A rauctious noise had resonated throughout the still winter air. The shadows lining the alleyway had twittered and twisted wildly with the changing sets of light; they had danced hand-in-hand with the rolling garbage cans and the tumbling crates. In its own way, the noise was a charming melody of urban decay. It wreaked of quick mess, but there was a homely feel to it. It certainly failed to be a threatening noise - and it had failed to startle him more than a quick tremor down his spine. The word of caution was that a man should always lean on his toes. If something reverberated within the dead of night, he was to stop and take in the sound. He was to analyze it, and pass judgement on whether or not his being was secure. Hardly a man of caution, there were days in which Charlie discarded the rule all together. Nevertheless, there were those times in which he could do nothing more than freeze in his tracks with brows quirked and senses alert.

The passing years had been troublesome for him. He worked his solitary delivary job, walking pizza from door to door, or biking when the veichle were functioning. Such an occupation had given him the most awkward of hours. He did not approve of them, but a man of his qualificiations and age held little room for protesting. All he could do was watch; all he could do was be cautious and keep a keen eye when necessary. Still, he grew lazy from time to time with the thoughts. That never changed the anxiousness within his heart, though. He could see the images replaying on the television set. He could hear the reporters with their constant detailing of the situation. Vampires. Werewolves. Things that were not human had just ... Emerged. They had taken to the street like something from a Hollywood Horror Film. They had exacted their toll with little reasoning, and they had ushered in their era. One could never be too trusting. It led to problems. With that in mind, the alley had become his focus.

The corners of Charlie's lips had quivered as he leaned into the alleyway. His mouth had fallen ajar, a timid noise escaping his throat as a scraggily cat rushed by his feet. Squinting angrily at the thing, he had made the motion to kick the ground; his toes had scuffled the side-walk's pavement as he held the pizza box tighter. "Damn cats!" He had seethed in annoyance. Nervously, he had pulled the rim of his baseball cap further over his eyes, permitting it hide the remains of his short brown bangs. With a shake of his head, he had turned to continue his walk. After all, there was a delivery to be made! He knew his boss would never take kindly to the idea of his being late. As the rule stated: thirty minutes or your pizza is free. There were no excuses - be they checking for the inhuman vermin to prowl the streets at the dead of night or otherwise. As he continued down the road, the noises had ate at him. Charlie had been incapable to help himself. He had tossed his head back from time to time to peek at what was behind him. He had felt the hairs on his neck rise, and, in the end, he had found himself running and swearing all the way. He just wanted to finish the delivery so that he could return to the store and finish his shift; then he could crawl into his bed and sleep for a few hours. Many hours.

His black and white sneakers had pattered against the ground heavily as he dashed, twisting around corner after corner of the blocks in search for the proper building number. The ends of his uniform's slacks had ground against the pavement, causing him to stagger from time to time. Through a stroke of misfortunate luck, Charlie had fallen over himself entirely. The pizza box had broken the bonds of his arms, and, like a free bird, had made way to soar through the air. Unlike a bird, it had not flown. It had simply crashed, the box splaying open and its contents painting the shadowed floor. His face had become white at the sight of it all. A lump had been caught within his throat. Lady Luck did not seem to fancy him that evening, between disheveled cats startling him, late night deliveries, and the destruction of a meal that was not his own. No. Luck certainly did not appear to love him - and to that he only held one word of response: "Shit."

Karyn Kasi, late night disc jockey at The Wave (93.7, WLUL), twirled a strand of dyed-red hair around a finger as she announced the title and artist for the song she was about to play. It was a good break, and she had timed out the next segue perfectly. It had been a rather good night, thusfar. Now all she needed was her dinner.

Karyn was glad the night was going well. She'd had some trouble the past couple days. One of her co-workers commented that she might be a vampire, since she had had night shifts at all the stations she had worked. While no one had taken him seriously, it still was shocking to hear the accusation.

What sort of world was it, when the night-shift DJ was verbally attacked for doing her job? The modern world, she thought, frowning and picking a dog hair off her black sweatpants. But of course, she couldn't mention it on the air. Her boss had decided to make the station "a haven from all the were-this and vamp-that in the media". Secretly, Karyn bet that that would lose him listeners. Not her place to say, though.

For the longest of time, Charlie had simply stared at the mess he had made. His face had distorted to a look of pure dissatisfaction as he thought over what to do. The job had been so simple! All he had needed to do was take the address, the pizza, and put two and two together. Even that seemed to be a difficulty. What had he done? He had ruined it! He could just imagine the many voices ringing against him. If he were to turn back, or to call someone, they were bound to be more than unhappy with the situation. Though the thought were rather irrational, he was willing to bet that there was the chance he would lose his job for having blundered in such a ... clumsy manner. there were many delivery boys within the world, likely more appealing. He simply could not afford being clumsy. His job. He needed his job.

The paranoia over werewolves and vampires had gradually diminished from his brain. There was only one concern (and one option) within his mind. He had to fix the pizza. Surely the ground wouldn't have affected the taste too badly? As he heaved a sigh, he had gathered the box to fluff it out lightly. His fingers had nimbly set it aside before they had attempted to grab the pizza. Naturally, the thing had fallen apart. It had become a pile of squished, rolled pizza, settled carelessly into the box and smashed down until the thing were closed. Each action he had performed to condense the thing had left him cringing. The idea of picking it up had seemed perfect, yet he had ruined the thing entirely! "What do I do? What do I do? Aghh..." He had tossed his sauce covered hands about, breathing heavily as he scooped up the box.

His hazel eyes had scanned the area quietly, taking in the building numbers. It was then that he saw it. Clear as day, the address was just across the street. Giving the box a hesitant look, Charlie's face had began twisting all the more. His shoulders had sank as he rose from the sidewalk. Quietly, he had removed his hat from his head to reveal the hair sticking in its random directions. Well, the honest thing to do was to take the customer their pizza. Maybe if he explained it to them, they would understand and ... not tell anyone? The day and age called for it. How could anyone blame him? He had no company car. His bike was broken, and he walked alone through the haunting streets. Dropping the box was inevitable! Wasn't it?

A gulp had echoed within his ears as his feet carried him to the door of the building - a radio station. Ever apprehensive, Charlie had lingered outside the front for several moments before opening the door and peeping inside. The first time he had ever delievered to a place that wasn't a residential home. Maybe all he needed to do was set the thing on the front desk? What about the payment? If he walked away, then there would be no pay. As it was? If he stayed there likely wouldn't be any pay either. He had shaken the thought away; his fingers had rubbed away at his temples as he strode through the building with the box settled just beneath one of his arms.

"Okay, Charlie. Okay. It's an easy situation - you just find whoever this ... Person is. You give them their box. They never look inside before you're gone. If they do? Just explain. Just be honest. Yeah. Honest. Honest." His mantra had developed as he wandered; his voice had echoed in a terribly loud manner, as had his footsteps. They were frantic, irritable, and characterized by an almost pouting pause.

Karyn was hoping the pizza would come soon. She had decided to splurge and order pizza because none of the cans of soup she kept stowed away in the pantry looked appetizing. She peeked out of the studio, wondering if she hadn't heard the doorbell ring through the cheap soundproofing in the studio. Unlikely. She could hear animals in the forest preserve behind the station, one doorbell ought not be too hard to hear.

She went back, took a request call that she could play after the next commercial break, and sighed. It wasn't that she disliked the night shift, really, but sometimes, the lull made her want to move down to a smaller market where she would be good enough to be an afternoon drive DJ. She pulled her headphones off, reminding herself that a) she was in radio, her dream, b) she was still fully human, thank god, and c) hadn't she been complaining about having to get up early back before she started working nights?

Charlie's exploration had eventually lead him all about the radio station until he had caught sight of a head peeking from outside of a studio. That had been enough for him! His heart had jumped to his throat as he feet scurried along, his hands holding out the pizza box in a swift motion after having found who appeared to be one of the few people lingering within the building. He was certain there were more elsewhere, but he simply wanted to drop the ruined pizza off and return to the store (or return home, which seemed a more fitting option for his mind).

In an osentatious manner, he had cleared his throat, giving a motion to the box eagerly, as if to inquire if the individual who had poked their head out were the customer who had ordered the pizza. He found feel his palms growing sweaty with unease. He could not seem to get over the fact that he had messed up.

Karyn nodded, and took the pizza, handing the delivery boy the money, plus a tip. She opened it to make sure there were no bell peppers on the veggie pizza (as she had requested; she was allergic, and had gotten the standard veggie, peppers and all, before). Seeing the sorry state of the pizza, she looked the boy right in the eye. "What's this?" She kept her voice calm and trained, but was mentally reaming him.

Lady Luck had to hate him. All Charlie had been able to do was take the money and tip, then stare as the woman opened up the box. He had not even had the opportunity to turn around! His feet had rattled within his shoes; his teeth had ground together anxiously. As much as he hated his job, he needed his job. Without it, he was broke. Without it, he couldn't pay his rent - and, without it, he had no hope of ever gaining an advancement.

The calm, cool voice to leave the customer's throat had not made the circumstance easier. Charlie's jaw had fallen ajar, only to shut again as he set the palm of a hand against his forehead. Quietly, he had held the money back out to her, attempting to hide a measly fifty cents to buy a newspaper when he left. He was going to need to start job hunting immediately if he wanted things to remain stable. One word of it all, his head would be on a platter, and his body would be out to the curb.

"You see..." He had struggled with the words, dropping the money due to the faint quiver of his hand. Anxiously, he had planted his eyes onto the woman's face. A radio station - and he seemed to have encountered a jockey at that. If such were the case, he had embarassed himself well beyond belief. Jockeys were ruthless with their story telling, were they not? Biting on his lip, he had dreamt of some way to explain the issue. Something better than 'a cat startled me'. He had found nothing - and so it was the truth that erupted from his throat.

"It's late out - you know what that means, don't you? There are things all over the place out there; they'll tear you apart - and so I tripped." He had shaken his head at the nonsense of his own speech. "Look, ma'am, I'm sorry - I wanted to get out of the open, and I tripped. The pizza fell and I couldn't catch it, but it's policy that I deliver it." Policy? Oh, he should have just gone home.

"Ah." Karyn thought of five nasty replies but said nothing until she was calm. How to deal with this? The boy was shaking in his boots. Would probably be fired for this. At the same time, she was frustrated as hell. No pizza meant she'd have to go for the soups for dinner. Ech.

But how to deal with this? She wasn't going to allow herself the pleasure of a tantrum, but wanted to express her anger somehow. Hm. "Lemme guess, you're not going to have a job when you tell them what happened?" An idea was brewing in her mind.

The fact that she seemed contained had only made the circumstance worse for Charlie. He could not fathom how anyone could easily handle receiving their meal in a messy heap, covered with pebbles and whatever else had been tossed out onto the city's side-walks. Yet, whoever the girl was, she appeared to have herself under control. At least she had not began shouting at him or anything of the sort (though that had only served to make him a tad more nervous than he would have been had she started off on him).

His eyes had wearily shifted to the exit way. A disapproving noise had escaped his throat, low and childish like his pitched voice. Young, quirky, and fidgety, he seemed more embarassed and afraid than anything. As she had spoken a few words to inquire, he had snapped. His focus had dead-locked upon her, his features depicting certainty. "Probably not; you should see the guy who runs that place. Doesn't even give you a car for these runs." Charlie had murmured, shifting loosely in place. "Hard as a rock. Just sets you out, not another word. Doesn't buy the fact that you could get yourself killed out there." His face had become stern, as if he felt somewhat justified in the accidental nature of it. "If you want to file a... a complaint, the number's on the box."

"That would be a waste of my time, your time, and his time. How about this; stay here for the night. No reason for you to go back, anyway?" Karyn was conscious of her posture, not crossing her arms, as to appear more open. "And in the morning, I'll drive you home."

Karyn understood the dangers of sending the boy back. There were things out there, and, as she'd stated, no reason to go back. Often in winter, she had the morning jock walk her to her car if it was still dark out when her shift ended.

As much of a waste as it seemed to be, Charlie knew it was inevitable. His boss would find out about the pizza whether or not she complained, and he was bound to be an unhappy man when that moment came. Even so, the girl posed a logical arguement. There was no reason for him to return to the store. She wasn't going to pay for a ruined pizza, and the only thing awaiting him (if he made it in one piece) was a berating, as well as the dreaded realization of being unemployed yet again.

The corners of his mouth had twitched sheepishly as he watched the woman, a little perplexed by her generosity. He had every reason to be a little intimidated by her offer, yet, at the same time, it was a far more comforting thought than having to stroll to the store, then home, in the dead of night. Once more his lips had twitched. He had breathed before mussing his hair, tugging on it with his fingers anxiously. "I'm sorry." He had said again while shaking his head; then he had tried to straighten himself. A sheepish grin had been given as he extended a hand. "I'm... My name's Charlie, ma'am. Thank you." He had paused. "For taking this so lightly. It doesn't happen a lot, but ..." once more he had paused, seeming to look a bit uncomfortable. "Alright, so it has happened a few times before. But that doesn't matter."

"Charlie? How's the chocolate factory?" She laughed at her own literary reference, glad he was staying. She'd feel bad making him walk back to work in the dark. "I'm Karyn, though on the air I use the name Betty Poz. You know, so no crazy listeners try to stalk me..." It had happened before, and in these days, every caution was necessary. She shook his hand briskly, then peeked back into the studio to see how long she had.

"I'm going to need to crack the mike for a moment. Wanna come into the studio?" She opened the door, waiting for him to follow. Heck, maybe she could do a call-in..."Anyone hiring ex-delivery boys?"

"The ... Uh." Charlie's eyebrows had raised in confusion, as if he had not understood the reference at first. Then he had suffered what had appeared to be an epiphany. His face had turned red, and his eyes had grown wide. "O-oh! Oh." He had seemed to try and smile sheepishly, but it had quickly wavered. As jumpy as he was, it was all he could attempt to do. Things seemed to be working out better than he had imagined, which had left him to suspect.


The tip of his shoe had scratched at the ankle of his uniform's slacks. Hesitantly, he had given the studio a glance from the outside. "Karyn?" He had looked back to her, seeming to become a little more at ease. "It's that big of a job?"

Before he could continue on the matter, he had found the door opened and the offer in tact. His jaw had seemed to drop at the mention of anyone hiring. What was she doing? What game was she playing with him? "You're offering a job?" He had sounded surprised. Soon he had shut his gaping jaw and had placed a hand on his chin. An eager look had seemed to cross his face as he nodded. He had never been to a studio. Looking around sounded at least interesting, and far more fun than worrying about the contents of the great outside. He would relax. At least for a while - and when the time came he would concern himself with the matters which drove his head wild.

"It's alright to come in, then? You're not mad?"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down with the questions," Karyn said with a smile. "Okay, Yes, you can come in. No, I'm not mad. A bit peeved, perhaps. That big of a job? Can be. It's also sort of tradition." She walked into the studio, taking her seat. "As for offering you a job, that's up to the GM."

She held up a finger to signal him to be quiet as she lifted the headphones onto her head and cracked the microphone. "WLUL, the Wave, the smoothest of today's hits and yesterday's grooves. That was Suzanne Vega with Left of Center. Now here's Crash Test Dummies on 93.7, the Wave."

A simple air check, but it went well. She looked over at Charlie. "How about for now you just answer the phones?

((I'm thinking of getting my second character, the werewolf, on the request line. Sorry for my radio geekdom overtaking this...))

(( Heheh - I'm learning things, which is good. xD I never learned about Radio, but I know a lot about studios, so I can figure most of it. :] And that's a good way to introduce 'em. -nods- ))

His head was reeling. He could feel his heart quickening with anticipation and the awkwardness of the circumstance. On any normal day, he may have asked her if she were feeling alright. It just seemed unusual - but, after a while, Charlie had grown to accept it. He had felt his chest ease with his worries. His eyes had taken on a grateful state as he observed the studio about him, remaining quiet as directed.

Unfortunately, he was a peculiar young man with a habit to stumble or trip. His motions seemed marked by his clumsiness, which had appeared to originate at the feet. One had to wonder if his knees buckled frequently. Perhaps that was his problem? A bit weak to the knee. Nevertheless, Charlie had managed to survive the brief microphone check without causing too much of a clatter, and when it was over, he had breathed a deep breath. His feet had been planted again as he found himself in a bit of a daze. Working at such a place looked like fun. It was probably safer than working a pizza route at that.

As he had began scrutinizing once again, a solitary sentence had pegged him. His head had snapped to eye her curiously. "T-t-the phones?"

((All I know, I learned from Karyn Kasi. ))

"Yes, the phones. Nighttime callers are always so much more...interesting. Weed out the drunks for me?" If he survived a night of that, she'd ask the GM, Phil, to consider him as an intern or something. After all, he dealt fairly well with stress, barring the clumsiness that fell over him.

She looked at the computer, seeing she had a couple minutes to relax before she was needed to do anything else. "I guess it's soup or Ramen Noodles for dinner. Ah, well, at least the portion size is more fitting than a whole pizza.

The phone rang, the red light beside the button for the first line flashing. Karyn smirked, wondering what he would do.