A/N: This idea was sparked by an exchange of comments between myself and Roo-sama. I do not own Reno (no matter how yummy he is) but I DO own the vending machine of doom. I'm sorry for the OOC-ness. I am not altogether very familiar with Reno other than his part in the movie Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children and my reading about him on the internet.
Please enjoy. I know I did.
The vending machine was just sitting there on the street corner, minding its own business.
It did not know that an enemy it had never known was fast approaching. And he was hungry. Really hungry.
A warm breeze blew by, sending a hamburger wrapper flying. The vending machine, all decked out in labels, was not nearly as gaudy a sight as the man walking by on the opposite side of the street, sporting a bright red ponytail.
He kept walking, his stun-baton slung over his shoulder. Nothing to catch his interest that he could see. No chicks, no enemies, no Rude… wait. He backed up a few paces. The vending machine began to buzz, ready for a fight.
The redhead rooted around in his pockets, searching for spare change and finding none. He only procured an alarming quantity of lint and his Shinra identification card. Damn. And he was hungry….
He was about to put away his id when an idea struck him. He made a beeline across the street, exchanging insults with the cab driver that nearly ran him over and dubbed him a, "Cherry-Slush Punk", whatever the hell that was. He examined the vending machine hoping against hope, wishing against wish-
Ah. Sweet fortune. A card-swiper thingy. Making sure his card was angled the right way, he swiped it through.
"3rr0r" the machine's tiny display screen said. "pl3453 7ry 4g4i\." He scowled and carefully set the black strip of his card against the machine and swiped it again. "3rr0r. 57pidi7y a7 m4ximm 1i\/i7."
"What the hell?" he muttered. "Stupid piece of junk, zo-to."
"r350r7i\g 70 i\5l75. d4\g3r05ly L0\/\/ IQ."
He stared somewhat stupidly at the small type scrolling across the little screen. "What the-?"
"5\/\/if7 kick 2 d3rri3r3 i\/i\3\7." And with that, a mechanical arm with an old boot on the end folded out from where the junk food was usually dispensed… and kicked Reno right in his (rather nice from most females' point of view) posterior.
He jumped, flicking the setting on his stun-baton all the way up to "extra crispy". "I'm gonna friggn' kill y-" he brought his baton down, face scarlet and his goggles fogged up. A bag of Doritos © shot out of the dispenser and clocked him right in the face, sending him flying back across the street from whence he came.
He was up in an instant, furious and out for blood –ahem- chips. "God damn… god damn machine!"
"\/\/47c- j0r b4ck," the vending machine warned. Reno twitched and looked over his shoulder, just in time to see a mechanical arm wielding his baton, the metal rod crackling with ominously electricity.
"Holy-"
BZZZZRK!
"Mommy, what is that man doing on the sidewalk? Is he asleep?"
"Just ignore him, sweetie. The police will pick him up soon enough."
Reno came to with a groan, a stray cat pulling at his singed ponytail. It hissed and ran off when he sat up, head splitting in a fearsome headache. "Where the hell…?" he muttered, looking around. He was bruised, he smelled like burned ponytail, and he wasn't in his bed or in front of his favorite bar.
There was a sharp beep. He looked up, dread prominent in his angular features. The vending machine was looking strangely smug.
"\/0r\i\g 5n5-in3" scrolled across the display screen.
He couldn't see why the vending machine looked so pleased with itself until his eye was caught by a faint glitter from inside the machine. And there, nestled amongst the Ding-Dongs © and Ruffles©….
was his stun baton.
What he said next was not fit for publication.