The beach I'd chosen was not so beautiful as my home beach had been. But, it was shallow for a long way out, allowing me to force the adaption that I needed.

There was a blanket of grey above, and the waters around me were filled with murk. My size was enormous by now, greater than a jumbo jet. As such, making my transition to land would be no easy feat.

I had not yet grown large enough to trigger the Kizmet buoys, but I needed to avoid being seen. A partial beaching, too far out to be spotted, was my best plan.

The beaching would force my cells to reconfigure into a form at least better for the shallow waters. From there, as I spent enough hours near land, the design would optimize towards what I desired. I had gotten used to this process by now, and it was a predictable logic.

Moving into a new environment was always marked by pain. Knowing that I could overcome this pain, however, practically erased it. It almost felt good in a way, as the body identified the sensation as meaningful. This was my version of lifting weights, and I had grown to love it.

So far gone from any bodily stability or familiarity, I had to. I had suspected for a while now that my mind was no less immune to my Powers than the rest of me. The horror I felt at living in such an alien flesh had, with each crushing or vaporization of the head, lessened. Just as the usage of bizarre and new features came by instinct, the body itself had turned to a feeling of naturalness, as if my preference for the human form was no more than a silly prejudice. The cells admonished me to a grander perspective.

When my adaptions were finally complete, the many limbs which had been beneath me now had become one body. The transitionary form my Power chose served doubly to keep my mass without such a titanic profile. I was long and sleek, appearing as an ancient, overgrown serpent. So slender, it was easy to hit the land where I wanted to. Not on the public beaches, but up the rivers.

I swam into the bay, beneath a bridge, and towards the grassy swamplands. There, I found an interesting spot for people-watching, of all things. The very first item on my list.

Canal houses in pink and blue loomed above me. Swimming through their front yards during the middle of the day was risky, but with the weather so grim, no one was putting out their boats. I barely had enough room, scraping along the bottom, and I had no intention of sharing.

No plan was foolproof, though.

Suddenly, as I went along, I heard a splash behind me preceded by a small pinprick on my side. There was almost no room to turn around and see what it was, but I had a theory, and it worried me. A mass was dragging along behind me in the water and my guess was that it wasn't a crab trap.

I decided to take the risk of being seen and check what the problem was. If there was any trouble from the locals, I'd leave. It wasn't like word of a giant eldritch snake spread fast. Certainly, I'd be fine.

It was a good thing that I did check. When I reared up, lifting my head so high from the water, I could see the poor kid that'd snagged me with his fishing line. He was covered in mud and all scraped up, lucky he hadn't been crushed.

From twenty feet in the air, I bent down to gently bite at the back of his shirt and haul him out. He was having no luck getting out on his own, so I had no choice. I wasn't cruel, after all.

Once I set him his shaking little personage down on the shore, I tried to speak and calm him down. At first, nothing came out. He had to be just around ten years old, and he was petrified with sheer mortal terror as I tried.

After much annoyance, my vocal equipment snapped into working order, shifting from their original purpose. Not so much a proper mutation, but a small tweak could arise fast under stress. The first sounds to come out were a throaty, demonic chorus. Soon enough, though, they formed a vaguely human sound. "Don't be frightened." That was far too ominous. I switched to a friendlier tone. "I mean, don't worry. I'm a..." I nearly called myself a Superhero to comfort him, but the thought made my stomach turn. Instead, I said something lamer. "I'm a regular guy and this is my regular Power. Don't be impressed."

Through squeaks, the young boy asked me, "Your power is to turn into a giant snake?"

"Kind of."

"That's really scary," he said, barely beginning to calm down. He felt embarrassed at his fear, I could tell.

We lived in a world where people were expected to roll with the uncanny. Children teased each other for being afraid to watch Supers fight to the death on youtube. Gone were the days of boxing as the bloodiest consumer sport of America. A nasty but inevitable outcome of the Superhero society of spectacle.

Still, I nodded as best I could, because it was scary. "I'm strangely okay with it, though. I think I probably have brain damage if I'm being honest with you."

"Are you a Superhero?" He seemed skeptical. Wary, even. What kind of Superhero was trawling around through the canals during mid-day as a monster?

I refused to lie, so I changed the subject instead. "What I am is kind of lost. Can you tell me where we are, and... um... What the date is, if you could be a hero?" Kids loved that expression.

"You're in... Bay St. Louis... And it's April sixteenth."

"Yeah, but... What year is it?" Truly, I'd been on one hell of an acid trip.

"It's twenty-twenty," he said, concern mounting little by little on his tiny face. He was definitely starting to realize I was at best the kind of stranger you shouldn't talk to, at worst the kind you ran from.

Regardless, this was great news. It hadn't been more than four months that I'd lost. I wasn't sure why I cared, but I did. A deep fear had been brewing that I might have lost all track of time, going on as a jellyfish or a sea creature for what might have been decades.

Much relief came in knowing I wouldn't have missed too much. The world was interesting. While I'd always dreamed of hermitage, I'd still imagined myself getting the newspaper, of course. If the War ended, that would be good to know. This was my world too, by right. Though not always my responsibility, it was at least my business.

Bound in place by a potent combination of confused politeness and mortal terror, the child waited for me to say something. He wanted me to release him, so I did. "Thanks for answering my questions, man. You should go dry off. And, uh... Nobody's going to believe you, so just forget I was here," I said, quite genuine.

I had scanned the area and, as far as I could see, no one had come outside to gawk. Swiftly then, I looped back over myself and headed away, before the situation changed for the worse.

The next step in my return to land was obvious. I only had to find my way to a secluded, relatively dry area in the swamp, and go to hide in the tall grass.

I'd learned great patience in the last months. It wasn't hard to watch the hours pass by like minutes, with my mutations taking no longer, despite the new size. Just like my healing, it was rapid. The cells simply needed time to think of their new designs, I liked to imagine.

They weren't exactly forthcoming in their process, though. While I knew everything there was to know about my biology, the Power which gave me such knowledge was mysteriously not included. Such was the way of Powers. No scientist had ever cracked them.

Nonetheless, mine was reliable. Soon enough, I had changed again, taking on a much more dry and scaly look. The cells promised legs in due time and asked me to be still, creating a feeling of lethargy. But, I was ready to keep moving to stay on schedule. They would have to get over it.

The forests, I learned, were much more difficult terrain than grassy swamp or sea. They were necessary, with what I was after. But, if I wanted to avoid being seen near town, I would have to travel the forests, as well as reduce my profile. I needed to majorly shrink down.

So, as I moved painstakingly through the brush, useless nubs forming at my sides, I would occasionally stop. Then, twisting up into a circle, I would do what had to be done. I gnawed off my own tail and spit it aside, over and over again. Each time, my Power would regrow it, pulling mass from the rest of my body. After seven cycles and a humungous trail of rotting meat, I started to see the results.

Having reduced down to the size of a bear, I called the process done. My limbs had developed at the same time, leaving me recognizable as what could be mistaken for some sort of dinosaur. This, I could live with.

Using proper manipulation, I could even choose some aspect of the overall structure.

It meant doubling back, but everywhere I went, I ran. I stayed low, stimulating a sense of caution while I moved. Much as I had gained dark, camouflaged scales after evading the police on my first night, my Power reacted to subtle stressors. The need for speed and stealth could be communicated to my cells, all with the right activity. The rest of the day went by getting out the kinks, but I was not a novice anymore. I knew my Power.

Once nightfall had come, my opportunity was ready. There was a highway that ran along the beach, and around which the majority of commercial property clustered. The growth of the town was low enough, however, that I could make out my target from the remaining woodline.

I came past an old, white hotel, creeping across its parking lot and avoiding the lights. It was deep into the early hours of the morning now, and all the little people had gone to sleep. Yet, my target was brightly lit and lively, made for creatures of the night like me. I could smell it already from across the street.

I acted as cooly as possible, but this was bound to go down badly. Frankly, I didn't care. Some drama was acceptable, and this was all long overdue.

The Waffle House waitress only screamed for a few moments at the enormous scaled beast from hell. My voice was still intact as I told them, "I just want some human food." I sighed at how that came out. She needed to understand, it had been a long four months of raw seafood. Nobody deserved this more than me. "I'm human, alright? Can a Kizmet talk? For the love of God," I waved my hands and sat down, as much as was physically possible, towering over the counter. "Are you going to calm down?" I asked her.

The cook had already regained his air of aloofness, while the waitress was still catching her breath, at last going quiet. He struck me as the Cape chasing type, someone who thought themselves in the know. "Are you a Supervillain?" he asked me, comfortable with the possibility.

"Would you believe a Supervillain actually did this to me?" It was more or less true, but he wasn't buying it. I answered him flatly, then. "No, I'm not an evil bad guy. I just want a waffle, man. I haven't had any damn carbs in... like a really long time."

"Do you have... a wallet?" He looked me up and down.

"Do you think I carry a wallet up my ass? No, I don't have any money. But you can get a selfie. People killed for a selfie with a Super, last I checked. We're both people, here, right?" This was moving into the realm of weirdness outside my comfort zone. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be struck by how bizarre a situation was. Perhaps, I mused, awkwardness made me more human.

I'd come too far to give up now, so held my ground, despite myself.

I wasn't robbing him, I decided. He could say no if he wanted to, but I knew that he wouldn't. Technically, it was coercion, but I chose not to think about it.

"One waffle coming up." The bargain was struck and the cook began working. I demanded pecans.

The waitress was not so cool and hip. She left as soon as she felt safe to do so, and I could only reason what she was up to, on her phone. The cops wouldn't be a problem for me if I was right in my hunch. While bittersweet, I was sure I could scarf down my food and leave before the donuts became serious.

The cook seemed skeptical while he worked. "So, you're not a Supervillain, but you're definitely not a Hero. You're like a vigilante then, yeah?"

"What, like Avenger?" Unfortunately, my vocal cords were not prepared for laughter. It was a warped sound, like an abused cello. More frustration, but I took a breath. "No." I wanted to be in a good mood for my food.

"Oh... Yeah, okay then. Just a normal dude then, as you said." He plated my food and withdrew his phone. Looking pensively from the device to me and back again, he changed his mind about getting close enough for a selfie.

Once that was over with, the cook left the room just like the waitress. Finally, I was at peace to enjoy my food. Tired of only ever eating by instinct, this was a pleasant return to what remained of my old habits.

I figured there was no better way to rediscover my humanity than to indulge in the sugary filth that used to fill my life. I had an entire bucket list that I was sorting out in the back of my mind, with next on the row being to sleep in a real bed. For the time being, I had no higher aspirations.

All too soon, though, the fun ran out. Blue lights showed up outside, sirens blaring, just in time to completely kill the joy. My head hit the table.

I wasn't halfway done yet and the police had chosen today of all days to have an impressive response time. There was no point in finishing if I couldn't savor it, so I bitterly pushed the plate aside. Reluctantly, I got up and prepared to head out into the parking lot. Time already to return for the open wilds. The government was constantly ruining society for me, but what was new about that?

Life was full of disappointments. At least today they were mundane.