I knew as soon as I saw him, he was like me. An outcast, not belonging. Was it some primal instinct of mine, or some sixth sense of my kind, to know when there was others like me near by?

How to approach him? I can’t just come out and ask about his past, his people, his home. I noticed humans can find such bluntness rude, and while we weren’t human, I was still playing one. I would have to keep my cool. Thankfully, he was sitting near a trash can, I could be rid of my trash and get a sense of him as well. Did he know why I was here?

I walked over to the trash, placed my recycling in the proper container, and the waste in the other. His eyes never left the tablet he was intensely staring at, but my fear intensified. I learned to trust these instincts. He may be like me, but he was no friend. Okay, will stay cool, and get the hell out of there.

I went back to my table, and collected my bag. As I left the cafeteria, I subtly glanced in his direction. Shit, he sees me. We make eye contact, and I know I have to get out of there an hide. Something in the back of my mind screams, “Hunter.” I run.

Thankfully, the mall is crowded with holiday shoppers, and I lose him. I find a hallway which leads to the loading docks, and hide behind some pallets, trying to control my breathing. Unwillingly, flashback to when I was younger, in the group home, when I realized I was different. I still have the mysterious scars on my wrists, I had no idea what there were.

I looked human, smelled human, and could act human when needed, but things were...off. I could see things my roommates couldn’t, not quite what one would call auras, but energies, and it wasn’t all the time. When the flu hit the home, I was the only one not to get sick, but a tiny cold, that knocked me out for weeks. Little, subtle things.

I sense he was getting closer, and I had nowhere to run. Fine, time to fight. I emerge from my hiding place, and see him towering over me. Weaponless...how curious.

“Tax, I am here to bring you back. Please some quietly, you have no idea what danger you can pose to these hu—“

He never finished his sentence. My claws lashed out, slitting his throat. Claws? Those are new. I look down at his body, and grin. He was carrying some sort of wrist restraint. Bounty hunter. The memories are coming back. Who I am. What I can be. What I can do.

Time to have fun. And be wary, they would send more after me.