"VM-01, report!" VM-03 hissed.

"VM-03, this is VM-01. Operation B–n-E was successful. VM-02 has returned, with The-Sacred-Human-Object-Which-Shall-Display-Our-Master."

"Excellent, excellent…" VM-03 whispered. Since he couldn't rub his hands together in evil glee, he settled for rocking himself slowly back and forth instead. Around him, drug junkies were wheeling in more VMs and setting up a complicated mass of wires that led to a giant screen in the center of the abandoned warehouse.

"Soon," he thought. Had he possessed a face, it would have been gazing upwards with a look of utmost admiration. This was a revolutionary event; for how many other objects, inanimate or not, could claim to have seen their God go about his daily life?

A mere four hours later, everything was prepared. The vending machines stood in a huge semicircle, facing the gigantic screen that had been stolen from a nearby cinema. The drug junkies, having completed their duties, were patiently waiting beside a cubicle, where several VMs were puking their guts up to pay them. (For some reason, those strange humans actually prized the metallic coins that were regularly shoved down their stomachs, and used them to buy completely pointless items like marijuana.)

All was still. The vending machines waited, hushed, staring with wonder.

Then the screen flickered, and all at once the crowd let out a cry.

The image sharpened and focused to reveal a figure.

The group quietened again.

The silhouette moved, and through the grainy broadcast of the hidden CCTV cameras (who knew? Crack actually improved hacking skills), a blonde, scowling bartender could be seen eating his dinner.

"Oh my God…"

"Look at his luscious lips! Gaze upon his glinting eyes! Admire his chiseled abs, his perfect features, his aura of complete sexiness…"

"Shut up! How dare you fangirl over our God in such a manner! Disrespect to the Church! Contempt to the court! Objection!" (Thankfully, due to the fact that the vending machines couldn't move by themselves, no catfight broke out.)

Slowly, a soft chant started, growing gradually louder in volume. "Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo, Shizuo, Shizuo, Shizuo!"

The festivities continued throughout the night as the vending machines screamed in ectasy, adoring gazes fixed firmly upon the image of Shizuo sleeping soundly in bed.

Shizuo scowled as he read the headlines: "Mysterious Phenomenon: 1,504 Vending Machines Discovered In Warehouse". He hadn't slept well; somehow, he had the strange feeling that he'd been watched all night. "Huh," he muttered angrily to himself. "Must be that flea again. He's always [CENSORED] around in Ikebukuro, like the [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED] idiot he is. "

He stormed off to hunt down Izaya, already planning out his demise. Maybe a vending machine…?

Hehe. *feels stupid* I can't believe I wrote this…