The Heroic Misadventures of the Shinra Executive Board Members

Chapter One: Palmer's Quest

Herbert Palmer found himself staring blankly at the serving woman in the 34th floor Shinra cafeteria. "Wh-what do you mean there's no more lard?" The man swayed back and forth in dismay, unable to believe that this could be true. When the woman only stared blankly at him and repeated that the kitchens were indeed out of extra lard, Palmer nearly wailed in frustration. "How am I supposed to eat my sandwich without a coat of lard?" he whined, holding his head as he rocked back and forth at an increased speed.

The server, of course, had no answer for him.

Disgusted, the head of the space development and research department shoved his tray of food down the counter, storming off and full of seething anger. How could a place as affluent as Shinra Headquarters fail to keep themselves stocked with the most essential of all food products? It was enough to make him lose the last of his hair.


The president unsurprisingly seemed completely non-plussed when Palmer stormed into his office, wheezing from the effort of walking up that whole flight of stairs leading into the president's penthouse office, leaned heavily against Mr. Shinra's desk, and informed him of the grave situation of the company larders. In fact, the president almost seemed annoyed by this announcement, as if such a concern didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Mister Palmer." The words were delivered with a steady, diplomatic tone, however the gray-eyed gaze that the president fixed Palmer with was anything but kind. "I really hope that you do not expect me to ask Heidegger to deploy the MPs, SOLDIERs, and Turks in order to stock up on lard, which I do believe you are the only person to use in any quantity. If I recall, the kitchen itself uses very little for cooking anymore, choosing somewhat healthier alternatives than just frying everything in fat. Since it is something that the cooks do use, I'm sure there will be more coming in eventually. You'll just have to wait a day or so; I'm sure you'll manage."

Palmer's face looked somewhat like a plum, so enraged and flabbergasted was he. He merely nodded to the president, turning away back downstairs, using every ounce of his willpower to keep from crying. He most certainly could not manage without lard for a whole day! And what if it took longer than a day to arrive? This would not do at all. The kitchen needed more lard now, and no one could see the urgency but Palmer himself. Clearly, it was up to him and him alone to restock the kitchen. It was bold, it was daring, and it made Palmer feel like a little bit of a hero. He self-consciously adjusted his brown pinstripe suit as he lumbered downstairs – it was fortunate that going down was so much easier than climbing up – and held himself erect.

He stepped onto the elevator, pressing the button for the bottom floor. Surely there was some store down in the city that could fulfill his needs. And as the elevator descended, he was rather annoyed to find it stop, allowing Reeve from Urban Development to enter. There was something about Reeve that annoyed him, but he couldn't quite put his pudgy finger on it. The beard was a bit annoying, but passable; the laughable orange tie that the man was so fond of was actually quite pleasant, and Palmer secretly wished he could pull off an orange tie; Reeve had a decent enough personality: he was aggressive and forward-thinking without having lost his sense of compassion, and that was actually rather annoying, but not what bothered Palmer.

Reeve was looking through a folder, nodding to himself. He smiled amicably at Palmer, "Hi, Herb. Those increases in funding we all got sure are making work smoother, aren't they?" Reeve was of course referring to the matter covered in yesterday's board meeting: an increase in funding for all departments, and this time the space program was included. Palmer was allotted an extra 1000 gil. The science department had the biggest increase, and Heidegger's department of peacekeeping was also treated generously. Scarlet and Reeve both found themselves with about an eight per cent increase in funding, for which they were very grateful, and Palmer had seen only a measly thousand gil increase. It became clear what he hated about Reeve; a frivolous department such as urban development had a far bigger budget than the much more important space program.

Palmer's eyes narrowed as he bobbed a bit. "I'm afraid we're still lacking in funds in my department."

Reeve's smile never faltered. The bastard. "I'm sorry to hear that. I forgot that you had only had a small increase this fiscal year. I'm sure the president won't overlook the space program in his next rebudgeting efforts." The worst part was the man seemed to be completely genuine in his statement. But Palmer could see through the lies, could see the way Reeve was secretly gloating, trying to hide his smugness behind a charismatic smile. Oh yes, Palmer knew what bothered him about Reeve.

Fortunately, the infuriating coworker got off only a few floors later, and Palmer enjoyed a private elevator ride down to the first floor. He stepped off the elevator, made his way out the front door, paused, made a U-turn and waddled back inside. He stopped to ask the receptionist where the nearest grocery was, asked her to draw a little map, then left the building again. He walked down the street, into sector seven, looking around at all the tall buildings. It was strange, how little you noticed about a city when you constantly drove even short distances.

That thought made him realize he was out of breath, sweating, and his feet hurt. He took a detour into a restaurant, sitting down in the waiting room to catch his breath. It was no wonder he drove everywhere, really. Everything was so far apart from everything else in this blasted city; it was a wonder people without cars could even survive. Palmer briefly wondered how the people below the plates did survive, in their nearly carless world, where most citizens had to walk everywhere, but even as the thought entered his mind, Palmer realized he didn't care and dismissed the thought entirely.

After a short fifteen minute pause and a few iced beverages to cool off, Palmer continued his journey, following the little map that the receptionist gave him. Let's see, a left here, a right immediately after what must be a stop sign, continue straight for a bit, another pause for breath, and then after the intersection, the grocery should be on the right.

Well, maybe it's on the left.

Okay, clearly the grocery store is not here. He looked down at the map again, heart sinking into his stomach. A bookstore was supposed to be across the street, and he was supposed to be able to see a love hotel billboard. He looked around him. There was an electronics store, a small deli, two coffee shops – although technically, they were the same coffee shop, just two different stores – an ice cream parlor, clothing stores, but no bookstore, no grocery store, and ... well, there was a love hotel's billboard. But honestly, that was a poor landmark as those were on every corner.

Palmer sighed, tasting the bitter taste of defeat. Or perhaps exhaustion. He'd walked an awfully long distance. He vaguely wondered why he hadn't driven, particularly if he was going to be bringing lard back with him. Well, he could just make the store deliver the tubs of lard themselves. The customer should not be expected to actually transport their large purchases themselves, after all. That would just be poor customer service.

Although this situation seemed hopeless. He would have to backtrack. Perhaps he'd go all the way back to Shinra headquarters and take his car. Yes, that would be nice. He would head back and get his car. Just as soon as he had some ice cream.

When he came outside again after finishing his triple-scoop ice cream cone, Palmer looked left and right and could not quite remember which direction he had come from, so guessed randomly and only hoped he was not lost.


From an alleyway, two thugs looked after the fat man in the ridiculous brown suit. Yes, this would be an easy mark; the man looked rich too. And quietly, they slipped in behind Palmer.

It was only a matter of moments before the thugs subdued the Shinra executive, and as they rifled through his wallet and realized exactly who they had just laid out, saw a great deal of potential in terms of ransom. They began to drag him back into the alleyway and towards their hideout. They had to stop after a few moments to catch their breath, and one of the thugs, the smarter of the two, pulled out his cell phone to call in some reinforcements. Eventually, the whole gang arrived and rolled Palmer into the alleyway behind one of the coffee shops, dreaming of the riches they could amass holding a Shinra VIP for ransom.

((Author's note: BWAHA! I decided to write a Palmer fic just because I'm twisted, and I then decided it needed to become long and complicated and eventually involve all the Shinra execs. Sorry that this chapter was pretty boring, but hopefully it set the stage for what is to come. Muhaha!))