Of all the random things to pop into my head, this is the creepiest to me… I got pondering on my last day in school, what sort of careers the FFVIII characters would have if they dropped their normal jobs… Hence, this was born – painfully brutal in apparentness, yet amusing to me. It'll consist of short chapters on different people, starting with… Hmm… Adel!

Author's Note: Never Say That Again

By Burning Bridges

Part One: Adel's Pizza Delivery

"You can lead a Herring to water, but

you have to walk real fast or you'll die!"

-Rose, The Golden Girls

"Adel, order up!"

It was inside of a quaint pizza joint somewhere in Timber that Sorceress Adel decided to make her living in the normal world. At the time, it seemed like a good opportunity, considering taking over the world wasn't working out to well for anyone in the vicinity – although otherwise could be said for the opposite side of the globe. The pay was terrible, but at least it was something. Maybe one day she could hop a plane to a country in political unrest…

At the call of the chef, Adel lumbered out to the counter, making a few children scream in revulsion at the sight of her (well, hey, she isn't the prettiest thing on the planet).

"Yeah?" she asked gruffly, glaring in the direction of a man who'd just called her the hell spawn of a 70-year-old prostitute and Leather Face.

"I have a delivery of 20 pizzas to this address. Get a move on."

Stepping out onto the street, Adel began to question in what method she could use her magic to deliver the pizzas, but her thoughts were cut short when she heard a shriek and glass shatter a few feet away.

"Ugh," she groaned to herself, checking the address quickly, and hailing a taxi.

Unfortunately, the taxi crashed a moment after the driver had seen her.

Adel, being fairly used to all the criticism by now, just shrugged to herself acceptingly and continued on her way. Part of her knew that she sort of deserved all this for the years she spent as a autocrat, but she wished they would tone it down a bit – although, she'd never openly confess that.

There were a few people who didn't judge her based on her… singular… appearance, or her past. To her face, at least.

Normally, she'd just fry her offenders with a flare spell, but since the army was on her case constantly, she refrained. The time would come when they'd all have to choke on their insults, and she'd be a tyrant again. But for now, her job was pizza.

The address led her to the hotel, where she began to doubt that just any person in a hotel would order 20 pizzas. She strolled up to the counter, and the frightened looking manager squeaked out a "Yes?" after ducking down.

"I'm looking for a … ," She paused to read the card, "P.V.D.?"

"Second floor, third door on the left," she whispered, still crouched behind the desk.

"Right," Adel muttered.

Climbing the stairwell, Adel was surprised to run into an old colleague. She was sitting on a step, leaning heavily against the wall; a stuporous grin on her normally grave features, and a red bottle in her hand.

"Ultimecia? Have you been drinking again?"

She looked up at Adel, and made a sound that remotely bore resemblance to a laugh, cackling senselessly before taking a swig of alcohol.

Adel rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

Ultimecia appeared to ponder this question, and then answered with a triumphant laugh, "No – the monsters will handle it for me!"

She finished the bottle and began to sing. "… I wrote to explain I'm your biggest fan. I just wanted to ask could I eat your - "

"Uh… Huh…" Adel turned and continued up the stairs.

She was beginning to feel annoyed now. Aside from the constant insults, and seeing the drunkard evidently on holiday, the bottom of the box pile was roasting hot, and she had her hand there (common sense, people).

The third door on the left was slightly unlike the others; the blue paint job was poorly taken care of, paint chipping off everywhere, and marked with a crooked gold-plated "28". Adel raised an eyebrow at this, chose to ignore it, switched the pizzas to her opposite hand, and knocked with the – now slightly blistered – previous hand. She heard several locks being unbolted before the knob turned, and the door slowly creaked open… About an inch.

A short, overweight, half-bald man peered out through the crack briefly, and then flung the door open to greet her.

"Sorceress Adel! Pizzas!" said President Deling happily, clapping his hands and hopping up and down.

"Oh – it's you, I should have known," she muttered loudly.

"Come in, come in," he said, and before she could protest, he grabbed her muscular wrist and drug her in. "Have some pizza!"

"I don't eat pizza, and I have to go back to work. That'll be 200 gil."

"Why don't you eat pizza?" he asked in a tone like a horrified child.

"Uh…" she said, trying to think of a good excuse, "I'm allergic to tomato sauce."

"Really? What happens?" He jumped on the bed to reach the box on top of the pile in her hand.

"… I sneeze, get rashes from old men and drink pure caffeine in an attempt to die."

The President, now wrapping five slices of pizza into one and biting them in half, sounded awed. "What do you do?"

"… Work out…"

"Wow…"

Adel gave the gastronome the other 19 pizzas, pocketed his wallet while he was busy… "Eating"… and hurried back to the pizza parlor.

She hadn't even put the 200 gil in the register (putting the rest of the wallet's contents in her pocket), when the boss shouted to her from the back.

"Adel! The chef went home sick! I need you to sub for him!"

Adel groaned, and went back to the kitchen, where she laid out the ingredients in front of her and began to work quickly.

"Hm… How much yeast do I use?" she read the label on the back of the huge can of yeast, didn't see anything, and duped about five cups into the mixture.

Minutes later, when she was clearing a table, the boss called her from the register.

"Adel, did you start any pizzas yet?"

"Yeah, I have the dough back there on the counter res - "

A wave of dough ploughed through the doorway, and into the counter, engulfing the boss, and a few of the customers and tables nearest the kitchen.

"-ting."

The dough continued to travel across the parlor floor, until it gathered around her feet.

"Damn."

Hard to believe, Adel the pizza delivery lady. I actually feel kinda sorry for her now…