You yawn and glance at your last order for the night. It seems to be only a couple of minutes away but it’s the special request the catches your eyes. ‘Bring the pizza to the rooftop and slide the box to the left side of the door you exit. Pls and thank you. BTW the elevator is broken, I’m sorry so you could take a couple slices if you want.’ Their card information also didn’t go through correctly so they’d have to pay in person.
You stifle a laugh but shrug it off, it’s not the weirdest request you’ve gotten. Though you’re a bit worried about how many flights of stairs there’s going to be. You’ll survive, you think to yourself, you need some cardio for the day anyway.
Once you make it to the apartment and head to the stairs, you glance at the number of floors. 15.
You exhale loudly and audibly groan, stomping your foot. “They couldn’t meet me at the door?” you grumble and enter the stairway, making your way up the many steps.
Less than half an hour later, you finally make it to the rooftop with sore legs and heavy breathing. Opening the door brings your relief when New York’s icy air blasts against you. You let out a dramatic sigh and look around, then remembering you were told to slide the pizza to the left.
You crouch down and carefully do so, waiting to see what’ll happen. Nothing happens and you assume they’re waiting for you to leave so you open and close the rooftop door. You see an oddly familiar gloved hand reach to grab the pizza. Once you take a closer look, you realize it’s Spider-Man’s hand. Your eyes widen and you couldn’t help but ask, “Spider-Man?”
