Naked, Alone, and Human (2.7)

It had taken Trumbull until near dawn before he really fell asleep, and then he slept so deeply that it was almost sundown when he awoke.

He awoke in a panic, first because he didn’t understand where he was or what he felt, and then because his body was too small and too weak. He was shivering, freezing.

He was naked, alone, and… human.



The power had not only left him for another, but its parting gift had proven false. Even if he could find the one who had stolen the power, he would have few advantages in taking it from her.

The rage that ripped through him at this thought had a profound effect… transformative, even. White-hot needles stabbed his eyes, blanking out his vision. The sensation was familiar, as was the indescribable popping that rippled throughout his body. He realized that he was undergoing the same transformation as before.

It hadn’t left him, it had merely gone dormant in the night!

In his taurine beast-form, Trumbull threw back his head and laughed. This didn’t fix everything, but it markedly improved his situation. All he had to do was learn to control the transformation, and then he would be able to move freely.

Well, more freely.

He turned the TV on, turning it to a local channel for the news. He made up his mind to spend one more night and day in the cabin, trying to master his new body. After that, he’d swim under cover of darkness back to Calvary Crossing, steal clothes, and make his way to his quarry, who would certainly have surfaced by then.

The thought that she might be in police or government custody did cross his mind, but the last thing anyone would expect would be for a monstrous bull-man to charge out of the darkness and rip her in two.

It would be the same deal as his museum heist: he only needed to worry about his way in, because on his way out, no one would have the power to stop him.

No one would ever have the power to stop him from doing anything he wanted, including seizing all the power he would ever need to be completely free.