DISCLAIMER: I don't own Teen Titans. I do own all original characters in this story, though.
It takes a real hero to face death and chaos every day. To walk by the Grim Reaper and laugh. To go out every morning and face a new something new every day that would send any other man off on his feet screaming. I, am that kind of hero.
This legend begins with a daring scene. The setting, a vast body of water that if not for the structures on the horizon it could pass as an ocean. We look down on a scene that sends chills to many a heart, in the middle of a raging, thundering storm ravaging the surface of the endless water, is a boat. A kayak, actually. The last kind of vessel one would want in this weather. The man in behind the oar only keeps the tiny craft afloat with his own will, smashing the blades against the water to keep level and to keep moving at a destination he can't even see through the rain.
He's wrapped in jackets and waterproof clothe that barely keeps him warm, but despite his chilled bones he fights on through the torrent. Soon enough his efforts shine through as an island appears before his tiny boat. A small, uncivilized island that would be deserted if not for the T-shaped tower in the atop the rocky mound. Our hero pulls with all his might to beach his craft, before squeezing out of his faithful transport, dragging it o shore and roping it to a rock so it doesn't blow away. He then runs through the wind and hail, up the winding path to the tower.
He cares not for his own safety, protecting only one thing. A bundle he holds against his chest as if the fate of the world itself depends on its safety. He soon fins himself at the door of the unusually crafted tower, he approaches the main entrance. He finds it sealed with a steel covering, he sees an intercom and a tiny hatch on the side. He smiles, knowing his journey has been a success. He sighs, trudging through the mud o the panel and he pushes the call button. He feels a ring tone before some one answers, asking who it is.
"Pizza. Three cheese, one quarter sized sausage, and a vegetarian special. It'll be 27.86."
He hears shuffling before a new voice answers.
"…you're twenty minutes early…we were hoping to get it free."
He smirks in true victory, once again he'd conquered the thirty minutes or less fate.
"Well, you want 'em or not?"
A sigh is hard from the speaker, and a hatch opens under it.
"We're on the top floor, send it up the chute."
Our hero looks at the hatch, shrugging and putting his bundle in it. It closes and a rising sound is heard.
"Put them on our tab."
And he clicked out. Our hero loses his smile, hitting the call button again.
"…what is it?"
"…Sir..eh…"
"What?"
He clears his throat. The person on the other line grunts and another click is heard. He tries the call button, the line was turned off. Our hero's eye winces, he steps back to look at the tower.
"HEY! Where's my tip!"
He only gets a face full of the receding rain as his question goes unanswered. He screams it again and again, cursing the tower itself before sighing, leaning against the structure to catch his breath.
"Son of a…wait…how does a T-shaped tower even work?"
He hadn't seen any supports under the wings at the top. He curses once again and goes to find his kayak.
That guy…eh…was me.
The storm receded as I paddled back. As I slapped through the lake toward the pier I grumbled about where life had taken me. You see, I'm not your run of the mill pizza bum. I'm the best.
It all started a few years back in my senior year of high school. All my life, I've been a fighter. Actually I'm a professional mixed martial arts fighter. By the time I graduated I had quite a few trophies and titles to show for my boxing/karate dedication. The problem is, the prize money gets me enough to pay for my apartment and necessities. But not enough for the good stuff. A cell phone with a night vision camera. A microwave with a flat screen TV on the front. A girlfriend.
So I became a pizza boy. But the pay was even less than my fight pay-offs. So I took it upon myself to become the best pizza guy around. I'd make my weight in tips. And I did. I did.
For years I've had a perfect record. Not a single missed delivery or free late pizza. I've gone up the ranks to the top delivery guy in this area. They don't stick me with the two block walks. Oh no, I get the real jobs. Last month in the middle of an alien invasion two government agents in sunglasses ordered some breadsticks, from the middle of the mother ship's propulsion core. Well, I got it there while the cheese was still melted. Last week a submarine got stranded at the bottom of the ocean off the coast. When the Navy Seals got there to rescue them, the captain and crew were splitting up the pepperoni slices.
How do I do it? Guts. Pure guts. And I've done it all without a car. I can't drive. It's a physical disability. All I have are two feet, a hat, and a thermal insulated bag that can accommodate six pizzas and fixings. I'm also a jack of all trades and have turned down positions from the FBI, CIA, and I can't remember the name of the last group. They made me sign some paper hat said I didn't remember them, and they paid me to forget everything. By the way, the guy at the Area 51 Gate is a great tipper.
So I've been called the ultimate pizza delivery method. Could be. Until a day ago my boss informed me that a party couldn't pick up a pizza due to schedule problems, and if today I could deliver a pizza. To a tower, on an island, in the middle of a lake in hurricane weather. Those tower people are the first punks since my first delivery who haven't tipped me. Who did those guys think they are, the planet's protectors? I understood they couldn't come to the door, but why not send down a five dollar bill down their fancy chute? I've disguised myself as a ninja android and smuggled a pizza to the mayor back when the city was taken over by that guy in the mask. What makes them so high and mighty?
When I did walk back into the pizza parlor, sopping wet, wringing out my clothes and carrying a full sized kayak on my back, nobody looked twice. I've come in looking weirder. Like that ninja android thing, it's great at costume parties.
"Setanta, how's the tips?"
An elderly Italian man was behind the counter rolling dough. Setanta, my last name. How are my tips?
"…Sir, I got there fifteen minutes early in this weather and they skipped the tip."
My old boss laughed.
"You'll get 'em next time…You always do."
And he kept rolling dough, chuckling to himself in Italian. I squished into the back room to dry off and regain feeling in my extremities. I'll get what I deserve next time. And they'll get theirs…oh yes, they will. They'll ask for pepperoni, get cheese, and no refunds…
The Next Day
It's sunset. The pizza hour is coming. I'm in the back room once again, suiting up in my hat and monogrammed jacket. I look in the mirror at my brown sport cut, streaked with peroxide blonde. My face, stoic and serious as always. I had a cut over my right eye from a kickboxer from downtown. I had it covered with petroleum, no band aid, I've always roughed it out.
As I pulled on my old pizza-logo baseball cap I remember the previous day. Nearly dying in a hurricane, and no tip. Even that giant fighting robot in that old stadium gave me a tip. Even the nerdy guy in the moth suit who took the pizza from a basement window. Who doesn't tip the pizza guy?
I walked out behind the counter and sat down on the edge of a shelf, waiting for one of the big jobs. I watched the new guys shuffle out with their boxes and drinks, out to their junker cars and pick up trucks. They've probably had to fight off mutated dogs, disgruntled fat people, or disgruntled fatties who actually sick the mutated dogs on you.
We got the call at eight. Same order as last time. Sausage, three cheese, and the vegetarian special…this time with an order of breadsticks. Well, eating fancy tonight, you dirty tip hogs? When my boss put down the phone he just looked at me and nodded. I grabbed the boxes, loaded up my bag and headed outside. A friend had borrowed my kayak for some reason, said it was for a date. The heck, it's a one person kayak. It wouldn't work out at all! Wait…unless…oh crap, now I have to sterilize my kayak. There's a sentence you don't say every day.
As I walked down the block to the pier to rent a boat, I felt a breeze pick up suddenly. I shrugged, figuring it was a windy night after a storm and kept walking. Then I felt something odd under my feet. Nothing. I look down to see the dark night sky dotted with stars and the moon. I looked up to see over the brim of my hat was the night-lit city flying by. Wait, where'd my pizzas go? I look down again and see an orange hand holding my ankle firmly. I tilt my head to see another hand holding my bag of pizzas. I take a few more looks at the upside-down city before making a guess that I was being held upside down by my ankle. I decided to test my theory by talking to whatever was holding me, I couldn't see who or what it was from here.
"Hi there! I'm Dave Setanta. So, mind telling me…oh, I don't know…WHAT IN THE GREEN HELL IS GOING ON!"
I heard a bubbling voice come from behind me, I couldn't see the face though. Sounds feminine.
"…why, I believe we are not in an Emerald Hades…but I am here to find the Bearer of Pizza."
"….what?"
"My friends and I ordered a pizza, a tasty edible disc. Cyborg explained a human would be delivering it to us in time, so I searched for a person carrying a pizza container. Are you the guy who is bearing our pizzas?"
"…I'm the pizza guy, yeah."
I scratched my head, which was hanging hundreds of feet in the air as we went over the dark colored lake.
"…hey uh…who are you exactly?"
"I am Starfire!"
…huh…is that Vegan or something. Wait, 'Starfire' must be female. This could be a better tip than I thought…aw, right.
"I apologize for not explaining my not being human, I am from Tamaaran."
"…ain't that in Jersey?"
"If 'Jerr-see' is the Guylos Galaxy, yes you are correct, pizza master."
Wait…galaxy? Flying…orange skin…odd name…she doesn't tip the pizza guy…
"Hey, are you an alien?"
"How did you know!"
…and freakishly cheery…yeah, she ain't human.
"…just a sec…SOMEBODY SHOOT IT!"
I waved at who ever might see me, pointing at whatever the heck was holding my by the foot. I saw a speed boat pass by full of college kids, one had a loud speaker.
"DUDE! You'd fall and die if we did!"
I thought that over calmly, holding my chin upside-down.
"…on second thought…SHOOT ME, IT'LL BE FASTER!"
Hey, the last thing I need is something popping out of my chest and taking over the world until Wynona Ryder comes along for the tenth time in the same franchise.
Author's Note
Continued next chapter, please review. This isn't some serious fan story, more of an artistic humor piece. Oh, who am I kidding, it's for laughs.
