Conscious, Conscientious

Pang didn’t speak as she followed behind the rhythmic scraping of Irma’s flip-flops against the concrete. They reached a walkway between two series of multistoried buildings, and her eyes spied every last corner.

But nothing about this place pointed to any clues for an escape, or gave away even the slightest hint of where in the Multiverse they were. It wasn’t much more than a quiet urban area, tidier than even the fanciest sections of Gloat Center.

Within the silence, Pang realized the alarm she’d sprung had come to a stop.

No large vehicles were in sight, only adding to the unusual serenity. Most people hurrying about their days were dressed formally, with some in the same white lab coats she’d seen when she awoke in the facility.

“Irma,” a man greeted in passing.

“Hello Irma,” said a woman rushing along.

It repeated practically every time they walked by someone. Pang studied each person, and found friendliness didn’t seem to be their motivation to speak. For some, it appeared to be a degree of respect. But for all of them, it was obviously intimidation.

Irma only offered slight waves and either didn’t know their names, or simply chose not to say them.

Even more consistent than their greetings, however, were their reactions upon noticing Pang. Nearly every passerby shot the same displeasured stare as they watched her trail behind Irma like a rescued mutt.

Sure, Pang probably looked like a frazzled, slightly bloodied mess, but it still pissed her off.

“Here we are…” Irma sang, leading her towards the front doors of a towering hotel. “My place is near the top. I hope you don’t mind elevators.”

Pang’s eye twitched.

First the lasagna comment, and now this.

Am I your captive, or your guest? It’s starting to feel like you don’t know the difference.

She sighed to herself.

Whatever. For now, it beats her pushing me around.

Irma placed her hand on a screen by the door for a second, and then it opened up. Given the lack of a lobby, Pang realized this was more likely a housing complex than a hotel: meaning however much time Irma spent on this campus, it was enough reason to settle down here.

The main floor was mostly plain aside from the series of elevators. A couple residents walked by, greeted Irma, and probably stared at Pang like the others—but she looked away first and kept her head down to spare the annoyance this time.

The elevator was basic enough, as well, though it was oddly silent as they began ascending through the floors. But considering the lab she woke up in, and Irma’s impossible powers, this sudden air of normalcy hardly made sense.

Her thoughts returned to her failed escape with Lammy and the others.

I sensed Dampener powers from her. I know I did, she pondered. But then…she started using Illusionist powers? It shouldn’t be able to happen…and I’m thinking this place has something to do with it…

I need to find out. Maybe that’ll show me how to kick her a—

“You don’t have any allergies, right?” Irma checked, finally breaking their silence. “Like, are dairy and gluten fine?”

Pang paused her brainstorming for a moment, but she didn’t answer.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yeah.’”

Why is she being so nice to me? Pang questioned. Is it a trap? But…even back then…

“She’s our guest. Let the poor thing stand, at least,” she’d said to Benton in the Fiction Country woods.

Pang tried not to physically shake her head in front of Irma.

None of this adds up…

When they reached the top floor, Irma’s door was the closest to the elevator. They arrived at it before the elevator’s ding had faded behind them. Like before, Irma brought her hand to a pad beside it.

“Welcome to my apartment, Pang! Make yourself at home.”

Pang couldn’t help but freeze in place for a moment. The plainness of the hallway, along with everything else on the block so far, had totally misled her expectations.

This was more than a mere apartment; this was luxury.

The outside light shone in from the many floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the outer walls. But once Irma set foot inside, some sort of tint overcame them and turned the white sky into a gorgeous early sunset of purples and pinks. It subtly shaded everything inside, only furthering the flat’s glory.

Several articles of clothing and appliances lay about the room randomly, but they didn’t take away from the sleek presentation. The pearly kitchen was closest to the door and was raised a level higher than the rest of the flooring, featuring more than a single person could ever need—including a high-tech stovetop on its central island.

Then came the almost overwhelmingly modern dining area (complete with a bar by the window), and an entertainment area with a holographic screen so large they may as well have been in a theater.

Maybe it was the unknown span of time Pang spent propped up in a rumbling capsule, but the series of rounded, lavender couches nearly made her dart forward and fall into their pillows.

Focus. I probably need to kill her, not have a sleepover with her.

Irma checked the watch on her wrist. With a start, she jogged over to the oven.

“Whoops! I’m a minute late. It should be fine still…”

The savory aroma that hit them the instant Irma opened the door strengthened as she grabbed a mitt and lifted her dinner out onto the counter. Her eyeballs might as well have turned into hearts as she admired her own work.

“Ah, it’s beautiful!!”

Pang remained in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, feel free to wash up in the shower. It’s all the way down on the right,” Irma told her. “I’ll grab you some clothes, and some bandages for all those scrapes. Or you can use the healing station if you want.”

Pang stepped slowly into the apartment. Instead of accepting the invitation, she made her cautious way over to the nearest seat in the dining area and sat, her glare never leaving Irma.

She has to have a reason for all of this. I’m not doing anything until I know what it is.

“…Okay,” Irma observed. Shrugging, she brought her prized pan over to the dining room table and laid it in the center, atop a decorated mat. “I guess all of that can wait until after dinner,” she supposed.

Humming to herself, and clearly unperturbed by Pang’s endless glare, Irma retrieved a special knife and began cutting two squares. One glistening plate and fork was already ready at the seat across from Pang, so Irma set up a matching set for her.

Within seconds, a generous glob of lasagna lay before her. The sauce oozed out of the edges a bit, still steaming.

“Bon appetite!” Irma exclaimed, fork already in hand across from Pang. “I know you’ve gotta be starving by now. Don’t be shy—”

“What is this place? Where am I? What reality is this in? What Country? How long was I out? What was that lab for? What were they doing to me? What do you guys want with me? Why are you being so nice? How do I get out of—”

“Hey, hey, alright…” Irma hushed her. She blew on her fork, unsatisfied with the heat emanating from her yet-to-be first bite. “Well…this is gonna take a few to cool down. I got too excited. So I guess I can play twenty-questions with you until then.”

Pang didn’t blink. “Good. Well, you heard me.”

Irma let out a long sigh, her head drooping forward into her palm against the table. “Ugh…I’m not sure where to start,” she moaned. “I guess at the top. First off: you’re at Proscious’s headquarters.”

“Who’s?”

“Proscious. Like ‘conscious,’ but ‘pro’ because…I don’t know, opposites or something.”

“And who is Proscious?”

“We are.”

“Who specifically?” Pang shot.

“We are,” repeated Irma. She tested her bite again but recoiled her tongue. “You and me. And everyone else here. And a bunch of people, like, out on missions.”

Pang immediately shook her head. “Yeah—no. I’m not with you psychos.”

Irma let out a laugh. “You’re cute. That’s not up to you, kiddo,” she said. “You’re part of Proscious now. There’s really no way around it: you have no way out of this place. This is your life now. Honestly, it could be worse.”

“Worse than getting kidnapped and shoved in a tube?!”

Irma waved her hands. “I mean, you didn’t have to get kidnapped. I didn’t. If you’d just listened to those guys who first reached out to you, they wouldn’t have sent Benton and me. That one’s on you.”

It took everything in Pang to keep from lunging over the table at her.

I can’t beat her. Not yet.

But Irma noticed Pang’s fingers now clawing at the edge of the table. Still, she paid no mind, bringing her fork closer for her much-awaited bite.

“Stop! You didn’t answer everything yet,” Pang shot. “If I can’t ever leave, then there’s no point in keeping stuff from me. So spill it: what were they doing to me in that lab?”

Irma waved a dismissive hand again, the lasagna nearly in her mouth. “Just some tests,” she said.

“Tests?! For what?!”

Pouting, Irma paused her wide-open bite. She begrudgingly lowered her fork back to her plate again. “To see if your powers are anomalous, or unusually potent,” she said. “You did something impossible in your conscious-tournament-thing and it caught Proscious’s attention. They weren’t able to get enough data on you then, so they brought you in.”

Something ‘impossible…?’ Pang tried to remember.

The closest thing that came to mind was what she and Skrili pulled off in the semi-finals and championship. On the brink of defeat against Alex and Ving, Pang managed to manipulate Skrili’s Power Rebound. And then thanks to their training session, they learned how to do it on purpose against Kotono and Hiroko.

Technically, nobody had manipulated Power Rebound before in the history of the League.

Was that what Irma was referring to?

“Oh, that?” Pang dismissed. “That was just me getting better than everyone—Skrili too. We worked together and made history. I wasn’t born with special powers, I’m just that good.”

Her confidence didn’t seem to repel or confuse Irma, as Pang had grown accustomed to when speaking to someone she hadn’t yet pummeled. Irma simply shrugged, apathetic doubt glazing over her multicolored eyes.

“If you say so. It was enough for them to get you here though,” she said. “I guess we’ll find out when they test you more and get their results. Don’t worry—you’re still in the part that doesn’t hurt.”

“And what will they do if they find something’s up with my powers?”

“They’ll copy them from you into my friend,” Irma explained. “Then they’ll probably try to give you more power types, too.”

Copy them into someone else? Give me more types? Pang’s mind rattled. Is this lady nuts? And even if they can do that…

“Why?” she asked aloud. “What’s their point for doing all of—”

“Mmm!!”

At last, Irma had taken her first bite.

“Hey!”

But her cheeks were completely filled. “Try it!” Irma eventually muffed out.

Pang grumbled. She thought her grip might crack the table at this point. Never could she have imagined lasagna would prove to be such a staunch challenge to her willpower.

Managing to pause for just a moment, Irma nodded towards Pang’s lasagna again. “Please! Try it!” she invited. “Hey, if you eat your slice and give me your honest opinion, I’ll answer one more Proscious question.”

Sighing, Pang glared at her obstacle of a meal.

This is stupid.

“And be picky about it. Hurt my feelings, okay?” Irma encouraged. “I wanna make this the best it can be.”

Shaking her head, Pang finally reached for her fork. She would have loved to take Irma’s request too seriously and break her spirit with a list of critiques. But much to her displeasure, the sweet and savory blend melted in her mouth too impeccably to pull off a harsh enough lie. Even the texture was a smooth, mocking flaunt of beauty.

“Needs black pepper or something,” she said plainly. “Alright, so what’s this place’s point?! Why are they doing all of these—”

“THAT’S IT!! Pang, you’re so right! Thank you!”

Irma sprang up and shuffled towards the kitchen cupboards. “I think I still have some lying around…”

“Hey! Don’t just—”

Pang bit her tongue.

She said she’d only answer one more question, she realized. Obviously she’s dodging that one. I shouldn’t blow it on something she won’t tell me yet.

Irma walked back over empty-handed, but with spirits still high. “I’m so happy you actually critiqued me. Most people are too nice for some reason,” she shared. “And you’re totally right. Next time after I head to the market, we’ll try it with black pepper.”

‘We’ll?’ noted Pang.

But even if Irma noticed her puzzlement, she didn’t feel the need to clarify. She sat again and chowed down on the lasagna, her anticipation of the next batch already written all over her face.

Pang stared at the slice before her. Her arms and legs were shaking. Moderately confident the lasagna wasn’t poisonous by now, she caved into her body’s needs and began eating the rest. But while the minutes passed, she could hardly enjoy it as blissfully as her host—her mind stormed for the right final question.

Something that can give me an edge…

“Yes! I’m so excited to have a feedback buddy for once!” Irma exclaimed, clapping her hands together as they sat over empty plates. “We’re gonna be great roomies.”

Irma once again appeared to pardon Pang’s stiff silence while she grabbed their dishes and stored the leftovers in the neon fridge. Either Irma’s defensive reflex was so trained and hidden that it was undetectable within her lethargic demeanor, or she didn’t have one prepared at all.

Pang realized her own silent observation wasn’t just due to wariness, but sheer shock. Why was everything Irma doing a direct contradiction to how the rest of Proscious was treating her?

Was Irma trying to win her trust? If so, Pang wasn’t buying in.

But regardless, it still piqued her curiosity.

She knew what she wanted to ask. Perhaps it wasn’t the question that would lead to her ticket out of here, or to a clue to take Irma down, but in this very moment it was simply the most irritating.

“What do you want from me?” Pang asked.

With the table cleared and the dishes within the fluorescent washer, Irma was dragging her feet towards the living room area. But when Pang spoke, she stopped. Her eyes landed on Pang with a softer smile than before.

“Why did you help me out of that situation?” Pang continued. “Nobody’s nice for no reason.”

The unnatural tint of the window behind Irma reflected its sunset colors onto her. The sky deepened outside, a true sunset likely underway.

“Because you’re part of my group now,” she said. “I told the uppers so. I have your back now, and so does the rest of the team. You’ll see.”

“You expect me to be part of your little kidnapper club?” scoffed Pang. “After all this, do you honestly think I’ll—”

“Ope! Those are Proscious questions!” Irma teased. “I only said one more.”

Irma resumed her slothful walk into the living room area, leaving Pang to merely clench her jaw in impatience.

I can’t force answers out of her yet. She’s way too strong, Pang knew. So this is a game of patience…

Yuck. I hate patience.

But a new intrigue distracted her cycling thoughts: Irma had stepped over to a black device Pang didn’t notice when they stepped in. It was chair-shaped, with a base that reached out to two foot holes. Irma flicked off her flip flops and sunk into the seat with a strained huff, her feet entering the holes.

Immediately, the slots lit up bright green underneath her. Then Pang’s mouth nearly dropped: while Irma waited, a deep line formed around the skin of each leg just beneath her thighs. Then, the skin beneath the lines began to pull away.

No—it wasn’t just the skin: her legs were separating from her body entirely. There was no sign of tearing or tugging; it was as if her flesh around the lines had turned to marshmallow, pulling away cleanly. The detached legs stood themselves straight within the foot holes, an identical green glow coming from the round chrome connections at their tops. Pang noticed the same metallic plugs at the ends of Irma’s thighs, though these emitted no glow.

With no sign of pain, she pressed something on the armrest of the seat. The entire chair section floated upward soundlessly, a light blue ray shining on the floor beneath her. Irma floated away from the station and continued about her night as before.

“The heck happened to you?” Pang asked.

Irma laughed at her bluntness. “Sometimes life picks on us for no good reason,” she said. “I read our file on your history. I know at least that’s an answer you’ll accept.”

She floated over to the kitchen and acquired a jar of kernels.

“Anyway, if you’re still not gonna wash up, I might as well show you how to use the TV.”

Soon Pang found herself herded over to the living area, sharing the central couch with Irma and the bowl of popcorn between them. She remained barely sitting at the corner of the cushion, feet still planted and eyes keen.

The TV setup seemed simple enough, its holographic controls rising up from the table before them. Pang tuned out her unwanted host’s brief tutorial.

A Conscious Competition appeared on the screen, but Irma grew bored instantly and opened up some sort of murder mystery.

“I’m halfway through, but you’ll catch on as it goes,” she assured as if that was Pang’s primary concern.

As the hour passed, Pang retained nothing of the daring adventures before her. Irma eventually noticed the dent in the popcorn bowl was entirely on her own side. She evened it back out with a shake and, eyes fixated back on the screen, inched it closer to Pang.

Dimness gradually befalling the apartment, Pang turned her stare to Irma. She eyed the stubs where Irma’s fake legs had been.

She can’t move quickly right now—especially lounging all cozied up like that, she knew.

An old nature shrouded her thoughts, creeping out of hiding from long ago.

It would be so easy.

Irma barely blinked, the hypnotic flashes from the screen in her eyes as she absently placed more popcorn in her mouth.

I just have to get behind her and choke her out. Then there are definitely sharp knives in here…Pang’s mind raced. I can do it quick, before she does that awful power thing in my head…

Irma’s eyelids drifted for a moment, but she fluttered back awake.

She’s so helpless.

The episode ended on the screen. The next started automatically.

And yet, Pang couldn’t move.

I don’t know enough to get out of here yet, though. And she’s willing to talk—at least, more than I could ever hope for. If she’s dead, I’m running blind, Pang contemplated.

Irma finally noticed Pang’s stare. She gave a drowsy smile.

“This show’s good, right?”

Resolve setting in, Pang gave a casual shrug. “Honestly, it’s not bad.”

Pang leaned back deeper into the couch, allowing her muscles to ease at least a bit. She forced herself to start following the plot.

She’s trying to win me over as it is. So I’ll get her to trust me for real, she planned. Her and the rest of her dumb group. I’ll play along and learn as much as I can from all of them…

…And then I’ll use it to take them all out.