Conscious, Conscientious

"Fun, fun! Test results are in, Pang!"

Pang looked up from her bowl of granola and fruits at the dining room table.

Still in her pajamas, Irma hurried in from the hall–or at least, her version of hurrying, which was little more than a steady pace. The watch on her wrist was raised to her face, and her eyes were glued to it.

"Time to find out how many days they'll spend zapping you," Irma teased. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it…I hope."

"They sent the data to you?" wondered Pang.

"Yeah. Oh that's right–you don't have communications yet," Irma noted while she scrolled through text on a hologram screen above her watch. "They'll get you set up with one of these once your lab stuff is over and they clear you to…huh?"

Irma fell silent, her eyes bouncing over the words again.

"What?" demanded Pang.

"'Not compatible…?'"

Pang laughed. "So they can't copy my powers into other people after all?" she derived. "Oh no, what a shame. Oh gee, oh shucks…"

"'0% Anomalous,'" Irma read. "Then yeah, that means your powers are completely normal. They can't use you if you're just a normal Manipulator…but…then how did you…?"

"Told you," Pang rubbed in. She kicked back and leaned her feet on the table, arms behind her head. "I didn't need special powers to make history in the Conscious Competition. Skrili and I are just that amazing."

She readied herself to bask in Irma's embarrassment. Even if this wasn't a fight, Pang had managed to beat her this time around.

But Irma simply looked to her and gave a smile.

"Hey. You're supposed to be pissed," Pang argued. "You act like you know everything, but I proved you were dead wrong."

"No, this is good," Irma said calmly. "Now we know you won't die."

"DIE?!"

"Some people don't survive the process," Irma revealed. "Not saying it happens every time, but it does happen. Depends on the type. So like, you may have dodged a bullet."

Pang fought to hide her shock.

Good grief…shout-out to my genetics, I guess. This place is nuts.

She watched as Irma began swerving about the kitchen freely, humming to herself as she prepared a coffee.

"So uh…now what?" Pang asked.

"That's the best part," sang Irma. Her swerving routine brought her back to the dining room, her multicolored eyes twinkling. "No more lab for you, girl. Now that they don't need you, you get to start rolling with us."

'Get to,' Pang mocked in her head.

Irma twirled her way back towards the kitchen. "It's bring-your-roomie to work day! And, like, every day from now on!"

After taking her dishes to the kitchen (Irma insisted on handling them), Pang figured she may as well head off to get ready. At the very least, she was glad she didn't have to spend the whole day getting stared at while sitting in a tube. Last night's testing had drawn out for so long, she'd ended up accepting Irma's shopping date afterwards just so she could stretch her legs.

That, and to keep Irma from picking out any bad outfits on her behalf.

Only some of the fighting clothes Pang chose matched the quality of her usual red and black outfits, but the rest exceeded it. It made her start to wonder just how much Irma was made of. Was Proscious paying her all that money?

Unable to find her exact old style, Pang settled for similar tank tops and leggings in a wider variety of colors.

Then, before they'd left to pick up toiletries, Irma even bought a black jean jacket that happened to catch Pang's eye.

She's trying way too hard, thought Pang.

Irma's generosity had remained steadfast the rest of that night–raised up a notch, even. Pang felt like she was being guided to her last supper.

"Nobody's coming for you."

She still couldn't get those words out of her head. The way it hit her felt like a far shot from a lie.

So why was Irma so certain about that?

For the rest of the night, Irma never brought it up again, favoring conversations about snacks and clothing deals. Her behavior alone almost seemed like an apology for saying it in the first place.

Pang wanted to brush it off as Irma's insistence that this campus was too difficult to find. But Irma only said it when Pang warned that her friends were coming for her.

I know it, though. They are coming for me…

…aren't they?

"Um, cuuute," Irma admired when Pang returned to the living room in her new fighting outfit. "You rock the navy blue-pink combo. Alright, let's head out!"

When Irma and Pang stepped through the door, they immediately had to brake; two people were about to pass by.

"...and so, theoretically, initiating a transfer of a low-anomalous power–say, five to ten percent–immediately after a highly anomalous power should increase the success rate of both transfers," explained an enthusiastic older woman in a lab coat.

"Oooh…that's interesting. So that's what that report was saying…" noted the green-haired woman beside her, her airy pitch rising and falling.

Oh, it's that dork again, Pang recognized.

The green-haired lady pushed up her wooden-framed glasses. She was about to take a sip from her mug when she noticed Irma and Pang.

Her nose scrunched with a sweet smile. "Hi guys," she greeted in passing.

Irma only had time for a casual wave. The duo continued on, their conversation resuming immediately.

"Say something disrupts the transfer, though. Like a sabotage. Would that undo both powers?" probed the green-haired woman.

"Hypothetically, it's possible. But the likelihood of such a disturbance…"

Their voices faded around the corner. Irma and Pang made their way to the elevator across the hall.

That chick sure asks a lot of questions, Pang noticed, recalling her identical behavior back in the lab.

As the elevator door closed, the lab woman's heap of jargon brought her mind back to the apparently deadly process Pang had avoided.

"So if they found that my powers were weird or whatever," she asked Irma, "they'd be copying them into Aoi today?"

"Yep."

"But doesn't she already have a ton of power types in her?"

Irma sighed. "The whole point is to give her as many power types as they can," she said.

"Why?"

When Irma didn't immediately respond, Pang realized she'd run into the same wall as before.

Last time I asked her that, she didn't answer either, she recalled in regret. So I was right: she's avoiding that question–

"Tonight we're having lo mein," Irma said suddenly.

"Um…alright?"

Irma peered down to her with an inquisitive glance. "Are you gonna give me honest feedback again?" she checked.

Pang nearly slapped her hand against her head.

Nope, I was wrong. My questions are just leverage to her. What's with this lady and food?

"Yeah, whatever. I'll be honest," Pang agreed.

"Proscious's goal is to give someone literally every consciousness type. That's why it exists."

A slight pressure pushed up against Pang as the elevator slowed towards the ground floor.

"Good grief, you guys need to get hobbies," she scoffed. "No way that's worth kidnapping people and killing them in experiments."

"Apparently, it is," Irma said. "Cuz if they pull it off, Aoi will be able to reset the Multiverse."

…Huh?

'Reset?'

The elevator came to a halt and opened, so Irma stepped forward.

"Aoi's like, super special. She's the closest they've ever been to reaching that goal," she said back. "You'll see it today."

~

Pang couldn't see it.

In fact, the longer she watched Aoi beside her, she was beginning to believe the opposite. Aoi stood in place, body totally still and mind absent.

On top of that, Pang couldn't even sense any consciousness energy she could latch onto. If there was nothing to manipulate, was there really anything there?

Pang poked Aoi's shoulder.

She did nothing more than slowly turn to notice Pang, possibly for the first time since the session began, her eyes hidden as always.

"Gonna be an interestin' one," came Benton's forecast. He stepped onto the platform, rolling his shoulders.

They were all gathered under pale lights from high above, which made every inch of this open, well-ventilated facility vivid. The area wasn't unlike the training rooms in the Hotel of Champions at Gloat Center, actually, though this place was easily twice the size.

Weights, a small running track, and even a rest station complete with benches and a drink-filled refrigerator were at the back end of the gray room, but the Proscious team all convened on the raised fighting platform towards the front.

Pang finally caved and broke her probing glare from Aoi.

"So uh…she's supposed to be your chosen one for this whole evil plan?" Pang doubted. "Really?"

"Well, 'evil' is a bit of a strong word…" Benton pushed back in defense.

Irma shrugged. "Nah, be real. What we're doing is kinda evil."

Benton sulked. "Anyhow…"

He made a fist and bent down. With one comet of a punch, he cracked a massive dent in the flooring.

The impact shook Pang's knees. She maintained her composure, but her muscles naturally braced in response.

Then Benton stood with a huge chunk of the floor in a single hand, and he chucked it into the air–right towards Irma.

"Aoi: save Irma, will ya?" Benton ordered casually.

The chunk of stone came spiraling within arm's length of Irma's face, its weight undoubtedly enough to crush her entire body.

But then, it stopped.

Rivets had formed in the air around the suspended mass as if it had become a mirage. Then its shape twisted unnaturally, and sometime between the beginning and end of Pang's blink, it vanished.

Pang froze, watching a trace of ashes flutter to the floor.

For the first time since she was a little girl, she fell speechless.

"She don't look strong. She don't act strong. And she ain't strong," Benton said, "unless you tell her to be."

"Aoi can do pretty much anything," Irma added. "But she needs someone to make her do it. Also…"

She spun abruptly to face Benton.

"Why did you have to use me as a prop in your little demonstration?!" she fired.

"You were being a brat," reasoned Benton.

"'BRAT?!' I'M A FULL-GROWN WOMAN!!"

In the midst of their bickering, something occurred to Pang.

She grew an insidious grin.

"Hey, Aoi."

The quiet young woman looked towards her again.

Pang pointed at Benton. "He messed with my head a bunch. Take him out."

Aoi looked at Benton. She took a step forward.

"NO, WAIT, WAIT, STOP!!!!!"

His pleas continued even as his face bowed to the floor in surrender.

"I'm sorry!! I was just doing my job!! I have three little girls!! STOP!"

Benton was the last to notice Aoi had already canceled whatever doom she'd begun for him, standing emptily again.

Irma's laughter echoed against the walls. "You asked for that one," she told Benton. "Man, I'm glad Pang is here now."

Their training session unfolded in earnest soon enough, focusing mainly on Pang's integration into the quartet. To start: Benton and Irma walked through each of their many types again, making sure Pang understood each ability.

While Pang was tempted to expedite this initiation, already understanding and having manipulated all of these types before (besides Aoi's), she challenged herself to keep quiet and listen: any detail, no matter how trivial, could widen the window to defeating them all.

Her reluctant discipline proved fruitful. For instance, she wouldn't have guessed Benton had a power up–physically daunting as it was–that enabled him to use two of his types at once. Also, learning Irma's eye colors changed with each of her four types meant she could eventually prepare to use that against her.

Pang would need more time to put each color combination to memory, but given how open her false teammates were acting with her, that would come easy.

That left only two insurmountable threats: Aoi, and the splitting pain in her head whenever Irma or Benton switched powers.

Aoi was a complete mystery for now. So she focused her energy on the power switching. After all, Irma and Benton were already intent on helping her solve it so they could work together.

"Ow!"

Pang grasped her head for probably the fiftieth time.

"Still no luck?"

Irma and Benton paused and watched her. Even after a few hours of on-and-off attempts, Pang's stabbing headache persisted whenever either of them switched.

"It's no good…" Pang grunted. "And if we keep doing this, my head feels like it'll–OW!! HEY!"

She shot a deadly jeer at Irma.

Benton shrugged. "Hey, you picked up that she's the one who switched," he noticed.

"That's pretty promising," said Irma.

Blinking to recover her whited-out vision, Pang at least knew they were right. Until now, she only felt the same stabbing sensation regardless of who switched. Now it seemed, like a callus, her mind was growing familiar with the feeling–so she was starting to sense past it.

Thankfully, that progress was enough to satisfy Irma and Benton for the day. They revisited the same food court for lunch, returned for an extended workout session, and called it a night.

~

"Hmm-hmm~dessert time!"

Irma placed a chilly bowl in Pang's lap, filled with generous scoops of topping-drenched ice cream and a golden spoon.

"This stuff is just store-bought. But this is definitely on my bucket list to make from scratch," Irma shared as her hovering chair carried her to the other side of the couch.

Before Pang could weigh the implications of giving Irma help into her seat, she maneuvered gracefully from her chair to the cushions on her own, her hefty bowl of ice cream in her lap. Pang fought not to look too much at the metallic stubs in place of Irma’s legs while she made herself comfortable and content.

Irma switched the TV on, its initially harsh glow reflecting against the dimness of night throughout the apartment.

But once Pang's eyes recovered, her heart stopped.

"Boring…"

Irma had already switched pages to her beloved murder mystery.

But Pang knew it. She'd just seen Kotono on a stage, standing front and center.

And Phillip, Skrili, and Deon were all by her side.

What were they all doing up there? What was that broadcast for?

If Irma's attention span for the League was the authority in this matter, Pang worried she'd never find out.

"Oh that's right! That guy was totally about to get strangled. He's so dead," Irma recalled as she kicked off the next episode in their queue.

"Wait, go back for a sec," said Pang

Irma glanced between her, the episode, and her ice cream, the latter two luring her eyes back even more. She returned to her viewing session as if Pang hadn't said anything.

"Hey!"

"Hm?"

"Go back. Those guys are my friends."

This time, Irma didn't return any attention.

"I…don't think they are…" she muttered.

Pang squeezed her ice cream bowl.

Imagine being so obsessed with a stupid show that you'd do anything not to pause it…she judged in silence.

There was no question. It was them.

The ice cream helped tame her aggravation as she suffered through the fictional tale on the screen. Perhaps she'd get another chance to fish for the broadcast when Irma wasn't around.

But about three episodes in, Pang realized her opportunity was already presenting itself. She happened to glance over at Irma and found that she had dozed off, her head slowly slipping down the pillow.

Perfect.

Pang summoned the holographic controls on the table and navigated her way out of the episode. Thankfully, the sudden shift to silence didn't stir Irma. Soon enough she located the default channel. The news broadcast was ongoing–even after all this time.

But by now it had moved onto a new focus.

"...could ever happen to someone as strong as her."

"She, by far, has given back most to the Consciousness League community and other communities in need. So at the same time, it makes perfect sense that this was how she would say goodbye."

Images of Hiroko faded in and out, highlighting all kinds of moments from throughout her career.

…'Say goodbye?' Pang wondered.

"Hiroko was truly a blessing. And truly, one of the greatest Consciousness pros the League has ever known."

Heart racing, Pang rewound the channel. Hours of footage flashed in reverse, and yet, it never deviated from the same themes: Hiroko's life, and the speech Kotono gave with Phillip and the others standing by her.

No way…

Soon she reached what appeared to be a full replay of the original broadcast, with Kotono, Phillip, Skrili, and Deon all standing tall.

The first words she heard turned Pang's body cold.

"Giving up her life to try and stop Pang's kidnappers, we lost my dearest friend of all: my incredible teammate, Hiroko Hamasaki."

Pang lost her breath.

"Actually…she was trying to save someone else at that point…" a voice cut through the ensuing silence.

Pang turned to find Irma's eyes open, watching along with a somber, knowing focus.

That sight, along with the careful composure in her tone, turned Pang's stomach.

"She jumped at one of our machines to save a young girl," Irma added even quieter. "I wasn't there when it happened…but that's what I heard–"

Pang dove. The ice cream bowls tumbled, some of their melted leftovers splattering the floor and smudging their skin as Pang tackled Irma and pinned her against the couch. She gained dominance immediately: without legs to kick or brace herself, Irma's longer frame did nothing to ward Pang off.

Using her knees to pin her in place, Pang's hands reached Irma's throat and squeezed relentlessly. Irma's efforts to tug at her locked grasp were in vain.

Pang had gone from breathlessness to seething gasps, pushing as hard as she could into Irma's neck and praying she would feel it snap.

"YOU GUYS KILLED HER!!!" she shrieked.

In a flash, a vision replaced the present before Pang's eyes. She saw a bloodied face in place of Irma's.

One of the challengers she'd killed on Artifex.

"You're…right…" Irma barely choked out.

Pang snapped back, realizing her grip had weakened. She shook her head.

Irma's eyes were locked with hers only inches away. But they didn't wince, or even blink.

"Do…you…want to know…" Irma gasped, "who killed my friend?"

"SHUT UP! I DON'T CARE!"

But Irma released one of her hands and pointed at the TV.

Phillip and the others were still there, receiving a shower of applause.

"Like I'd ever believe that!" Pang rejected. "They're…better people than me!"

"I don't hate them. I can't. Wei would agree…he had it coming." Irma's reddening eyes returned back to Pang, and despite it all, she gave a sad smile. "And I had this coming, too."

"Of course you do!" Pang growled. She forced her grip tighter again. Irma coughed, offering no further resistance. "You thought you could hide this from me?!"

"I'm sorry…I wanted…to break it…to you slow…" Irma croaked.

"That you guys murdered my friend?!"

"That…they're leaving you behind."

Again, it happened: Pang's grip weakened at those words.

The ship.

Daddy.

"Y–you're wrong…" she mustered. She motioned to the TV. "See? They're trying to save me right now."

"They're not even looking for you."

Irma reached for the table controls and rewound the screen.

Nothing visually had changed; it was her same friends, with Kotono giving more of the same ongoing speech.

And yet, it was like entering another frame of reality.

Kotono's focus had shifted entirely. For a while, she didn't mention Pang, or even Hiroko.

'Special League…'

'Teams of five…'

'Events…'

"What…is she talking about…?" muttered Pang unblinkingly.

Irma simply let the broadcast speak for itself.

"...because one-hundred percent of our team's contribution will fund a full-scale investigation into this…"

"'Fund.' The League is loaded. Like, how much 'funding' would they really need to look for you?" Irma questioned. "What is playing a sport supposed to do to help you?"

Her voice, while still scratchy, came out with much less struggling now that Pang was preoccupied.

But even when Pang retried, her fingers only trembled instead of tightening.

"But Phillip…Skrili…all of them…they wouldn't just…"

"They fought us directly. But they don't tell the public anything about that part," Irma pointed out. "If they said what they really know all while doing this 'event' stuff…it would make them look bad, right?"

"Shut up…you're wrong…"

"Their friend is missing, so they launch the shiny new career path of their dreams?"

"S–stop lying…"

"They saw people die and they can't handle it, Pang," Irma persisted. "So they're giving up and trying to move on like everything is normal again."

She placed her hand back on Pang's wrist.

Only, tenderly this time.

"Pang…there is no 'investigation.' I think they're just leaving you behind quietly. I'm…I'm sorry."

Irma's cheeks were growing wet. But Pang realized it was from her own tears falling onto them.

The pressure in her chest ached.

Everything ached.

Again…

It's happening again…this can't be happening again…God, no…

Her eyes found the screen again. The cameras were focusing on Skrili for a moment.

You promised we could rely on each other. We're the only ones who understand each other, Pang wanted to call to her. Out of everyone…after everything you've already seen…even you?

Skrili…how could you?

How could you leave me, too?

"If anyone gets in the way of your survival, their lives don't matter anymore."

Daddy…please shut up…

"I didn't ask to end up here."

Pang refocused. Irma wore a shaky smile, but now her tears were mixing with Pang's.

"Most of us didn't have a choice, either," Irma murmured. "Proscious made me and Benton take you. So I…figured I'd show you how to survive here…how to find a second chance at living."

Her gaze fell to the side.

"But now I know I'm just delusional. I know what I did to you." She lowered to a whisper. "I'm part of the reason your friend is dead, because I only know how to preserve myself."

Irma's soft touch tightened on Pang's wrists.

Then, she pushed in.

"So…just give me what I deserve."

Her words barely finished making it out before Pang's hands closed her throat with her own guiding force.

By the shades of purple and blue reflecting from the TV onto Irma's straining face, Pang knew the broadcast had returned to commemorations of Hiroko.

I'll never feel bad for you, Pang's thoughts fired out as if to reach Irma's mind.

The scent of blood invaded her head. In flashes, she could see her younger hands breaking the bones of desperate opponents so she and her father could stay alive.

You're just as much a selfish little demon as me.

Irma's skin was turning purple, her eyes glazing. She released her hands. Pang's force alone choked her now.

So you're right. If I have to die all alone, Pang decided, then so do you.

Irma still didn't resist. And even with the ability to instantly disorient Pang's mind, from the moment this began, she'd yielded.

But the tighter Pang squeezed, the hazier her own senses grew.

She smelled the sea instead of melted ice cream. She heard the croaks of failing metal instead of the TV.

Instead of Irma's face, she saw a vacant sinking deck where she sat waiting to die.

All alone.

Pang's strength left all at once.

No…her willpower.

She collapsed onto Irma. As she felt Irma's arms eventually wrapped around her, all she could do was sob into her gasping chest.

Then, when Irma's weeps blended into hers, she finally returned her embrace.