Maybe this was a stupid idea.
Benton and Aoi, the fearsome Rank-A Proscious members, stood before Pang with rackets and sports drinks in hand.
Clearly Benton was all-in on this, having changed into gym shorts and a headband, and leaping at the opportunity to stay shirtless even after their evening training. But Aoi simply remained in her flowing cloak. She held her racket upside-down, apparently unaware of its handle.
They both watched Pang in anticipation. She would have broken out laughing, if she weren’t contributing to the ridiculousness herself.
Pang inspected the jar of “tennis” balls in her hand and fiddled with her new racket. These shoes were much bouncier than the type she preferred for fighting.
Under the bluish glow of the park lights, the three teammates waited in silence.
Pang glanced through the fence at the vacant tennis courts.
Yeah. This was a stupid idea.
“So, uh…” Benton started, “…how was everyone’s day?”
“We spent it together the whole time,” Pang retorted. She spat into the grass. “Let’s call it. I’m pretty sure she’s bailing on us.”
“Aw, come on now,” pressed Benton. “She just needs a little nudge. Aoi, can you go grab her for us?”
Dropping her sports gear, Aoi took a step forward.
Then, she disappeared.
She reappeared only a second later, now holding the arm of their new and frantic company.
“AOI?! WHAT THE?! YOU SCARED THE SH…”
Irma realized her entirely different surroundings after she shook Aoi off.
“’Sup,” said Pang.
She’d expected Irma’s reluctance to this sight given her odd behavior two nights ago during their walk home, but her eyebrows furrowed when Irma seemed to freeze entirely. Her multicolored eyes bounced between their rackets and the courts behind them.
Pang wasn’t one to believe in souls until she could swear she saw Irma’s fading from her body. Her face dimmed like she’d lost days of sleep in the course of seconds.
Irma let out a single laugh, but her smile with it was empty, magnifying her confusion. She stood stiff like her companions had her backed into a dark alley.
“W—what is this?” she asked shakily. “Hey Benton…what is this?”
“Well it’s the park, silly. Just like we said.”
“No. You said we were just going for a walk,” Irma fired back.
Pang noticed the absence of her roomate’s usual flip-flops. Her big sunglasses were missing, too. Obviously, Irma hadn’t been planning to turn up when Pang said to meet them here. Either she’d gotten suspicious, or just the act of walking near the courts had been enough to dissuade her.
“Benton…are you serious?” Irma continued, her words growing shallower. She subconsciously wrapped her arms around herself. “You…you should know better.”
“I know. It wasn’t my idea,” Benton said plainly. He cocked his head at Pang with pride.
Irma’s widened eyes fell to her roommate. But this knowledge softened them for a moment. As she looked at Pang, she seemed to see something more…something beyond her that Pang couldn’t understand.
Nonetheless, it meant this was their opening. This moment was their best chance.
“You’re really good at this sport, aren’t you?” Pang said. “Wanna teach us how to play?”
The jumble of emotions shifted through Irma faster than Pang could keep up. Then, Irma began shaking her head.
“I can’t…”
“You sure? Seems like it would be pretty fun.”
Irma hesitated. “I um…like, I don’t even have shoes on. Or a racket or anything…”
Pang pointed behind her, stepping to the side so Irma could see. Those exact items, still unopened, rested against the fence waiting for her.
“Benton knew your shoe size for some reason.”
“Don’t make it sound weird,” Benton butted in. “I remember the small stuff!”
But unlike usual, Irma didn’t leap at the chance to help poke fun, or even laugh. Her head remained shaking, and she began stepping back.
“No.” Irma hid her face. “You guys play. I’ll just…go for a walk by myself…”
“Irma…”
Benton let whatever he was about to say deflate. Irma drifted away like a ghost, walking barefoot in the grass beside the park’s paved path.
The three fighters stood in silence just as before.
“Well that went as badly as possible,” Pang finalized. “You uh…gonna go check on your pal, or what?”
Benton shook his head. “She don’t work like that,” he said knowingly. “You gotta wait for her to come back on her own. She’ll open up when she wants to.”
Pang shrugged. “Huh.”
“Sorry Pang, guess I got excited about your idea and egged you on,” Benton said. “I was just glad you wanted to bond and all. But it looks like we jumped the gun tonight.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
Pang’s eyes continued following Irma all the while. Now farther down into the park, her head stayed down even when a jogging colleague greeted her in passing. He checked back for a moment before continuing on his way.
Her feet dragged even more than usual.
Pang blinked, recovering self-awareness.
Hey. Eyes on the prize, she reminded herself. I did it.
This is exactly what I want. It’s perfect. I can’t beat her in a fight yet, so I broke her down mentally. The stuff Benton told me helped without him even realizing it. Now she’s vulnerable, and the team’s divided. They’ll be that much easier to take down.
One step closer to revenge.
I did it.
Something tugged in her chest.
Then why…?
Why do I feel so freaking horrible right now?
“Now what?” Benton wondered.
Aoi turned and looked at Pang.
Blinking again, Pang observed their sports gear. All the courts were still available.
“Well,” she sighed, “I already went through all the trouble of buying this crap…”
~
Now that she stood on pavement, Pang’s shoes seemed to hug the concrete. Their function was beginning to make more sense. But despite that, raising her red and black racket crookedly, she couldn’t shake the discomfort.
Seriously, what the heck am I doing?
“Alrighty…so I just hit this ball with this thing?” Benton checked from over the net, behind the last line.
“I guess. That’s what it looked like they were doing the other day,” said Pang.
“Got it. Ready, girls?”
Aoi was in even worse shape standing beside Pang, still gripping her racket upside down. But regardless, she nodded in reply.
“Okay…here goes NOTHIN’!!”
His fighting expertise lent him the accuracy required to hit such a small target. But it proved to be quite the hindrance, as well.
The only reason Pang and Aoi knew how far the ball had rocketed away was by the sound of it cutting through the air behind them. They both turned around to find a spec plummeting over the farthest rooftops of the campus.
“Like that?”
Pang turned back around. “Well we’re supposed to hit it back somehow…so I’m gonna go with ‘no.’”
She noticed Aoi was still transfixed on the vanished ball over the empty horizon.
“Don’t worry,” Pang insisted. “We have a few extra—”
A yellowish blur whizzed straight past them and over the net. A pop from behind made Pang pounce.
“Hey!!”
Pang turned back around to find Benton clutching his stomach, though she doubted the impact did any real damage to his stone-like build. The same tennis ball ricocheted from him into the net.
Aoi simply looked to Pang and nodded in brief celebration.
“Did you just…catch the ball with your mind and…?”
Aoi nodded again.
Pang sighed. “Something tells me that’s not how this works, either.”
They continued to give it their best guess, while Irma’s sluggish laps around the park remained as wide away from the courts as possible. Pang was surprised she hadn’t simply gone home yet.
But even without Irma’s guidance, Pang could tell they were beginning to piece this strange sport together. If only they could aim better, pegging their opponents with the ball or getting it stuck in the fence would be that much easier.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Soon they derived leverage from sending more balls to the other side at once. And aiming for the net proved to be a valuable way to fake each other out from their true attacks.
After failing to deflect a tennis ball from Benton by throwing her racket in its path, Pang noticed Irma walking by again. But this time, she was closer.
“I’m gettin’ kinda good at this, Irma!” Benton called over.
She scoffed and turned away along the park.
A few more minutes passed, and Pang was convinced she and Aoi had surpassed Benton’s formidable abilities. Aoi stood still, surrounded by a ring of halted tennis balls Benton had tried to whack at them.
“You’re lucky Dampener don’t work on you, ya little stinker…” jeered Benton.
Zipping to each ball’s position, Pang used their stationary angles to begin slapping them back his way.
And while she did, she noticed Irma again. She’d walked even closer. For a moment, it looked like Irma was about to stop…until she sped her pace even faster, her frown deepening.
But Pang could see the fleeting, corrective intent in her eyes.
Soon Irma’s continued laps conveniently led her right along the other side of the fence, and she reappeared much more frequently. For someone so blatantly slothful at every possible opportunity, Pang felt she sure was taking a long walk.
And now her stare was sharper every time she passed by.
Whether it was something about the way Pang was attempting to balance atop the net, or the way Benton was reaching over it to steal a ball—or a culmination of everything so far—Irma finally came to a resounding stop.
We must be getting good, Pang figured.
“Benton: you’re not allowed to reach over the net. And Pang: you forfeit the point if you touch the net—especially like that,” Irma snapped. “Aoi: there are NO consciousness powers in tennis! It’s all about good sportsmanship. Like, seriously. Not to mention: if you’re rallying as a two-on-one, the standard agreement is that the doubles team has to get the ball within the singles lines, and the singles player can…”
Her lecture withered as she noticed her own words pouring out. Irma averted her eyes, and for a moment, Pang assumed she’d wander off again.
“Wait…we’re supposed to bounce the ball in the court?” realized Benton.
“UGH!”
Irma stomped her way to the fence entrance and into the court. She reached the net, crossed her arms, and began laying the true rules out for them.
Pang chuckled to herself as she listened. Well we were WAY off…
“Hold on, Irma,” said Benton, raising a hand like a student. “Now how are the players always hittin’ these things so goshdarn hard and gettin’ them to bounce where they want all the time?”
Irma sighed. “For once in your life, it’s not all about strength,” she told him. “First off, all three of you need to work on your form. Here…”
She walked over to the pile of gear in the corner and retrieved the racket Pang had bought for her. As everyone observed closely, she demonstrated the two proper motions for a standard swing. With attack names as basic as ‘fore-swing’ and ‘back-swing,’ Pang felt like she could pick up on it fast.
But her confidence subsided when Irma made them all try. Between the footing, the hip swing, the arm and wrist movements, and the sensitive angle of the racket, this was like learning to spin-kick from scratch.
Having lobbed another ball over the fence, Benton returned from recovering it in the park. “Alright…now show me how to make it fast,” he insisted.
“One thing at a time,” said Irma. “But that’s where the spin comes in. Here’s the same thing you just did, but with topspin:”
She tossed a ball, let it bounce, and executed a fluid—even dancelike—fore-swing. The ball jetted over the net, but an unseen force tugged it down just in time to bounce right within the baseline.
“Alright, that’s kinda cool,” Pang admitted.
But Irma didn’t seem to hear. She paused, staring after the ball. Then, as if realizing she was in a dream, she brought her racket to her eyes.
“Irma?” Benton checked tenderly.
She blinked back to her surroundings. “Um…well like, if you guys are gonna be playing this without me,” she reasoned, “I should at least make sure you’re good enough to get a rally going…”
Within moments, a tennis ball was soaring over the net between the four fighters. Irma, now fastened in her new shoes, guided the exchanges with swings much slower than the one she’d demonstrated while the others mainly lobbed, missed, or hit it into the net.
But gradually, their rallies grew longer.
“There you go, Aoi!” Irma congratulated. “Pang, try shifting your feet a little more to the side.”
Pang gritted her teeth. I’ll get more powerful, don’t you worry…
“Alright, who wants to learn how to serve?” offered Irma. “Then we can get some real points going.”
They all filed up behind her at the baseline to witness another demonstration. Her motions were just as graceful, just as memorized, as her foreswing and backswing. She jumped, and when the ball found perfect contact with her racket in the air, the sheer speed as it zipped barely over the net and swerved away made Pang’s mouth drop.
“Woowee, Irma!!” shouted Benton.
“That was a little rusty,” she admitted, shaking her wrist. “Now here’s that same thing slower…”
But Pang was still too held up on the first serve to pay attention. It was a vicious stealth attack, yet with the calmness of a farmer reaching for a fruit on a branch.
She realized Benton hadn’t been exaggerating, for once, when she’d questioned him after lunch yesterday.
“Irma never talks about her past,” he’d said. “It’s in her file, but I didn’t know the full story ‘till the poor thing got a little too tipsy over drinks one night. Spilled it all out.”
Irma executed another flawless but simpler serve for them.
“Just like how you and me use to be pro consciousnesses, she was a pro tennis player,” Benton had told Pang. “Darn good one, too. Was on her way to makin’ a fortune doin’ it.”
Aoi’s oversized hood flopped with her serve attempt, which only tapped the ball a few steps away. Laughing patiently, Irma took her arm and steered the motion for her.
“Thing is…one day her buddy—another pro—took her for a joyride in a snazzy new sports car. Went way too fast to show it off, and the next thing she remembered was wakin’ up in a hospital,” Benton had revealed. “The other gal got off with some bad bruises. But Irma’s legs got totally crushed, and they had to saw ‘em off to save her. She lost her whole career…lost her livelihood…everything. Got hooked on pain meds, too. That was how things were when Proscious approached her. Offered her a chance to walk again.”
By now they were lining up on both sides of the court for a mock ‘doubles match.’ Standing beside Irma, Pang watched her reach down and check both legs before rising confidently into a ready position.
When the ball eventually made it Irma’s way, she bounced and skirted in for the strike like gravity was hers to control.
“Those legs of hers are cutting edge, designed by the best in Science Fiction Country. Proscious funded the whole thing,” Benton had explained. “And in return, she had to come work for Proscious. That was the agreement.”
‘Agreement,’ Pang contemplated. She remembered Irma telling her that not everyone here was kidnapped—implying things would have gone smoother for Pang if she’d just accepted that initial invitation.
But this hardly sounded like an ‘agreement.’
Irma had even admitted it herself the other night: “I didn’t ask to end up here.”
“She was forced to sell herself to them. These guys own her now,” Pang had interpreted in protest.
“Sometimes, that’s what it takes,” was all Benton replied. “She told me she’d never touch a racket again ‘cuz of the accident. But see…I’ve been workin’ with her for years, now. And I think…after some of the stuff we’ve had to do…it’s ‘cuz a part of her regrets taking the deal. Not that she had much of a choice.”
“Benton! Good shot!” Irma called over the net. She drew close to Pang to touch rackets, vibrancy in her eyes. “Don’t sweat it, roomie. We’ll get them on the next point.”
Once Pang found her next position on the court, Benton caught her eyes. He snuck her a wink.
“Pang…I really like this idea of yours,” Benton had hushed to her in the cafeteria. “If you can get her to play again…golly, I think it’ll mean the world to her.”
Aoi attempted to return a shot—which Irma had obviously held back on—but her foot caught her robe and she almost tripped to the ground. Benton dove forward to catch her. Lifting the dizzied prosciousness back up, he patted her head in comfort.
Irma burst out laughing, unable to hold back. “Aw, I tripped in my first lesson, too!” she reminisced.
Pang found herself mesmerized. Irma was glowing, just like whenever she was whipping something up in the kitchen and humming a tune to herself—perhaps even more. Her soul had come back to her, and in blissful, glorious form.
Something twisted in Pang’s warming chest. She blinked away a tear.
Wait a second…this means I blew it, she reminded herself. This was supposed to bring up her trauma and break her spirit, not do the opposite. I totally blew it.
But then, why did this failure feel so beautiful?
I did this to hurt her, right?
She could see herself strangling Irma atop the couch that night.
That’s why I did all of this…right?
She felt Irma’s embrace again from when she’d given up and crashed on top of her. They’d cried in each other’s arms for hours.
Wait…why…
Why did I do this?
But watching Irma perform her next serve, her smile beaming as another rally began with her three companions, Pang knew exactly why.
“Hey guys…” Irma said after the point ended. “Can we…do this every week?”
Fighting back another surge of tears, Pang realized she’d known why the whole time.
~
Pang gulped down the rest of her energy drink, returning a quick wave to Benton and Aoi as they walked into the night.
“We want a rematch!” teased Benton from the distance before they disappeared behind the buildings.
She turned to begin gathering their gear, hearing Irma’s cheerful laugh in reply. The fence rattled as Irma sat down beside her.
“So…this was your idea, huh?” Irma asked softly.
Pang looked to meet her eyes, but recoiled a bit from their warmth.
“Well…Benton filled me in and told me where to get all this junk…” Pang said. “But…yeah.”
Irma gazed back towards the court, an unseen match carrying out in her reflective eyes. “You know…back when I was early on in my career, I taught lessons to make ends meet,” she shared. “This brought me back to those days for a little.”
A single laugh escaped her. But her smile weakened. “You know…I always downplay our targets’ feelings to try and make all this Proscious stuff easier,” she muttered. “But it never helps.”
Pang suddenly felt cold. Instead of an unseen tennis match, it was like Irma’s wetting eyes were now gazing at the gray faces of every opponent Pang slayed on Artifex.
“After everything I’ve done…after everyone I hurt for these legs…” Irma continued, “I don’t deserve to use them for happy things like this—”
“Obviously! That’s why I’m making sure you do, anyway!”
Pang froze at her own words, just as Irma had. The declaration simply barged out without thought. She realized she’d jumped forward, her hand now on Irma’s shoulder.
For once, the mutli-powered prosciousness fell speechless. A tear dropped onto her racket.
“Listen. I don’t deserve to be happy, either,” Pang pressed. “So it’s okay if you’re happy because of me. ‘Cuz…”
Because what happened to us isn't our fault, she thought.
"...'Cuz…"
Because we're all we have now, or we have nothing.
Pang shot to her feet and stood over Irma.
"...'Cuz…I say so!" she declared, extending her hand. "Come on. Let's head back to the apartment."
Irma remained frozen, until she blinked and another tear fell.
Then her smile melted through, and she accepted Pang's hand.
"Pang…" she uttered. "Thank you."
The words seemed to surround Pang, but she couldn't tell if they were cornering her or gathering for an embrace. All she knew was that she couldn't leave them to linger too long.
"What's for dinner tonight, anyway?" she asked in an effort to ward them off.
"Dinner? You trapped me here for hours! I don't have time!" Irma retorted within a laugh. "But…maybe we could make a pizza, if you wanna help me."
"Not really," said Pang immediately. "But…alright, sure."
She pulled Irma to her feet. But after they gathered the remaining gear, Pang knew her feelings were far from gathered.
They were morphing on their own, without her permission.
She watched the humming Irma, heading for the gate.
I don't hate her. Even if I want to, I just…don't.
I can't.
She's me.
All her mind could see was a battered Skrili, standing by her side at the edge of the Gloat Stadium fighting platform against Alex and Ving.
Skrili…now I think I know how you felt about me that day, she realized.
But you taught me that…and you still abandoned me.
"Ugh…I can't wait to fall on the couch and do nothing…maybe we should call out tomorrow and eat snacks all day," Irma fantasized.
Pang chuckled at her much-expected laziness.
We might be enemies again as soon as I try busting outta here, Pang contemplated. But for now…maybe we don't have to be.
A sense of ease overcoming her at last, Pang's natural strut returned.
But her comfort within the chill of night only lasted a second.
Someone else was here.
Irma straightened out stiffly but she continued her way down the path, towards the silhouette that waited for them in the shadow.
The way the person was leaning against the building, directly across from the tennis court, made it clear they'd been there for quite a while.
Watching them.
But Pang's nerves turned instead to confusion. She recognized the secondhand sweater, then more obviously, the loose green ponytail and wooden glasses.
"Dorky Tea Chick again?" Pang greeted.
The woman's smile was finally clear under the streetlights.
Irma subtly swatted Pang on the arm. "Hey girl," she said with an extra cheerfulness to counteract Pang. "How's your night going?"
"Were you just stalking us? That's super weird," added Pang.
This time she felt Irma sneak a kick to the back of her leg.
But after completing a steamy sip from her mug, the woman merely laughed like before.
"Now I know I'm really in for a treat tomorrow," she said.
Irma's pace came to a stop. "Huh? Tomorrow?"
The woman rose from the wall turning towards the direction opposite to Pang and Irma. "They just decided. My team members are gonna start meeting with you guys to decide who your new leader will be."
After another carefree sip, she began walking away.
"Tootles. I hope you're as excited as me!"
Pang and Irma stared on as she disappeared into the dark.
"The heck was up with that?" Pang questioned.
"One of the top three will be our leader…?" translated Irma.
The slow uncertainty in her voice made the world around Pang feel heavy.
"Top three? Wait…you and Benton…aren't part of that?"
Irma shook her head. "That girl's team…is Rank-S."
"S?! There's a rank higher than ours?!"
"They had to add it specifically for their team," Irma revealed. "Pang, that girl you just called a 'dork' is named Pyper. And…besides Aoi, she's the most powerful member in all of Proscious."