Conscious, Conscientious

Pang made a point not to wear red today.

It wasn’t her first decision. This morning, she found herself seeking out any red in her wardrobe—that is, until clarity reached her then-groggy mind.

Wait. I wear what I want.

Still, she contemplated why it had been her initial impulse. Perhaps she’d planned to observe how the extra red would affect Gage’s Colorist powers?

No. She knew why.

She wanted to see how it would draw his maroon eyes to her—to see the face he would make when she followed through for him.

“Yes, girl. You own that gold and black,” Irma complimented while they hung their jackets up in the corner of the training room. “I forgot we bought you that outfit.”

Their shopping spree days ago, when Pang had first moved in, made it easy to go out of her way to avoid what was typically her go-to color.

She glanced over to the fighting platform where Gage was already waiting for them.

He simply smiled back at her and lit one of his special cigarettes.

Either his Tolerator powers were already kicking in, or he was naturally unbothered to find his private request ignored.

Regardless, his utter lack of reaction left Pang unsatisfied. Somehow, even a scoff of displeasure would have been better than simply….nothing.

Gage’s smooth smile curled again at her lingering silence.

“Alright, what’s the plan today, boss?” came Benton’s greeting. He led Aoi through the entrance to join the group, stretching his mountainous arms. “Why do you think you’re the guy for the job?”

A laugh escape Gage’s lips with a puff of smoke. “This isn’t an interview for the position,” he said. “I’m evaluating you. So team: up on the platform, please.”

They joined together, standing in a file before their interim leader. Gage’s smoke turned the air sweet and bitter, his stare relaxed.

Suddenly, Pang didn’t know where to place her eyes. She ultimately glued them to the floor before everyone’s feet.

“Listen: you’ll see I am the ‘guy for the job,’” he preached. “Because I’m here for one reason, and one reason only.”

“So he’s answering the interview question anyway…” Irma muttered.

Gage brushed it off to continue. “…And that’s to make sure from now on, every single one of us—myself included—makes it home after every mission.”

The team fell silent.

Still staring down, Pang caught Aoi stiffen beside her.

“I won’t let what happened to Wei happen to you. We won’t grieve anymore. If I got to see him one more time, that would’ve been the promise I made to him,” he insisted. “So I’m making it to you. And, if you’ll all trust me, I have the power to keep that promise.”

Pang glanced up only long enough to confirm that, even though he was referring to a loved one only the others knew, his focus was hovering on her.

“From now on,” Gage concluded, “none of your friends are going away.”

Pang’s heart skipped.

Finally, Benton shifted. “I’m listening,” he said.

“Good. Then we’ll start these sessions with a question.”

Gage paced, savoring his cigarette for a moment.

“Why didn’t Wei come home from Azvaylen?” he pressed.

Pang managed to lift her head again at least to search her teammates.

Isn’t bringing that up a little out-of-line? It wasn’t that long ago…she thought. Is he trying to piss them off?

But nobody stirred. They simply stood in contemplation, faces forlorn but unoffended.

So Gage was pretty close to that guy, too, Pang guessed.

Only her teammates’ reactions could give the hint, as Gage offered no signs of his own grief. With small plumes of smoke still rising from his breath, he simply awaited their reply in patient tranquility.

“Nothing? Alright, then. Let’s see a team attack. Anything goes, as long as you’re all part of it,” Gage invited. “Ready…set…go.”

The team shifted—but merely looked to each other in wait.

“Yep,” he confirmed. “See, that’s why—”

“We get it.”

Irma’s hot stare burned through the ground, peering into the past. Her frown curled tight. “You don’t have to, like, turn it into a whole freaking lesson. We obviously know why Wei isn’t here anymore. We know why we aren’t the only other Rank-S team. And it’s his fault.”

“Irma…” Benton cautioned.

“Don’t ‘Irma’ me. I’m saying it,” she shot. “You want to be our leader, Gage? Here are some tips: don’t treat us like tack-ons like he did. Don’t act like your power is more important than your friends. We’re a completely different team now. A better one. So—”

Benton’s hand landed on her shoulder, startling her tight throat into silence.

“So how about we come up with one a’ them team attacks,” he suggested tenderly, “and prove it?”

After a moment of hesitation, Irma crossed her arms. She shrugged.

“I like it,” said Gage. “Benton, Irma: sounds like you’re on the exact same page as me.”

Gage lit a fresh cigarette in unison with his reply. He strode over towards the edge of the platform, turned back around to face them, and sat legs-crossed.

“Do that. Make some team attacks,” he prodded. “I might have some missions to patch up with my old team before they pick my replacement. So I want you to be strong on your own first.”

He’s talking like he already got the gig, noted Pang.

“But don’t worry: I’m here to guide you along.”

Pang felt her shoulders relax. Compared to defying death from Danek’s unannounced attacks, this training was playing out as something genuinely beneficial—and certainly less horrific.

Gage really wants this, she learned.

She turned to her teammates, who all faced each other in a circle.

“So, uh….” started Irma. “Anyone got ideas?”

“If anyone’s mean to us, Aoi happens,” Pang said plainly. “Boom. We just figured out every fight ever. Right?”

Aoi nodded.

But Benton shook his head. “Not if she ain’t fightin’,” he pointed out.

“Right. She’s the centerpiece of all of Proscious,” agreed Gage from the corner. “There are times she’ll need to be in a non-combat or assisting role, unless things get really bad.”

Crap.

Pang sighed. Ideally, she would be long gone from this glorified jailhouse before the team got assigned to any new missions. But she knew she couldn’t rely on that slim chance.

And, now that she couldn’t rely on Aoi to handle it all, either, she mustered the will to brainstorm.

But there was so much at their disposal between the four of them—almost too much—that the potential starting points seemed infinite. Fishing out the best ones might take her whole life. Plus, with only a handful of days under her belt here, there was still so little she knew about her teammates’ fighting styles.

They’d spent most of their time trying to figure out the spiking pain in Pang’s head whenever they switched types, and had only neared a solution.

This mound of work was only piling higher.

Gage cleared his throat. “I’m sure you guys know about that new ‘Special League’ they kicked off. If those Leaguers can pull off moves that smart, surely you real fighters can do it,” he hinted. “I mean heck, you have two ex-Leaguers right here on your team.”

Pang’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Wait…two?”

She scanned the fighting platform, and found Benton rubbing his head with a shy shrug.

“Well…I used to dabble…” he brushed off.

“Come on. You usually go on about it at every chance,” Irma commented with rolling eyes. “He was legit. He won a few of those smaller championships,” she revealed to Pang.

“Hold on…seriously?”

Her eyes must have glowed even brighter than the gold in her outfit. Benton’s shrug lowered, his dismissive smirk shifting to one of pride after a double-take confirmed Pang’s interest was real.

“You did, gramps? Which ones?!” she pressed, taking a subconscious step forward.

“Ah, you probably never heard of ‘em…just Bermergen Station, and the Button Masher…indie stuff, really. Oh, and Muscle Bowl.”

Pang’s mind froze for a moment.

Then, she sprung forward.

“WHAT THE HECK?!!” Pang screamed. “You fought in Muscle Bowl?! You won Muscle Bowl?! That place is legendary!”

Benton laughed, and Pang was too star-struck to catch his smiling glance at Irma.

“Look at this kiddo,” he chuckled lowly. “Last time I tried tellin’ a couple a’ youngster Leaguers, they couldn’t care less.”

“Probably ‘cuz they were sidetracked. You know, with you trying to kill them,” she muttered.

Pang remained oblivious to their reactions. Suddenly—and somehow—this shirtless, nosy weirdo was a lot cooler than she thought.

“…And Button Masher, too?! You fought there before it closed?!” her ramble of fandom continued.

“Won the last one in the ‘ole building,” Benton confirmed. “New one ain’t the same. Too pretty.”

“But like…you won Muscle Bowl. Like. What?!”

“Comin’ from the little girl who almost took home the Gloat Stadium championship in her first tournament,” laughed Benton. “Yep, I watched that.”

“So…is it clear to you, now?” came Gage’s knowing voice.

Pang and Benton’s starry eyes locked.

Finally…someone who speaks my language in here, Pang celebrated.

“It’s crazy what you kids are doin’ these days,” said Benton, “but I’m sure you can help me keep up.”

Pang’s smile was tenacious. “And I could learn a thing or two from an old-schooler.”

All of the tangled methods and jumbled ideas began organizing in Pang’s head. Now, their angle was obvious:

Alright. We’re gonna run this thing like a real consciousness team.

~

Irma took a long, labored sigh. “So you want me to…do what?”

“Just go stand over there and look pretty for now,” simplified Pang, pointing to a corner of the fighting platform.

Scraping up any remaining ounce of will, Irma sighed again and shuffled her flip-flops across the platform like she’d just been asked to hike the Mainland Desert.

“Stupid leaguer lingo…it’s just a bunch of unnecessary fluff…”

Benton chuckled beside Pang, waving their teammate off. “Don’t mind her. This sport ain’t her thing…to say the least.”

“We can’t all be pros,” Pang shrugged. She lifted the newly acquired clipboard she’d asked Aoi to warp off and buy. Benton drew close over her shoulder, and the two reviewed their map.

“Can’t believe kids are still writin’ this stuff on paper,” Benton admired.

“Most don’t anymore; they use the app. I just like the retro feel.”

“‘Retro…’” Benton noted in a sulk. His massive hand reached over her to point to the corner of the diagram. “Hold on, what if we swap these…?”

“Sniper on the inside? Not the scout?” wondered Pang.

“This was a classic ‘lil trick in my day, ‘cuz it’s unexpected,” he insisted. “You need a fast scout and sniper to pull it off, and well, we got you and Irma. And don’t forget: there are more than two of us now. You’ll have way more toys to play with from now on.”

“True…”

Pang tried to envision it. She tore off the page and began scribbling out a new one.

“Oh…right! In that case, you can stay as guard on the inside the whole time, and Aoi can hold clutch…” She swirled the pencil to complete her sketch. “Dude, this is perfect!”

Pang turned to Benton to exchange a fist bump.

“Great. Am I looking pretty enough yet?” came Irma’s nudge.

“Like a little flower,” teased Benton. “Keep doin’ that, but over there. I wanna see how this looks in real life.”

Irma’s groan was twice as long this time.

“I mean…do we really need to?” Pang asked him lowly.

“Nah. I’m just messin’ with her now,” he whispered.

The two tried to contain their chuckles. Once she was satisfied with her notes, Pang set the clipboard aside.

“Alright. We might as well run the whole series,” she figured. “How about we start with this, and then defense?”

While everyone got into position, Pang found her eyes bouncing over to Gage across the platform.

Once again, his serene smile was locked on her.

Then, her SquadScreen vibrated. She opened the message.

“This is a joy to watch. You’re blossoming, Pang.”

Pang could tell her cheeks looked as flushed as they felt when she glanced back over to him. Gage’s eyes glimmered at her.

Then, like slipping a mask on, he stood and pivoted to face all of them as if their exchange never happened. “Great work, everyone! If these formations feel good, I’ll go grab some resources so you can test them out in drills.”

~

After several meticulous walkthroughs of each formation, Pang was certain: this was it.

Benton’s smile towards her proved his equal satisfaction. The two nodded.

“Alright, Gage. Fire ‘em up.”

Their temporary trainer was happy to oblige. Buzzes and beeps filled the air all around, as metallic cubes unfolded into humanoid opponents on the outskirts of the platform and stood surrounding the team.

Gage’s ‘resources’ were a little more advanced than Pang had anticipated.

“Hey, don’t you think you ordered a little too many?” Irma observed, counting them in the dozens.

Gage shrugged. “You’re Rank-A. You know how it goes—it’s hard to hold back when you have the world at your fingertips,” he said. “I almost had them send some of our test subjects, too—ones with powers—but we shouldn’t waste human life.”

“How noble…” Irma muttered.

In a single, united clank, the training robots took identical fighting stances.

Pang braced herself. But she felt Benton’s hand land on her shoulder, and looked up to see his wink.

“We got this, kiddo.”

He assumed his starting position in the center of the group, just like they’d planned. Reinvigorated, Pang stepped forward and lowered into her ready stance.

“Always remember: don’t rely on Aoi as a catch-all,” Gage’s voice reminded them from behind the bots. “You all need to be strong.”

The single lenses on all of the machines glowed red.

“And like I said, you’re Rank-A. So here comes a Rank-A challenge.”

The robots stormed the platform.

Pang scanned as much of the incoming storm of metal as she could—as the scout, remaining calm was especially vital. The robots’ speed rivaled that of an intermediate pro, but with their numbers, it posed a much higher threat.

She zoned in on one and shot forward, landing a perfect kick. It toppled back, tucking back into a cube form as it turned off. Pang darted backwards to her original position—the outer layer of her team’s bubble—and crouched again.

She smirked. The right call was obvious.

This time, she charged at the row of robots, and instead sprung above them, flipping to clear their fists and observe the unfolding fight from above.

“Irma: rear flank!” she called before even touching back down.

After brief hesitation, the multi-powered woman zipped at twice Pang’s speed and took out a row of fighter bots heading for Benton and Aoi’s blind spot.

“Ugh…tennis terms make more sense,” she complained even as her efforts continued. “And they, like, sound so much nicer.”

While Pang couldn’t disagree more, now wasn’t the time. “Fine, then…Baseline…Uh…Backswing!”

“Much better.”

Pang took out a few more robots from behind. But with that distraction, a few more had slipped beyond her reach than she’d planned.

Still, it was no matter.

Irma was sweeping the floor with robots on the other side, leaving Benton plenty of space to focus on the breach.

This is too easy.

Their mindless opponents left the team with limited combat options: Irma’s only useful type now was Thoughtfeeder, and Benton’s Withstander. But it also simplified the drill overall; they didn’t have to worry about the enemy’s consciousness types.

Irma’s power boost, and Benton’s ability to resist pain, was more than enough advantage.

Benton bashed two of the breaching bots away, and after a third failed to yield any damage kicking his side, he defeated it next. Aoi gave a mere glance at the others, and they all collapsed around Benton's feet.

The trend continued with Pang and Irma taking down the outer line, Benton facing any who slipped through, and Aoi finishing off what remained.

This may be a ‘Rank-A challenge,’ Pang noted, but it's got nothing on us.

Especially now that we have this system down.

Gage's singular applause bounced against the walls after Irma struck down the final training bot.

“Seems like it's already time to schedule an exhibition with another Rank-A group,” he observed. “But for now: let's step it up with some role-playing.”

He set foot on the platform, and his quiet, gradual steps didn't stop until he stood beside Aoi.

Irma crossed her arms in wary curiosity.

“Let's say you're on a mission. You're hunting a prospect,” painted Gage. “You run into a team of consciousnesses, and…”

He took Aoi's hand.

“...One of them can match Aoi's powers.”

Pang chuckled. “Good one. As if.”

But she found no company in her assurance. Benton and Irma stayed silent, their faces sober.

“Wait…you're for real?”

“The Azvaylen report’s words, not mine,” Gage said. “Instead of looking for you, your ‘friends’ attacked us to liberate the kingdom. And one of them was able to keep Aoi at bay. If not for that, it would've been over.”

Pang gave her mind no time to reflect on her abandonment right now. The wound was too tender.

Instead, she focused on this nonsensical revelation.

There's no way…

She had a thorough understanding of all of their abilities, besides Deon's. But even what she'd seen of his mysterious anger-fueled power up couldn't touch Aoi.

The closest fighter to Aoi, unmistakably, was Kotono.

And even still, she was leagues away from Aoi's anomalous power–way less leagues than everyone else in the Multiverse, but leagues nonetheless.

Gage seemed unconcerned with convincing Pang for now. “Irma and Benton weren't active by that point, but that's not how we operate anymore,” he declared. “Never again. This team fights as one. So let's play out a scenario…”

The cubed robots beeped all around. They unfolded to their feet, their red lenses glowing.

“One where you have to fight the enemy, and help Aoi,” he said. “Aoi: don't help fight unless someone frees you. Don't worry, it's just practice.”

Aoi nodded.

“All you guys have to do is break my grip.”

The robots stirred, attacking once more from the various places they'd collapsed.

With a start, Pang rushed to find her place at the front of the group again. This time, she had no chance to scope out the best course of action; they simply had to act.

But her co-fighters were quick like her, already tightening back into the defensive formation they'd rehearsed.

The combat resumed with the group on their heels, until they reclaimed their rhythm and pushed back as hard as before.

Pang struck two robots down simultaneously.

They're only enough to keep us busy, she recognized. Once we kick their metal butts, we'll just gain up on Gage.

It was safe to assume her teammates had reached the same conclusion. Benton certainly did, bearing a pro's mind like hers.

When another robot fell to her kick, Gage and Aoi came back into her view. Gage simply smiled from behind his cigarette.

Immediately, Pang knew that plan couldn't work.

The dude just helped us train for hours. He straight-up knows our offensive formation–he'll see it coming, she emphasized to herself. Plus he's Rank-S. If Danek could take all three of us at once, so can he.

We gotta make something up. Something fast.

A little more than half of the bots remained. If they attacked now, Gage wouldn't expect it.

But was there anything they could pull out of nowhere, having never properly fought in this lineup?

“Guys…after all this, I might be too tired for tennis…” groaned Irma between dodges and punches that were somehow as precise as they were sluggish.

“Tennis is tomorrow, Irma!” Benton called over.

“...Oh yeah.”

Pang's eyes glistened with her menacing smirk.

“Actually guys,” she said, “let's play now.”

“Huh?!”

Their joint confusion almost dissuaded Pang from trying, but it was too late not to commit: she'd already begun her sprint towards Benton.

“Serve up!!” she told him.

Benton searched around in uncertainty. “Huh? With what?”

“Me!”

She plowed past enough robots to get close enough. Pang pounced towards him, hoping he'd catch on in the split second he had.

To her relief, Pang found herself caught stably in Benton's arms. She could feel the sheer power in their rocklike steadiness. But despite their coarseness, he'd retrieved her as tenderly as if he were cradling an infant.

“I get it. You're one cool kid, Pang,” Benton muttered in that quick moment.

He wasted no time: relying on their lessons with Irma, Benton tossed Pang straight up into the air.

Flipping, Pang began positioning her aim.

“Irma! You're the racket!” she declared.

All remaining doubt melted: once her upward ascent evened out, Irma rocketed into the air and snatched her around the waist.

“Make this one…” Irma said, spinning to build momentum, “an ace!!”

Pang almost forgot how strong her lazy roommate's arms could be until they launched her. Her stomach sunk as she cut through the air, heading straight for Gage and Aoi's joined hands.

Her improvised strategy had actually worked. And she was moving so fast, she doubted Gage could properly dodge even if he'd managed to figure it out.

Once again, her small size was an advantage—even more so now that it could be coupled with Benton and Irma’s strength.

She braced herself to plow through Gage’s grip.

But instead, Pang came to a complete stop.

She blinked to ward off the ensuing dizziness. Her heart skipped when Gage's serene eyes were the next things she could see.

Somehow, Pang couldn't power forward any further. She managed to land on her feet, but her fist was at a standstill against some sort of forcefield before her.

No–it wasn't a forcefield. It was just Gage's other hand.

He'd stopped her momentum, all at once, with a single palm.

“I meant to mention earlier,” he said quietly, “you look great in gold, too. It brings out your eyes.”

Despite her blush, Pang cursed in her head.

Colorist, she knew.

“So gold gives you strength?” she grunted within her struggle.

“Yes.” He seemed to brush through her hair again in his mind. “And red is my attack color. Especially a shade so bright…”

Pang rushed to latch onto his powers. But once they filled her head, she felt no notable change in her own strength.

Gage could tell. “My gray hair…my maroon eyes…my clothes…none of that does much for my powers.”

“A defense against Manipulators…” Pang derived.

Gage shrugged. “And just my fashion sense.”

He pushed with minimal effort, and yet, it was more than enough to toss Pang backwards.

When she fell onto her back, it was somehow cushioned and painless–Aoi must have slowed her fall with her powers.

“Hey. Nice try, everyone,” Gage encouraged.

But sitting up, and watching Gage tower over her, Pang felt at a loss.

Behind her, she could hear the robots deactivate around Benton and Irma.

“You guys are really flying through this,” Gage noted. “I think I'm happy with today. Let's call it so I can go rework some plans. It's clear you guys need bigger mountains to climb than this.”

With a wave just like the first time Pang met him, Gage turned and began his departure.

“Be proud,” he added. “I think Wei would be, too.”

Pang sat in the sudden silence. It had ended so abruptly, her mind hadn't stopped storming with countermeasures.

I'll get more practice manipulating his powers next time, she resolved. Yeah. Then maybe I can–

Out of nowhere, she was yanked airborne.

“Hey! What the–?!”

“Pang! That was incredible, kiddo!!”

She found herself suspended high above the floor, within Benton's arms.

He held her up like a prized treasure.

“You came up with that on the spot? Golly, you're a real pro,” he congratulated. “Boy, is it fun to have you here!”

“You're welcome,” Irma chimed in from behind.

Pang tried to avert her eyes, but she couldn't.

It didn't make sense. Benton's face was grayish as usual, and yet, it was glowing with…

…With something she couldn't seem to register.

Pride? Why?

“We still lost,” she pointed out.

“I'm not talkin’ about winnin’ and losin’,” he denied. “It's just fun seein’ you give your all and growin’!”

Pang stiffened within his grasp. Was something wrong with him? Why should he care if they could get just as strong with someone else?

“Well…you helped, gramps,” she let out awkwardly. “Now put me down, already. Good grief.”

“Heh. Sorry.”

~

The team shuffled down the hall. Having cleaned up and gathered their things, they figured they could still catch a late lunch in the cafeteria.

But Pang's SquadScreen vibrated.

“You really impressed me today,” was the first message.

“Meet me in the lab sometime tonight,” came next.

The words lingered on her screen, as if in place of Gage's soft maroon gaze.

Pang looked up to her teammates. Irma and Benton were preoccupied, bickering about whether or not Aoi needed a wardrobe overhaul. She slowed to the back of the group.

“Why? What's up?” she sent.

The reply only took a moment, despite its much longer nature.

“Because I think it's time I tell you something about your purpose here in Proscious,” it read. “Something only I know.”