Inside him, Jagger felt helpless.
Not lost in darkness. Not fully. That would have been easier to understand. Easier to endure. He could still see through his own eyes. He could still hear the scrape of shoes against the mat, the measured breathing of the hunters across from him, the low mechanical hum of Sector Zero's training hall. He was present for all of it, forced to witness every movement and every word, and yet none of the limbs attached to him felt like they belonged to him anymore.
It was like being nailed inside his own skin.
Every twitch of muscle, every flex of clawed fingers, every slow turn of his head happened with perfect clarity, and none of it answered to him. He could feel the tension in his calves, the weight balanced through the balls of his feet, the cold air sliding over the blood on his mouth, but the commands were not his. He was trapped just behind the motion, close enough to touch control and still unable to take it back.
