Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ The (shinra) office ❯ day twenty: some resistance inevitable ( Chapter 20 )

You see, this idea came out in three steps—

The office episode where Michael cooks his foot.

One of the dorm girls got hurt and is now using crutches.

I was completely oblivious to the other two ideas until I realized I could use it as an idea. Yep. …This is why I don't update…most of the time. All right—never.

Anyway—on with the episode.

 

I do not own final fantasy.

Day twenty: some resistance inevitable.

 

Vincent flipped through the papers on his desk, quickly glancing up at the door.

 

“Come on…just close already…”

Vincent challenged the door to close through telekinesis. So far he was unsuccessful.

 

With a groan of annoyance, he got up and closed the door. He hesitated for a second, then turned and kicked the door. That'll scare those eavesdroppers.

 

“Agh! Vincent! That's not fair!” Danielle cried, he could have sworn Anna was groaning from behind her.

 

“Anna, stop trying to pick the lock.”

 

“Never! I'll get in there one way or—“

 

“I'll sue for breaking and entering, violation of your written agreement, and sexual harassment.”

 

“You suck. You suck, and I hate you!” Vincent rolled his eyes at the crocodile tears act Anna tried to pull on him. …For the third time that day…

 

“Anna, please. Do something productive, please?”

 

“Mmmm. I'll do ya one less and go…what's the word…”

 

“Provoke Reno?” Danielle suggested smugly. Beat her in grape-in-the-mouth-stuffing will he?

 

“Sounds good!” the sound of retreating footsteps raised Vincent's spirits. He turned around and cleaned up the mess of papers on his desk, shoved them into a random drawer of his desk. With that done, he booted up his computer.

 

“What am I gonna get…? What can I get…?” Vincent looked at the little scrap of paper. Then back to the computer.

 

“Outta the way people! Move it! I'm fine—LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Of course, as always in the shinra office, he was interrupted. By a familiar voice. Of a certain female redhead... Although, it seemed she was trying to rid herself of excess attention.

 

The perfect time to drop by and say hello, no?

“Angel! What happened?” Danielle exclaimed, going pale at the sight of her friend—now currently disabled with crutches and a leg cast. She had a couple bruises, and several scrapes with dried blood.

 

“Nuthin! Go away!” angel waved her crutches at the onlookers. Though they did back up, as soon as she lowered her crutch to balance herself they'd come back like hungry wolves on a cornered prey.

 

“But- but what happened? Just tell me!”

 

“…I…got hit by a car.” The silence was unbearable. Followed by muffled snickers and covered smirks.

 

“Yes. That great grandora gets taken down by a pick-up truck.”

 

“Oh- Heh, Heh, hee- I er…that's awful…hee, hee, hee”

 

“I need painkillers. Lots, and lots of painkillers.” That being said, she sauntered over to the elevator and listened bitterly as the hoots and hollers were let loose. Out of pure frustration she kicked the elevator wall—

 

“Ow, ow, ow, ah cabrron! No me gusta! Ow! Ow! Ow! El Diablo gringo! Ow! Ow! Ow!” sadly, she kicked with the wrong foot. Hurting her leg even further.

Vincent blinked. The same voice from earlier was back—and swearing…in Spanish? Vincent's mind wondered to the thought of where angel could learn such a wide vocabulary. Then again, to get into the Turks, she had to be pretty invaluable. But it wasn't like she was employee of the month or anything…

 

“…Angel? Wha…”

 

“…I hurt myself…”

 

“I can see that—how?”

 

“It was a vehicle-on-pedestrian collision and—“

 

“You got hit by a car.”

 

“Close-- a truck.” Vincent smiled at her correction. Obviously, she was trying to walk—limp off with her dignity.

 

“Of course. The magnificent grandora could never be done in by just any car.”

 

“Naturally—now then. Those vultures are going to race up here any moment. I have to hide” with that been said, angel crutched off.

 

“Hey—gimpy!”

 

“You're going down—eat metal you twat!”

 

Correction; she'd limp off as soon as she stopped mauling Joey from accounting.

 

Vincent walked away, toward the elevator and through the main doors to his car.

 

If she can get hit by a truck and live to bark about it, he could at least reward her efforts.

“Well, you see, jack was being really annoying so I said—`hit the road jack!' and I remembered—that's a song! Ya'know?—and I was like, wow! So I started singing it--”

 

“Good lord woman! I didn't break my leg so you could rant about your life!”

 

“Well fine! I don't need you! I have jack to talk to!”

 

“His name isn't even jack! It's Steven! …Gah, so stupid.” She turned around in her chair, just in time to see a car pulling out and driving away.

 

“…” She didn't get a chance to look at the license plate, but the frame of the car seemed to ring a bell, she dismissed the idea and instead spun around again, now facing the computer.

 

“Email, email, email—no, I don't want anti-depressants. Go away.” She said to herself, now running the pop-up blocker, tuning out the wails of the intern.

Danielle bit her lip as she looked at the tiny slip of paper—what the hell was she gonna get for the man?

 

“God damn it that messed up, dense, dull-witted, half-witted, obtuse…cute…sultry…seductive—MAN WHORE!” her face was cherry red, from a mix of embarrassment, arousal, and frustration.

 

This was cut short by the phone, ringing persistently.

 

“Hello shinra power company—“

 

“Hello miss. Melnick.” A silky voice ushered out from the other end.

 

“Izeakial?! Why are you calling here? Angi's not here and—“

 

“Then I'll talk to you.” What he didn't know was angel had taken the phone and was now listening to the player at work.

 

“That's were you're wrong.”

 

“Angel wai—“ izeakial tried to protest, but the thing about phone calls… you can end them anytime.

 

“Hi Angi!” Danielle beamed at her overlord—ahem, sorry, I mean employed superior.

 

Right up there with the “administrative assistance”

 

Or to the supposed “sexual deviant” of a boss…

 

Secretary.

 

Yes, this is a long description of a joke.

 

Now start laughing.

 

“Whatcha lookin at?” Angi completely ignored her question to look at her screen, as we all do from time to time. (Especially in airplanes)

 

“Nothing!” Danielle didn't have enough time to minimize what she was looking at, so she did the next best thing—

 

KA-KRACK-CRUNTCH!

She sent it flying off her desk, sending most of her papers and nick-knacks to the ground with her now broken monitor.

 

“Wow.”

 

Danielle sat horrified at the damage she had just done—she was sooooo getting billed for this- or as angel would more eloquently put it— `dude, you're screwed.'

 

“Calm down Dani-chan, or else you might turn into the hulk-ess.”

 

“Shinra is going to kill me!”

 

“No, he saves that for the missions. Remember when that protest group…well…how to put this… had a `misfortune'?”

 

“Yeah, their organizer fell on his picket sign…his… pointed…picket sign…”

 

“Yup. Poor Sam. He never saw that sign speeding toward his gut.”

 

“I thought it was a car collision, then he was launched onto the sign…?”

Angel's eyes shifted from Danielle to the vase to her head, quickly, as if forming a plan of escape.

 

“Yeah…a car collision…of course...any way, nice arm. Reminds me of when the photocopier had a technicality once. …Once.”

Angel's eyes flashed dangerously.

 

“Stop doing that!”

 

“Doing what?”

Angel had not moved from where she leaned on Danielle's desk since she came in, a look a pure innocence on her face.

 

“Never mind. Can you help me get a new computer later?”

 

“Sure, as long as it's not a—wait a…that guy! It's him!”

 

“Who?”

 

“Him, blue truck! Dented, creepy dog in the back!”

 

“That's not a dog, that's …a lot of dirt. …And a dog.”

 

…Suspicious? Him? No, never! Not that guy! His dirt's got an odd look to it, and there's half an arm sticking out—but him? Nah… the red stain? Ketchup! The knife? He was making a sandwich! Of course you use butcher knives on sandwiches—it was a very big sandwich!

 

“It's that guy!”

 

“What about him?”

 

“It's him! That guy!”

Angel obviously wanted to point out the urgency of `that guy'

 

“…What about him?”

 

“He's that guy!”

Indeed he is.

 

“Angel, I have no idea what the significance of `that guy' is unless you tell me.”

 

“He's the guy who hit me! With his big vehicle!”

The big vehicle being one of enormous stature, a dragon among sheep, a lion against lizards, a warlord among soldiers! A--

 

“You mean his truck.”

…Or that.

 

“Yes! That guy! That truck!” she repeatedly pointed to the guy who was currently staring at the open road and laughing when he saw children, obviously traumatizing them with little to no effort.

 

“Now angel, before you do anything—angel? ANGEL!”

Before she could do anything, angel started beating the man against the windshield. Again. And again. And again.

 

“Angel beating up the guy?”

 

“Apparently. What's that?”

 

“Cheeseburger.”

 

“For Angi?”

 

“Who else?”

 

“For your secret Santa maybe?”

 

“Now Danielle, some things are better when waited for…don't you think so?”

 

“That's a fancy way of saying `shut up and go away' isn't it?”

 

“Yep”

 

“You cheapskate.”

 

And that was another disappointment in the tso vault…tso box…tso…floor.

Anyway, wherever the hell I place these documents, you can be sure it's dark, dank, and dirty. (And just a little dusty)