don't own Worm or The Secret World

Chapter 1: A normal morning for Taylor.

One of those little things that most people who found themselves managing their own property will learn was that you should always be careful about leasing out a room to a friend, as you could never know if your friendship would survive the next rent day.

"Dammit! I already gave you an extra week to get the money, you cant keep doing this, I have my own bills to pay," said the young woman loudly, a teenager, in fact, who was still long-limbed and spindly from the rapid growth spurts. with long well-kept hair and glasses on her face. Her little too wide mouth was set in a grimace as she banged on a locked door in the second floor of an old, worn-down house in the middle of the old, worn-down city of Brockton Bay.

Resources, scarcity. was the whiny reply.

"bullshit, I know that they are paying you way more than most of us lowly agents at your cushy administrative job, definitely more than me." The girl replied snappily, her impatience growing as she stamped her foot on the floor, "It's not my problem if you spend all your earning on crap you don't need."

Taylor just wished that someone had told her that before she let this idiot into her house. Maybe her 'employers' were right, charity and goodwill were for fools.

Need, uniqueness. was the quick counter to her argument, a bit more heated and defensive this time.

"Ok, maybe you have an excuse for the shoes, what with all the extra feet you have compared to us, but you order a kitten online almost every day! You don't see me going to a fancy restaurant every day and ordering the lobster, do you?"

Outrage! Authority!

"I don't care if you were a queen back in your dimension," Taylor snorted, "in this one you're a tent who is always late in paying her gracious host the rent, despite it being far cheaper than anything she would get else were." Taylor at this point just let out a sigh as her shoulders slumped, a tired look settling on her face, "look, I really need you to transfer the money to my bank account, I might be gone for sometime, so I need to make sure that the automatic payment for the house is good for a while."

There was a silence for a solid minute in the worn-down hallway before the door opened a crack and sixteen yellow slit eyes peered from the darkness.

Worry, status? anxiousness forTaylor'ss wellbeing melting any of the anger that was present moments ago.

"It's fine," Taylor replied with a gloomily and with a scowl, obviously not fine, "I just got a call from Lisa saying that the Boss," the last word was more spat out then said, "wants me to meet him at the main base in New York, said he had a new job for me to 'pay off my debts'… you know how it is, could only take a day or two, or I will be gone for months." No matter how she tried to sound nonchalant, the worried quiver could still be heard in her voice.

Acknowledge. Payment… Hugs?

"Thanks, sorry for hounding you about it. And Queeny? while I love you like the sister I never had, I still have to get my brain scrubbed every time I look at you directly without taking the right pills first. Please, no hugs."

Dismissal!

And with a gargle that was the equivalent of a huff, the door was slammed shut. Shaking her head and turning away from the door Taylor walked over to the other side of the hall and into her own room to finish packing for the trip.

while it was as old as the rest of the house and nor was it particularly girly, you could still tell that it was the room of an average teenage girl. with clothes thrown all over the place, gathering in piles on the floor or hanging off the closets and the chair. The one next to the study table with the vanity mirror that had under it some makeup boxes that were rarely used and the ammunition boxes that were always half empty.

On the walls were the usual posters of movie scenes and music bands. Books were still Taylors first and only love, but now that she had friends again to go to concerts and cinemas and no school to take up her time she was starting to branch out to the other forms of entertainment.

Along with the posters was a painting, dream catchers, psychic catchers, photos, some weird wall light thing Lisa said was perfect for the room and the all-important angelic and demonic wards and pentagrams, to cover all bases.

And last but not least was the simple two-person bed in the centre of the room, with Taylors old school bag half packed and her mini-assault shotgun with its 'notice me not' ward placed on top of a pile of supplies and tools she will need for her trip.

A pretty normal room for a sixteen-year-old, in certain crowds.

As Taylor walked up to the bag and started to finish packing it, her mind wondered off to how exactly she was going to get to New York. A problem that got her biting her lip in worry as she placed her Blood magic focus on her wrist like a bracelet.

"Lisa said that it was not urgent, but still time sensitive," which for that fucking monster, I mean bastard! ("don't be speciesist Taylor," she told herself, "you're better than that.") means that while you didn't have to be there yesterday, if you are later then some unreasonably short timeframe he is expecting of you he will see it as a failed test.

Considering that the last time someone failed a test they spent Three hours in a hell dimension, she should probably haul ass. (just cause Alex kind of liked it doesn't mean it's not that bad, it just means he's that spine-chillingly depraved.)

So it looks like even air-couch it out, even without the costs of un-booked flights. She was going to need the expressway. A shiver ran down her back at the very thought of the 'Expressway' as she finished zipping up her bag and putting it on her back while strapping the Shotgun to her the quick draw holster on her leg.

After taking a deep breath to ready herself, Taylor then with confident strides she did not feel made her way down the stairs, grabbed her 'smartphone' from its charger, her dad hated them, but it was mandatory for work, and headed out the front door with its creaky steps and down the street.

She had a meeting in a different city to get to, which meant she had to first head back to her old school, and then step into a curtain locker.

The Secret world fanfiction is few and far between, and most focus on the eldritch and existential horror/weirdness of the setting while forgetting the really interesting thing about it.

how the humans in the setting, when exposed to that eldritch and existential horror/weirdness for long enough, adapt to it and continue on with life.

while Cascade is the story I'm using to teach myself writing in general, The Bees will be me trying to practice keeping my plot and pacing at a good speed.