The Shinra had a unique way of going about things. In the brief time they had been growing, they had acquired a very interesting variety of tastes. In weaponry, they were advanced, highly technological; in warriors they were moderately archaic, but in machinery, they were superior. When the three were combined, it was good to be sided with them.
Backed against the wall, Reno caught sight of the contraption as soon as it sank to the ground. It was rather cumbersome, looming with big turrets and flanked by guards. Shinra guards obviously came in flavours and these were the sleek and sassy sort. These were the sleek guards dressed in skin-tight body suits, crowned by visor-helmets and gloved with rather threatening looking claws.
The guns fired first from the machine, clip after clip emptying right at the red-haired boy. Reno dove out of the way, taking refuge in an overturned train car. He glanced around a moment or two, looking for something to be used as a shield. His searching was interrupted as a sudden jolt rocked the car. He cursed, thrown back onto one of the unhinged seats, staring up through the window. Snatching up an overturned snack tray, he dislodged the top from the bottom and leapt up to see what was still berating his hideout.
The hail of bullets resumed as soon as he was above the car, denting and ricocheting off the makeshift shield he'd collected. The car jolted again beneath him and he growled, crouching against the sways. The claw mechanisms on the guards were pulse cannons, little engines that produced almost invisible shots of pure energy. One of the guards was sending pulse after pulse into the car, obviously trying to flush him out. But the other...
Reno spun at the shift of the car, the slick soles of his business shoes sliding on the outer shell. He caught a glimpse of the guard below him on the other side, running forward now that he was surrounded. The missing one was below him on the ground, pulse cannon pointed directly at him.
Acting instinctively, the redhead threw the makeshift shield at the guard below him, hitting the raised arm and causing the pulse to discharge into the air above him. By the time he was ready to fire again, Reno was on the ground, turning swiftly and lashing out with his pipe-weapon. The lead connected solidly with the other pulse cannon, shattering the delicate working mechanisms and dissipating the force gathered. The guard lunged forward with the remaining claw, stabbing at him with the sharp edges. Reno ducked, the pipe striking again and catching the guard just above his hip.
It was then that the other guard resurfaced, the hum of the pulse cannon sounding just before it rippled across the redhead's path. Reno side-stepped clumsily, just staying out of the cannon's blast. He turned instantly, pulling up his pipe and crashing it down upon the guard's helmet. The guard lashed back at him blindly, the visor cracked and useless in locating him now. The former guard launched a pulse from his remaining cannon, mere feet away now. The red haired boy jumped, his hand clawing along the car for a hand-hold. The pulse ran smoothly, rippling through the air until smashing into the blind guard, rendering him completely useless. Catching a small gap in a shattered window, Reno hung, his lanky form curled against the rusty car. He smiled to himself, sighing and looking at the last guard. The blue-suited soldier was in a mild state of shocking, moving quickly to reload his pulse cannon. Too late.
Reno sprang from the car, leaping down and landing a slick-soled shoe on the guard's helmet. He brought the pipe down on the last pulse cannon, shattering it and releasing the small amount of gathered energy. After stepping off the second shattered helmet, he decided that he'd done rather well.
It was almost too late when he realized the gun-toting machine was still waiting for him. He barely ducked back in time to miss the hail of fire. The redhead cursed, stumbling backwards and tripping over the prone form of the first downed guard. He yelped, his new pants collecting dirt and grease from the wonderful imitation Sector 8 flooring. He smacked the guard again in fury, bringing the pipe upon his midsection. The force of the blow jolted the guard's belt enough to loosen something attached there. Something terribly useful.
Picking up the item, Reno smiled almost sadistically. Shinra guards always had these crappy bombs, right? He scrambled over the second pair of legs and pulled out another of the grenades, fairly giggling in childish glee. He pulled the pin on the first, jamming his thumb into it to keep it from exploding prematurely. Taking the frail metal, he twisted it, bending it until it looped through the second pin and around the small neck where it had previously been. One may not take down the machine but two should, he mused.
Taking up his bullet-battered shield, the Turks-to-be rolled out into view again, taking momentary aim and tossing the bombs. To his dismay, the machine caught sight of them approaching and set one of its guns to shoot them down. They exploded at least five feet away, succeeding in only damaging the guns. The machine whirred disgruntledly and lumbered forward, ready to take care of him with just the crush of its giant treds.
"Can't make this shit easy, can ya!" Reno yelled, throwing back his head in pure anger, kicking one of the unconscious guards as he retreated. He growled, the roar of the treds coming ever closer. He looked down at the guards momentarily and shrugged before taking off at a sprint. "Better you th'n me..."
The machine was steadily picking up speed as it roared across the ground, popping the guards like jelly doughnuts and releasing a similar filling as it went. Reno glanced over his shoulder, cursing again as he realized the minute space left between himself and the bloodthirsty treds. It wouldn't be more than fifteen more seconds, tops, before he was another smear on the fake soil. Taking one last deep breath, he jumped at a nearby ladder, reaching desperately for the rungs.
His fingers slipped off the third from bottom, slick with sweat and exertion and for a brief moment he felt nothing but pure panic. The leather of his fingerless glove caught the bottommost rung as he fell, jolting his arm painfully as it held fast. Biting back the pain, he pulled his feet up, reaching his other hand plate-ward. The machine roared just beneath him, part of the jagged top catching his navy slacks and tugging at him insistently. The ladder shrieked as it was pulled, half falling from its crudely soldered place. Reno growled, twisting as much as he could and then lashing his feet out in the opposite direction, feeling the fabric shredding against the pulling forces. With that, the machine lumbered onward, circling the perimetre of the area and waiting for him to fall. But it had only taken him ten seconds to get to the platform above the ladder and there he stayed, muttering insults about the Cossack and his mother's combat boots.
