A/N: After taking a long hard look at the lore and backstories, I decided that there was too much going on in pre-canon Rio de Janeiro to leave it untouched. I hope you enjoy this sci-fi romance. Frankly, I'm excited to write it!

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Malachite was definitely not her color.

She huffed and brushed her hair back, for the umpteenth time that morning. Her dress was too tight in some places and too loose in others, making it impossible to move as she wanted. Perhaps it shrunk. Perhaps it loosened. Perhaps it stayed the same; rendered uncomfortable by every fiber of her being which screamed and begged her not to go through with the outing.

There was no point in arguing with the superior forces of Vishkar. If they wanted something done, they would get it done. At that moment, she was lucky to be informed that she was the pivotal point of the scheme.

No. Not a scheme, she reminded herself. A response to blackmail.

With a wayward glance into her mirror, she frowned at what she looked like. Granted hard light was hardly the most reflective material; the light reflected off of it was saturated in blue. Blue drapes, blue windows, blue malachite. Her head shook as she scrutinized herself. "Satya, what are you doing?"

Cursing once, she threw the dress off of her body and placed it back on the hanger. Her fingers were swift and impatient; she caught herself crinkling the dress and tried her hardest to iron it out. No luck – linen fabric was a goner once wrinkled. Some could grin and bear it, wear it as though nothing happened. Satya, however, would always feel the ridge on the shoulder, lifted above the rest of her. A heavy sigh escaped her.

It had been so long since she wore clothing made out of actual fabric such as linen and silk. Her architech uniform was tidy, practical, and most importantly, made entirely out of hard light. Wearing it outside was frowned upon, however. The citizens of Rio de Janeiro detested it so much that they actively sought to destroy it. Hooligans, she thought and frowned. The thought of the loud, jeering, reeking masses made the thought of her upcoming outing no more pleasant.

She sighed and reminded herself that, if the Gods were good, the arrangement should be finished within the week.

Since the malachite gown could not be dematerialized, it would need to be incinerated. Making a replica out of it would do her no good. Aside from the fact that those… those ruffians could sniff out hard light like bloodhounds, abilities of architechs were limited to producing items the color of cyan, with very little variation concerning the hue. She had enough of blue items. Her chamber had an air of drowning in the sea.

She carefully set the gown atop her oval-shaped bed, making sure its hem did not touch the floor. Then, taking long strides which could only be described as anxious, she opened her closet wide and sorted through the array of identical dresses. Her mechanical fingers shifted through them. Seventeen hard light gowns and something hot pink. Eyes burned at the sight of it, but she knew it was her only option.

One week. She could handle that much.

At the very least, the garment fit her marginally better than the malachite one.

There was little love added to getting dressed. Thigh-high stockings rolled up her leg, and she snapped the elastic against the hard skin so they wouldn't slip. Silver boots came up to her knees, and as she rolled the toes against the hard white floor, she felt relieved that the issue of her bare legs was taken care of. The man she was about to meet was a lecherous foe, surely. She would offer him as little eye candy as possible. The gown itself was cut on both sides; embellished with a golden trim to ensure onlookers noticed the lack of coverage. She would never understand the fashion – but it was something the women wore on outings like these.

Outing, she thought coldly. Outing, outing, outing. The more she said the word, the less impact it had. This was a security briefing and a meeting with a terrorist. Nothing more. She added a pair of dangling earrings to frame her visage, and considered bringing a photon projector with her. It was a smooth but heavy contraption; entirely noticeable. The man specifically stated; no weapons and no guards. For the "no guards" part, she had to scoff. Guards were everywhere in Rio; in each corner and watchtower, keeping the peace and bringing order to the masses. Not being watched was wishful thinking. As for the "no weapons" rule, she was willing to honor it to a degree. The photon projector stayed at home; in case Lúcio failed to keep up with his own demands, her razor-sharp heels would be put to good use.

She never killed unless it was essential to her survival. Still, she considered his unimpressive height, and how decapitation would prove to be fairly easy. This thought satisfied her, bringing her heart rate down.

She strode out of her living room with long, confident steps. Her standing was almost regal; achieved by people with murder on their minds. What occupied her thoughts was not vengeance or a bloodbath; it was simply a reminder of her duty to the company which made her world a better place. She would serve them to the bitter end, no matter how unsavory her assignments.

And so, after one final smoothing of her gown, Satya Vaswani marched out of the apartment complex, where her companion awaited her.

His big eyes rolled up and down her face; from the sharp eyebrows to the no-nonsense pout. Since he wasn't blind, his gaze fell on the thin strip of skin on her upper thighs. That was when he whistled, and Satya could feel her blood curdle.

"Wow. Lookin' good, criancinha."

"Don't... don't ever say that to me again."

He seemed genuinely impressed by her appearance, if not even surprised. His head ticked to the side, onto the busy street. In the center of Rio, among the elegantly-dressed populace, the freedom fighter drew much attention. In hushed whispers, the people hurried as they walked behind him, and only a handful managed to notice Satya as he jutted out his arm for her to hold it.

She observed his proffered elbow. "No thank you. Do not try to touch me."

The native offered an open-palmed shrug. "Fair enough. I'm still surprised you agreed to this at all."

"You gave us no choice but to humor your demands."

"Mm-hm." He crossed his arms over his chest; his stance wide. It seemed as though the gears in his mind turned to form a retort, but in the end, there was nothing to say. She agreed to see him, at least. Neither of them needed to enjoy the company. Without further delay, he turned on his heel and looked ahead. Half a dozen staring by-passers averted their eyes and pretended to develop a keen interest in the ground and sky. "Now then… Satya, was it? Do you like coffee? I was thinkin' we should get some coffee."

Her head bobbed as a sign of approval. She followed the shorter man across the finely-trimmed garden of her apartment complex, and into the city. Grass and hard light transformed into concrete and automation; an imperfect technology Vishkar tried to change. In time, she hoped, they would create the perfect, most functional society.

But before she could see that happen, she would have to meet this terrorist twice more.

An angry eye looked to the sky. She prayed that this week would be short.

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A/N: Join us next time to see just how we got here. Comments and constructive criticism is appreciated.