Chapter 9: Terminator Maid

Leo stretched luxuriously, a yawn escaping his lips. He reached for the hand mirror, his reflection greeting him with a familiar shock of blond hair. "Hello there, handsome," he smirked.

The trauma of his hair loss in the OPM world was a distant memory. Here, his locks remained thick and vibrant. With a playful glint in his eyes, Leo willed himself next to the bathroom door, vanishing and reappearing in an instant.

"Man, this Flash Step skill is a lifesaver!" he exclaimed. He'd finally mastered the technique without any mishaps. The rigorous training he'd endured in the One-Punch Man world, where he'd pushed his body to achieve sonic speed, had prepared him well for this kind of agile movement.

After a refreshing shower, Leo donned his workout clothes and threw open the window. He leaped out, landing gracefully in the back garden.

A cheerful voice greeted him. "Good morning, Master Leo!"

A young maid in a slightly oversized black French maid uniform, stood amidst the flowers. Despite the uniform's mismatch with her slender, tanned frame, she exuded a warm, welcoming aura. Her dark green hair, normally held in a neat bun, peeked out from under the white cap.

"Good morning, Fabiola," Leo replied with a smile. Yes, the loyal maid from anime Black Lagoon was now part of his household.

Fabiola Iglesias's story was one of hardship. Growing up in the impoverished barrios of Caracas, Venezuela, with a family of eleven mouths to feed, she'd been forced to seek work. Through a relative's connection to Leo's mother, a fellow Venezuelan, Fabiola had become their maid.

To Leo, Fabiola was more than just an employee; she was like a little sister. Despite being the sole housekeeper, handling chores from cooking to cleaning, Leo compensated her generously. Her wages not only supported her family but also covered their education expenses.

He was also taking it upon himself to bridge the language gap, teaching Fabiola basic English and Japanese to help her better integrate with his current life and business affairs.

Ignoring Fabiola, Leo dived into his exercise routine. It was a familiar sequence – 100 pushups, 100 situps, 100 squats, followed by a 10-kilometer run. He'd begun this regimen at the tender age of six, fueled by a childish dream of becoming the world's strongest (much like a certain caped baldy). Over time, the exercises morphed from a goal-oriented pursuit into a daily habit.

Now, however, thanks to his OPM abilities, he could confidently claim the title of Earth's strongest. A single punch from him could obliterate anyone. But violence wasn't his style; guns were a much more efficient way to deal with enemies.

With his "paltry" workout complete, Leo showered and changed into casual clothes. It was around 7 am, and his workday began at 9. He descended to the main hall, where another maid diligently tackled paperwork. At first glance, she seemed unremarkable. But anyone catching a glimpse of the eyes beneath those thick glasses would likely soil their pants.

"Oh," the maid straightened up upon sensing Leo's presence, bowing deeply. "Good morning, Master Leo."

"What's up, Roberta?" Leo greeted his other maid, another face from Black Lagoon.

Standing at a lean 5'7", Roberta was a young Hispanic woman with a pale complexion that contrasted with her waist-length, dark purple hair. Typically styled in low pigtail braids with blunt bangs framing her brow, her hair flowed down like a cascading curtain. Despite the long French maid uniform, the white gloves, and the dainty cross necklace, a closer look revealed thick, round glasses perched precariously on her nose. These weren't for poor eyesight; they were a meticulously crafted part of the unassuming maid persona she embodied.

But beneath the uniform and slender frame lurked a female terminator.

Rosarita Cisneros, as she was once known, wasn't your average maid. A former FARC guerrilla trained as an assassin in Cuba, she'd joined the fight, fueled by the flames of revolution. Blinded by that ideology, she'd taken countless lives, innocents included. Her skills in hand-to-hand combat and weaponry were unmatched, earning her the chilling nickname "Bloodhound of Florencia" - a testament to her relentless tracking and ruthless efficiency.

But disillusionment came swiftly.

Rosarita discovered the truth: she wasn't a soldier for revolution, but a disposable pawn guarding drugs for the very cartels FARC was entangled with. While fleeing their pursuit, she stumbled upon Leo, a man who offered her sanctuary and a new identity. Consumed by guilt for her past sins, she initially refused, fearing she'd taint his kind soul. However, a revelation struck: Leo wasn't an ordinary man either. He wielded significant influence in the US.

Together, they embarked on a mission of vengeance, dismantling the cartels and FARC operatives who'd exploited Roberta. It was a bloody reckoning, a cleansing fire. With her past purged, she confessed everything to Leo before finding a place within his household, not as a pawn, but as a valued companion.

This is the story of Rosarita Cisneros, the Bloodhound, who, under the new name Roberta, found her way into Leo's world, forever intertwined.

"Hello, my love," Leo grinned, his eyes gleaming with a playful glint. "Come here, give me a smooch!"

He lunged forward, aiming for a kiss, but Roberta, ever vigilant, stopped him with a firm finger to his forehead.

"Please refrain, master," she stated with a stoic expression. "Engaging in such a manner would be...inappropriate."

Leo chuckled, shaking his head. "Still clinging to that, are you?"

Roberta's loyalty to Leo was absolute. She would throw herself into any fire for him, except this one. She harbored a deep-seated belief in her own impurity, a conviction that kept her from sullying him with her touch. To complicate matters further, Leo's mother had vehemently insisted on maintaining a professional distance between them.

Wee, love burned bright in Leo's heart. Roberta wasn't just his maid; she was a waifu he'd adored in a past life from the anime.

In this life, their bond was forged in fire. At a tender age of sixteen, Leo, reckless and lost, had stumbled into a mercenary group. Roberta, his guardian angel, had followed him, shielding him from his own foolishness, even taking bullets meant for him. It was then that love bloomed in Leo's heart. He wouldn't entertain the thought of another woman; if only Roberta could open herself to him.

"Well then," he said with a mischievous smile, removing her glasses. Revealed were the fierce eyes of a hunter, dulled by exhaustion. "Two nights with no sleep, wouldn't you say?"

He had a habit of dumping all his unwanted tasks - dealing with his ex-girlfriend, lawyer troubles, you name it - onto Roberta's capable shoulders.

"I...apologize, master," she mumbled, averting her gaze.

Leo smirked, placing the glasses on the table. "Hmm, and have you eaten anything since yesterday?"

Before she could answer, a loud rumble erupted from her stomach, betraying the stoic facade of the terminator maid.

"Heh," Leo chuckled, "Put down that paperwork. I'll handle it. Let's get you some breakfast."

"But-" she protested weakly.

"Roberta," he interrupted, his voice firm but laced with affection. "Consider it an order." Stubbornness was another of her traits, and sometimes, a firm command was the only way to get through to her. As a maid, she was duty-bound to prioritize his needs, even over her own well-being. Leo knew she'd push herself to the brink of collapse if he didn't intervene.

Left with no choice, Roberta offered a small, genuine smile. Leo's heart warmed at the sight. With a satisfied nod, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Roberta to marvel at the man who loved her, flaws and all.

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I love Roberta more than Revy. She is just badass. Also, she would be kinda be like main FMC.

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