Pang braced herself atop the fighting platform, right around where Benton had punched a crater into the floor yesterday. It had already been repaired overnight—though Pang had a feeling he was about to create the same exact damage again, or worse.

And this time, she would be his target.

“Hey! What the…what in God’s good Multiverse is this?” he pressed.

Pang watched, ready to spring into defense, as Benton drew close to Irma and peered at her neck with paralyzing focus. Pang knew the source of his concern would be revealed in a moment.

A fight she probably couldn’t win was upon her.

But Irma stood quietly and watched as he observed the blotches of purple and blue on her neck. She winced a bit when he touched one of the bruises.

“How did you get these, Irma? Who did this?”

Here it comes…Pang knew.

But it seemed Benton had found an answer already. Shaking his head in equal parts disappointment and disapproval, he stepped back a bit.

“Don’t tell me…” he pleaded. “Not the tall guy again.”

To Pang’s puzzlement, Irma shrugged in dispassionate confirmation.

“Irma, I thought you called it off!” Benton stressed. “That fella’s bad news! And he clearly don’t respect ‘ya if y’all are doin’ that sorta stuff.”

“It was just a one-night thing,” Irma promised. “I ended it with him for real this time.”

“You swear? I better not spot no more bruises on you.”

“I swear,” Irma said calmly. “But my problem with him was that he wasn’t crazy enough.”

“Irma!” Benton paced away to gather himself. “I can’t with you, girl…”

But she simply laughed. “You’re too old-fashioned, you grandpa.”

What is she doing…? Pang wondered. I gave her those.

While Benton’s back was still turned, Irma snuck a glance at Pang. Her mouth curled into the slightest smile—a soft, relieved one.

For a split moment, Pang could almost smell the fruity scent in Irma’s hair again like she did when her tears had soaked into its multicolored strands last night.

She could feel the rising and falling of Irma’s sobs.

I guess she’s not just a stupid puppet like I thought, Pang thought. It makes sense now: she’s exactly like me.

We both had to do horrible things, and now we both have to live with it somehow.

Pang’s eyes lingered on the bruises she caused in her fit of strangulation last night after Irma broke the news.

Then that’s why she’s saving my skin right now, she knew. She gets it…she knows what it feels like…

…That’s why she tried to let me kill her.

…And that’s why I refused to.

Before Pang knew what she was doing, she returned a quick smile of thanks. She wasn’t ready for the softness in her chest that ensued with their shared moment.

It blended with regret to form a dizzying fog in her head.

Crap…I shouldn’t have let her see me like that last night. She shouldn’t have let me see her like that, either.

This isn’t good…

Now I don’t know if I can hate her.

Benton herded Aoi, who had been off in the corner staring at them emptily, over so they could begin the session. Pang’s attention remained on Irma as they positioned side-by-side.

This team helped kill Hiroko—my idol. And Irma was a part of that, she reminded herself. I don’t care if she wasn’t there when it happened…if that’s true. I have to hold onto that fact with everything I have.

But at the same time…maybe it’s not a bad thing if she knows I understand her, she realized. I’m…on my own again, after all.

Skrili. Phillip. Deon. Kotono.

Their faces flashed in her head.

They moved on. So I’m gonna need every piece of leverage over these guys I can get to bust out of here, she decided. I’m just making these guys think I’m on their side, and that’s all.

So…it’s okay to feel this.

“Hey, ready for another chance?” Irma asked her. “You know…like I promised?”

Again, Pang’s heart fluttered.

“Definitely.”

She just means another chance at dealing with their power-switching thing, and that’s all, she half-convinced herself. That’s fine. It’ll help me escape.

…And go where? Escape to who?

She blinked to shake out of her spiraling thoughts.

To…my life, of course…

~

The city walkways were calm under the streetlights that had just flickered to life above Pang and Irma. It was especially quiet along this particular road, on the outskirts of the densest part of the island.

Pang looked out to the more open land, an area she had yet to visit. There were unmarked facilities spaced out in the distance before the ring of empty flooring at the edge of the floating campus. But before them, just beyond the city area, was a simple park.

She spotted someone doing yoga in the grass. Like a trigger, it sent her thoughts back to her training today.

‘Calm your mind.’

It turned out Irma’s idea was right: when Pang was able to hush her thoughts and focus only on either Irma or Benton before they switched powers, the stabbing in her pain wasn’t nearly as harsh. It certainly still hurt, but it seemed they were finally onto something.

As she tried to celebrate the progress in her head, she couldn’t help thinking of Irma’s two-handed high-five upon uncovering this revelation.

Pang watched Irma quietly lead the way back towards the apartment, and pity set in.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Don’t get it twisted, she thought. I’m only doing this to beat you.

A repetitive, nearly rhythmic pattering caught her attention from nearby. Its echo bounced off the wall of the building they’d begun walking along. Pang noticed they were about to pass by a series of fenced in patterns of concrete where two individuals were running back and forth. The sections were all painted the same way, with distinct and symmetrical lines and wide nets perfectly in the center.

The two people held some sort of stringed bats, with which they were hitting a neon ball back and forth at each other over one of the nets.

Pang watched their distinct, rehearsed motions. It seemed nearly as much strategy and form went into this sport as fighting.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” Irma suddenly asked.

“Huh? I thought you said you were trying the lasagna recipe again.”

“Oh…oh yeah,” replied Irma unevenly.

Pang watched her with narrowing eyes. Now that they were across the street from the racket sport, Irma’s head had turned away from it. She opted to stare at the building wall instead.

But given the wall’s distinct lack of features, her sudden interest in it made no sense.

“Hey, what is that called?” Pang decided to ask.

Irma said nothing, so she tried again.

“What?”

“That over there, obviously,” Pang prodded. “What sport are those people playing?”

As if she’d been asked to stare into the sun, she rapidly turned her eyes across the street and then averted them again.

“I don’t know,” she said simply.

Over at the court, the two players met in the middle to touch rackets, and then shake hands, laughing and teasing all the while.

Pang crossed her arms and watched Irma continue to ignore their existence.

Weird…

~~~

“Y’all hear?” Benton checked, his mouth still half-full of a chicken wing. “They’re gonna start figurin’ out who our next team leader will be.”

Pang and Irma stared at him almost as blankly as Aoi over the lunch-covered table. The food court’s cluttered conversations took the place of their silence, until Benton sighed.

“You check your SquadScreens? They messaged us.”

Pang glanced at the new watch on her wrist. She would have picked out a device that more closely resembled a TeamTrack, but when Irma brought her to the store this morning she insisted on the ‘SquadScreen’ watch: once they were out on missions, it would be much less of a pain to travel with.

Considering it came with the job as part of an ‘A-Rank’ team, Pang shrugged and accepted the free stuff.

But she only got as far as setting it up and logging into her account—finding its interface an obvious rip-off of TeamTrack technology—before the influx of boring initiation messages repelled her attention. She was sure the one Benton was referring to was buried somewhere within them, and she wasn’t about to go digging for it.

“So what?” Irma dismissed.

“So we gotta be in good shape!” urged Benton. “We can’t be lookin’ like a sack of potatoes in front of a brand new leader. The drills will never end!”

Irma sighed, sinking deeper into her chair. “I wanted a laidback session tonight…”

“You want a laidback session always,” Benton muttered.

“And is that too much to ask?”

“YES!”

Irma twirled her chopsticks absently. “Well…we are a new team now, with new dynamics we still don’t really know,” she pondered. “Maybe we should do some bonding stuff outside of practice, too.”

“Hey, not a bad idea,” agreed Benton, his imagination unraveling at the thought. “Yeah…Pang here can get to know about us more, we’ll make new ‘lil inside jokes, play drinking games…oh wait—Pang’s a minor, so we’ll use pop…”

Pang did her best to tune out whatever sappy fantasy Benton thought might come of this. But remembering her walk home last night, the idea relit a certain spark of curiosity.

Get to know about them…

“Anyhow, I’ve gotta go walk off these chicken wings before the afternoon session,” Benton burped. “If anyone’s got any suggestions for bonding time, though, wanna send ‘em in the group chat?”

“You’re the only one who checks that. Even Aoi doesn’t,” Irma said as Benton gathered everyone’s empty dishes.

“Actually, Benton…” Pang started. “Can we talk for a sec? I might have an idea.”

The glow of elation on his face made Pang wish she could somehow dial back her already nonexistent enthusiasm.

“Why absolutely, Pang! See? It’s already workin’!” he beamed.

Shrugging, Irma stood. “Then I’ll bring Aoi to the training center while you guys chat. Wanna fly or warp, Aoi? I say warp.”

“We ain’t supposed to do that…”

Irma had already commanded Aoi, and the two flickered out from the food court.

“…in here,” Benton finished, shaking his head.

Pang blinked with wide eyes. Okay…so they can even freaking teleport. Noted…

“So Pang, what you got?”

Again giving her best effort not to cringe at Benton’s excitement, Pang crossed her arms. “First off, I want to ask you something…”

~

I probably should have asked him where the store was, too…Pang realized.

She made her way towards the end of the food court alone, realizing she was about to be wandering aimlessly. Though she wasn’t that worried about it, Pang doubted the few minutes she had before the afternoon session would be enough to comb every corner of this mall for one specific outlet.

If not for her teammates’ dominating abilities, she would turn this short window of freedom into a chance to ditch them for a personal shopping spree.

Pang checked the bank app on her SquadScreen, still hating its name as much as the first time she heard it. Just as Irma said, she had 100,000 credits that she could spend on this island, and it replenished every three weeks.

Every main reality has a cool name for their currency, and all Proscious could come up with was ‘credits?’ Pang judged.

But even compared to League standards, this felt far too generous for an evil association. It was like entering a small Conscious Competition every three weeks, but getting the first place prize money no matter what. Maybe that explained why there was no shortage of personnel in this organization.

“Oh, and since those farms receive funding in the first place, it’s like an infinite cycle?”

Pang looked up from her SquadScreen to trace the sound of that familiarly subtle lisp. Her memory served her right: standing with a man in an apron in front of the last café in the food court, a dark green-haired woman with wooden glasses took a sip of complimentary tea.

This chick again?

“That’s right. And that’s why I can get the exact same organic ingredients they get on the outside,” confirmed the man.

The woman nodded after indulging in another sip, her attention magnetic to his every word. “Neat…Okay, so how does the transportation work for those ingredients? The system must be pretty intricate for everything to make it here and back without trouble.”

She’s at it again, observed Pang. So many questions.

Delighted laughter erupted from the café boss. “Wow, you’re really interested in this stuff, huh?” he noticed. “You trying to put me out of business someday?”

“I could never, Dale!”

“Well, it’s true: the system is very intricate. The vehicles are designed for…”

Pang brushed past them amongst the crowd, their voices eventually blending in behind her. She found herself standing at the edge of the food court, staring at the endless stores with obnoxiously derivative brand names.

After a miniature eternity passed, Pang sighed.

I definitely should have asked Benton…she reflected. Where am I even supposed to start—

“Looking for something specific?”

Pang pounced, her instincts zeroing in on the nearest vital point of her surprise attacker. But when she realized her target’s temple was covered in twirly green hair, and their gut within a cozy sweater, she eased up.

“Oh. Question Lady,” Pang greeted in spite of herself.

The woman’s laugh was as warm as her speaking voice, her nose scrunching with her smile under her glasses. An aroma like scented candles suddenly lulled Pang’s nostrils.

How does she even SMELL too friendly? Pang wondered.

“Oh. Angry Laboratory Girl,” the woman produced like they were playing a game. “You looked a little lost just now. Can I help?”

Casting aside her pride enough to gain a lead, Pang did her best to explain her intention. She hoped the jargon Benton had left her with wasn’t just a jumble of made up phrases like half of the things he said.

“That’s on the first floor. I remember since it’s right near my favorite place to get sweaters,” the woman said.

“Uh-huh. Well thanks, Tea Chick.”

“Anytime, Girl Who’s a Lot Sweeter Than She Puts On.”

Pang was already in the middle of breaking away until she heard those words. Her feet stuck to the ground like the woman had casted a spell.

Her face must have spoken for her bewilderment. The woman smiled at whatever expression she wore.

“I think that’s gonna mean a lot to Irma,” she added.

Pang’s eyebrow rose. When she asked for directions, she hadn’t mentioned anything about Irma. She’d only used Benton’s words to describe the type of store she was trying to find.

Then again, she supposed it wasn’t that odd for this woman to know Irma well enough to draw that conclusion. They both worked for Proscious. They greeted each other in the hall the other day.

But it was the first of the two statements that made Pang’s skin crawl the most.

Managing to turn and walk away, she laughed to herself.

‘Sweet…’ That’s something NOBODY would ever call me…she joked. Not even Phillip, and he’s a cornball sometimes.

Goes to show how little that dorky lady really knows. That’s what happens when you try so hard to be everyone’s friend…you start thinking everyone’s a saint.

So stupid. I’m not doing this to be ‘sweet.’ I’m doing this to…

Pang’s walk towards the escalator slowed.

…To do what?

When her shoulder bumped into someone else’s at the start of the bottom floor, Pang blinked back to her senses.

To really get in Irma’s head and break her. I may have finally found a weak spot, and now I’m gonna hit it good, she reminded herself. She’s messed up, which will make it easy.

Like Skrili and I when we met each other.

…That’s why we had to protect each other.

She abruptly shook her head, as if all thoughts of Skrili and Phillip would simply fall out.

They’re gone now. It’s just me.

That’s why I can’t afford to screw this up.

This was the prime opportunity to weaken and exact revenge on Irma, one of her captors. She understood that well.

But what she couldn’t piece together, now closing in on the entrance to a sports store, was how that lust for revenge led her here.