Hello!

I'm breakingamber, and this is a crosspost from Spacebattles, which has much more... everything. More sidestory, more art, more viewer engagement, etc. Check it out: forums. spacebattles. threads/remainders-worm-rwby-fusion.842531/.

If you enjoy (or, ideally, even if you don't) the story, please leave a review talking about what you liked or disliked! I'm always striving to improve as a writer, and constructive feedback is one of the best ways to do so.

Finally, the story is likely to go through a major rewrite within the next couple of days, so, uh, yeah, whatever. I'll leave a note talking about what I changed at the beginnning of chapter 11, when I get to it.

I hope you enjoy!

RWBY Readers: Worm is a superhero web serial about a depressed and introverted teenage girl in an extremely dark world, learning how to survive and thrive in a setting where just about everything wants to kill her or worse. It is... not for everyone. I have done my best to make this fic understandable to the casual RWBY reader, but I've probably failed miserably at that. If anything's unclear or strange, feel free to let me know, and I'll see what I can do, both in and out of story.

Worm Readers: If you read a casual summary of RWBY, you'll be fine.


Dear Ms. Monot,

Taylor stared at the letter in her hand.

We have decided to accept your application to Beacon Academy.

She couldn't believe it.

We have reviewed your testing footage and found your performance up to our standards.

She hadn't truly believed she had any chance of getting into Beacon. It had always been nothing more than a far-off pipe dream. She'd never been to a combat school, never had any professional training.

Additionally, we were quite impressed during your interview.

Sure, she'd used the idea of attending the prestigious Huntsman academy as a motivator, to keep going out and practicing in the woods, usually against Grimm, rarely just against trees. Used it to keep herself sane on those days when life became too much to bear on her too-fragile shoulders. When Emma struck a particularly vulnerable nerve with her japes, when Sophia rubbed her own Beacon application in her face, when she failed to turn in yet another assignment.

We think you show much promise.

Deep down, she'd always known she had no chance. No luck. No hope. Until she did.

The airship departs for orientation, followed by initiation, on April 10th at 5:00 PM.

That was tomorrow.

Attendance is mandatory.

A thought struck her like a baton to the back of her head. She hadn't told her father. Anything. He thought she was only going to the library or using other excuses during her daily practice sessions. She was going to have to tell him if she was going to go to Beacon. Dread filled her at the thought.

We believe we have found a hard-working and earnest young Huntsman in you.

Or… she could just… not?

I am looking forward to seeing you at Beacon.

Mind made up, she reached for a pencil, a blank sheet of paper - she couldn't find one, so she instead ripped off the bottom half of a random school assignment and used that instead - and scribbled out a letter. About a hundred words. She tried to imbue the words with truth and feeling, wasn't sure if she succeeded. Retrieved some tape, went into her father's bedroom - he wasn't home, at work instead - attached the letter to his pillow, made sure that he'd see it. Gathered her meager savings, her weapons, some clothes, her notebooks. Then she walked out the door.

Sincerely,

Headmaster Ozpin


Lisa stepped onto the airship, face set in a stony, neutral expression. She had given her bags to the attendant, though she kept her weapons holstered at her sides. She examined the crowd, internally wincing at the lurid, unique outfits of the Huntsmen-to-be. She understood the reasoning for them, yes - it made them stand out more in large crowds and allowed them to take charge of situations during Grimm attacks - but that didn't make them any less obnoxious to look at. Her own garish outfit was among the more subdued ones, a tacky purple and black thing.

She frowned when she noticed the exception. A young girl, dressed in a drab gray hoodie and faded blue jeans, curly black hair only barely visible, was hunched over near the back of the airship. It was as if she was hiding, even though her lack of distinctive outfit actually made her stand out more, her ordinariness turned extraordinary. Like a lone pinky finger on a hand where the rest of the digits had been lost to frostbite.

Lisa looked closer. She didn't need her Semblance to conclude that the girl's family was poor. Her hoodie was covered in faint stains and her jeans had holes at the knees that probably weren't intentional. Her sneakers, likely previously colorful, were now painted only in dull shades of gray. The sheath on her side looked handmade, as did the handle of the knife coming out of it. A small bulge on her back indicated an additional weapon.

Lisa wasn't sure what her deal was, though she wanted to be. She considered using her Semblance, rationalizing the decision with the knowledge that initiation would likely be tomorrow, and thus she had plenty of Aura to spare for today.

Eventually, a surge of common sense hit her and she decided to just ask the other girl. Lisa pasted a grin on her face and walked over in front of the girl. She didn't even notice, head bowed down, until Lisa stuck her hand out in front of her chest, open to shake.

"Hi! I'm Lisa. Lisa Greene. What's your name?"

The black-haired girl blinked in surprise, then hesitantly took Lisa's hand and shook it delicately, as if she were holding a very full glass of water. "Taylor Monot. Nice to meet you."

"Whatcha doing here?" The handshake was still going on and Lisa detached her hand from Taylor's.

"Um… nothing." Taylor put her own hand down.

Lisa plopped down in the seat next to the girl, putting her arms behind her back, acting as if she hadn't a care in the world. "No, I mean, what're you doing going to a top Huntsman academy like Beacon? You that good?"

"Uhhh…"

Taylor's face suddenly went paler than usual, having seen something she was clearly afraid of. Lisa followed her gaze.

A dark-skinned girl was stomping over to them, her face contorted in an angry snarl. A folding crossbow-wrist blade combination weapon was mounted on her wrist and another strapped to her back. Her outfit was primarily black — heavy black cloak, black shirt underneath, black leggings, black boots, with highlights of silver around her wrists and on her chest. Her brown eyes glared at Taylor hatefully as she stopped right in front of her, too close for comfort.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Monot? This airship is going to a school for warriors, for Huntsmen. You don't belong here, you queef. Did you sneak in?"

Lisa wasn't sure how the girl could've shrunk back any further, but Taylor somehow managed it. Weakly, she tried to reply, "I-I passed the tests just like you did…"

"Yeah, right. You're a loser, Monot. You're a coward, a rat, and a nerd. Nobody wants to be around you. You should scurry back off to the hole you came from. Go on, the ship hasn't left yet."

Taylor didn't respond.

Lisa couldn't bear to watch this any further. She opened her mouth, activated her Semblance, let the information flow in. "So, who the fuck are you?"

Angry; wants to feel superior.

Fellow classmate of black-haired girl, hates weakness, expensive and elaborate outfit; well-off.

Valean, physically fit, exercises often, crossbow held confidently; good fighter.

"Sophia." The dark-skinned girl's intense gaze shifted to her, brown eyes locking with her green. Sophia took a step forward, as if to intimidate the blonde. Lisa noticed, and was unaffected.

Irritation, mild curiosity; wants to know why I'm talking with Taylor.

Terse, insulting; wants to show dominance.

Antisocial, aggressive, anger issues; easily-irritated.

Traits learned from father; hates father.

Perfect, she thought.

Her Semblance was exceptionally useful, providing information and making logical leaps she would've been hard-pressed to make on her own. It was amazing for finding the truth and deducing weak points both of Grimm and human adversaries, but it drained Aura at a tremendous speed. She only used it sparingly. A minute of usage was enough to completely drain her Aura reserves. That would leave her defenseless.

"So, why were you accepted to Beacon? Did your daddy buy your way in for you?"

Sophia growled. Lisa kept her grin on her face, not showing a hint of fear.

Vein popping out on forehead, fists clenched; is going to attack you.

Clenched fists, athletic, believes conflict is personal, people watching; likely to punch you in the face.

Lisa was prepared for it, but when the punch did come, it was fast enough she only barely had enough time to throw her head to the side, causing the blow to brush her hair and slam into the seat behind her. Simultaneously, Lisa drew her pistol, Tattle, whirled around, and pressed it against the back of Sophia's head.

The dark-skinned girl froze.

Taylor had risen from her seat in the fraction of a moment it had taken for the exchange to occur, weapon in hand - a grey collapsible baton, from the looks of it. Lisa let her power linger on it for just a moment.

Mechashift, barrel on top; rifle mechanism.

Scuffed, dented, store-brand, store does not sell mechashift weaponry, not forged; home-modified.

Lisa would've whistled if she weren't trying to project a certain unflappable image here. If Taylor had really built that thing almost from scratch, that was impressive. Mechashift weaponry was no joke, requiring tons of maintenance and calibration. There was clearly more to this girl than met the eye.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Sophia suddenly turning into a smoky-black cloud, passing through her and slugging her in the back of the head. Lisa stumbled forward into the wall, caught by surprise. Her Aura absorbed the damage the blow would've done, but the force still applied.

Sophia followed the punch up with a kick to the back of the shin, causing Lisa to fall to one knee. Next thing she knew, something cold, metal, and pointy was pressed to the back of her head, smushing it against the seat cushion. Sophia's gruff laughter filled the air. Her knee pressed against Lisa's back.

"Guess you aren't so tough now, are you, bitch?"

Her arms were trapped against the seat at an awkward angle, preventing her from using her weapons to fight back. She couldn't talk; her mouth was pressed into the seat and anything she said would just come out as muffled gibberish. She needed to be able to see to use her Semblance, and right now all she could see was cushion. Not to mention that her Aura was already lower than she would like; about half-depleted, if she had to guess. She didn't know if Sophia's crossbow bolt would shatter her Aura and kill her if she fired it; she didn't know whether Sophia herself knew that, though she was pretty sure she wouldn't care either way.

"Don't talk smack to your betters. Try that again and I'll put a bolt between your eyes. Got it? Nod if you understand and maybe I'll let you go."

"Hey!"

A smacking sound of metal hitting skin, and then the pressure from behind was gone. Lisa flipped herself over, drew her other pistol, and took in the scene before her.

Sophia had reeled back, hand to her cheek. Taylor had stood up, and was now staring at the black-cloaked girl, expression somewhere between pride and shock. Her baton was slightly outstretched, other hand clutching the knife she'd just unsheathed.

Sophia snarled, taking a fighting stance. "You'll pay for that, Monot."

Taylor frowned. "Make me."

Lisa chimed in, walking to Taylor's side, "I agree with Taylor over here, Ms. Edgelady. I don't know what your deal is, but you seem like an ass and a bully. Leave her alone."

Sophia took a step back, preparing to charge the two of them. Lisa tensed.

Then she tripped over her cloak. Sophia fell backwards, arms flailing wildly in the air, right into someone's lap. It was a boy, dressed in baggy leggings and a loose-fitting frilled shirt. He looked entirely unperturbed by the girl's appearance. He shrugged, then plunged a short golden rod, crackling with electricity Dust, into her side, causing her to scream in pain and flail about even more violently. Not long afterward, her spasms caused her to fall to the ground, at which point she went still.

Someone gasped, but most everybody seemed to ignore the short-lived conflict. The guy with the gold rod - more of a scepter, really - rose to his feet, stretched his arms, then lifted the girl on the ground in a fireman's carry, exiting the airship.

Lisa turned her Semblance towards him as he left the ship.

Faking tiredness, thought that was entertaining; bored.

Found girl obnoxious, disproportionate retribution; no empathy.

Unsurprised, knew girl would trip, caused girl to trip; Semblance causes clumsiness.

Semblance doesn't work on Grimm, skilled in using it, not used to fighting Grimm; tournament champion.

Lisa raised her eyebrows at that. What was a tournament champion doing at Beacon? She needed to do some research.

"Did you see that?" Taylor had spoken, her voice filled with confusion.

Lisa looked at Taylor, activating her Semblance for a brief moment, informing her about the other girl.

Question, confused, low self-confidence, bullying victim; depressed.

Bullying victim, sad, anxious; suspicious.

Thinks you are nice, doesn't know why; wants to know why.

Fears rejection, too scared to ask; suicidal.

Huntress-in-training; wants to give her life to help others.

Lisa shut off her Semblance. Stared at Taylor. Felt an acute sense of deja vu. A surge of pity.

The black-haired girl noticed that Lisa had not changed the object of her gaze for ten seconds, nor responded to her question. Fidgeted curiously.

Taylor, she wondered, why would anyone do this to you?

Lisa knew, logically, that she would be better off without the burden of a suicidal, emotional, Huntsman-in-training on her shoulders. That she should really just leave the girl to her own devices, see if she sank or swam by herself. That she shouldn't tie herself down to this wreck of a girl.

Yet, at the same time, when she looked into Taylor's dull brown eyes, she couldn't help but see Rex's dead ones looking back at her. Accusingly. Spitefully.

You should've known.

Could she really leave this girl in need when she had nothing and no one?

Fuck that.

"The airship is departing in five minutes." The announcement filled the vessel, felt almost like a counter ticking down, whispering to her, 'Make your choice, make your choice.'

The boy with the scepter strolled back onto the airship, plopped down into a seat and dipped his head down, closing his eyes.

Lisa grinned a wide vulpine grin. "Sorry about that! So, Taylor, you wanna be friends?"