You are far from human. You're not a mutant, super-human, or anything that constitutes being extraordinary.
You're not even from Earth
No, you are not a cybertronian
Whatever you are, you're good at scrapping cons and getting into fights.
But Famil...
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The air was fresh, yet the dust stirred up your nostrils; you refused to sneeze. The pitch-black would make ordinary people shake; however, you were not normal, and you could see perfectly in the dark. You could see every outcropping and small stone that decorated the very circular tunnel. That's how you knew that the tunnel wasn't natural. Tunnels like this would smell like dirt; the air would be filled with it as it should be undisturbed. The next red flag would be the walls; something had cut into them. It was all you needed to know for a growl to rise into your throat.
You could feel the rippling of your muscles as you swiftly stalked in the dark. Then a tiny hum reached your delicate ears; they twitched as you focused on the noise. You picked up speed; you moved like shadow and wind. Usually, light in a tunnel would result from reaching the other side, the odd human taking shelter, but this unnatural light was caused by things you considered prey.
Decepticons.
Albeit they were miners, innocent, working-class cybertronians who had no choice but to obey their master's wishes. But you couldn't care less. Your claws dug into the dirt, flexing them in and out. If you were anyone else, you would be looked down upon for the slaughter to come, but thankfully, the Autobots that you had no choice to work with realized that you were a predator and the cons were your prey. Denying your hunt would be to deny your predatory instincts.
The name of your race was long forgotten. The Decepticons ensured that the only natural enemy of Cybertronians was wiped out; you did not know why the cons did such a thing. You didn't care anyway; their metal was softer than butter; if your kin could not kill them, in your opinion, they were not worth knowing. It shocked the Autobots; you were thriving on Earth, albeit a child but still alive. Your kind had always taken two forms. The first was a predatory beast, a feline in your case, but your body was leaner, more like a cheetah. Your second form would resemble the more dominant species of the planet; in your case, you took the form of humanity, a human with large wings and the color of your hair.
You used your tail and flicked a rock, crouching low as you rolled your feline shoulders. You flicked another stone. It would grab someone's attention sooner or later. Then you heard the clanking sound of walking metal; a con was coming closer. A growl escaped your throat as it peered around the rock you had hidden behind. Like a coiled spring, you reacted and reached out, unsheathed claws first to dig into the shoulders of the con. It barely screamed as your weight pinned it to the ground. Your teeth sunk into its throat, the cool metal met your mouth, and you bit down harder as you waited for the thrashing to stop. Once it did, you let it drop and moved to a spot nearby to wait again because someone else always came looking.
You watched as the next servant scanned the area for its missing associate; as soon as its gaze landed on the dead Decepticon, you sprung. You moved as swift as the wind, you extended your razor sharp claws, and like a blade, your claws tore through the chest of the con with a satisfying ring. Your paws hit the ground before the dead con did. Energon leaked from the wound in its chest.
