AN:

This fic is inspired by my love for my two mains in Overwatch - Lucio and Symmetra. They seem to have the most history with each other than they have with anyone else in the game, and I saw great story potential for it. While I have this tagged as romance, do not expect this fic to be incredibly romance-heavy. It mostly focuses on building a relationship between these two in general.

"Korpal? Sanjay, do you hear me?"

It was odd whenever Vishkar went silent. Satya adjusted her earpiece as if that would disrupt some obstruction in the signal.

"Sanjay, I am approaching the objective. I am awaiting further instruction."

Still nothing. Satya stood rigid behind the decrepit wall, studying the torn and faded posters strewn about its face. The old heroes of Overwatch stared back at her: Winston, Tracer, Mercy, Jack Morrison. Her eye wandered to the angelic doctor, framed with her trailing golden wings. It's hard not to stare – she's perfect, symmetrical in every way.

Besides the Overwatch poster, there are several more fliers printed in green, with centered logos of frog faces wearing headphones. She might have found the posters amusing, if not for the traitorous street ruffian behind them. At least someone had already spray painted over them in bright red, clearly as a warning.

Satya examined the rest of the street corner. Dorado was not much different than Rio de Janeiro. The underdeveloped city invited slums, gangs, violent freedom fighters. The people here would be much safer in Vishkar's hands after LumériCo botched their attempt at taming the city, not accounting for the chaotic deeds of Los Muertos and the Junkers. Whatever her mission was here, it would be to promote order and safety for the suffering people, and that would be enough.

Despite the filth and litter scattered along the street that rendered her body tense, she could find some solace in the bells ringing above the rooftops. It was the City of Bells, after all, and she had not traveled more than a few lone streets without seeing at least one hanging from the towering buildings along ocean cliffside.

"Symmetra," Sanjay said, finally transmitting through her earpiece, "describe your location."

"I am in an alleyway, near the plaza," Satya replied, allowing her eyes to travel to the plaza, so eerily similar to Rio's favela. Cords of lights were strung up to convene at the center statue, illuminating rustic yellow and red paint chipping off the store fronts. The lights were admittedly inviting, but Satya refused them, careful not to draw too much attention to herself in her 'Symmetra' garb.

"Good. There is a gathering of rebels underground. We need you to infiltrate this meeting and collect as much information on them and their plans as possible. You may need to terminate some if necessary."

"You know I don't-"

"Yes, Satya, I know you don't kill if you don't have to. But Vishkar needs to solidify its claim in Dorado, and as long as there are rebels rallying against the very foundation of that claim, we will not be able to help the growth of the city. Don't be Satya, be Symmetra."

Satya paused, staring once again at the printed band of Overwatch heroes. She was an architect, agreed to be deployed on covert missions for the betterment of humanity. She never agreed to be a soldier, but this role must be what humanity demanded of her contract now. "Understood," she said, perhaps not as resolutely as normal.

Satya placed a teleporter down in the alleyway, away from the shopping citizens in the plaza. It would serve as a quick getaway if the situation turned against her, granted if she were able to blend seamlessly into the crowd. This variable was unsettling.

"I am ready for instruction," Satya confirmed.

"Good. Head down the alleyway, and you'll find a tunnel that leads further down under the street."

"I am on my way."

Night had already crept in, and the light from the plaza began to fade at Satya continued into the bowels of Dorado's underground. She shivered, whisking her mechanical hand to conjure a hard light construct – a makeshift torch – as she navigated the maze of connected networks.

"I feel… there's something down here," Satya reported. Faint rhythmic echoes reverberated against tunnel walls, vibrations moved through her boots.

"You're getting closer," Sanjay said, with no explanation for the gradually increasing volume of each booming wave. It at least aided her navigation, leaving an audio bread crumb trail to follow. Every few meters she placed a turret or two along the ceiling as a precaution.

She imagined this rebel base; a disorderly haven for muscular bands of thugs, all tattooed, leather-clad, heavily armed, and possibly deadly members of Los Muertos amped up on substances and adrenaline-inducing music. This must be what these vibrations were – music. Yes, she started to recognize a melody among the noise as a new light source emerged from the end of the tunnel. Her heart started to pound with the beat.

"I am at the objective." Satya placed a connecting teleporter down behind a pillar standing at the lip of the tunnel, now flooded with light. The music was so loud now that she forced the earpiece further into her ear, only barely understanding the rest of Sanjay's instructions.

"Excellent work. Tell me what you see."

Satya exhaled the remaining traces of trepidation as she peeked around the pillar. It was a crowd of rebels alright. They screamed and sang and jumped up and down in a vague form of dancing. But they were not thugs; at least, not Satya's vision of thugs anyway. They were families. They were mothers and fathers and elderly and children. They smiled and swirled and sparkled in a shower of green flashing stage light.

"I…"

"Satya? What do you see?"

The music faded slightly, just enough for the figure on stage to speak.

"Dorado! How is everybody doing out here tonight?!" The speaker said, expertly twirling light disks underneath his fingertips. "This one's for you! Don't ever let anyone – not LumériCo, not Vishkar – take the music away from your home!"

The music began to rise again, and the cheers from the audience rose with it.

"It is the thief, Lúcio," she reported, now shouting above the ruckus. "This must be a private concert he's holding for the people."

"Lúcio, huh?" Sanjay went quiet again.

"Sanjay? I suggest aborting the mission. It does not seem to be a rebel base – no files, no security to bypass."

"No. You are to finish the mission. Terminate the target."

"What? The target? You mean the thief?" Satya nearly scoffed at the suggestion. "There are too many witnesses. Such a blatant assassination would not go unnoticed."

"Do not question, Symmetra." Sanjay's voice turned harsh. "If anyone were to go unnoticed, it would be you. Remember, you agreed to the terms of this mission: terminate the rebel if you must."

"Sanjay, even if I were to… terminatethe target," Satya said with unease, "my weapon is not discrete. I need to wait after the crowd has cleared to avoid the attention."

"Very well, do what you must. Report back when you've completed your mission."

The pillar suddenly felt narrower, as if the walls of the tunnels were closing in around her. The smile of a little girl blinded her from the middle of the jubilant crowd.

It was true; she had never forgiven the thief for what he denied Vishkar at Rio de Janeiro. Rage welled within her as she spotted his tech – rightfully Vishkar sonic tech – equipped to his clunky lower body armor. She would have done anything to bring him to justice, to see him imprisoned and punished for his crimes. Still, the rage was not justification enough for his murder by her hands, and the prospect of vigilantism was not conducive to her vision of peace and order. Not even the Los Muertos sentenced LumériCo's Guillermo Portero to death.

But perhaps this is what humanity demands of her contract now.

Assassination, if she wanted to call it that, would not be easy. The assassination of Tekhartha Mondatta was infamous now: the Omnic monk was taken out by a Talon sniper positioned on the rooftops of London, who managed to resist heavy security even including the likes of Tracer. Satya was not a sniper, and Lúcio rivaled, if not surpassed, the global adoration of Mondatta. Completing this mission required more of her than skill – it would require intensive planning, too much in the little amount of time she was given. But she would have to make do.

She decided backstage would be the best place for this. It would provide close quarters, away from the view of the crowd, where he would be off his guard and in the range of her turrets. It would not be a clean, merciful death as Mondatta was given. Turret damage takes time, and she was not interested in watching a man's slow death. Perhaps if she were to stack all of her turrets along the same exit point and add the damage of her photon projector, it would be over within the second. He would be dead before he could even assess what was happening. Death is punishment enough without needless suffering.

Yes, this plan would do, as long as she did not linger on the disturbing details too long. Death is an illusion. This is what she must remind herself if she were to properly carry out the mission.

But perhaps she did not want to carry out the mission.

Satya took a step from behind the pillar towards the stage. A thunderous explosion staggered her to the floor.

The walls of the underground venue began to collapse. Bricks and tiles fell over the heads of the crowd and a chorus of screams filled Satya's ears. Large, muscular men rushed out from the gaping holes made in the ceiling and walls, adding to the commotion with rallying cries. Their faces and arms were lit up in intricate skeletal tattoos that glowed neon in the dark. These were Los Muertos.

The men rushed the stage toward the target as Satya was preoccupied scanning the crowd for innocents. The little girl with a once blinding smile was now struggling from under the rubble.

"Sanjay? Sanjay do you read? The mission was compromised! It is now a rescue mission!"

"What? Satya, what do you mean it-"

The earpiece cut out with loud static, and for an instant, all Satya could see was a bright burst of purple light. A voice rose from the crowd, exhilarated.

"¡Apagando las luces!"