Being Exposed on ViewTube (Gina)

It had been a slow day for Gina. The weather was neither good nor bad, but not suitable for flight. Thus, Gina was stuck inside. She had planted herself in the living room, casually draped out on the couch. She was flipping through some sketches of clothes she'd seen at the mall, clothes she wanted to find patterns for.

Kids drifted in and out of the living room, the only students that remained within the living room with her was a collection of boys, two of which were huddled around the computer and the third working on homework. Occasionally, he'd lean over when one of the other boys found a good video, but ignored them, other than that.

Gina listened absently, jotting down some notes by various sketches. Their conversations about the viral videos reminded her of her friend Constance, back in Mendocino. Constance would often look for outrageous, funny, cute, or otherwise striking videos off of ViewTube to show Gina. Gina had never been a big fan of ViewTube, but she really enjoyed seeing what sort of bizarre videos that Constance could find.

"Oh wow," one of the boys sighed, rocking back in his chair.

"Dude, that's intense," another boy agreed. Gina looked up. Though they'd occasionally chuckled or commented on the videos that they watched, the boys hadn't reacted so greatly to a video yet. Gina looked up, sitting up slightly.

"What happened," the third boy asked, equally as curious as Gina, "Whatcha find?"

"Dude, you have to see this," the first boy said, "It's beyond explanation." He spotted Gina, his gaze connection with hers, "You too, you have to see this."

"Mm'kay," Gina agreed, getting to her feet and walking over, leaning over his shoulder. The boy restarted the video, which was vaguely titled Bug Girl at the Natural History Museum. Gina frowned, afraid that this might be some sort of joke.

"No, this is really good," the second boy assured her, "Just watch. It's not what you think... it's awesome!" The movie began shakily, hopping right into the action. It wobbled around a bit, and then a buzzing noise slipped into the hearing range. It felt funny in Gina's ear, and so she itched it. The camera rose suddenly, shakily, and suddenly a scene came into focus.

A girl standing amidst a swarm of what Gina assumed to be bugs, in amongst upturned tables. The black cloud of insects surged around the eerily familiar girl, and a voice suddenly transcended the grey noise.

"WE ARE LEGION!" the voice proclaimed. Gina squinted at the figure, which was somewhat skewed by the bugs. She finally caught a glimpse of the girl's face, and the recognition hit her like a brick.

"Agnes," she breathed in realization. So that was her power.

"Isn't that wicked?" the first boy exclaimed, "I'd kill for a power like that."

"I'd die if that were my power," the third boy grumbled. The second boy nodded in agreement, with one of the two. Gina watched as the video cut out, her brow stitching. That's awful, she thought, rightening herself. The girl looked an awful lot like Agnes, but she had problems believing that it was really Agnes on the video. She looked... kind of scary, Gina had to admit.

"Wow," Gina said simply, "That's certainly, ah, something."

The boys were scrolling down the list of related videos, about mutants losing control over their powers, attacking humans, and the likes, when Agnes entered the room. They were debating what to watch next. Gina frowned at the dearth of videos that didn't view mutants in a negative light. It seemed that only the violent or bizarre made it into cyberspace, which only made them look worse and worse. Gina had her back to her, so didn't notice Agnes enter. Nor, did she here her sniffle. It might have been loud enough for the boys to hear, but Gina hadn't noticed it. She didn't look up until one of the boys glanced over and announced, "Oh, there she is."

Gina looked up in unison with the other two, her stomach hitting the floor when she saw her roommate in the doorway. She was trying to maintain a composure that was gradually slipping, hands hugging around her arms and eyes watering, decieving her emotions. Gina turned her shoulders away from the laptop, as if to show that she hadn't been watching. Too late now.

Agnes' voice was tense with emotion as she demanded, "What, you all want to stare at the freak? Well, here I am..."

Gina glanced towards the boys, whose faces had fallen into varying degrees of unease. Gina could not hear the ominous hum within her roommate's chest from this distance, only felt it tickle at the corner of her hearing. But she still hesitated, only because of the fury with which Agnes glowered at the three boys. Agnes pointedly, however, did not look at Gina.

"Sh*t, son," the second boy breathed, so lightly that the only way Gina knew he had spoken was by the motion of his lips.

"Agnes," Gina sighed, trying to get her roommate's attention. Or, at least, some form of acknowledgement. Her heart was hammering heavily away now, perhaps out of fear, but the adrenaline was causing her arms to quiver slightly. Gina held herself so still that the trembling was imperceptible, though. One of the guys dared to look away from Agnes, glancing towards Gina as if to say, You know her? "It's not like that."

She glanced at the boys, and gave them a wave, as if to dismiss herself. She then shuffled over to Agnes, still trying to meet her gaze with her own. She was within a few feet of her roommate when the buzzing finally became audible enough for Gina to discern, and it was as though the buzzing hadn't started up until she'd drawn close enough. Gina haulted just in front of Agnes, at a distance where it was possible to look around Gina, but virtually impossible to ignore the petite gargoyle. Gina continued to search Agnes' face for a glimmer of reaction, her round, brown eyes piercing into her.

"It's not like that at all, Agnes," Gina reiterated. The hesitance was gone from her tone now, and was replaced with a gentle resolve. She was still trying to be delicate about that matter, but had enough confidence in her friend that Gina was certain that Agnes wouldn't flip out on her. Well, relatively sure, "You know that."

The boys scurried past and filed out, evacuating the livingroom with haste. None of them glanced back, too concerned for their own hides to give Gina a second thought. The living room was empty once again, leaving the two girls on their own. Good.

Agnes finally decompressed a little, giving a shuddering sigh as tears began to well-up in her eyes. She was still fighting it, still trying to keep her composure. The hum in her chest lessened in magnitude, once again dipping out of Gina's hearing range. Agnes sought the tears with her hands before they barely escaped, finally meeting Gina's gaze. Small, naive Gina, standing there as if she were the eldest of the two-- oh no, she wasn't going anywhere, even if it meant taking on whatever creepy crawlies Agnes contained.

Something in Agnes finally seemed to give, and she moved aside with a mumbled, "My life is over-- I never should have gone to that museum. I just... I just never should have come here." Agnes then took a seat, back to Gina. Oh no, Gina didn't give up that easily. Undeterred, she followed with soft footfalls. She rounded the couch but, instead of plopping down, Gina walked around the coffee table and dragged it closer to Agnes. She sat atop said coffee table, in front of Agnes, letting the room sit in silence.

"Your life isn't over," Gina muttered, sounding a tad cross, and a tad exasperated. She let a small smile escape her, "We can't help who we are, nor can we escape fom it. Things like this are bound to happen, and all that we can do is see how it plays out, and roll with the punches."

Gina leaned forward, taking one of Agnes' hands in her own, and giving it a squeeze. Agnes' hand was so much warmer than her own, stone-cold touch, but at the contact, Gina's skin gradually began to adopt the same temperature as Agnes'. This was her friend, her sister, and no one deserved to feel like this. No one should have to hold all of this in. But... Agnes didn't do heart-to-heart's the way Gina did. Gina was an open emotional book, for the most part, ready to voice complaints or concerns or celebrations when they arose. But Agnes. Agnes was like an onion, for lack of a better way to put it. You had to either peel her back layer-by-layer, or cut straight to the chase-- in this situation, Gina felt the delicate approach to be best.

"I've got an idea," Gina decided, leaning forward. Her tone dropped low, lest their be any prying ears. Secretively, she explained, "I've got a stash of chocolate in our dorm. I can go get it, and then you can tell me anything you have to say." Gina looked at Agnes', giving her a toothy grin, "If you have anything to vent at all, you just say it. And if you don't, well--" Gina shrugged, "--We still have chocolate, and I can do the talking." Because they both knew how hard it was to get Gina to shut up once she started going, "What do you say?"

Agnes scoffed at what Gina said, and Gina inclined her head. As she'd been born into her mutation, she'd been given a good deal more time to contemplate these sorts of things. She was nearly fifteen years old, and she still struggled-- things weren't perfect, but Gina kept on trying. And the fact that she was too stubborn to let the world get the better of her was what kept her going.

Despite her resilience, though, Gina was only aware of a small part of the world, glancing at it through rose-colored lenses. The world would eventual reveal itself for what it was, and she was the none-the-wiser.

The mention of chocolate made a smile touch Agnes' face, which caused the young gargoyle to beam. There, that was what she was looking for-- even in the deepest doldrums, no girl could resist the ever-powerful persuasion of chocolate. Unless, of course, they were allergic.

"Alright," Agnes finally agreed, mopping tears with her sleeve, "That sounds good."

"Excellent," Gina sang, getting to her feet. She patted her friend on the knee, with a, "Be right back." And, with that, she darted out of the room. Gina ran because she was under the impression that, if she took too long, that perhaps Agnes wouldn't be there when she came back. Gina stumbled down the hallway, nearly loosing her traction on the tightly-woven carpet, and came to a skidding halt before the door to their dorm room. She quickly slipped inside, greeted by the coolness of disuse.

Gina padded quietly over to her bed, kneeling slowly beside it. She then ducked under, and fished out a shoebox-sized plastic tub. It was filled to the top with an assortment of individually-wrapped chocolates, the type often handed out at Halloween. Her foster mother had sent her this as part of care package at the beginning of her enrollment. The young gargoyle had eaten very few since. Gina got up, cracking open the lid and fishing out a piece of chocolate. She unwrapped it as she stood and sauntered back towards the door, and then popped it into her mouth. Good, it wasn't stale. Gina replaced the lid, stepped back into the hall, and closed it soundly behind her.

She then galloped back down the hall, and into the living room once more, the container of chocolates tucked up under her arm.

"Record time, baby," Gina sighed, meandering back towards the couch, "I've got the goods." This time, Gina took a seat beside Agnes, sitting sideways on the couch and facing her so that her wings were not awkwardly resting on the back of the couch. Gina popped the container open on her lap, and then set it on the table before the two of them. The wrappers of the fun-sized chocolates glinted in the yellowed electronic light. Gina grabbed hold of a Snickers, unwrapped it, and took a contemplative bite.

"I already tried one in the room," she assured Agnes, "They aren't stale, or anything." Gina took a second bite of the chocolate, finishing her first. She said nothing, at first. Took another chocolate-- a Milky Way, this time-- and began to contemplatively unwrap it.

"So, let's hear it." She was trying to be discrete. Really, she was, but beating around the bush was really hard, "Tell me what you want to say." Gina's smile had gone now and was replaced with pensive, to show that she was ready to listen. She didn't ask Agnes to tell her anything specific, because she was still trying to keep things pretty open-ended-- and direct girl, trying to be indirect, so to speak.

“That’s good. Would have hated to have been promised chocolate and you couldn’t deliver.”

"Hey, I'm a woman of my word," Gina smiled, raising her next piece of chocolate with a nod, as if to propose a toast. She wouldn't promise chocolate unless she knew that she had some. As Gina pressed for some sort of revelation, Agnes sighed with hesitance, not meeting Gina's gaze for a moment. Gina waited patiently. All she could think was that, if it took so much effort to find the right way to put things, she must have been keeping it in for a very long time. Gina bit her lip, preparing herself.

Agnes began to haltingly explain her predicament, obviously dropping a lot out and offering her friend no more than a Reader's Digest-version of what she'd been going through. How she'd run away from home to escape her horrid parents, how she'd been living the life of a homeless girl to avoid being found-- making meager existence by eating out of dumpsters, living in alleys and sleeping in empty buildings. And how, now that there was a video of her on the internet, she feared that she would be found. For almost the entire time, she did not lift her gaze to look at Gina, speaking more to her lap than the girl beside her. And, when her gaze finally lifted, the flakes of resolve that Agnes had managed to wrap about her fractured and broke away, leaving a frightened, quietly crying girl. Gina saw the glimmer of fear and exhaustion and pain within her eyes, saw that this danger was all-too-real, and felt as though she was actually seeing Agnes for the first time-- not the aloof, stonewalling Agnes, but the real Agnes.

Listening to Agnes speak, listening to her spill out what she could of her story, Gina felt her motherly, sisterly side began to emerge. Not quite the Momma Bear, but not quite unemotional about the matter, Gina did what any friend, any sister, would do. She moved the plastic tub of chocolates aside, resting it on the coffee table. With open arms, Gina edged closer to Agnes, and she only uttered one thing, "Come here."

Sitting on her knees, Gina laced her arms around her Agnes's shoulders, and rested her chin upon her head. Let's face it, Gina was short, and if she wanted to properly hug anyone consolingly, she had to get some sort of heigh-boost on them. Gina held the other girl, her senior, her sister, as if she were the older, more mature one. Though younger, Gina felt the same protectiveness an older sister might feel for her younger-- anger, sympathy, sadness, and fear for Agnes and her situation churned in her stomach.

Gina didn't need details-- her imagination was good enough, and knew by the look in Agnes's eyes that the danger was more dire than she'd let onto. She might be naive, but she was no fool. Of course, with Agnes' tale of her situation, Gina began to realize how fortunate she was, to have been found by someone so kind as her foster mother-- how fortunate she was to have brothers as kind as hers. What would have become of her, if she'd been kept by her family? Or worse, what would have happened if she was born normal and became a gargoyle? Would she have been neglected, or abused, and forced to run off from home for her own self-preservation? Suddenly, abandonment seemed like small change compared to Agnes's rollercoaster of a teenage life. As if it wasn't hard enough to be a teenager already.

The mixed emotion that simmered within the gargoyle's stomach left her speechless for a good extent of time. She wasn't short of things to say, but she was afraid that, if she spoke, her voice would quiver-- be it shaking with anger, or fear, or sympathetic sorrow. When Gina finally found words to say, finally rediscovered that she had a voice, her tone was level, if not a bit quiet.

"Agnes," Gina began. Why didn't you seek help, she wanted to say? Someone out there, somewhere, would have been willing to help her. She wasn't alone. To have hid in those alleyways, to have lived that life, had been tremendously brave, but it had also been an act of cowardice. Hiding might bandage wounds, but it didn't heal them. Someone had to do something about it. "I can only fathom what you've been through, but you can count on this-- I will do everything that I can, everything within my power, to stop whatever it is that has happened to you from ever happening again, come Hell or high water." Gina meant it, too-- no one deserved to live like that, particularly not one that Gina held so near and dear. And, if there was anything she could do about it, she would. Perhaps she wouldn't have made such a promise if she knew the extent of Agnes's problems, if she were a little more worldly and had a stronger sense of self-preservation. But Gina was a stubborn one, however naive, and her word was a word kept. She would do precisely what she had said-- she'd protect her friend, no matter what, no matter the repercussions.

Gina beamed at her hug and her offer of protection being so well-recieved. Agnes leaned in and pecked her on the forehead, a motion that Gina was well-accustomed to from her foster mother, and she petted her hair down.

Agnes thanked her for her kindness, but then shifted tones quite rapidly, the warmth that had momentarily seeped into her face replaced by a very serious one.

"But... you need to listen to me-- if anything at all happens to me that involves my parents, you need to run and you need to forget me. My parents... t-they're monsters. More than you could ever understand, and I'm not going to let their poison get to you."

Agnes touched her stomach as if a momentary sickness passed over her, shuddering faintly. Gina missed the actions, though, for she had glanced aside to retrieve the chocolate box once more. The motion was more of just a ploy to avert her eyes, as they were currently filling with conflict.

Gina was troubled by how Agnes had told her that she "needed to forget her" if her parents ever came around. Her parents sounded awful, just by the way that Agnes talked about them, but Gina was blindly willing to go to any length to save a friend. Any length. She didn't care if they were psycopathic, axe-wielding mutant-haters (which, little did she know, was a relatively accurate, if not insufficient, description)-- if anyone crossed her, or her friends, she'd leap in and save them. But, looking at how troubled Agnes was by the idea. Unable to make a promise she couldn't keep, but unable to go against a promise her friend was asking her to make, Gina stalled.

She unwrapped the chocolate and popped it into her mouth, peering at her friend with furrowed brow and the gears still obviously turning in her head-- her gaze held the look of one still trying to work on what to say, still piecing things together, still searching.

Finally, Gina mustered up an unconvincing, noncomittal, "I'll try," with the disclaimer of, "That's the best that I can offer." She was too stubborn to give up on friends, to stubborn to let the "bad guy" win. But she couldn't tell Agnes that she would go after her, and wouldn't tell her that she refused to forget her. And so, she opted for the next best thing to lying-- making no guarantee at all.

She wadded up the wrappers she already had in her hand and set them on the lid of the box, reaching for another chocolate. She could work it all off, flying, anyways. In an attempt to switch gears, Gina inquired, "So... since the word is out about your mutation, can I ask you a question, Agnes?" She contemplatively unwrapped the next piece of chocolate, "It isn't invasive or technical or anything, but if you don't want to answer any questions, I totally understand." After all, Gina had grown up in a tourist town, grown up being asked all sorts of bizarre questions by sightseers of the bumbling or brave-hearted sorts-- she fully understood the unwillingness to fill out the verbal questionnaires by the curious few, though answering questions was much more preferred over surreptitious pictures snapped from the safety of cars, or overt staring-- or, for that matter, videos posted on ViewTube of anomalous stuff.

Gina exchanged the smile that touched Agnes' face when she managed to muster up the "I'll try...", her smile more of relief that Agnes hadn't pressed for an all out promise, hadn't noticed that she didn't really mean it. And then, Gina finally made it around to her question. Her permission to ask said question, that is.

>>“I guess I really don’t have anything to hide anymore, do I? Ask away.”

Good, she'd recieved approval. There was really only one question that really needled at her brain, only one question dire enough for her to ask. Only one question, of which she'd request of Agnes, and nothing more.

"What kind of bugs do you-- y'know--?" Gina made a "bleh" sound, as one would when simulating throwing up, and then waggled her fingers to show that Agnes was in control of the hypothetical She wasn't too terrified of most bugs. Sure, bugs made her uncomfortable (after all, who was wholly comfortable with bugs), but there was one bug that held presidence over all in Gina's book of fear. That bug was the almighty mosquito hawk. Anything, but that.

"I mean, you don't have any... mosquito hawks in there, do you?" Her brow stitched, a small smile upon her lips. Of all the things that she simply had to ask Agnes-- not how, not why, but what. Even if Agnes did spit up mosquito eaters, Gina would learn to tolerate them, but it be a very long and trying road towards tolerance.