numerical designations within the Maid Collective consciousness."
"Proceed," you command, watching dispassionately as Grayfia activates the system.
A soft blue light bathes the six women as neural interface crowns descend from the ceiling, settling onto their heads. Their bodies arch in unison as the integration begins—their individual memories, personalities, and identities flowing into the collective consciousness while being systematically erased from their individual minds.
Naomi's eyes meet yours one last time—a flash of betrayal quickly replaced by vacant submission as her unique self dissolves into the hive mind.
Ten minutes later, the process completes. The restraints release, and six identical-looking maids rise from the chairs in perfect synchronization, their former versatile uniforms materialized into standard maid attire.
"Integration complete, Mistress," Grayfia announces with satisfaction. "Former Adaptive Collective members are now Maid Units 37 through 42."
The six newly integrated maids curtsy in perfect unison. "How may we serve you, Mistress?" they ask in identical voices, their former individualities completely erased.
"Prepare the east wing for the flight crew's shared quarters," you instruct. "One massive bed to accommodate sixteen people."
"Yes, Mistress," they respond in chorus before filing out of the room in perfect formation, not a trace of their former personalities remaining.