The next day, after doing some more coding work, I went through my workout again, then called for pizza.

Thankfully, I’d long since worked out a deal with a few of the delivery places around my apartment, something further helped by the modern convenience of delivery apps. I could finally have food sent to me without dealing with people.

I paid with my account and waited patiently for the doorbell to ring, drinking some tea and reading a beat up old copy of one of my favorite novels in The Dresden Files series while I waited. Soon however, I found myself frowning and looking at the clock. The pizza place I had a deal with always prided itself on quick delivery. I’d never had to wait longer than twenty minutes.

It was about forty minutes in when I started to wonder what had gone wrong.

Finally the doorbell rang.

Annoyed, but not overly worried, I walked over to the door. According to the deal, the delivery would be left on my doorstep, with the deliverer gone, a generous tip already in their account. The owner, a man named Eddie, was one of the few people on Earth to see my face, and assumed that I had some sort of mutation as an explanation for my odd size and looks. He knew what I needed, he understood. That was the deal.

So when the doorbell rang again as I came closer, I stopped in surprise. Frowning, I walked up and looked through the peephole.

He was young, skinny, with pale white skin, black hair and green eyes. He looked bored, relaxed, my pizzas resting on one hand. He rang the bell again.

“Please leave the food on the door,” I said through the wood, confused.

He scowled, then rang the bell again. “Come on man, I need my tip!”

What? “What are you talking about? I sent a tip over my account. You’ve already been paid.”

“Come on man, just open the door!” the young man rolled his eyes, looking annoyed. “What are you, some weirdo? I need the money!”

“You. Have. The money,” I said slowly, trying to understand just what was wrong with this young man. “Please, leave the pizza and go, Eddie should have told you about this.”

He scowled, kicking my door. I clenched a fist, lightning surrounding it for a brief moment. “Dude, open the damn door and give me my money!”

“...Sure thing,” I opened the door.

“Finally… What the fuck!?”he dropped the pizza. I snatched the red bag out of the air, my movements sure and quick, glaring down at the young man.

“You were already paid. I’m not sure why you were so insistent, if maybe you have no idea how exactly these transactions go now. But all I wanted, was my food,” I said sternly, keeping my voice calm and steady.

“What the hell are you!?” he stumbled back. I calmly took out my pizzas from the delivery bag and tossed it at him. He reacted as though I’d thrown a live grenade.

“I was born this way. What’s your excuse?” I opened the box and grunted at the destroyed ruins within. “You wanted a tip for this? Did you flip the box a few times on your way here? Improve your driving and your attitude, please. Because unless you do, Eddie will most likely fire you soon.”

When I looked up he was gone, screaming. I sighed. Now that was familiar.

I took my destroyed pizza into my home and walked over to the phone, picking it up and calling Eddie. After a few tries while I rummaged in the box and salvaged a slice, I got an answer.

“Eddie’s Pizza, Eddie speaking.

“Eddie, it’s Adam,” I said simply, looking over my buffalo chicken slice. “I had an issue with the delivery boy.”

“Really?” Eddie sounded surprised. “I thought I sent Julie over.”

I’d met Julie. She was nice, though she still tended to avoid looking at me when she could afford it.

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“It was a young man, with black hair. He demanded a tip at the door despite our deal, screamed profanity at me, kicked my door, and went screaming into the night, leaving me with destroyed pizza.”

Eddie released an annoyed growl. “Oh, him. He must have swiped the boxes. Kid keeps demanding a higher paycheck, but he’s only been working here a month. He must have been trying to swipe an extra tip. I’ll talk to him, fire him if I have too. Do you want your money back?”

“Who will be recieving the tip I sent?” the pizza slice was hot, but still delicious. Even destroyed, Eddie’s Pizza came through.

“Julie,” Eddie said instantly. “She was the one who was supposed to deliver anyway.”

“Then let her keep it. Just please make sure I don’t have to deal with this again.”

“Consider it done, Adam. Sorry you had to deal with the kid,” Eddie said apologetically. “Tell you what, free large on your next order, guaranteed.”

“Thank you, Eddie. Have a good night,” I hung up the phone and stared at the pizza.

Damn. I was hungry, but I also kept thinking about the kid. True, he was clearly an obnoxious person.

In the modern age, I was free in a way I hadn’t been before. People were less inclined to hate me for my strangeness, more tolerant of those with strange appearances. I could go outside and receive strange stares or possible police conversations, rather than outright attacks from mobs, speak to others on the internet or phone, even interact with a few of those who had managed to look beyond my appearance. No actual friends, not in decades, but a few acquaintances.

But, in some ways, that young man was a reminder that I was still a freak. It was easy for me to say I was used to it by now, but it still scarred a bit, the sudden vicious reminder.

I forced the dark thoughts down at last, sighing. In truth, his reaction was not that bad. I didn’t truly care about his opinion. That was just the meloncholy. The week of November around my birthday always had me that way.

Devouring my pizza, I got back to work before putting on a mindless action film to end the night. Something cheesy and funny that I didn’t have to think about to enjoy. Best way to distract myself.

A couple of days after that little incident, I got a call from Mrs. Daniels while I was working out again. Taking a moment to wipe down, I ended up missing it, but she called back again quickly. I answered the phone and walked over to my computer.

“Hello, Mrs. Da- I mean, Eliza. What did you-”

“Are you in Chicago?” Eliza sounded breathless, agitated, her words coming out in a tense hiss. “Do you live here?”

“Chicago? No, I live in New York City,” I answered, confused. “Eliza, what’s wrong?”

“Adam, I need to know, why did you hire me?” she asked. I could here the sounds of a city street around her, loud honking in the background. “What were you looking for?”

“I…” I stopped, surprised at the question. “Eliza, what happened?”

“I’m being followed,” ice-water might as well have poured down my body. “Some guys in suits have been tracking me for some reason. Did you send them?”

“No!” I got up, trying to figure out what was going on. “Eliza, hang up and tell the police about this.”

“And have them find out I’ve been sneaking into a secret Monarch facility?”

“What?” I asked, stunned. “Mrs. Daniels, I never asked you to do that!”

“Why did you hire me!?” Eliza yelled. “You wanted something to be found, and I think I found it!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at it. I felt shock, elation, fear, all fill me. Was this it? Truly, the answer I had been looking for? Or the beginning of something horrific?

I put the phone back to my ear in time to hear her talk again. “- need to run again. These guys have showed again. Whatever you wanted, I’m out. I’ll send you your money back.”

“No, Eliza, please!” I yelled, trying to stay calm. “What did you find!? What is Monarch doing!?”

“Goodbye, Adam,” she said simply, hanging up

“GODS DAMN YOU!”

Lightning arced from body before I could control my, slamming into the wall and scorching the wall. I tossed the cell aside, screaming, then unleashed power on the same spot, tearing a hole in the wall. Ignoring the screams around me from the other apartments, I ran to my computer and frantically brought up my file on Monarch. Nothing. No sign of anything I’d been looking for. Nothing in their public records, any of their patents… Then it must have been deeper.

I needed to find out more. I checked my bank accounts, figuring out how much I could spend.

A plane ticket to Chicago, the earliest one I could get. I needed a hacker, someone even better with computers than I was, someone who might be able to dig deeper into the files. A guide, someone to show me around Chicago, especially after all the changes the city had been through since I was last there.

I made my plans and purchases, activated my VPN, then hit the Deep web. To keep from over explaining, I sent a message and an offer for a hacker to aid me in trade for the accepted currency the group used. I’d only done such a request a few times, but I had a good enough reputation among the group that I trusted I’d have something soon.

Then I called Eliza back, only to be sent to voicemail. Over and over I called, worried. I had a healthy respect for what a large group would do to keep a secret. Whatever they were doing, if they were having her followed, then I was going to assume the worst. Better that way.

I called her over and over that day, getting nothing.

The next day, I checked the news in Chicago.

Eliza Daniels, age 34, died in her home today after overdosing on cocaine. She leaves her wife and young child…

I flew out of New York the day after.