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[img]https://i.imgur.com/X3HEnmq.png[/img][/center][hr][center][color=9e0039]𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕   / /   ~𝟘𝟝𝟘𝟘[/color][hr]
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After what felt like a while, Angélique slowly returned to consciousness. A pained groan escaping her lips signaled she was just about waking up, her mind struggling to shake off the fog veiling her senses. Her brain had most difficulty registering everything happening around her. Her vision was blurry, but she could feel the slight rocking of her body in motion. 
 
What happened tonight? She could barely remember having spent the night drinking bottles after bottles of wine while staring at the ocean from the clifftops, before she blacked out. This sure was the worst hangover she ever felt in her life. Her whole body felt numb and sore. Her head felt as if it was in the clouds, a strange dizziness overtaking her. A throbbing ache in her head. A sensation that was even worse than that time she had inhaled the fumes of her bandmates’ smoking weed.
 
She didn’t know what was happening beyond being moved. And there was something that felt wrong. A dull aching in her lower body. She felt numb all over her body, but there was something missing, a sensation that should’ve been there.
 
Eventually, after a few minutes of her mind trying to puzzle itself back together, the raven-haired Aberration’s sight slowly began to clear and distinguish the shapes around her. It was still night, or at least early morning, for the darkness of the night hasn’t lifted yet, but the faint glimmer of sunlight over the oceanic horizons and the faint glow of red creeping up in the sky heralded the coming of a new day.
 
There were a few figures standing all around her, and she could now distinguish the rocking of her body up and down and wildly swinging around as she was being carried carelessly by a huge black creature. Was that Emma’s Determination? Had she found Angel and decided to bring her back to the estate? But then, why not use the car?
 
The more Angélique started questioning herself, the more her brain began to register every little detail. And with that, the strange and wrong sensations washing over her body. The feeling of trying to move her legs for balance to counter the momentum of swinging so wildly, to little avail because despite willing to move her lower limbs, nothing happened. 
 
Because they weren’t there anymore.
 
[color=9e0039][i]W-what?[/i][/color]

The first thing that her eyes saw very clearly was the missing part of her legs, down from her knees. Where her legs had been, there were stumps of flesh protruding from her torn black jeans. 
 
[color=9e0039][i]How? When? Why?[/i][/color]
 
Even as she willed her legs to move. As much as she desperately wished it wasn’t true, nothing happened. She could feel herself moving her limbs, but her lower body didn’t obey that command, or rather the physical sensation of her moving feet wasn’t there.
 
A creeping dread began to settle in on Angélique’s now-clearer mind. Her head moved around, catching sight of what was happening. She was being carried away indeed.
 
But that wasn’t Determination at all.
 
And those weren’t her classmates. Nameless faces. Strangers.
 
Then a flash of insight. She had slept earlier, in all of her drunken stupor. She had woken up to a sharp pain in her knees, then the cold sensation grabbing her neck just before blacking out.
 
[color=9e0039]“W-what’s happening?...”[/color] Angélique called out faintly, her magical voice reaching out to all of those strangers.
 
[color=maroon][i]You are being held powerless… again...[/i][/color]
 
[color=9e0039]“W-who are you?...”[/color] Her voice grew louder, more alarmed.
 
[color=maroon][i]People wishing you harm, just like the whole world out there.[/i][/color]
 
[color=9e0039]“M-my legs… how!?”[/color] the words were almost shouted directly in their ears.
 
[color=maroon][i]You are going to be butchered up then killed![/i][/color]
 
The panic mixed with the Stigma pounding at her mind in light of this development gripped the Voice Mage’s heart. Instinctively, she trashed around to free herself from the creature holding her, trying in vain to kick the thing.

And she screamed at the top of her lungs a powerful "WHY", toned with a mixture of grief and anger. A desperate shriek that few had compared before to a banshee’s wail, but nowadays was referred to as the worst siren screech one would have the displeasure of hearing. The wrathful brain-pounding yell resonated all around her, with the force of a slight shove hitting those standing next to the screaming Aberration. 

Angélique had no intention to stop, her mind stricken with the thoughts that she has just lost an important part of herself. The voices in her head reminding her that she was now powerless without legs and taunting her wih ill omens.

The heavy pulse of mental deadlock and force from the Aberration's screech knocked over several of the Amigos around her, including the group's apparent leader, who clutched his head with a sharp cry. Thi, however, remained mostly unfazed, staggering only slightly from the effects of the magic as her veins raced purple and black, her body modifications withstanding the force of the scream. Where her human muscles could not bear the brunt of the force, the mechanized joints and reinforced bones moved steadily forward according to signals from her brain, ignoring the tearing pain of flesh still pummeled by a the sonic force.

A metallic claw pushed out from the nail bed of her left index finger, tearing off the normal nail in the process. With a quick slice, she opened the girl's throat, ending the vocal menace as suddenly as it had begun. Inhuman dexterous fingers curved into more joints than possible, skin tearing to make way for the needle-thin spikes that pushed out from beneath muscle and bone.

Surgery was a quick process, the purple and black lines winding supernatural effects to every incision and stitch until the woman had cleanly removed the true vocal words, leaving behind bloody, but effective stitches across the horizontal of Angel's throat. She examined the carefully separated folds of flesh in her hands, then knelt down to her carrying case, tucking the bloody flesh into a small, zip-sealed plastic bag produced from the pocket of her coat before shoving everything into the briefcase.

Completely powerless. As a Regular, Angélique had felt it once in her life, which had prompted her into training physically to properly defend herself. Now, as a Subnatural, that dreadful feeling had crept in once again as her screamed stopped, replaced by a choked gurgle under the homicidal surgeon’s proceedings.
 
The Voice Mage’s eyes grew wide with horror as the flesh from her throat was torn open. The pain, it was unbearable. Despite the numbness that had overtaken her body and the mild hangover, the piercing of these claws tearing and cutting at her flesh and nerves went way beyond this veil of insensitivity. There probably never was a time Angel could remember having felt so much pain. It was alarming. It hurted so much. So much that her eyes began watering, piling up onto the pain of having lost her legs.

The young woman's screaming tantrum was replaced by a choked wheeze. As much as she pushed air out from her lungs in an attempt to shout, without vocal chords now there was no modulation for that outtake of air. Only a muted sigh. Now this was what true despair felt like. No voice to call out for help. No legs to run for her life or at least stand her ground. [i]No magic to protect herself or the others.[/i] She was just lying there, a bloodied mess surrounded by people just as murderous as real monsters. And it terrified the young black-haired woman. Terribly so.
 
Was it a spiteful look of hatred that was reflected in her teary eyes, or wrathful pain? For as physically numb as she was, Angélique could feel the searing pain throughout her body, mainly at her throat and the stumps she had for legs. Her lips desperately formed words of sheer hatred, but it all came out simply as an unspoken breath out. One hand had reached out for her throat, clawing at the stitches holding her throat together as if she could alleviate the pain like scratching an itching rash.
 
[color=maroon][i]Powerless. Useless. Helpless.[/i][/color]
 
Despite all of the odds, the dread and her inabilities, the Aberration singer did not give up her assault. Whether it was because of sheer determination, fearful desperation or simply because she was driven mad by unprecedented anger, Angélique arms flailed around. Her arms were the only things functional at this point, and she’ll be damned if she wouldn’t use them to at least catch someone's face in her mindless numb frenzy. It hurt so much. She'll make them pay.

Recovered from the aftereffects of the scream, the dark-skinned man floated his orb above a palm again, waiting for it to beat like a heart before a surge of unseen power gripped at Angel's arms, twisting them round until the elbows snapped first. There had been no orders against maiming her, after all, and for failing to capture the main target, he was determined at least to procure this one. If they could please this particular client, even the Father would not mind the primary objective's failure.

Terrible pain jolted once more through her numb body as soon as Angel could feel the elbows snap from a an unseen force. Mouth agape, she let out another muted scream escape her throat while her arms stopped and fell motionlessly, dangling useless by her sides. 
 
She really was done for, that much Angel realized. No legs, arms useless, no voice, no power. She had nowhere to go. She was at their mercy. The pain. So much pain. She felt like she was just about to blackout from the sheer intensity of it. Somehow, she didn’t. 
 
Her body began quivering violently. Fear was paralyzing her. She couldn’t do anything anymore. All she could wish was for them to stop maiming her and kill her already. The raven-haired Mage hoped her friends would come and save her from this torment. But she couldn’t have them suffer the same as she was now.
 
Resigned, Angélique remained motionless, still trembling and tears running down her cheeks as she silently wheezed in pain and sobs.

[color f7976a]"What if they're at the house--hey, Nate!"[/color] the tattooed girl snarled, speech jagged like she knew no other way to speak. Her dark curls were stiff and oily from days without bathing and too many attempts to hairspray it back into place, but right now the wild look in her eyes didn't show an inkling of the person beneath--just something rabid.

"Nate," the dark-skinned telekinetic who had broken Angel's arms looked his ally over, distaste sour on his tongue and face as he wrinkled his nose in response. [color f7976a]"Do what you want, Isabelle. Just get out of my sight."[/color]

[color f7976a]"Hah!"[/color] And with a rapturous cry she was off, racing towards the direction of the mansion while the rest of the group continued southward, towards the town's edge. 

[color f7976a]"I'm going!"[/color] a shorter boy followed in her clamor, but it only took him a single step to catch up to her, like distance didn't exist for him. He caught her by the elbow, blue-streaked hair unbefitting for the serious look on his face, but it was Isabelle who had dyed it for him. If there was cameraderie to be found in small things, he supposed that was it. Another step jumped them away, the distance increasing between the two and the group left behind. 

The molten-eyed blond looked on, exasperation in his expression. After exchanging a brief, apologetic look with Nate he left too, calling after the wild-haired pair to wait up.

Their leader watched in silence, brows furrowed like he had something to say, but ultimately withheld comment. Once the three had disappeared from view, he turned away, nodding towards the shadow creature to continue following them to the town pier.