Class was out early that day-- friends had made other plans, gone off in their own direction, and Gina was left to her own devices. It wasn't like the old days, when Agnes was around for spontaneous excursions and hanging-out. Gina currently had the room to herself, at least for the time being. It was taking some adjustment, but the gargoyle thought she was handling it rather well.

She was venturing out on her own, that day, into New York suburbia, for the shear sake of venturing out. Sometimes, fate was funny like that-- absent footsteps drove her towards a new neighborhood to explore, and at the same time, another visibly-mutated individual was in the neighborhood, causing suspicion. Two mutants, two women, with two different intents. There wasn't a lot of information on this other woman, other than that she was a mutant and a female, and like Gina, she bore a pair of wings. There’d been reported robberies in the neighborhood, and this woman had been seen peering through windows… it wasn’t too difficult for the cops to put two-and-two together.

Two mutants, two women, with two different intents—neither aware of the other, neither aware of the events about to unfold. The clock ticked onward, unstoppable, unforgiving, as it marched—each, merciless stroke leading towards detonation.

Tick... ... tick... ... tick... ... tick... ...

A police cruiser rolled up behind the garogyle, slowing as it approached. Gina paid it no heed, until the man flicked his lights and the siren, briefly. She startled and looked over her shoulder, cast cop a smile, and gave a brief wave as the cruiser rolled up alongside her. She had no reason to fear cops. Police officers were always friendly in Mendocino. Cops here, though far jumpier than back at home, were still cops. Even if some weren’t too entirely fond of mutants. Maybe they were looking for someone? Perhaps she could help? She loved helping people. The officer rolled the window down, eyes surveying her from behind mirrored lenses.

“Hello,” Gina greeted with an endearing smile, “Is there something that I could help you with?”

“Ma'am, what is your business in this neighborhood?” the officer inquired.

“Just out for a walk, officer,” Gina answered with a shrug, “Is something the matter?”

The officer unbuckled his seatbelt, and stepped out of the car, walking around the hood of it. Gina stepped onto the lawn, trying to maintain some form of distance between the two of them.

Tick… … tick… … tick… tick…

“There was a report of a series of break-in’s in the area,” the cop drawled, “And I got a call in regards to a mutant woman peering in through the windows of houses. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“No sir,” Gina said, shaking her head, “I do not.”

Her heart leapt in her chest, so adamant in its beating, it made it hard to swallow.

“She had wings,” the cop informed her. Gina stepped back, lifting her hands in placating surrender, palms out. He was closing-in, “We're going to have to take you in, ma'am.”

“Sir, that’s like saying that someone had blue eyes,” Gina said calmly, “There are lots of mutants with wings. Lots and lots. I’m just a high school kid, not some criminal. Please. I’ll leave the neighborhood quietly.”

“Hands behind your back, ma'am,” the cop interjected.

Gina began to backpedal. This wasn't right. He was still approaching, Gina continued stepping back. The cop lunged forward, “Hands behind your back!”

Tick… tick… tick… tick… tickticktick…

Adrenaline surged, feet consuming the pavement and carrying the gargoyle away. Take to the skies? No, the cars. They were too close. She couldn’t. He was angry. Crazy. A mutant-hater. She had to run. She was innocent. Innocent. Run. Faster.

Another cruiser roared forward, seeing the fleeing form. Brown eyes hazarded a glance over speckled shoulder, past the wings. The passenger’s side front tire hopped the curb. The whole car followed, snarling, as it plowed into her. Blinding pain, exploding at the knee in a burst of white, was heralded in by an incoherent yell. Her feet pedaled skyward, her back was on the hood, her body was a tangle of pain. How?

Ticktickticktickticktick…

Her body hit the ground, limbs shouting in pain.

The cops were upon her, trying to get her hands behind her back and jostling her wings violently. Fight of flight. Innocence or guilt wasn’t a question. It was survival. Ginas’ wings pushed against them, the world hummed, as if disconnected, but far off, the gargoyle could hear her own voice shrieking.

“Stop! Stop! It’s a misunderstanding! Please!”

So far… she couldn’t feel her lips sculpting the words. The world was swimming. She had to flee.

The wings were struck with clubs at the exposed joints, bones guarded by little more than a thin membrane of skin of muscle crunched by night sticks. The words turned to incoherent shrieks and sobs, punctuated by the occasional, “No!” and “Please!”

Her wings were disabled, no longer beating against the attack, and there were kicks to her ribs. Kill the monster, that was their aim. Protect these good people from the monster that assaulted their neighborhood. These couldn’t be cops. Weren’t. Cops weren’t like this. What about Detective Cervantes? What about good men like him?

Ticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick….

Gina saw stars when the nightstick struck her face, but she didn’t succumb to unconsciousness. Not yet. They struck again, and again, and with the fourth blow, the lights went out. With this, a series of events were set into motion. A catalyst, the start. She could not have foreseen it. Not Gina, nor the boy who wielded the mobile phone with the video camera, nor the police officers.

They’d lit the fuse. The collateral to-come was beyond them.

Boom.

Most of the injuries were from being hit by the car. Her knee was shattered from the bumper striking her left knee. Gina had gone down on the sidewalk, catching the brunt of the fall on her arms. Her right wrist broke. She was covered in scrapes and bruises, and sore spots. She looked like death-warmed-over, but she wasn’t dead. Always the silver lining. She wasn’t dead. The gargoyle sighed heavily, rubbing her face. The receiver of the phone pressed to her ear.

“Yes, Mom, I’m fine,” Gina murmured, “Few broken bones, a little banged-up, but I’m fine.”

Her mom’s voice climbed in pitch, raw with tears.

“No, mom—the cops,” Gina corrected, “I’m fine. At the hospital now.”

‘Someone has to do something about this—!’ a clear yet distant voice cut through.

“Don’t worry, Momma,” Gina sighed, cracking a faint smile. Her face twinged painfully, and she winced. Smiling… okay, not good. Gina stopped smiling. Her brows stitched, “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry. Things will be fine… no, you don't have to come down here and punch there noses in... okay, love you too… bye…”

She hung up the phone, returning her attention to the laptop at her bedside. Moving stung too much to do too frequently, thus she’d been spending most of her time on Disordr. It was a blog site, where members often posted art, photos, videos, stories, poems, and links to cool things they’d found online. It was a good way to pass the time. One of the blogs Gina followed on Disordr was peacenlove2allofu.disordr.com, which was a blog that supported peaceful mutant-human relations. Usually, it told heartwarming stories of how mutant heroics, of mutant-human coexistence… it was a good blog to follow.

But today, peacenlove2allofu was broadcasting a video link from Viewtube, which was titled “Visible mutant, Police brutality”.

No…

The gargoyle thinned her eyes slightly, scrutinizing the miniscule figure in the condensed screen shot of the video… was that…? No…

Her eyes widened.

Yes. That was her. The gargoyle clicked on the link.

The video rolled on, surreal as it played-out. Her brows stitched, her mouth forming a frown. Someone caught it on camera… it wouldn’t be her word against his… or theirs. She watched, numb, as the policeman’s figure lunged. She stumbled, bolted, ran… and the car leapt up behind Gina and pushed her into the street. Gina closed her laptop and pushed it off of her lap, her breath catching in her throat. Someone had filmed it… oh my God… oh God… She touched the back of her hand to her eyes, a sob rising in her chest. Each inhale hurt, but she couldn’t help it.

Oh God…

She hadn't told anyone. She didn't want them to worry. Not even DocProf. How could she explain that a bunch of cops had jumped her? She didn't want her friends to worry. She hadn't even told Agnes. The shooting had been enough to get them to want to keep her on house-arrest, but now, getting attacked by the people meant to keep her safe? How could she explain that one away? She'd never be let out. She'd be taken home. Even Pamela had mentioned that she was contemplating it.

The first domino had been tipped. Who knew what would follow?