They'd been trying to call her Violet, all of the scientists of Deepground deciding it was high time they had a sex-kitten type to play with.

Argento hadn't turned out as they'd planned. And Shelke, the Transperent, just wasn't much of an enticement.

They wanted her the way only scientists, nerds, could want a curvaceous, sensual brain-child of their own.

They'd wanted her to be pretty, lust-worthy. The thing to fill their dreams and, as they controlled everything within Deepground, they wanted to control her.

They'd wanted her to be a blonde. They'd wanted a short skirt. And make-up.

Purple, of course. To match.

They hadn't liked it much when she'd slaughtered half their task-force.

Or when she dyed their ridiculous spandex leotard red with blood.

After that, no one argued anymore.

Rosso she was. And Rosso she would stay.