The pizza boy trudged up the sidewalk, grumbling all the way. He hated the hours between 10:00 PM and 2:00 AM. Especially during finals week. He really hated finals week. While the vast majority of adults who have passed that critical stage of life promptly forget most of their college experience, the life of a university student is extended indefinitely in the minds of the world's pizza delivery personnel. The all-night "We Deliver!" pizza parlors rock and roll to the tipsy rhythm of the local universities. Whether the year is in semesters, trimesters, or even quarters, the pizza places know it all with more intimacy than the students themselves.
And finals week is the pits.
No college student ever visits the cafeteria during finals. Ever. No, instead the lazy bastards order out for pizza.
All of them. Between 10:00 and 2:00.
And no matter how big the order, they never tip more than a buck.
Never.
Finals suck.
************
I hate those college brats, I hate this goddamn job, I hate my life…what's that?
The pizza delivery boy nudged the black lump in front of him with his toe. It obligingly rolled over to reveal itself as Melvin, his fellow deliverer, sans pizza box and out cold with a sizeable lump on his forehead.
Aw, shit….
Then everything went black.
************
Lina brandished her fist and did a victory jig before chucking the pizza box on top of the pile to her left and dragging the body under the bushes. She had a system all worked out. The beleaguered, frustrated, halfway insane students in the dorm behind her would order out for pizza. Lina would waylay the delivery boys on their way to the door, take their pizza and money, and hide the bodies. After a while, the now-even-more-frazzled students would become impatient and call the pizza place again. They would send another pizza over and the cycle would repeat.
It was great. Lina didn't know why she hadn't thought of this sooner.
************
From his hiding spot in the bushes Zelgadis had seen the redhead clobber the pizza boy. Shortly afterwards he had ascertained that there were, in fact, at least seven other unconscious deliverers lying scattered about the lawn in varying positions all expressive of pain. Yep. That was definitely Lina Inverse out there.
…So that was what had happened to his order.
"Hey!"
Lina whirled around at the voice. Shit. She didn't need to be caught now. Alright, she'd just incapacitate the intruder, grab the pizzas, and run like hell. Yeah. That should do it.
Zelgadis saw it coming and brought up his own knee to block hers. She wasn't going to get him that way. Oh no. He'd heard about Lina Inverse. Oops. Looked like she was going to make a break for it. Not if he could help it.
From there, the encounter degenerated from "confrontation" to "free-for-all." The battle was both engrossing and wide-ranging, each combatant making use of a great variety in technique, including, but not limited to: hair-pulling, shin-kicking, headlocks, nerve-pinches, arm-twisting, leg-sweeps, head-butts, and, in Lina's case, biting.
**********
Twenty minutes later:
The once-pristine lawn now resembled, more than anything else, the impact crater for the meteor that ended the Cretaceous. The bodies of the pizza deliverers had been variously flung into trees and bushes and covered in mud. The two participants crawled on the ground, wheezing and panting, also covered in mud, but additionally sporting various bruises, abrasions, contusions, and lumps.
"*huff*…*wheeze*…you…idiot…! Wha'…d'ya do…that…for? All I…*wheeze*…wanted…was a few…*owww*…pizzas without…having…*pant*…to pay! Is that…*huff*…too much to ask?!"
"I…*pant*…couldn't give a…rat's…ass…*wheeze*…about…the…freakin' pizzas…! I…*huff*…just…*pant*…want…my damn…soda…!"
"….
….
…You went…through all that…*pant*…you made ME…*wheeze*…go through all that…just for a SODA?"
Now, at this point, Zelgadis was, to put it mildly, perturbed. He had an exam tomorrow and a twenty-page paper due the day after tomorrow. And he was out of coffee.
This, for anyone else, would have been an annoyance.
But Zelgadis lived on coffee. He had it for breakfast, brunch, lunch, dunch, and dinner. Rumors circulated that he was on an entirely liquid diet. Had he been seriously injured, it would have had to be fed to him intravenously to prevent withdrawal and shock. When they finally cremated his corpse it was going to smell like roasting coffee beans. In short:
He. Needed. Caffeine.
Now.
He told Lina so in no uncertain terms.
"…So you're not going to take the pizzas?"
"No."
"Or the money?"
"No."
"And you're not going to report me?"
"Will you just give me the soda already?"
"…What did you say your name was?"
***********
Ten minutes later:
"Alright, here he comes. You're taller, Zel, you cosh him and I'll get his stuff."
"…."
"Jesus, you're paranoid. Yes, you get his Coke."
************
AN: Given the fact that I pulled a truly dastardly maneuver and left you hanging waiting for the next chapter to be beta-ed in Hit the Ground Running, I figured it would be only fair to post the one-shots I've got lying around in the interim between chapters. Pretty old, and not so polished as some of my more recent stuff, but you guilted me into posting it anyway. Shame on you.
