The drive was slow and awkward. But eventually, they reached his apartment.
"Thanks for the ride," Jett said, getting out.
He wrestled the bike out of the backseat.
"No problem, pizza man!" Jake said.
"Maybe next time, we can get some pizza together! On me! As long as my wife isn't there."
He drove off, leaving Jett standing on the sidewalk with his broken bike. Jett shook his head.
'What a day.'
Renja materialized across the street as the drunk driver's car pulled away. Its taillights disappeared around a corner.
She moved across the empty street quietly, making no sound on the cracked pavement. The streetlights were casting shadows, and her pale frame seemed to absorb the dim illumination, standing out starkly against the darkening brickwork of Jett's apartment building.
She stops several feet away from him, near the entrance steps. Her hands were clasped loosely in front of her. She glanced at his ridiculous wheeled bonus in the deepening gloom.
Jett felt his hairs stand up again, he turned and saw Renja. And she was staring at his bike.
He sighed, he was too tired for this. Too tired for Vampires and broken bikes.
"Look," he said.
"It's been a long day, I just want to go inside and..not deal with things."
He paused for a moment. Then he did something he knew was probably a terrible idea. But he was too exhausted to care.
"You can come in, if you want," he mumbled.
"I have..leftovers. And I guess I should probably thank you for not, you know...killing me."
He shifted tentatively towards his apartment building. It wasn't much, but it was his home.
Sort of.
"Just..no biting, okay? I'm really not in the mood to get drained tonight."
He turned and started walking towards the entrance, pushing his broken bike. He didn't look back to see if she was following. He just hoped she wouldn't try to drink his blood again. Or judge his interior decorating skills. He had a feeling those were also irregular in her eyes.
Renja slipped inside behind him, the air inside the building lobby was stale, smelling faintly of dust, old cooking odors from other apartments, and cheap disinfectant. It was warmer than the evening air outside.
Fluorescent lights shined overhead, casting a sickly yellow pallor. The sounds were muffled, there was distant television noise, and the creak of floorboards somewhere above.
Her gaze swept over the peeling paint on the walls, the worn linoleum floor, the dusty plastic plant in the corner. Then her attention returned to Jett as he wrestled the bike further inside.
Jett nearly tripped over his own feet while moving the bike. This was it, he officially lost his mind.
He was bringing a Vampire into his apartment.
He'd never had a woman over before. Not even for a friendly visit. And his first one was a creature of the night who might want to drink his blood. Great.
He glanced back at Renja.
"Uh, it's not much," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"But come on up."
He started towards the stairs, dragging the bike behind him. It made a horrible scraping noise on the floor. He hoped his neighbors weren't home. They already complained about his music. His apartment was on the third floor.
He climbed the stairs slowly, feeling his exhaustion return with a vengeance. The bike was not helping.
He finally reached his door. He fumbled with the keys, his hands shaked slightly. He unlocked the door and pushed it open.
"After you," he said to Renja, stepping aside.
His apartment was small and messy. Dishes were piled in the sink. A few shirts were scattered on the floor. Pizza boxes were stacked in a corner.
It was..not exactly presentable.
There is a desk with a PC and several controllers, books, ramen cups, and doujins were nearby. He cringed inwardly.
He really should have cleaned up. But, oh well. Too late now. He dragged the bike inside and leaned it against the wall. It looked even more pathetic in his apartment.
He couldn't tell what Renja was thinking at all.
She stepped across the room. The door clicked softly behind her, sealing them both inside the small, cluttered space.
Her pale eyes swept across the room in a slow arc. Taking in everything. Her gaze lingered momentarily on the desk—the computer monitor reflecting the room's dim light, the tangle of wires, the stacks of brightly colored manga, the ramen cups, the explicitly illustrated doujinshi left exposed.
The air was thick with his scent; fatigue, cheap soap, lingering fast food, anxiety, and the constant metallic tang of his blood that she now recognized intimately.
After having her initial assessment of the room, she moved, stepping over a discarded sweatshirt and a stray controller. Her path took her directly towards the desk, it was the epicenter of her prey's personal clutter and hobbies.
Her head tilted slightly, as she scanned the items spread across the desk surface—the sketches peeking from under a manga volume, the specific titles visible, the gaming peripherals.
"Uh, yeah," he said, watching her. "That's my stuff. I like comics. And games. And...noodles."
He glanced tentatively at the ramen cups.
"Sorry it's so messy. I haven't had time to clean. Pizza delivery is a demanding job."
He shifted his weight nervously. He hoped she wouldn't judge his collection. Some of those titles were..questionable.
"Do you want a drink or something? I have soda. Or water. Or..expired milk."
He cringed. Why did he say that?
"Or.. nothing's fine too. You can just..stand there. If you want."
Ignoring his babble completely, Renja turned her head back towards the cluttered desk. Her gaze swept over the manga spines and game controllers before settling on one of the explicit doujinshi lying partially obscured near the edge.
She raised one of her hands, her pale fingers closed gently around the thin volume. She lifted it from the desk. She didn't flip through it rapidly, nor did she recoil or show any sign of reaction to the graphic imagery adorning its cover and contained within.
Renja held it loosely in one hand, tilting her head slightly as she examined the cover art with the level of curiosity that one might afford an interesting insect or an antique curio.
After a few moments of silence. Her gaze lifted from the doujinshi. Her pale eyes traveled across the small space, meeting Jett's once more. Jett meanwhile was absolutely flabbergasted.
"Uh..that's not mine!" He blurted out.
He knew it was a lie. A bad one. But what else was he supposed to say?
"I mean, it is mine," he corrected himself quickly.
"But it's.. research! Yeah, research for a..a very important project."
He tried to sound confident.
"It's about..uh, cultural studies. I'm studying..the mating rituals of..of fictional characters!"
He winced. That was even worse.
"Okay, fine. It's mine." He admitted.
"But it's not what it looks like! I mean, it is what it looks like, but.. it's complicated."
He ran a hand through his hair, his mind was racing.
"Look, can we just not talk about it? I'll make you a sandwich! I have ham! And.. questionable cheese."
He pointed toward the kitchen, trying to distract her.
"Or we could watch a movie! I have alot f movies. Action movies, comedy movies! Movies about less embarrassing things."
He was rambling again. He needed to stop talking. But he couldn't seem to help himself.
"Just don't..judge me, everyone has their things."
She lowered her hand that was holding the manga. She didn't toss the book aside or hide it.
Instead, she placed it carefully back onto the cluttered surface of the desk. Once the book was settled, she brought her hand back to clasp loosely with the other in front of her waist.
'Yeesh, she's really not a talker..' Jett grimaced.
This was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him.
He sighed. "Okay," he said.
"Fine. Whatever. I'm going to..clean."
He started picking up clothes, shoving them into a laundry basket. He avoided looking at Renja. He could feel her eyes on him. It was like being observed by a particularly judgemental statue.
Hours passed, and Jett cleaned. He washed the dishes, he took out the trash; he even attempted to organize his manga collection.
Je eventually got tired. Really tired. It was late. Or early. He wasn't sure. He collapsed onto his bed. Fully clothed.
"I'm going to sleep now," he mumbled. "You can..stay? I guess? Just..no biting."
He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.
-
Jett shifted in his sleep. His brow furrowed. He mumbled repeatedly.
"Cold.."
His voice was low.
"Cardboard..thin..not enough."
He tossed and turned. His hands were clenched.
"Tony's loud..always with the girl.."
He was living his memories, old ones, painful ones.
"Dumpster..warm..sometimes food." He shuddered.
"Missed her..mom..why?" His voice said.
"School..laughed..can't read.."
Jett was a kid again, lost and alone. He was remembering, the endless couches, the endless nights.
"Hungry..so hungry..pizza," his voice was desperate.
"But no money..no home.."
He was reliving the fear. The shame. The gnawing emptiness. His sleep was restless. He was always troubled with the ghosts of his past, the past he tried so hard to forget.
Renja was watching it all, she eventually turned into a bat and latched onto the ceiling above him, the bat closed it's small eyes.
-
The next morning, Jett woke up. He felt like he was hit by a truck. There were bags under his eyes. They were always there. But they felt heavier.
He sat up slowly, his body ached. He looked around the room. It was..completely clean.
He didn't remember cleaning that much. He glanced at the corner where he left the bike. It was still there and broken.
Great.
He got out of bed. He stretched his limbs, and winced, his muscles were sore from handling a bad bike yesterday.
He got dressed. Dark gray shirt with an Inferno logo on it, black pants, and his jacket. It was the usual.
He skipped breakfast. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted to get the bike fixed and get to work.
Jett dragged the bike out of his apartment, down the stairs. It was even harder than last night, and he didn't see Renja in his room after waking up. He finally got outside.
He looked around for a bike repair shop. Luckily, there was one a few blocks away.
He pushed the bike down the street. It was slow and humiliating. He reached the shop. It was small and dusty.
The sign read "Bikes R Us."
A man with greasy hands and a wrench in his mouth looked up. He took the wrench out of his mouth.
"What can I do for ya?" he mumbled.
Jett pointed to the bike. "It's..broken."
The man looked at the bike. He squinted, then circled it slowly.
"Broken?" He asked. "That's an understatement. This thing's a disaster."
"I know," Jett said. "Can you fix it?"
The man shrugged. "I can fix anything. For a price."
"How much?" Jett asked.
The man scratched his chin.
"Let's see..new handlebars, new seat. New tires.. probably a new frame. Basically, a whole new bike."
"Can't you just..bend the handlebars back?" Jet asked.
The man laughed, it was a loud, wheezing laugh.
"Bend them back? Kid, these handlebars are more bent than my ex's sense of direction."
Jett stared at him. "Right..so, how much for the whole new bike option?"
The man named a price. It was more than what Jett made in a week.
"Can't you just give me a discount?"
Jett pleaded. "I'm a pizza delivery guy. I don't make a lot of money."
The man considered.
"Alright, fine. I'll give you the pizza delivery guy' discount. But you gotta promise me one thing."
"What?" Jett asked.
"You gotta bring me a pizza. With extra cheese. And no anchovies. Anchovies are an abomination to mankind."
Jett sighed. "Fine. Deal."
The man grinned. "Alright. Leave it with me. It'll be ready..eventually."
-
Sometime later, Jett finally made it to Pizza Inferno. He was late again. He pushed open the door. The bell jingled loudly.
My.Pyre was yelling at Marco.
"You call that a pizza?!" Mr.Pyre shouted. "It looks like a squirrel exploded on it!"
Marco rolled his eyes. "It's pepperoni, Mr.Pyre."
"Pepperoni or squirrel guts, it's unacceptable!" Mr.Pyre screamed. "Do it again!"
Jett sighed, this was definitely normal.
"Hey," Jett said to Marco. "What's going on?"
Marco shrugged. "Mr.Pyre's having a meltdown. He says my pizza is an affront to the culinary arts."
Mr.Pyre turned to Jett. His face was red as usual. His comb over was askew.
"Jett! You're late again! Where were you this time? Did you get abducted by aliens?"
"No," Jett said. "I had to take my bike to the shop. Remember? You gave me that..that thing."
"Oh, right," Mr.Pyre said.
"Well, hurry up! We have pizzas to deliver! And squirrels to avoid!"
He turned back to Marco. "And you! Make me a pizza that doesn't resemble roadkill!"
Jett was tired, even after sleeping. But pizzas waited for no one. Especially not Pyre. He trudged to the back.
Marco was still there. He was making another pizza—it looked vaguely like a face.
"Hey," Jett said. "How many deliveries today?"
Marco shrugged. "A lot. It's Friday. People want to be fat."
Jett grabbed the stack of boxes Marco pointed to. There were five. He checked the addresses; a small apartment building downtown, a fancy house on a hill, a comic book store, a park bench, and lastly—a cafe.
"Okay," Jett muttered. "Apartment, rich people, fellow comic lovers, homeless, and cats. Got it."
He stacked the pizzas carefully. He didn't want a repeat of yesterday's wobbling incident. He glanced at Marco's pizza.
"What's that supposed to be?"
"My self portrait," Marco said.
"But it looks like Mr.Pyre," Jett said.
"That's the point," Marco answered.
-
Jet grabbed the pizzas. He headed out. The first delivery was downtown. An apartment building. He found the address. It was tall and old—the lobby smelled like dust and old dreams.
He checked the buzzer.
'Apartment 3B.'
He pressed it.
A voice crackled through the speaker. It sounded like a robot gargling gravel.
"Who… isss… there?"
Jett blinked. "Pizza..Inferno?"
The speaker buzzed with static. Then the voice came back, even weirder.
"Pizzza..forrr..the hunger?"
Jett hesitated. "Uh..yeah, I have your pizza."
There was a long pause. Then the robot-gravel voice said, very slowly:
"Assscend."
Jett stared at the buzzer. "Ascend?"
More static:
"Yessss. The..door...iss..open."
The door buzzed. Jet cautiously went inside. He felt like he was in a bad sci-fi movie. He took the stairs. The elevator probably ran on steam. He found apartment 3B. He knocked, lightly.
He was afraid the door might talk.
A woman opened the door. She looked tired. She was wearing a bathrobe that looked equally tired.
"Hello!" Jett said. "I think your robot wanted me to assscend?"
The woman sighed. "Oh, that's just Brenda. She thinks she's a computer."
"Brenda?" Jett asked.
"Yeah. She's..eccentric. Sorry. I'll get the money."
The woman paid for the pizza, and Jett left, wondering if he had a fever dream. He checked the address for the second pizza box. It was a fancy house.
On a hill. Of course.
He sighed and started walking. Uphill. It was hot and he was tired. He regretted his life choices. He finally reached the house. It was huge, with a gate and a long driveway.
He pressed the buzzer at the gate.
A snooty voice came through the speaker:
"Who is it and what do you want?"
Jett resisted the urge to say:
"I want to lie down and sleep forever."
But instead, he said:
"Pizza Inferno," Jett leaned a little closer. "I have a delivery for..Mr. Archibald?"
He squinted at the order slip.
"Oh, yes, Jeeves, let him in," the snooty voice said.
The gate creaked open. Jett walked up the long driveway. He felt like he was walking into a movie. A movie where he was the poor delivery guy.
He reached the front door. It was massive. With a golden knocker shaped like a lion. He hesitated. Should he knock? Or use the lion knocker?
He chose the knocker. It seemed more dramatic.
The door opened. A butler stood there. He was tall and thin. He looked like a disapproving stick.
"Yes?" the butler asked. His voice was even snootier than the speaker.
"Pizza Inferno," Jett said. He held out the pizza.
The butler looked at the pizza. Then he looked at Jet. He looked at the pizza again.
"I believe there has been some mistake," he said. "Mr. Archibald ordered the Inferno Supreme. This..appears to be the Meat Meteor."
Jett checked the box. Then he checked the order slip.
"Nope," he said. "This is the Inferno Supreme."
The butler raised an eyebrow.
"Are you certain? It lacks the.. refinement I associate with Mr. Archibald's culinary preferences."
Jett stared at him. "It's just pizza..it's not supposed to be refined."
The butler sighed. "Very well. I shall inform Mr. Archibald of this..rustic offering."
He took the pizza, and gave Jett the money, closing the door afterward. Jett stood in silence, he felt like he'd just been judged by a pizza. He checked the address for the third box.
It was the comic book store.
He found the store several minutes later. It was small, and crammed with comics. Posters covered the walls. There are action figures that lined the shelves. It smelled like old paper.
He went inside.
A guy with a long beard and a t-shirt with a superhero on it looked up from behind the counter.
"Hey," he said. "Welcome to Comic Cave. Can I help you find something..or are you the pizza guy?"
"Pizza guy," Jett said. He held out the box.
"Awesome," the guy said. "We were starving, especially Todd. Todd gets hangry."
He gestured to another guy. He was huge. He was wearing a t-shirt with an even bigger superhero on it.
He was eating a comic book.
"Todd!" The guy with the beard yelled. "The pizza's here! Stop eating the merchandise!"
Todd stopped eating the comic. He looked at the pizza, and his eyes lit up.
"Pizza!" He roared.
He grabbed the pizza box from Jett's arms and ripped it open. He started eating the slices whole.
"Todd, you're gonna choke!" The guy with the beard said.
But Todd didn't choke. He finished half the pizza in seconds. The guy with the beard paid for the pizza. He gave Jett a comic book as a tip.
It was about a pizza powered superhero.
Jett's eyes were wide the entire time. Minutes later, he checked the next address.
It was a park, a specifc bench in the park.
'This is weird.'
He found the park, it was large, there were lots of trees, ducks, and lots of people. Some normal.
Some..not so normal.
He found the bench. A hobo was sitting on it. He looked up when Jett approached him.
"Hey," the hobo said. His voice was hoarse:
"You got my pizza?"
"Yeah," Jett said. He held out the box. "You ordered a..Supreme Surprise?"
"That's the one!" The hobo said. He grinned with very few teeth.
Jett handed over the pizza box. The hobo opened it. He sniffed it. Deeply.
"Smells like my favorite celebrity," he said.
He was about to take a bite, when another hobo appeared.
He was bigger, meaner looking.
"Hey!" The second hobo said:
"That's my pizza!"
"No, it's not!" The first hobo said. "I ordered it."
"I was here first!" The second hobo yelled.
"You weren't even here!"
"Liar!"
The second hobo lunged for the pizza. The first hobo held it up high.
"Get your own pizza, Carl!" He shouted.
"I don't have any money, Frank!" Carl yelled back.
They started fighting. Over the pizza. They were wrestling, punching, and kicking.
Jett just stood there, holding his now empty sling-bag. He didn't know what to do.
Suddenly, Carl grabbed a slice of pizza and ran away. Frank chased after him, they were yelling and throwing punches.
All over a slice of pizza.