Pizza 101

How can I help you?

A yawning gulf of nothing stretched in all directions, a realm so distant that even the faintest echo of our own cosmos could not reach it. Here lay the Titan's Ring: eight entwined universes arrayed like chambers around a luminous pool of unending energy— the Hyper Stream. To the myriad beings living within these worlds, life felt no different than survival on any other planet; but to the Obelis—cosmic overseers whose might surpassed comprehension—each universe was no more than a room in their infinite mansion. Bound by an unspoken pact, they refrained from clashing directly. Instead, each Obelis bestowed fragments of their power upon chosen mortals, watching with detached amusement as those mortals ushered chaos through the Ring.

On the fringes of this wondrous nexus, in Sector 2 of the Orrune universe, drifted what once must have been a thriving planet. Now it lay in shattered ruin: fragments of black basalt littered with white crystalline spires, all orbiting a roiling core of raw, white conflagration—an orb resembling a sun forged of energy itself. Before this broken world hovered a vessel the size of an apartment building: matte black, triangular in profile, streaked with an array of tiny red ports.

Inside, a small crew had stowed themselves amid pizza boxes and fold‑out chairs. The compartment smelled of grease and stale cardboard. Leaning back in one such chair sat a man whose physique seemed carved from stone—broad shoulders, rippling arms, the bearing of someone unafraid of a fight. His sea‑green, sleeveless letterman jacket was buttoned tight, its hood drawn low over bandages wound from shoulders to fingertips. Similar wrappings shielded his nose and throat. Pitch‑black sunglasses hid his eyes completely, and a backward cap perched atop his hood. Only the stiff cut of blue jeans and black combat boots hinted at the man's casual defiance. Pizza‑shaped emblems—an angular "L"—branded both his jacket and hat.

"Yooo, are we finally here?" he called, springing to his feet and slinging the chair aside. He made his way to stand before a woman cradling a softly pulsating blue orb in her gloved hands. Her black trench coat rippled to her ankles, its fabric catching the crimson glow from the planet outside. Streaks of purple shimmered through her dark hair.

"Yep," she replied, voice cool. "This is the place."

He stomped toward the viewport, pressing a fist against the glass as he peered into the void. "Jeez, I was tired of waiting! Holy shit, dude—this place is supposed to have the key to freeing Lisa? Does it even have oxygen? It looks like some giant, corrupted cracker."

"When have you ever worried about oxygen?" she asked, brows arching under her hood.

He spun on her. "Aren't you going down there too? You've got nothing resembling a spacesuit..."

She shrugged. "I'm staying with the ship. I'm not going down."

He huffed. "Would make the mission faster, though."

The blue orb flared brighter in her hands, and a gentle feminine voice echoed inside the chamber.

"I don't think retrieving what I need from this planet will demand many hands," came the calm tone. "If you move swiftly, you could be in and out in as little as thirty minutes."

"What—what would take us thirty minutes to do on this planet, Lisa?" he demanded, turning his hidden face toward the glowing sphere.

"Down there lies an ashen world, corrupted by a Solcrux," she explained. "These are seeds of death: they rot solar systems if left unchecked, and—over enough time—entire universes."

He staggered back as if struck. "What?! How can you even downplay something that dangerous? I thought this was simple: we grab something and leave. But no! You want us to...wait, what did you want us to do again?"