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Disclaimer: Worm is Wildbow amazing as he is and Dead by Daylight is owned by Behavior Interactive. Also don’t take this seriously, it’s a plot bunny that has high chances of not going anywhere, and I haven’t played the game in a while mostly because I got bored but I like the lore quite bit. So if there is any mistakes with how the killers powers and abilities or anything else from DbD are moved to the setting please tell me.


Hunt 1.1.


Brockton Bay looked eerie by night and the only thing she could think of was I want to go home.


She didn't want to do this. She wanted to be in bed, safe and away from the cold, from loneliness, and from possible criminals.


But she couldn't, she wouldn't. She had to do this tonight. She knew that if she didn't do this then she would find an excuse for not doing it tomorrow, and the day after and the day after that one. And so on until one day she knew that she wouldn't be able to keep hold of them anymore and then they would—.


Better not to think of that. The voices were already too present in her daily life without the need to give them more attention. The more attention she gave them then it was more that they showed her, and she could live without those.


She breathed in, feeling it course through her body, inside and out. It did little to relax her and it arguably made her anxiety worse.


But still she decided to keep going without looking back. The optimistic part of her brain couldn't help but think that she was doing  did it by her own accord and free will...something that was immediately squished when the much more realistic side told her that it wasn't really her choice. It had to be tonight or the consequences would be too severe. 


The voices had made that clear.


It was just after midnight and she was crossing the line between the nice side of the city to the one where all the gangsters, whores and criminals lived. The perfect hunting ground for someone like her. Full of people that, if the worst happened, not many would miss.


Memories, both bad and good, arose and Taylor immediately killed them. No time to think about those things. That was what the therapist was for, and strong emotions only made it worse. She focused on her trip and her objective and left all thoughts of sadness and melancholy wash away.


 Brockton Bay used to be a bustling city full of work and opportunities, thanks to its import/export business. But when it dried up it left a lot of people without jobs, which in turn led to the sudden increase of supervillain population when a considerable portion of the population suddenly saw crime, and other illicit activities as viable job opportunities.


The heroes’ response took some time to arrive and by then Brockton Bay had already been filled to the brim with villains, gangs, and other groups that weren't too eager to share it with one another. However, an equilibrium between heroes and villains was struck and for a while Brockton Bay could enjoy a new normal where finally, there was someone to stop the villains from going too far.


Then the killings started, and the delicate balance that was struck got shattered once again when several high profile capes got killed and outed among several other high profile victims. Several of which were seemingly unconnected. 


The fact that the killer was never caught, even when the Protectorate got involved, only made it further noteworthy and became a black spot on the city’s history and a point of mockery when the Protectorate competence came up.


She reached the ugly part of the city, and she could see the change almost immediately. Buildings were worse off and there was an enormous quantity of abandoned warehouses and apartments, which gave the most destitute people some shelter from the outside world. She steered clear of anyone the best she could in search of an empty quiet place to use her power. 


Better if there wasn’t anyone to watch that nearby.

She found her solace in an empty alley, and  there she prepared herself to use her power. It was always hard for her to use it, and no matter what she did it never got 

any easier.


She tried to research if these things were normal for new capes, if the alien, intruding and dissociative feeling that her power gave her was the norm when it came to powers.


She was disappointed. All the ones she found spoke of how parahumans saw their powers as something instinctual, something they learned how to use in natural ways, sometimes with help, to learn new ways to use them. None ever spoke of the wrongness of it all. Of the dreams and the blood.


She knew of only one person that had a power similar to her own, and she refused to be like her. First of all she was sure their powers were wildly different at their core,  and second (and most important) she was not a murderer.


Not yet at least.


She focused on her power and the feelings it gave her. The cold, the i ntrusion, of something that wasn’t her in her body, and soul. She couldn’t place where it was in her body or insides it was, and in the end she just decided that it was just there. Several presences, all pressing on her from different sides, in a place she couldn’t pinpoint, but was far enough for her to be unable to reach, but not enough for her to not feel.


She grasped that feeling and then went deeper, as if  entering a hallway full of doors and webs. And behind those doors were the voices.


The body compressed and churned, and he screamed, he deserved, he deserved it, he-.


No, not that one, Taylor thought, passing by the door with sounds of grinding. Too sorrowful and monstrous in shape; need something better to start with.


Another one.  Chainsaw roaring. Twisted. Disfigured. He screamed and- No not that one.


Taylor grimaced and frustration started to creep in. Another one too bad to use. That one was also far too monstrous to use. Too much of a berserk. She needed to be quiet. 


She needed one of the less horrifying ones. One that would allow her to at least pretend to be a hero. She searched the tunnel with her unique sense. So many doors… and all of them with monsters in it. She knew just the one that could help her, though.  She needed to be a ghost.


“The Nurse” , she thought. “ Take me to her.”


She moved and arrived in front of another door.  The flesh around his neck was soft, yet sturdy. Sally just keep squishing and his eyes bulged. The doctor was always rude to her and now she-.


Taylor silenced the voice, but it was still there. Still speaking but she wouldn’t hear it anymore. She’d already tried once and knew what would happen if she did it again.


She opened the door, felt the cold and sadness from within and then embraced what was inside .


— Anxious girl was among the nicest. She couldn't help but feel a little—.


Taylor focused and tried to take in the wave of memories from the Nurse and as she did tried to suppress them. To dominate them. This was always the hardest part of the transformation. To remember the line that existed between her and the woman that used to be Sally.


She giggled. Nurse Morris told her that—.


“Close your eyes and remember who you are”, Taylor thought.  “ Remember Mom and Dad. Emma. The people you do this for.”


It’s okay. It's okay. You can do this just get up and go to work and then you can just re–.  Another fragment of a memory. Another thing she had to squash.


Cold kept washing over her and she felt her body twist and change even more. Her breath grew short, her body weightless. The others’ presence dimming out and The Nurse getting stronger and stronger. Enveloping her.


A cacophony of voices  engulfed her, all saying different things. All of them in a female voice constantly changing.


Remember who you are .


I'm Taylor Anne Hebert. I'm Taylor Anne Hebert.  Daughter, friend and...hero. Not her. Never her.”


The voices reached a crescendo. All screaming. Taylor just kept repeating her mantra.


She was enveloped in white by now. She just knew it.


Her left hand was full. She was almost done.


“I'm Taylor Anne Hebert. A hero. Not a murderer...I'm not you, Sally .”


The screaming stopped and the presences where gone, voices and memories with them.


Taylor was alone. In a body not her own, but truly alone for the first time in a while.


She looked at her hands and grimaced at the bloody bonesaw in one of them. Banishing it didn't work, it always came back. The same thing happened when she  threw it away and hoped it got lost somewhere. It always returned it to her hand. The blood stains didn't go away either. They were always there. Always a proof of the true nature of the person she looked like and the things she did.


The rest of her wasn't better, which was really depressing when she considered that the Nurse was one of the less monstrous-looking ones.


From her head to toe she was covered in white tattered robes that were actually a nurse uniform from decades before. She couldn't see, or at least not very well — dirty bandages covered her entire head —but her power made that moot.  She wasn't walking, or touching the ground. She was floating and couldn't get down. Not like she wanted. Her feet were bare and the ground must be cold.


She looked like a ghost, and certainly not a friendly one; She looked like those out of horror movies that were out to kill people. And wasn't that the gist of her problems?


Some capes got super strength and the power to fly. Others were tinkers that could built amazing technological marvels. Others could throw lasers around and make force fields. All of them were good powers.


The kind of powers a hero should have.


Her? What a joke compared to them.


And that was because Taylor Hebert couldn't do any of these things. Of all the powers she could have ended up with she ended up with one that screamed “villain” all over.


And why's that? Well that was because of all the amazing powers out there she ended up with the ability to turn into serial killers. Each one of them with different powers and abilities.


On the surface that sounded good, but that wasn't the end of it. And that was because those killers weren't quiet. They were alive and sentient inside of her. Always there, asking for her to use them or worse.


They invaded her dreams day after day if she didn't do this. Constant. Unrelenting. Unless she complied.


And they wanted out.