One day in the quiet hall of Chaldea—a rarity in itself—a man walked with steady steps. He was average in height, with black hair and a light beard. His eyes were tired, shadowed by dark circles so deep they seemed to possess their own gravity. He stopped mid-stride in front of the vending machine and sighed.
"Finally. My coffee within reach—my only solace in this cursed organization. I've been here over a decade, and all I've done is work endlessly. I shouldn't have trusted Marisbury back then. He deceived me like an amateur. Then again, I was naive. Perhaps I deserved it."
Shaking his head to chase away the thoughts, he slid a coin into the slot, selected a coffee can, and waited. Nothing happened. He waited longer. Still nothing. A vein pulsed in his forehead.
"Did this piece of junk take my money and not give me my life support?" he muttered, glaring as he debated whether to unleash his wrath upon the stupid thing.
"Yep," came a calm voice from behind him. "That thing is cursed. Took my change yesterday."
Alexios turned, shocked. "Yesterday?! Why didn't you warn me?"
The man who had spoken had blue hair and sharp red eyes, and was dressed in a form-fitting blue outfit. He squinted at the vending machine with an air of casual annoyance. It was none other than Cú Chulainn, the Hound of Ulster, greatest hero of the Ulster Cycle.
Cú shrugged. "I thought it built character."
From the other side, another man crouched slightly, peering into the bottom compartment. "I can see the drinks," he said. "They're mocking us, right there."
He had a firm build and spiky green hair—Achilles, hero of the Trojan War, invulnerable save for his heel.
Then a third man approached, slamming his palms against the glass. "Give it back! I am a king!"
Nothing happened.
"I was *supposed* to be a king!"
Still nothing.
He had blond hair and a regal, if currently exasperated, bearing—Jason, leader of the Argonauts, who sailed with demigods and heroes to retrieve the Golden Fleece.
Alexios stood there, utterly done with everything.
Achilles straightened, cracking his knuckles. "You know, back in the Trojan War, if something didn't cooperate—"
Cú grinned. "You stabbed it."
"Exactly."
Jason looked between them. "Are we allowed to stab a machine?"
Alexios massaged his temples. "So this isn't the first time it's acted up this week?"
Jason rounded on him immediately. "IT STOLE MY MONEY."
Cú nodded. "And his dignity."
Achilles added solemnly, "And my drink. Emotionally."
Alexios stared at them for a long moment. Then he sighed—a deep, weary, exhausted sound.
"Oh, fantastic," he said flatly. "It's one of *those* days."
They all stood there—four grown men, three legendary heroes and one sleep-deprived technician—glaring at a vending machine as though it had insulted their bloodlines.
"This place," Jason said, jabbing a finger at the machine, "is cursed. Nothing ever works properly."
Cú nodded. "Very true. For some reason, the showers randomly go cold, too."
Achilles added, "And the treadmills squeak. That's suspicious."
Jason gasped. "Maybe it's witches!"
"Bro, you can't blame everything on witches because of your traumatic Argonaut past, Jason," Alexios said, raising an eyebrow. "Though maybe we could appease them if we sacrificed you."
Jason froze.
Achilles immediately nodded. "A sound strategy. Well done, Alexios."
Cú added, dead serious, "Lowest emotional-impact loss."
Jason pointed at them, horrified. "You'd sacrifice me?!"
Alexios replied in a tired, matter-of-fact tone. "You're bait with legs, Jason."
Achilles grinned. "And legendary, at that."
Cú smirked. "With leadership experience."
Jason threw his arms up. "THIS BULL—I AM A HERO!"
Alexios nodded. "Even better. You're more appealing that way."
Jason let out a wordless scream that echoed briefly in the hall. Then, as if nothing had happened, he said, "But let us address the elephant in the room."
The vending machine hummed softly, as if mocking them.
Alexios stared at it. And something inside him snapped.
"You know what?" he said quietly. "I've had enough of this place."
Jason perked up. "Oh?"
Alexios stepped forward and kicked the vending machine. Hard.
The impact echoed down the hallway, and the machine rattled violently.
Cú's eyes widened. Achilles' grin was immediate. "Oh, *yes*."
Jason gasped. "He dared!"
Alexios shook his foot. "Okay, that hurts. But the message stands."
Achilles moved swiftly, punching the side of the machine. Cú followed with a flying drop-kick. Jason hesitated for only a moment before slamming his fist into the glass.
"For justice!"
The vending machine looked as though it was reconsidering its life choices. And then it escalated.
"This is for my money!" Jason shouted, punching again.
"This is for the cold showers!" Cú cried, still kicking.
"This is for the emotional damage!" Achilles yelled, shoulder-checking it violently.
Alexios joined back in, shouting, "This is for making me write a fifty-page report at 2 a.m.!"
Then the machine made a groan, a whirr, and—*clunk, clunk, clunk*—cans and bottles began to drop into the tray.
Silence followed. They all froze.
Then Jason whispered, "…It worked."
Achilles laughed. "It really worked!"
Cú picked up a can. "Guess violence *is* the answer."
Alexios took one, opened it, and took a long sip. "So, in conclusion: punching and kicking solves problems."
Jason nodded wisely. "If you punch hard enough."
Achilles slung an arm around Alexios's shoulder. "You know what?" he said cheerfully. "You fit right in."
Alexios exhaled, utterly exhausted. "I didn't sign up for this."
The arrogant vending machine lay defeated and silent.
Which meant, at last, it had learned humility.