Disclaimer: Worm is the property of Wildbow, I do not claim to own any of his ideas or characters. I do hope I'll be able to write something as awesome as Worm in the future though =)

"Hey move it young lady! Goddamn these transplant college kids."

A middle-aged man shoved past me roughly, snapping me out of my stupor. I blinked, realizing I had spaced out for a good couple of minutes in shock.

Witnessing an interview that revealed the existence of superpowers on Earth Samek was a little much to handle. My brain numbed, tuning out the host and professor as they discussed their theories on what the presence of superpowers would mean for society and the balance of geopolitical power.

I ran down Broadway, heading towards campus as quickly as I could. My leisurely "stroll" had been ruined, and I was desperate for some peace of mind after having my entire world pulled down on me yet again.

A few minutes later, I arrived at campus and dashed up the stairs to the student center. I crashed into a boy carrying a stack of papers on my way up, causing a handful of flyers to come crashing down to the ground.

"Sorry!" I yelled back, as I ran up to the computers in the back lounge on the second floor.

I halted in front of a public computer, and frantically logged in with my student ID. The room was relatively empty, since the orientation events hadn't started yet. My fingers drummed nervously as the loading bar progressed, all while my mind raced through my past experiences on Earth Bet, experiences I have tried to bury over the past year.

I hoped the people of this earth would never know horrors such as Endbringers, Sleeper, or Slaughterhouse Nine. That they would never be forced to allow swarms of criminals to roam free in the hopes they would be useful in a fight against beings too powerful to exist.

Superheroes had captured public wonder and admiration in speculative fiction long before trigger events had actually appearing in earnest on Earth Bet. Even early on, the likes of the Guild and Protectorate in their original iteration had been paragons of truth and justice to the public, using their ridiculously overpowered abilities to bring crime to a historical low.

That time would later on be referred to as the Golden Age of Superheroes, before the statistical nature of trigger events led supervillains to gradually outnumber superheroes. Eventually, villains had surfaced who could challenge the likes of Legend, Alexandria, and Eidolon. The incident where Hero had been ripped apart alive by the then-unstoppable Siberian had marked the end of an era.

My initial searches had confirmed my fears, the world was in a honeymoon period where superpowered heroes of imagination had come to life, and the alarming signs were already present. Early sociological research indicated poor, violent areas were correlated with higher frequencies of "metahuman incidence" although the triggers were more randomly distributed than the PRT stats back home had indicated.

Strangely enough, I had also discovered that the world had a pre-existing "Real Life Superhero" movement before triggers started occuring, where unpowered local groups had formed patrolled to fight crime like glorified neighborhood watches. They stood as a notable outlier from the violence-trigger correlation, having a considerably higher trigger rate than average.

I changed my search to look for cape sightings in New York City, making note of the local heroes and villains that had sprung up in the area. A small, second tier city on Earth Bet like Brockton Bay would have several dozen active capes at a time. The number would bound to be higher in a first tier city like New York.

"Hey hey hey, what's with the hurry? Sheesh, why is everyone in this damn school so high strung?" I heard a voice speak out behind me.

I whirled around towards the voice.

It was the student I had almost barreled over on my way in. He stood over a table, organizing the papers I had knocked out of his hand on a table behind me.

Seeing me turn around, he made eye contact with me and offered his hand.

"Hey there, nice to meet ya! My name's Alex, I volunteer back here in the student resource center in my spare time. You a freshman? What's your name?"

"My name's Taylor, Taylor Harris, I'm a...second year transfer I'd say? I kind of spent the last year bouncing between Philadelphia and Boston" I responded.

Standing slightly above my height, Alex's hair was short raven black, styled in a neatly trimmed crew cut. A bit of stubble lined his face, and he greeted me with a warm smile.

He was a pretty big and stocky Asian guy, all things considered, with broad shoulders, thick powerful bear-like limbs, and a light gut, kind of like a heavyweight wrestler or amateur weightlifter. He wore a light black vest and red polo, and an ornate jade dragon necklace hung off his neck.

"Oh man, that's pretty cool, where you coming in from?" he said, pulling up a chair next to me while organizing the papers.

I fidgeted uncomfortably, rem- crazed maniacal laughter, hundreds of capes fighting to their last breath around me, golden rays of light searing through Kid Win's chest, executing Aster with a gun, the smell of ozone as-

"You alright?" he spoke gently, his voice laced with concern as his eyes wandered to my prosthetic arm.

"It's a-alright, it just bruoght up some bad memories, that's all. I spent a year in physical rehab, taking classes at community college af-after Gold Morning" I stammered.

Way to play it cool Taylor.

His eyes softened as they wandered to my computer screen

"I see..." he said, adjusting his glasses to look at my screen.

My search had paused on a news article depicting a skirmish from earlier in the week. It was the same pair that had fought on the televised interview, a man in a ski mask and poncho chased by a slender man in a duster and devil mask.

The man with the ski mask and poncho had named himself "Noble," in a brief stint when reporters had cornered him immediately after the incident.

Noble had stumbled upon a masked jewelry store armed robbery on a lazy Sunday afternoon in Harlem, and confronted the culprit with an impromptu disguise.

He'd gotten streaks of red, destructive energy flung in his direction for his trouble, and noble made an arcing movement that threw the projectile off to the side. The cell phone footage quickly followed them as they danced through a deadly game of cat and mouse as Noble led the villain through the winding streets of the west side.

His adversary, who the press had kindly named "Phaser" had fled once the sirens started approaching

As the journalists tried to get more out of him he suddenly jumped from straight over a nearby building before anyone could get a second word out of him.

Definitely some kind of Mover.

"I take it you're a bit of a superhero geek, huh?" he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Just a little worried," I responded, "Everyone is all caught up in the spectacular fantasy of it all, they haven't even begun to think of what sorts of trouble superhuman powers can bring. I'm trying to scope out the local cape scene because I don't want any nasty surprises like the one that got me this." I waved around my prosthetic arm for emphasis.

"I feel you," he responded. "I keep my ears to the ground whenever I can. The students here...well, most of them aren't like the commuters that frequent this lounge. Most NYU students have grown up pretty privileged, a bit detached from reality, and all the dirty under-goings. I'm from the projects, you know? I wouldn't even be able to dream about affording NYU without a scholarship."

He leaned over and pointed his finger next to the tab I had open on violent crime being correlated with metahuman manifestation.

"That." He paused.

"Really, really fucking worries me. I'm a start-up programmer with a background in math. I know my numbers and can see what the stats imply, it doesn't take a genius to figure out."

"If superpowers manifest the way they have been, choosing people in danger and fucked up stressful situations, the heroes are only a few years away from being terribly outnumbered by the villains. We aren't living in an idyllic comic book fantasy like Golden Age DC. This is going to turn out like The Watchmen or worse, all things considered equal."

"Yeah" I agreed, although I really didn't understand all his pop culture references. Comic books had faded out of popularity in Earth Bet in my childhood apart from a select niche audience. Why go for the campy colored books when there was so much real life intrigue?

"Anyway", he continued. "I need to get this stuff organized, so just drop by the commuter lounge between if you ever wanna talk about stuff or hang out. You can find me on Facebook, look for 'Alex Seto' and I should pop right up. Toss me your number later, and all that jazz."

I bid him the best of luck, and started making my way home. It would be a long week ahead.

One thing Earth Bet and Samek had in common was in their portrayals of New York City in the media as a crime-riddled hellhole. It was actually a very egregious misconception in both cases. Back on Earth Bet, New York City was home to some of the most powerful heroes in the Protectorate, including names such as Legend on its roster, along with an amazing Thinker support team consisting of Radar and Street Sweeper. Within a decade of the Protectorate's formation, systemic crime had been stomped to a record low in the city, barring a few troublesome infestations such as the Teeth.

I had checked in on the statistics before coming here, and found that the policies passed by the recent city mayors had dropped the crime rate as much as Legend and Radar's presence had in Earth Bet.

So of course fate would have it so that I'd run into an armed robbery by a clear sex offender on my first night out in New York City, as a relative normal no less.

"My my my, what a lovely little flower we have here, you shouldn't be out alone, you know? Things have been dangerous around here."

The man before me in the back alley was homeless, and I could smell cheap liquor under his breath. He brandished his knife at me, leering the entire time. I fiddled with my walking stick, taking care to look as nervous as I could while I backed up and switched my grips.

I kicked myself, wondering why I had taken the detour down Broome street. It would've only shaved 5 minutes off my jog back.

This is what you get for taking shortcuts, Taylor.

"Just empty your pockets, unbuckle your belt, lie down quietly, and spread those cheeks for me girl. Maybe noone has to get hurt...I've always wondered what amputees are like in the sack. Heh heh heh."

He started advancing forward, and I backed up while considering my options. I fiddled with my walking stick while backing up, taking care to look as nervous as I could while I switched my grip to my left hand.

When I first started out on my escapades as Skitter, I had largely relied on my bugs to fight. I was an ambush fighter, and in worst case scenarios, I fell back on my pepper spray and running to get myself out of trouble. In the event that I couldn't fall back of any of the three options, I was in a very, very bad spot.

I had been unskilled and awkward in close quarters combat, but that had changed quite a bit after I had joined the Wards. The Protectorate had more than enough resources to allot, and my preference for a knife and combat baton had not gone unnoticed. In the time I had spent with the Wards as Weaver, I had received a fairly decent amount of training in Eskrima.

By no means was I a master with only two years of formal training, but combined with the ridiculous amount of combat experience I had in that timeframe, I was skilled enough with a stick to be a serious threat up close for someone not on his full game.

As he lunged to pin me against the wall, I twisted, bringing my stick up at a sharp angle and cracking him solidly against the jaw. He stumbled, dazed, as I followed his movement in a quarter circle and grappled him. I took care to lock his knife arm in a figure four against my prosthetic arm and twisted, using as much leverage as I could, causing the knife and my prosthetic to go flying across the alley. I brought my stick back down in a backhand, striking him in the nose, then brought it down on the back of his knee with another quick strike, hearing a *CRACK* in the process. He dropped to the ground, and another lash of my stick with my weight behind it left him crumpled on the ground, blissfully on the way to unconsciousness.

I panted, feeling the surge of adrenaline fade as he groaned in agony

I blinked, fighting off a sense of deja-vu, why did this man seem to look so familiar?

Ah well, it was probably nothing. I picked up my arm and bolted out of there as quickly as I could.

Damn

I stood perched on the rooftop, where I had silently watched the mugging play out from the shadows. I lowered my hand, since it was definitely no longer necessary to project a barrier for Taylor, and felt a familiar tug as my power faded.

Taylor gone down a route that had become notorious since Scion had destroyed chunks of Greenpoint and the East Village, attaching Manhattan to Long Island in a land bridge. The East Village was plagued with vagrants, and had become a hotbed for a new surge of violent crime over recent months.

I patrolled the area frequently after my shifts in the SRC, and had gotten a decent amount of experience over the summer in amateur heroics. Naturally, when I noticed the nice transfer student I'd met earlier being threatened by a man with a knife, I was ready to step in.

Little did I know the frail, lanky looking bespectacled girl would pull out a classic self defense maneuver straight out of Judo and outright break the man attacking her.

Taylor had left the guy crumpled in a heap with his elbow and knee twisted at awkward angles, and the guy probably had a concussion to boot.

I flicked my tracker on, letting Maddie know I had a suspect ready for pick-up, cursing as my poncho got snagged for a moment on loose tiling. I needed to get a real costume soon, preferably something more than a ski mask to hide my face and a stupid looking poncho to hide my body type.

One thing was for certain, I was going to keep an eye out for Taylor Harris.

Something about her just didn't seem to add up.