A/N:

I will start this off by saying that I changed some massive and not-so massive things with the Wormverse. One of those things is going to be pretty obvious in this chapter. There is some light "body horror", if you can call it that, but we've all read Worm so I'm sure you can handle it. I don't want to spoil too much.

A few things:

1. This idea has been ruminating in my mind for the past two weeks. I started writing it just for myself until I began to wonder if others would be interested in the idea, so I thought it would be best for me to post a small snippet of what I had already written. This is it. Let me know what you think, what works and doesn't work so I can fix it for your enjoyment and for the peace of my own mind. Reading these characters and writing them is a whole lot harder than I thought it would be.

2. This isn't my first fanfic, but it is my first time writing for Worm. I finished that glorious monster of a book about a month ago in-between college and life. Took me two weeks. That being said, I don't remember every itty bitty detail. Sad, I know. But I just don't have the time to scour through everything, so if you find something that's incorrect, let me know and I'll fix it or shoot you a PM if I intended for the mistake to exist. This is an AU/Canon divergence, so some things will be different after all.

I zipped up the back of my costume and double-checked that everything was in order. My armor was fully tightened, centipedes and wolf spiders were just settling in around my hair and neck to drape like a macabre necklace down my front. My added shawl and skirt shimmered in the draft of the room. It would be pretty if it weren't for the cockroaches that had suckered themselves to it.

The can of pepper spray still sat dutifully in my utility compartment. With a shake I could tell it was full, ready to draw. Not that I should need it. I thought about arranging my bugs into speeds instead of the variety I had already set in place, then thought better of it. I was just wasting time now.

Suck it up. You're best at that.

I steeled myself, straightened my spine against the scar tissue around my chest and back. Resisting the urge to run my hands over the knotted skin, I spun on my heel and fled the room.

The building we were meeting the Ambassadors, Teeth and the rest in was a disaster, which was exactly why we chose it. Tattletale said Accord was a total control freak, a megalomaniac who thrived in spaces where everything had its place. He was going to have a hard time finding that here.

The Forsberg Gallery was a thing of beauty once. Though I was never really fond of the Jenga layout, the place held enough memories that I was willing to overlook it. The last time I had been here was when we crashed the PRT party. Before, the glass had been in our favor. It was the same now. I drew a finger across one of the stair railings that ended in splinters at the top of the stairs. Unlike now, I hadn't gotten the chance to appreciate the interior back then. It had to have been something else in its hay day, before Leviathan or Shatterbird had gotten their hands on it.

But everything beautiful had an end. I would know.

"Hey, Boss-Lady." Tattletale greeted me with a grin. She waited on the second floor, leaning against the banister. If I didn't know better I would tell her to step away from the edge, but she knew more than anyone how much weight it could hold. Plus, I was pretty sure she'd be annoyed if it looked like I were doubting her intellect.

I also knew that beneath her easy smile was concern buried underneath, which stirred up an unfair amount of anger.

It wasn't their fault about what happened less than twelve hours ago when Dragon and "Defiant" had outed me to the rest of the world. It wasn't Lisa's fault or anyone else's but theirs, but I was feeling a little emotional. Maybe a lot emotional.

Everyone was playing it safe tonight. Even Regent, whose shallow pool of emotions could make drama teachers cry, was sparing me his usual taunts.

"Oh, dork's here," Regent drawled.

Maybe not.

"Hey. Parian here yet?" I asked.

I walked over to Bitch who was leaning against the far wall, Bastard and Bentley among the other four dogs nestled by her legs. She was growing them slowly, so the amount of dogs pushing at my feet wasn't too overwhelming. Yet.

"Um, yes," Parian answered somewhere to the side.

I turned and it took me a moment to make her out from the shadows. Her hair and dress were black as we had planned, but it was easy to tell that she wasn't comfortable by it. In fact, by the way she tugged at the lacey skirt it was plain that she hated it.

"Good," I said, trying to inject a bit of warmth into my tone. I knew she wasn't keen on the plan, but after today we needed a strong image. Unshakable, like the warlords we were all made out to be.

She nodded but didn't say anything else, instead returning her attention to the giant spider and scorpion she was creating at the request from me. The silk was my own, left over from past costume mistakes. It was luck that I dyed them black despite them not being used to wear.

From what I had seen before, she didn't need to devote all of her attention to sewing up her creations. But it was calming her, a coping mechanism that she must have developed over the last few months, so I let it be.

"So, um, I don't want to be the one who points out the dragon in the room, but-" Imp started, sounding completely unapologetic.

"Aisha, not now," Grue cut in sharply, fixing her a glare with his mask. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. "We need everyone in the right mindset for when they come."

"Grue's right," I added, not wanting to fail as a leader at the moment. I felt like I should say more, knew everyone was waiting for me to add "We can talk about it later," except that I didn't want to talk about it later. I didn't think I could.

One of my threads pulled two blocks away and I jumped at the chance to change the topic. "They're here."

Tattletale made her way to the window without another word, pulling out her pair of binoculars. "Yep, it's the Teeth. Are we all set?"

Parian nodded, leading the scorpion and spider up the third flight of stairs. Beside me Bitch grunted. The dogs were just about finished growing to the size of couches. Bastard preened at her side, and I could swear that he was getting a little bigger every day. I wondered how large he'll be as an adult.

"Cool. Places, everyone!" Tattletale called. She must've been holding onto that one for a while.

Grue stared at me for a while longer with what I supposed was a meaningful look, though I wasn't getting much from the depth of darkness that began to shroud him. I shrugged it off and waited for the rest to make their way up the stairs before following.

I would make it through this, one way or another.

Screw that.

I slammed the door to my room hard enough that the sound could probably be heard all throughout the house. I would feel bad if the kids or Charlotte were here, but they were out.

The sun was high today as it had been for the past few days, hardly a cloud out in sight except for the big, fluffy white ones. The type that were painted on the walls of nurseries and allergy medication and basically anything better than this.

Charlotte took them down the block to play a makeshift game of kickball. At least, that was her excuse. I suspected it was so that I could have some space to myself, for which I appreciated more than she could ever understand.

I dropped face-first onto my mattress, ignoring the slight dig of loose springs and the squeak of metal that followed. The morning newspaper headline ran through my mind.

TAYLOR HEBERT: GONE-GIRL, BUG-GIRL

I unfolded the newspaper from where I had wedged it between my tied jacket and pants. My school picture decorated the top of the article, the Alexandria T-shirt I had been so proud of stark against the dark background. My hair was little less than tendrils of black behind me, twisting in an unruly mess.

It was universal knowledge that school photos caught people at the worst time, whether it be in the awkward greasy-face stage or acne-galore. Whatever. It was still embarrassing.

I knew that this was going to happen the moment my mask was torn away.

The rest of the week had me more or less holed up in my hideout during the day, only venturing out at night. I forced myself to do several walks around my territory out of costume so that people could see me and know I wasn't taking this laying down, but as soon as I could get away with it I returned to home base.

I told myself that I could survey my territory easily without actually stepping outside, but that was just to hide the truth. I couldn't stand the looks that others gave me.

Not from my team, no. Brian had stopped by on several occasions when he could, though I suspected it was for him as much as it was for me. Rachel was off on her own and Alec and Aisha never visited anyways, so it was Lisa who stopped by every morning with the newspaper.

I hated and loved her for it at the same time.

It didn't take the press long for them to discover the bullying. Funny, since it took my school months to mention it, much less do anything about it. But the local news, and probably the national though I hadn't had much reason to seek it out, was digging up every bit of dirt they could find on me.

Quotes from teachers, classmates. Students that I didn't know but wanted to get in on the action were piecing together the long, broken story of every bit of teasing and harassment I had gone through. Every front page was the same thing, except with more stories, more photos.

What pissed me off was that they didn't cover half of it.

But this one, though.

It wasn't that long ago. It felt like years, but it was really only a bit after I triggered. When my dad threatened more than just a lawsuit, things got worse.

Much worse.

I twisted on my side and my fingers found my chest on their own accord. The thin shirt I wore was nothing compared to the knotted flesh underneath. My fingernail traced a path down the worn cotton, through the weaving bumps and down to my navel.

"Hebert was allegedly accosted by three of her peers…"

The newspaper's words entered my mind. My other arm twisted awkwardly to my side and found the end of a thin scar. One among many.

"Authorities believe it was after an incident in January that caused Hebert to develop anthropokinesis. But it was shortly after February that school officials say they were made aware of the situation after a second incident."

My hand twitched as it found the part where the thin lines overlapped in the middle of my back. Whipped. Back stripped of flesh.

"'We had no idea when or how it happened,' Blackwell, principal of Winslow High said. 'Only that Ms. Hebert had been horribly mistreated by someone at some point in time.' School officials cited the delay in action for suspicions against Danny Hebert, father, for child abuse speculations…"

He must be going through hell right now. Hopefully the dock crew was keeping him good company and backing up his character. Sure, my dad had a temper, but he would never hurt me.

"The Hebert family filed for a police investigation against her alleged attackers mid-February for the charges of kidnapping, aggravated assault and torture."

I bit my lip.

"The investigation was later closed on the grounds that there were no proportionate leads. The Brockton Bay Police Department has declined comment. No further information on either incident has been acquired."

I don't remember how it happened or when. It was closer to the end of February, unlike what the newspaper had printed, and my dad said that I had left for school. Apparently I even attended a few classes, though I remembered none of that.

All that I do remember was when I woke up days later on the back porch, stiff and clouded, with a feeling that something vital had been torn from me. I hadn't been wrong.

I sat up slowly and turned to the fogged mirror that hung across from my bed. I hiked up my shirt slowly, inch by inch, until I finally tore it off in one violent motion.

Might as well get it over with, I thought.

My breasts were gone. Two vertical, jagged scars were in their place, stretched from several inches below my collar bone down to a little past my rib cage. It wasn't a mastectomy incision, clean and horizontal, but rather like a violent tear down my front, like the Leviathan had raked through my skin. The scars weren't even even.

It was a stupid thought to be hung over the fact that my right scar was longer than the left, but it gave me some control over my feelings. I could be angry over something crooked, lots of people had a little OCD in them. The thought made me feel more connected to the rest of the world.

Then I looked over my shoulder.

My back was more or less a leather hide. From where the whip, knife, baton or whatever had struck were long, thin scars that slung from my shoulders down to my hips. They were almost carefully laid out, each one similar in length and width, but it hardly mattered for the closer to the middle of my back they got, the less space in-between each mark. The result was a canvas with too many coats of paint, each brush stroke adding another layer to the mix.

Thinner nicks and divots marked my arms and stomach, a scratch needle-thin curving from under my jaw to just below my chin, but I remembered where I got those. The rest of me, this, I had no idea.

And neither did my dad, nor the police or just about anyone. There weren't any other cases like mine, barring a few that dated back to a serial killer from the 1980's who liked to strip their victims of their flesh before incinerating them.

There were no eyewitnesses, no teachers or students to spill the beans on what had happened. Nothing. Only that I had shown up and then mysteriously vanished during lunch break.

That was when my dad threatened a full-investigation on the Winslow High, except before anything could happen the focus had been turned to him and the child abuse allegations began to spring up.

Once it was clear that he had nothing to do with it, the police were only just picking up the investigation once more a few weeks before Leviathan hit, and any evidence that could've been found was washed away.

That makes it sound like there were trails or leads in the first place.

Honestly, I don't believe it was Emma or Madison. They couldn't pull anything off like this and get away with it. They were good, but not that good.

Sophia was another case. But although she had some serious psychological issues and had no problem with inflicting pain, I couldn't see this in her. Besides, she wouldn't have been able to keep from mocking me over it if she knew.

No, it had to be some other parahuman. For though the scars that marred my chest and back were only five months old at best, they looked as if I'd had them for years. They were a faded white, and the skin was pliable enough to allow me to do what I needed to. That wasn't to say they weren't ugly, but they should have been an angry red and puffed out, pulling the skin taut.

I couldn't really blame the police for doubting our accusations. It almost looked I had grown up with the scars, though there was evidence to prove otherwise.

It didn't make sense. None of it, and that almost made me as angry as the fact that my body had been deformed by someone or something's hands.

I stared for a moment longer before a chill settled itself on my bare shoulders and I put the shirt back on. I'd like to blame the room, but the heater worked fine and it was the middle of summer.

My team knew on various levels. Lisa had suspected it in her own way, and when I finally showed her to see if she could figure anything out she could only confirm that it was a parahuman's work. Brian… had definitely seen them and knew everything that I did, which wasn't much. Rachel I doubted would care about the scars, only if I'd gotten them back for it. Which I hadn't.

It wasn't like I hadn't tried. I couldn't begin to recount all of the hours I'd spent crying and researching and swearing, searching for an answer to what was one of the cruelest things to ever happen to me. But after a few months I started to see that in the grand scheme of things, between surviving an Endbringer attack and protecting all that I loved, what had happened to me was small in comparison.

That didn't mean I was going to just let it go. I was willing to let revenge sit on the back-burner while I took care of the more immediate problems.

I thought of the two crumpled notes in my pocket.

The next few days were some of the hardest I'd ever had, which was saying something.

I had said my goodbyes in my own way, each departure hammering the knife through my chest deeper and deeper. It was almost impossible to think that it hadn't been a year since I'd been a cape, much less half a year, yet those short months with the Undersiders held more life in them than the rest of my years.

I was willing to give it all up for a chance it would save them and my dad.

It was in the middle of lacing up my shoes that my phone started to buzz. I frowned and pulled it out, answering it after reading the caller ID. It was Lisa, probably calling to see where I was.

"Green-" I was cut off before I could finish.

"Simurgh landing," Tattletale interrupted. "Half hour away, maybe an hour. Looks like she's coming here."

It took me a second to find my voice. "What?" I croaked out. It had barely been two months since Leviathan. Hell, didn't she just attack Canberra in February?

There were stories about the Simurgh. Her constant scream that drove you mad, twisted your brain so much that it took months and years for it to untwist and actually wreak havoc. It was dormant insanity.

"Yep," she replied. She still sounded like she still had the killer migraine. "Something with Dragon's tech got screwed up and they weren't able to evacuate the city beforehand. Word is they're going to meet her halfway and see if they can curb her off with whoever volunteers. You in?"

I got up from my bed and looked out the window. The air raids had just begun to sound and the streets were slowly flooding with people. Unlike with Leviathan, they didn't try to bring their suitcases or bags. No one was running. It was eerie, their silent and somber faces as they walked almost leisurely to the nearest flight platforms that hadn't been destroyed.

It was a funeral march, I realized. If the PRT was calling in any parahuman, screened or not, they weren't expecting us to survive this.

With the recent exposure of Cauldron and the Triumvirate, there was no telling who would even show up. We weren't prepared for another Endbringer at the moment, least of all the Simurgh. I knew my answer.

"Yes," I said.

A/N:

*I know that it was apparently wide speculation among the PRT/heroes (or at least MM) that Taylor triggered from her mom's death. But for the sake of this story, I tweaked that with the media*

A note about Taylor's scars:

They aren't just flesh wounds. There's a deeper meaning and reason for them that's pivotal to where this story is ultimately heading.

This is an AU that has tweaked slight facts of the Worm universe that will be revealed later on, but in the beginning we'll only see the shallow, physical part of them.

They have also added a depth to Taylor's character that I feel puts another perspective on her. In canon she was never that comfortable with her body, she lamented her flat chest or skinny frame; while it's natural for anyone to do that with their body no matter what shape they're in, I felt like it cast light on a part of Taylor's mind. She found parts of herself ugly, she often second-guessed her choices and even in the end wished she had done things differently. Her imperfect body reflected her view of herself as a person. I feel like with body horror, it goes past the physical and becomes a reflection of the mental. Everyone has a monster inside.

Will Taylor succumb to hers or rise above it?

As for the change (or lack of) in canon:

Throughout this story's progression, I will reveal several of Taylor's memories regarding key plot points and how they have been altered due to her scar's influence. Also, how other scenes may have prevented canon from changing too much. You will see this in relation to Cherish's interrogation, Panacea's healing and Taylor's relationship with both Brian and her father among other events I have deemed important. Stay tuned for those.

The preceding notes were added after numerous questions/complaints made by reviewers.

What do you guys think? I hope it's obvious that I'm going to go in a pretty different direction from canon here on out. Allies will be made, friends will be lost and our dear Taylor is going to go on a hell of a ride from here.

Are you interested?