Sunlight streamed through the window of Angelica's apartment, painting warm squares across the kitchen counter.  Excitement bubbled in her stomach, a fizzy concoction of nerves and anticipation.  The PAX event loomed large, a daunting but thrilling challenge.

Stacks of recipe books lay open, their pages dotted with colorful notes and annotations.  Angelica sighed. She knew it was a challenge but she wasn’t alone. Her team, small but still plenty of people were working together with her and twins. They had a plan and the strategy and the ambition to succeed. It was their first big event like this and it’d be a great opportunity for them to be more popular. 

Across the room, Angelica's parents sat at the table. Soon, a breakfast of fluffy pancakes drizzled with honey graced the table. Across from Angelica sat her father, eyes fixed on the newsfeed projected onto the living room wall.The morning news program played softly in the background, the cheerful jingle of the opening theme a jarring contrast to the on-screen image.

"-...reports continue to trickle in from across the city, detailing sightings of rogue angels," the presenter announced, her voice laced with concern. Images of flickering holographic wings and celestial graffiti flashed across the screen. "Authorities are urging citizens to remain calm and be vigilant. If you witness any suspicious activity, please report it immediately."

Angelica's father, a man whose weathered face held a lifetime of stories, grunted in response. "Here we go again. Another wave of panic," he muttered, shaking his head.

Her mother, always the voice of reason, pursed her lips. "It's understandable, John. Things have been…unsettled lately. These rogue angels… they're defying the Celestial order. It's enough to shake anyone's faith."

John scoffed. "Faith. Blind faith in creatures who couldn't care less about humanity's well-being."

Angelica flinched. This wasn't unusual. Her parents held a healthy scepticism regarding the Celestials, a stark contrast to the near-deification they enjoyed amongst the general populace.

"Look at them," John continued, gesturing towards the television. Footage showed crowds gathering around a towering statue of a celestial, its marble surface glimmering in the morning light. People knelt on the ground, their faces etched with desperation, chanting prayers for protection.

"They treat them like gods," John said bitterly. "Never questioning, never thinking for themselves."

Angelica remained silent, a knot tight in her stomach. The news report, her parents' words, all resonated with a troubling truth. She stole a glance at her parents, their faces creased with worry.

"They believe the Celestials will save them," her mother said softly, her voice laced with a hint of despair.

"But who saves the Celestials when they fall?" her father countered, his gaze hardening.

The weight of their words settled heavily on Angelica. The lines between good and evil, between faith and blind trust, were becoming increasingly blurred. She sighed and decided to leave. She needed that, she needed to cool her head off. 

Angelica pounded the pavement, her rhythmic breaths echoing in the stillness of the park. The morning sun dappled through the leaves, casting playful patterns on the path ahead.  This was her sanctuary, these quiet miles alongside the whispering river, a place to clear her head and recharge.

Lost in the rhythm of her run, she didn't hear the whoosh of displaced air, nor did she feel the unnatural chill that heralded danger. One moment she was surrounded by the comforting sounds of nature, the next, a large hand clamped down over her mouth, stifling her scream.

Panic surged through her, a cold terror that paralyzed her limbs.  She was yanked back, her vision blurring as her feet left the ground. Her muffled cries were lost in the rush of wind, her body a ragdoll in the clutches of unseen power.

She was thrust upwards, ripped through the canopy of leaves, the landscape shrinking beneath her. The world tilted on its axis, nausea clawing at her throat. Finally, they reached their destination – a desolate rooftop, the city sprawling beneath them like a glittering maze.

Then, she saw him. An angel, his once-pristine wings frayed and singed, his face a mask of fury. His eyes blazed with a fiery intensity, and Angelica felt a primal fear grip her heart.

“A rogue angel?!” she thought to herself. Chills went through her whole body.

A guttural growl escaped his lips.  "You, little human.  You pay the price for your friend's sins."

Angelica's terror morphed into a cold understanding.  Justin.  He had told her about the rogue angels, but this… this was something worse, something personal.  Despite the tightness around her throat, she managed to croak out, "Who… who are you…?"

"Your friend, the half-breed, messed with the wrong people" the rogue angel snarled, his voice distorted by the wind. "He took one of ours. Now, it's payback time."

The wind whipped at Angelica's long hair, the city lights blurring into a tapestry of fear. Below, the river glittered like a cruel joke – a cold, unforgiving surface.  She was dangling on the precipice of oblivion, the terrifying truth of his words echoing in her ears.

“I don’t…understand!” her voice soft “What…who?”

Tears welled in her eyes, but defiance sparked alongside them.  

The angel's laugh was a cruel sound, devoid of humor. "Don’t mess with me! You know that little Angel Hunter bastard. Now, you will face the consequences"

His hand tightened, his cruel intention etched on his face. Panic surged through Angelica, raw and primal. She kicked, flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to break free. But it was pointless, she was no match for him.