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Peppino felt like he was being watched.
It had started just a few days after the tower had collapsed. Usually he wouldn't pay it much mind, especially since he knew the eyes of customers would often follow him, observe him as he worked.
But no, he'd felt the sensation of eyes raking over him when the restaurant was either nearly empty, or he was alone. A primal sixth sense that made the hairs raise on the back of his neck, as he wiped down the countertops, waiting for new guests. It made him antsy, feeling like prey being stalked by a predator he couldn’t see, gaze snapping up as he quickly surveyed his surroundings.
Nothing. Just like every time.
Shuddering, Peppino retreated to the kitchen, the feeling of eyes on him leaving his skin as he slipped out of sight of the big windows out front. Whatever it was seemed to be watching him from outside, and he was just glad it hadn't entered the restaurant yet.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, just before the bell for the front door rang.
No, it couldn't—
“Hello? Is this place open?”
Peppino let out a sigh of relief and came out of hiding, just a regular customer.
“Yes! Sorry, was just cleaning up in the back. What can I get for you?”
He could feel the tension release from his shoulders as the customer placed their order. He didn’t feel watched anymore.
“Gustavo? Do you ever feel like you're being watched when you work the front?”
The shorter man paused what he was doing, taking a moment to ponder, before turning his gaze upward to give Peppino a concerned look.
“Not particularly. Why?”
“Don’t worry about it amico, I'm probably just being paranoid. That whole tower business really messed with my head.”
Gus looked like he didn’t believe him, the concern on his face only growing, but didn't press him on it, returning to sweeping the floors.
“Alright, if you’re sure. I’ll let you know if I ever feel it too.”
A sigh of relief escaped Peppino. Gus was too kind to him.
Peppino had no issue taking the trash out back, not afraid of any silly rodents (not that they could even compare to Brick). Though despite this, pests had been surprisingly absent lately, Peppino having not seen any vermin in the local area for days.
Well, he wasn’t going to protest to this blessing.
With garbage bag in hand, he headed over to the dumpster as usual, whistling absentmindedly. As he reached for the lid of the dumpster, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up, and he stopped.
Something was wrong. Something was very very wrong.
Every cell in his body screamed danger, that lingering too long was far too unsafe, a primal sense that a threat was far too close.
And yet, he couldn’t will his body to move. He was frozen, muscles tense and rigid, stuck like a deer in the headlights.
HE NEEDED TO MOVE HE NEEDED TO MOVE HE NEEDED TO RUN HE NEEDED TO-
A choked breath finally broke him out of his paralysis, as he realized he’d been holding his breath. He stumbled back, dropping the trash on the pavement as he fell backwards, rough pavement scraping his palms as he tried to catch himself. He sat there for only a moment, gasping for air, before another chill slithered down his spine, and he was scrambling back onto his feet.
HE WASN'T SAFE.
He raced into the building, slamming the door shut behind him, before collapsing onto the tile floor. His body shuddered with sobs between gasping breaths, vision swimming with flecks of silver.
He for once, was glad the restaurant was empty, and that Gustavo wasn't in right now.
The sun was starting to set when Peppino finally decided to brave the backside of his restaurant once more. He'd littered after all, and didn't want to risk any possible fines or complaints from the city.
Cautiously, he poked his head out the back door to see where he'd left the bag, only to find that it wasn’t there.
Peppino blinked in surprise. Had someone taken it?
Cautiously, he emerged from the safety of the restaurant, but despite his earlier experience and paranoia, no sense of danger or terror seized him.
Yep, it was gone. He could've sworn he’d dropped it in front of the dumpster.
Curiosity getting the better of him, he lifted the lid, only to be pleasantly surprised.
The trash bag was there, on the top of the pile. Someone had thrown it out for him.
Or maybe, he’d forgotten in the haze of his nervous breakdown. Maybe this had all been in his head.
Peppino sighed, letting the lid fall closed as he headed back inside.
He hoped he wasn’t losing his mind.
Closing up for the night was always the worst. The silence and loneliness mixed with the darkness outside made the feeling so much more terrifying. He always made sure to lock up right away, the moment they were closed, in case whatever was watching him tried to slip inside.
Still, despite the slight tremble in his hands, at least he knew he was safe inside.
Tap, tap.
Peppino's head shot up from the cash register as he heard the sound of something tapping on the glass. From where he was standing he could barely make out a figure at the door, their silhouette hard to make out in the darkness.
A customer? Wasn't it obvious he was closed with most of the lights turned off?
It was only seconds later, that he registered something was wrong. The figure was tall, too tall, their silhouette human shaped, but not human enough.
And it was watching him.
Peppino shrieked as the terror hit him, bolting for the kitchen, his thoughts overwhelmed with the need to get away.
Clammy trembling hands gripped the rolling pin off the countertop, freshly cleaned, before he leaned heavily against the kitchen wall, gasping for air. Erratic breaths made him light headed, but he couldn't stop, not when he heard the tap-tap-tapping again, just barely over his choking gasps.
Whatever had been watching him after all this time was now outside.
He didn’t know what to do.
Wait Peppino, you've danced with death many times before, you went through the tower and won! You can take on anything!
Chest swelling with a sudden surge of courage, his breaths finally found pace, as he gripped the rolling pin firmly in his grasp.
If that thing wanted to mess with him so bad, he was gonna make it regret it.
With a war cry, Peppino bolted from his hiding place, charging for the front door with the pin raised above his head threateningly.
There was nothing there.
Peppino realized too late he hadn't thought this through, as he collided with the locked doors, rattling them as he slammed face first into the glass.
He let out a moan of pain as he collapsed to the floor, dropping the pin to grasp his stinging face, before his gaze shot up through his fingers.
Nothing.
His eyes snapped left to right, combing the darkness and dimly lit streets for something, anything human shaped.
There was no one at the door. He was alone.
Peppino collapsed with a sob. He was going crazy, wasn't he?
With a shuddering breath, Peppino slowly and shakily rose to his feet, before picking the dropped rolling pin off the floor.
He was tired, he needed to go home and rest.
He quickly went through the remaining motions of closing up, cleaning the rolling pin, storing the cash away in the vault, all while in a weary half aware state.
Yet despite his weariness, he did not forget the sense of unease that settled over him as he left the building. Quickly locking the door behind him, he hastily shoved the spare key behind the gutter, as the feeling of eyes on him quickly returned.
He didn’t care if it was delusion or real, he didn’t want to stick around in the darkness to find out.
Hopping on his vespa, he quickly sped towards home, hoping a good night's sleep would clear his head. He ignored the flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, just before the pizzeria left his line of sight.
Peppino had slept surprisingly well that night, mind unbothered by nightmares of being watched by hundreds of eyes, the terror replaced with the bliss of kneading soft dough beneath his fingers.
He woke with a pep in his step, yesterday's incident shoved to the back of his mind. A quick breakfast of jam on toast as he cleaned himself up, noticing a new stain on his tank top he’d have to bleach out later.
Dressed and ready (and making sure he didn't forget his keys this time), he locked his front door behind him and hopped onto his old vespa, ready to start the day.
The trip was unremarkable as usual, but the morning sun helped wake him up, putting him in a good mood as he parked his little vehicle in the back, and headed to the front door. As he fished for his keys in his pocket, he placed his other hand on the glass door, only for it to give way.
It was unlocked.
Peppino stood there, frozen in surprise as his brain registered the information, stuttering like his vespa's engine on a cold day.
His front door was unlocked. He could've sworn he'd locked it last night.
The memory of the previous night came back full swing, a sense of heavy paranoia settling on him.
He’d just forgotten to check if he'd locked it properly in his weary state, right? The lock seemed fully intact, no signs of damage on the door, so it couldn’t have been forced.
His stomach twisted with unease, as a worse possibility arose in his mind.
He wandered over to the gutter, sticking his hand behind it, searching for the cold touch of metal.
The spare key was gone.
That hadn't just been paranoia. Whoever's gaze he'd felt watching him last night had seen where he'd put the spare, and let themselves inside.
Peppino groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let the frustration momentarily take over the fear.
Why the hell would someone stalk him just to break into his little restaurant? Certainly there were much better shops to pilfer than his.
He just hoped they hadn't gotten into his safe.
He was at least glad he wouldn’t have to pay for damages to his door, a small grace in this mess.
Regardless, he needed to head inside and figure out what they stole, figure out if he'd be able to open up shop for the day, or spend the whole time filing police reports. So with a deep inhale, Peppino stepped inside.
It was eerily silent, and from only the sunlight filtering through the windows, he could see no obvious damages. Yet despite no clear negative signs, something felt wrong, like the building was holding its breath.
Peppino quickly scurried over to the light switch.
With the front properly lit up, nothing noticeable came to light. An inspection of the till showed no signs of an attempted forced opening, and nothing seemed to be missing, not his phone on the wall or tv in the corner.
Everything was exactly as he had left it, untouched. His guts twisted with a sense of dread.
Odd. Maybe they only wanted the cash?
He quickly made his way to the vault next, hidden in the wall, but found no sign it had been opened, let alone discovered in the first place.
A sigh of relief left him, and yet, the tension refused to leave his body. He couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong, that someone would just break into his restaurant for nothing.
Why had they been stalking him? It couldn’t have been Pizzahead, could it?
A shiver went down his spine at the thought, as he did his best to push it aside as he stumbled into the kitchen. The light switch for it was on the other side, near the back door, but he only made it a few steps inside before he stopped.
There was a bag of flour, open on the counter, which had been dusted with it. And in that mess of flour, was the start of a pizza pie, dough flattened out in a circle, stretched to fit a pan.
Peppino blinked in surprise.
Had, had someone broken into his restaurant just to make a pizza?
It was absurd, and yet, this had been the only sign of the break in apart from the open door.
He let out a little laugh, relief hitting him as he wandered over to have a look at the stranger's work.
The dough seemed to be surprisingly well handled, no signs of tearing, and stretched evenly all around. Whoever had done this knew what they were doing.
But then why had they broken into his restaurant? What was so special about his place?
As his hands reached to pick up the incomplete pizza pie, he felt it, the sensation hitting him full force as his body seized up.
He was being watched.
Locked up in a slurry of confusion and fear, Peppino didn’t know what to do, or where they were, until he heard the sound of something wet hitting the tile floor behind him.
Peppino didn’t get the chance to react before something wrapped tight around his body, pinning his arms to his sides. He gasped as he was yanked upwards, his feet leaving the floor as he was lifted up, and pressed against something squishy.
Eyes snapping upwards to look at his assailant, Peppino opened his mouth to scream, before a hand clamped over it, muffling his terror.
It was his clone, Fake Peppino. He had been grabbed by his horrifying doppelganger, and was being clutched firmly against its chest.
The dread and terror socked him in the gut, as the pieces clicked into place.
His clone had been stalking him for the past couple weeks, watching him, waiting. And now it had him trapped in his own restaurant, alone, at its mercy.
It would be at least an hour before anyone showed up.
NO NO NO NO NO PLEASE NO—
Body alight with terror and adrenaline, Peppino began to struggle wildly, writhing like a caged animal, anything to make it drop him. He’d fought it before, he could fight it again.
And yet, despite his best efforts, his arms remained pinned to his sides, its own arms holding fast, reforming snuggly around him every time he got them to loosen. He kicked, he squirmed, he headbutted, he strained with all his might, and yet the abomination remained unfazed, watching him with its hollow gaze.
Peppino was growing tired.
No, no he couldn’t die like this.
Refusing to give in, he forced himself to keep struggling, to push past the pain and exhaustion, even as his muscles burned with strain. He couldn’t give up, not after all the hell he’d gone through, not after he'd survived the tower and won. Peppino Spaghetti would not be defeated so easily.
Slowly but inevitably, his struggles started to weaken, to slow, as his adrenaline was running out, his body only able to burn through its reserves for so long. His breaths became faster, more ragged, as stars swam in the edges of his sight.
He was going to die, wasn’t he?
A muffled sob escaped him, as tears began to cloud his vision, his writhing dying down, his kicks getting weaker and weaker.
This was it wasn’t it? It was going to kill and replace him, after all the pain and effort he went through. It was all for nothing.
The inevitability crushing him, Peppino went limp, too exhausted to fight anymore, as he broke down and cried.
Would anyone even notice when he was replaced? Would it consume him to mimic him perfectly?
Peppino didn’t know, but he just hoped his death would be painless, as tears slipped down his face, soaking the hand that silenced him.
It was only a few minutes after Peppino hung there limply in its arms, silently crying, that the hand over his mouth left his face.
Didn't matter, he didn’t have the energy to scream anymore.
He could feel the arms wrapped around him like gooey rope begin to move and shift, but he didn’t care. He had no energy left to use even if he did, so it was easier to give up.
And yet, the grip on him didn't feel so tight anymore. His limp body began to swing lightly as the monster started to move around, as he was without a doubt being carried with it, likely to wherever it wanted to finish him off.
He was confused however, as he heard the sound of something metal scraping against a bowl. Curiosity overpowering his acceptance, he decided to crack open his bloodshot teary eyes.
It was ladling sauce onto the prepared dough.
Oh.
Peppino watched quietly as it evenly distributed the sauce around the dough, just as he himself would, until an even layer coated the uncooked pizza.
It was only as it placed the ladle down, that he registered he was only being held by one hand, the creature having untangled its other limb from him to continue preparing the pizza.
His mind became muddled with questions, grasping for an understanding he didn’t have, the evidence before him not clicking into place.
Why was it making a pizza instead of killing him? And why was said pizza being well made?
It was pulling out the cheese from his fridge when it noticed he'd perked up slightly. A strange rumbling noise emitted from its chest, as it placed the mozzarella on the countertop, and gave him its undivided attention. Peppino squeaked out a whimper, unable to do much more than a pathetic sound as unblinking eyes stared at him, one hanging out of its socket. The arm suddenly felt too tight around his chest, as his heart pounded in his head, breaths short and rapid.
He should've stayed quiet and kept his eyes shut.
Unable to look away from its inhuman gaze, He almost didn’t realize it was moving him, as the arm still coiled around him started to move, to loosen. Cold tile floor met his bottom as it placed him on the ground, leaning him against the cabinets so his limp body wouldn’t fall over, and let him go.
It. It let him go.
“…now you stay right there!...”
A shudder ran through his body, a queasy feeling worming its way into his guts, as the thing spoke, sounding exactly like Pizzahead, cadence and all. He'd heard it mimic himself before, albeit slightly distorted, but hearing the bastard's voice come out of it so clearly made his skin crawl.
Not waiting for an answer, it gently patted him atop his balding head, before standing upright once more, turning its back to him to continue working on its pizza.
With confusion clogging up any remaining crevices in his fear-addled brain with just more questions, he sat there quietly, breaths slowing, the hard floor uncomfortable, but not unbearable.
It was only as it wandered over to his fridge to pilfer it again, that a realization clicked in his head.
It wasn’t watching him, more focused on its work than his limp form. Maybe, if he was quiet and careful, he could crawl away as its back was turned.
So quietly he waited, waited until it seemed focused on cutting up the toppings, before he forced his body to move.
His body was heavy, sluggish, as if someone had replaced his bones with lead. But still, he pushed through, making his body move on autopilot. After all, his arms had simply been restrained, and while the exhaustion had permeated through out his body, his biceps and triceps still had some kick left in them.
The tile was cold, sweaty fingers making it hard to get a grip, but slowly and surely, he inched his way out of the kitchen. He could hear it chopping away, his frazzled mind unable to bat away the intrusive thought of it cutting him up next.
He had to keep moving, the repetition repeating in his head like a mantra, as he forced his arms to obey.
Lift. Grip. Drag. Lift. Grip. Drag. Lift. Grip. Drag.
His muscles were burning, but he didn’t stop, his body moving on autopilot as his mind clung to that hope of freedom. Just barely aware of the sounds behind him.
Was that metal scraping?
That hope ignited like a spark hitting gasoline, as he dragged himself out from behind the counter, the front door now in his sight.
He could make it. Just a little longer, a little more strain and pain, and he’d be able to rest.
His body twitched with a sudden shiver, suddenly aware of how quiet the kitchen was, the familiar sensation of eyes on him, before he felt something doughy grasp him.
A gasp was all he got out, before he was dragged backwards, hands clawing at the tile until he was lifted up and off, the entrance door quickly leaving his line of sight.
“No no no please I was so close please no…”
He hadn't been fast enough.
The soft arms began to snake around him once more, constrict him, pulling him closer to its gooey façade of his body, eager to trap him once more. They were sloppier, less concentrated, an arm gently brushing past his face.
Peppino didn't think, moving on instinct, akin to a feral dog. The moment the limb was close enough to his mouth, he bit down on the gooey appendage, hard.
The monster let out a shrill noise of shock, as Peppino's weary body hit the tile floor, it having dropped him in its surprise. Pain bloomed across his body as he had no energy to brace himself, the hard tile unforgiving, a pained gasp escaping him on impact.
He still had a chance!
And yet, despite the desperation and terror racing through his veins, he could barely will himself to move, his arms were filled with lead, his blood turned to molasses.
He'd wasted all his energy struggling, crawling, hoping, only drops left behind.
Still, despite it all, he pushed through the pain and weariness, willing his arms to move just enough to weakly crawl across the kitchen tile one more time.
But he was too slow, much too slow, only making a few inches in progress, before goopy hands gripped him under his arms and pulled him back.
“No… please…”
A pathetic whimper choked out of him as he found himself once again being pulled into his doppelganger's embrace. The monster had settled itself down into a seated position on the floor, placing Peppino in its lap, before its gangly and gooey arms wrapped around him once more.
It was no use struggling anymore, a hopeless, losing battle. Peppino knew he wouldn’t be able to get away, not anymore.
Its grasp was softer this time, he noticed, his head leaned against its squishy chest. He guessed it wasn’t worried about him trying to run anymore, but at least it was nice, comfortable even.
He hoped his death would be comfortable too.
A sniffle, his chest heaving for just a moment, before he felt the waterworks start up again. He didn't try to stop it, didn’t care anymore if it saw him crying. He didn’t have the energy to care anymore.
Chest heaving, Peppino cried.
The grasp on him suddenly shifted, and for a moment he wondered if it was mad at him, for being noisy, for his sobs. Instead however, he felt fingers prod gently at his cheeks, as it leaned far forward, head hanging upside down in front of him to look at his face. He shivered as its gaze met his.
It didn’t look angry, not from what he could read from its upside down expression. No, instead it seemed… confused, worried even?
“…Not good...”
Its voice sounded like a distant recording of his own, dissonant between how far it sounded and how close it was to him.
The shock of hearing it, along with its unexpected reaction, made his sobs stop as he stared with wide eyes at his own distorted visage. Soft thumbs rubbed the remaining tears off his cheeks.
He didn't understand what it wanted anymore. It had tried so hard to capture him, keep him from escaping, and yet, now it was wiping away his tears? It wasn't adding up.
He felt so tired, and so hopelessly lost.
Hands left his face, as he watched it open its mouth.
“…Peppino…”
It was Gustavo's voice this time, much clearer, making him jolt in shock. His stomach twisted with unease, as it sounded too close, too believable, would've tricked him into thinking Gustavo was here, if he hadn't seen it open its mouth to make it.
It seemed to frown slightly, but tried again.
“…Peppino…”
Gustavo's tone was softer this time, but sounded slightly farther. Off-human arms slithered around him once more, embracing him gently, more gently than before.
“What do you want from me?”
His own voice was quiet and hoarse, uncertain if it could hear him, as it cocked its head to the side like a curious animal. Unblinking eyes stared at him, unfocusing for a brief moment, before transfixing on him once more.
“…Peppino calm down, relax…”
He hated it, how it used Gustavo's voice to try to disarm him, make him feel safe. He hated how if he closed his eyes, he could easily pretend he was here, lying against him, tucked in his embrace.
It had already captured him and worn him out, why was it trying to make him relaxed now? It could already kill him so easily.
“…Peppino…amico…”
It was his own voice this time, a perfect mimicry.
He was so caught off guard by the change he almost didn't register what it had said, until it suddenly hugged him tighter, pressing its face into his hat.
Amico. It, it wanted to be his friend?
“…what?”
The arms around him tightened even more, as it pressed him against its chest, Peppino sinking slightly into its pliable form.
“…amico…amico…amico…amico…amico...”
It repeated the word again and again, like a broken record, no variation in tone or volume, a clip on repeat.
Peppino's brain felt like it had been tossed in a dryer, tumbling and tossing around. It felt hard to think, as it kept repeating itself over and over again, and yet, to his surprise, the hug helped ground him. It may have been tight, but it wasn't painful, the softness of its body making it surprisingly comfortable.
It was nice.
It was that realization, that made him start to reconsider his fear. It, hadn't actually hurt him, apart from dropping him. Maybe, just maybe, it was being genuine, in its own fucked up way.
It couldn't hurt the situation anymore to simply ask it.
“You… want to be my friend?”
“…want to be…friend?...”
It repeated his own words back to him, like a parrot eager to mimic, just as uncertain and gravely as they'd come out his own throat. Yet, its expression was the opposite of his, a grin stretching its cheeks inhumanly wide.
Peppino let out a heavy sigh, exhausted, weary.
All this, capturing him, the stress, the panic, the terror and misery, was so it could ask if he wanted to be friends? All of this for that?
“Why?” He croaked, voice cracking with the threat of a sob. “Why did you grab me? Why won’t you let me leave?”
The eagerness in its smile faded slightly, its unnerving eyes dancing around before it opened its mouth again.
“…Peppino…vile…ent…run…away…”
It was clear now it was simply repeating bits of what it had heard him and others say, speech becoming choppy, a tape playing sections at random.
Did it not have its own voice?
“Vio… violent? Run away?”
As he said it out loud, his fatigued mind struggling to put the pieces together. Thankfully, the monster seemed patient, quietly listening and waiting, before it tried again.
“…Peppino…run away…be…violent…if I…say…hello…”
Despite how miserable and tired he felt, he was still awake enough that it clicked.
“Oh.”
It was all making sense. The watching, waiting, catching and holding him until he was worn out. He almost laughed, a broken sound coming out of his throat instead.
The damned thing had been so worried he'd react badly that it—
His doppelganger suddenly jerked its head upward, startling him and bringing the panic back. He caved to the sudden onslaught of fear, too tired to fight it, curling into a ball as he felt it shift and move around him.
He was wrong. This had all been a cruel trick, seeing if he would buy the feinted innocence, just to—
…was that the smell of a freshly baked pizza?
Unfurling slightly, Peppino raised his head to look, just in time to see his clone place the pizza pan on the floor in front of them, with a hot and steaming pepperoni pizza on top of it.
“…Pizza…”
It looked so normal, so regular, like his own handiwork, not breathing or twitching or fucked up, just a regular pepperoni pizza. He didn’t know what to say, so dumbstruck, that he simply repeated the word back to it, panic leaving with it.
“Pizza.”
It made a wet gurgly noise above him, before it reached a long limb up onto the countertop, pulling it back with his pizza cutter in hand. Despite the obvious inhuman nature of the movement, it cut the pizza into perfectly sized slices with ease, placing the now sauce coated cutter back on the counter once it was done.
Being careful of the hot pan, it gingerly grabbed a slice, cheese stretching as it pulled it away from the main pie. With the slice now in hand, Peppino expected it to shove it into its own mouth, only to find the pepperoni slice being shoved into his face.
“…pizza…”
Not wanting to be force fed, he slowly raised his arms to take it, the monster letting go as he took the hot pepperoni. Raising the hot slice to his mouth, he leaned back, sinking into his doppelganger like an old couch, as he took a cautious bite.
Soft, warm, flavorful, with an extra hint of basil. It was good.
He could feel it watching him, the hair on his arms standing on end as he felt its gaze roam his body, normally dopey eyes lazer focused on him. And yet, for once, he didn't actually feel fear from the gaze, warm food warming his insides, both literally and figuratively.
It was watching him attentively for approval.
“…yeah, we can be friends.”
Peppino still jumped slightly as the creature made an animalistic high pitched noise, arms wrapping tight around his middle once more, as it rocked side to side.
“…friends…friends…friends…friends…”
Despite repeating his tired words, it was obvious the monster was elated, everything except the tone of his mimicked voice screamed a giddy joy.
There was no doubt anymore, no reason to second guess its intentions, its response was too genuine. It really had wanted to befriend him.
Peppino didn’t have to fear feeling watched anymore.
So he sat there, tolerating its excited rocking, as he tried to take another bite without dropping it.
For once, he was glad his place didn’t get busy until the afternoon, that Gus wouldn't be coming in until later. He needed time to process all this, to rest and recover.
“…friends…friends…friends…”
With the last of the slice shoveled into his mouth, he laid his head back and closed his eyes, allowing his body to go completely slack against its soft pliable form.
He didn’t need to worry anymore, he was in the arms of a friend. A friend who would keep a close eye on him