Chapter 2: I Don't Know What I Am: Day One.
I remember breathing in and out my stress and fears when it was needed. The pain of not being able to be free when you are young and the feeling of losing the grasp of what's important. I spent most of my teenage years to watch my kin make up. Exchanging fluids. Fucking each other for pleasure. And I was disgusted at the sight of humans. Stress and fear; those two very words described very well my mental state when I was in my younger age. Forced to be perfect and to chase a limitless height. Threatened to be casted away for not being the absolute best, Fear stroke me hard as I could not discuss this matter to someone. Not because I didn't want to, but because I had no one. Apart from my Father, no one really took the care of listening to my story. They all are the same anyways. They see in men, Muscle and dick. So, I grew up with my stress and fear instead of love and happiness. I wonder if there is a woman out there who would love to ask for my story instead of thinking of me in an obscene way?
Earlier That Day.
USA.
NEW YORK.
Café Resto.
"...Peter Pan is a story of kidnapping, I'm telling you, Brad. Why are you trying to fan-fic a story of a bad kid who will instill evil mindset onto the children's of Today's?"
Talks with a certain tone of aggression a man dressed as a cop seated face to face to what it seems it be his best friend; Brad LaFleur.
"Jeremiah, you are always taking things too far. I need you for mind support and you are being more of a critic than the actual people who are sponsoring me. Look! I just want to make some cash and this project can give me enough liquid to start something anew with real perspective."
Tries to explain Brad but he knows damn well that Jeremiah's never listen to their close friends.
"Alright! I don't need you on this one. I'll do this alone.. Thanks for the free food, man. Catch you on later.."
Breathes out a tired Brad as he runs off somewhere else.
That guy! He is shameless.
My name is Jeremiah Bell. A Police man in the making.
"Excuse me, sir! Sorry for interrupting your moment. I am Sam Witwicky. Assisst--"
A man accoast Jeremiah with hope of a discussion but before he could even introduce himself, Jeremiah shouts out;
"OFFICER #5048, REPORTING IN! I WILL TAKE MY CAR AND HELP IN DEALING WITH THE BANK HEIST. OVER!"
"--tant..."
Jeremiah, leaving no room for the man dressed in a tuxedo, heads out.
The tuxed man left aside as a useless piece of trash, curls back his hair as a sign of distress.
"That could have gone better."
Whispers the tuxed man to himself as he follows Jeremiah in his 1978 Safari.
Arriving in front of one of the most common bank in the United States, three bank robbers menacing to kill innocents and police officers trying to calm the tension.
Jeremiah joined the fret and waited for orders.
The tuxed man looking from far back, checked in with the General Witwicky.
Not even ten seconds later, the order was said.
Taking out a .338 Lapua Magnum Rifle in broad daylight, standing more or less seven hundred and sixty-five metres from the scene, the tuxed man prepares to shoot.
Once he does, one of the bank robbers is taken down.
The policemen, unable to hear anything, thought it was a fire from their ranks.
But panic soon inhabited the innocents.
As quick as possible, a few policemen, including Jeremiah, dashed inside the bank and quickly neutralized the culprits.
Hence, a miracle to some, no innocents were harmed and one dead from the bank robbers' side.
Jeremiah, suspecting something occurred, notices the safari car at a far distance.
Thinking about a plausible reality, he decides to chase the car back to the Café Resto.
"You look like you will listen to me now. Or am I getting my hopes up for nothing?"
Questions the tuxed man as he eats pineapple tart and a hot americano, to Jeremiah.
Jeremiah, first, sits down and breathes in and out to take out the stress.
He, then;
"Thank you for saving the innocent ones."
The tuxed man now believes that Jeremiah will listen.
"Human life is delicate. It is up to us to take care of it. The people with guns.. I am Sam Witwicky. And I'm here to make you an offer, Jeremiah Bell; Son of the Late General Sampson."
Jeremiah tends both his ears.
"About two months ago, Megatron, which the Chinese army had imprisoned behind their most tough walls in Beijing, managed to escape. Killing in the way, one hundred and twenty soldiers. In his escape, he was not alone but we don't know who helped because all the cameras were down. What we do know is that 'lad' helped him. The audio recorded at the moment revealed that the one most certainly present is someone named 'Michelle Ranna'. But taking into consideration the number of people that has that name in the entire world; three 'Michelle Ranna' 's were found. And--"
"Stop! 'lad' is finally making a move after all these years in hiding. But why now? I suppose the audio you got is Megatron saying 'Michelle Ranna'. Then, something big is happening that we don't know of yet."
Jeremiah has got this serious look that leaves room to think that he has few ideas of what could be going on.
"I know it is quite asking of you. I apologize for telling so much sensitive information all at once. But harsh time calls for harsh measures."
"I understand. My father would have wanted me to join the Army but I didn't because I was afraid of what I could do. General Witwicky must have told you to come to me because he knows that I am 'The Prophet'. Alright! I'll go with you. Oh, and about Beijing, I think your sister; Lora Bell Witwicky was there too, right? Is she okay?"
A silence suddenly overtakes the room.
Jeremiah sheds a tear and apologizes with a nod.
The tuxed man says it's fine with hand gestures and they soon leave in the 1978 Safari.
NOW.
TEXAS.
37° 14′ 06″ north, 115° 48′ 40″ west.
General Witwicky's Personal Tent.
"You know what, I hate your kind. They think that they are the superior ones just because they hold a pHD. They think they knows what's best because they can talk fancy words. Megatron said your name and you will explain why's that! I repeated myself more than hundred times and look at the result."
The army dude explains as he cleans used tools tainted of blood.
Before him, a Michelle Ranna naked and covered of deep cuts. Crushed bones and whipped to sore skins. Blood leaking out of her body as if she was being juiced out. Concussion and fracture. Toenails peeled off.
"You can stop all these with truths. Tell me all you know about Nemesis Prime and Megatron. Tell me why YOU killed my daughter. Tell me!!"
Michelle Ranna, weakened, could barely keep herself upright. Her body hanging to side, she manages to say a few words.
"I really don't know what you are talking about."
But the army dude does not accept that.
As said ealier, the prisoners here were Michelle Rannas'. They were questioned and solid proof stated that they were not the ones.
Which left the actual Michelle Ranna the last source of potential information.
But despite the worst of the worst torture, she NEVER said that she knew something.
Because the truth's that She REALLY knew nothing.
But that, The Army couldn't accept.
Leaving only one path to the Army dude.
One eye for one eye, one tooth for one tooth and one daughter for one daughter.
"If you won't talk, you must think I will just let you go. You weren't wrong. I won't kill you, I can't. But that means I can torture someone else to make you talk. You dear daughter.."
And the calm and composed till now, Michelle Ranna became more of a wreck as she cried and screamed.
But the cries and screams never reached out.
What Michelle Ranna went through, soon, she had to watch first row her daughter getting tortured the same way.
Alas, it was reported later that Osléo Buë could not withstand the pain and died of a heart attack.
Tears of blood flowing out of Michelle Ranna.
Nothing at that moment could describe what she went through.
Her body was damaged beyond surgical repairs.
Her mind, severed to the utmost limit.
She gave up on her life.
But hanged on to the truth.
"I really don't know..."
I never lied in my entire life.
I really didn't know.
I'm just a teacher.
I'm not famous like the witwicky.
I really didn't know, so, why wouldn't these damn people believe in me?
I don't know anything.
I said earlier that I would cope with them and yet..
I FUCKING lost my daughter!!!
Fuck!
Fuck!
Fuck!!
I don't know what they want.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do!
I don't know what they are looking for.
I don't know what they want from me.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
I don't know what I must do.
Shall I pray for a miracle?
Shall I ask for help?
Shall I beg?
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know what I am supposed to be right now.
But then, 'lad' decided to attack Zone #51.
To Be Continued💔❤️🩹.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
HobiTA
HobiTA So, I kept thinking about “Michelle Ranna” and I was like.
Why should she become a hero when she will lose everything she's lived for?
And using the same logic, why should she become a villain when she can be better?
I was heading to a point where she would become a villainess like you've already seen.
And I would hate to make a protagonist of a story, just a villainess.
On a bigger scale, she will reach a point of no-return.
Prepare yourself to see the birth of an EVIL “Michelle Ranna”.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone