Chapter Text
Twenty four hours… a blip in the face of his eternity… what left to do? Secure heaven’s future? Accept his fate? Cry to the Father? Curl up and scream? Oh. Oh he was already doing that. That’s why he was on the ground after all. This hurts like a bitch. Is this what it was to feel alive? Is this what the last of Earth’s dwindling life forms felt as some scrap metal wrung the life from it? What a pathetic way to die. Not indicative at all of the thousands of years he had spent serving God, carving out signs to mortals and more recently judging hell. So much blood… is this not even including that which he had spilt from innocent bodies? Was he in the wrong for decimating first and asking questions later?
The ground is fucking cold. Somewhere in the distance, that blasphemous machine is surely tearing its way to hell’s very core. Time to get up and— uh oh. Empty scabbard. Splendor is gone… he must have left it behind in the haze of delight that had welled up during their mutual attempt to destroy each other. Time to go back and get her. Justice is missing its twin already. He misses her too. First thing’s first. Afterwards? Well— hard to say. It is strange not having much to say. Between the choirs and long monologues among the other angels, his being speechless must be a first. Oh. Staring at a wall like a lesser husk. So becoming of you Gabriel.
Splendor isn’t in the cathedral where it’s meant to be. That can only mean one thing. That damned machine— his body aches to its core and yet he has to give chase once more. Following the carnage. Time’s passage is blurry. Not a good thing for a being living on borrowed time. It’s so serene without the husks hell was made to house, nor are the hard statue shells of the demons left intact. A few angel remains are scattered around too. Undoubtedly his fate if he had not teleported away in his height of emotions. The sound of mechanical man (demon? Husk? Being?) slaughter is getting louder. Ah. There it is. The machine, carving up a few of the denizens of hell without a care. Dancing to a beat only it can hear. And with his sword in its red hand—
A shard crunches underfoot. Not flesh… not stone… glassy? More angel remains… hmm. Maybe, this damned angel has one more card left to play after all.
Scanning… REMAINING TEXT IRRELEVANT. What a bore. At least lust’s denizens had interesting promiscuous objects in their apartments. They also had apartments. Nothing had spoken to it since last Gabriel had teleported away in a flurry, leaving one of his swords buried in the floor where he had stood. It had always, quite secretly, wanted a sword. V2 had laughed at the very notion from its own stand in the lab. With preprogrammed pinpoint accuracy and reflexes, why bother with borderline medieval weapons? But it was STYLE that its successor had never been able to grasp. No matter. Who was a red smear on the sands and who was here, with enough blood to fill its fuel tanks to brimming five times over? Stupid v2. Always better at everything in testing. Years and years they had spent together, with only each other as a benchmark, though in retrospect the rest of machine-kind did pale in comparison. All except the tall, dark, handsome skyscraper it had been purposed to fell, of course. Stupid book not having useful information. Stupid earthmover fighting against the natural order of machines. Stupid v2, for challenging it’s want to have a nice sword. And stupid Gabriel, for being so fruity that the rest of hell was dull in comparison.
“Machine!” Wow it’s audials were *not* calibrated for that… they were currently tuned into the song in its head… the rolling drums… and the accompanying gunshots. Was it hearing things? Surely it was not… ah. It was nearing the bottom of hell. Looks like it wasn’t hearing things. Stupid Gabriel was standing at the end of a needlessly dramatic long path. Looking quite worse for wear this time over. Still covered in his own blood, clutching at one of his biceps. Most likely wanting his sword back. But it was having so much fun! And the terminals were positively eating its newfound love for swordplay up! Maybe it could convince him to spar, blade to blade? That sounded fun! And and— oh he was talking again. Time to tune its music down a little… there we go.
“Are you finally listening to me?” Well now it was, yes.
“I said I need your help with something— hell is almost bone dry— you like blood yes?” More blood? Well it should have thought of keeping a few more lesser beings alive as blood bags but it was a bit late for that… nevertheless. Nod nod.
“You’ve already killed a number of angels. If I take you to heaven with me, will you agree to kill a few of them for me?” A precursory glance. There can’t be much of hell left now. Bereft just like the earth it had been forged on high above… whyever not? This was an out. From fighting for purpose. From trying to power itself on long enough to sort everything in its short term memory.
It taps on the protrusion under its lens a few times… then gives him a thumbs up. “Good. I can get you into the gate. And then you can do what you do best.” Time to ask for that sword duel… pointing up, it flaps its arms and then holds up one finger, then taps its stolen blade to his. Then watches as he turns red with rage.
“A duel.. in… limbo? With my own sword? Machine, the audacity to ask that, knowing you’re outmatched is—“ the little blue robot cups a hand to an imaginary ear, then pivots into a thumbs down. It did NOT just go there. “I’ll show you, you fucking Machine!” Without hesitation, he grabs onto the machine and pulls it to his uninjured side before drawing on dwindling light to propel them to Limbo. He quickly drops the machine, it’s still heavily armed after all. It sways on its feet and then dashes away, fickle as ever. He follows it through a heavy set of double doors, the plinths of the Cerberi empty at its sides. Oh… this had been quite unmistakably the dwelling of a very old friend. V- the machine wanted to duel here? It’s tapping on his uninjured arm with head tilted to the side. Expecting a response.
“It’s fine, machine. Let’s duel here.” He draws his blade and to his own surprise finds himself taking off Splendor’s scabbard and handing it to the machine as if made of glass. The machine stops, and then carefully straps it to its own hip. It gestures excitedly for him to go… stand at his mural. Dramatic little robot. He complies, climbing the stairs and… oh. Dear God above, no.
If he doesn’t think so hard, he can ignore that he knew them. Do what he’s always done— turn his back and face his next foe. But forgive me? It’s him who should plead that. If only the ones he wanted to say it to could receive it. He must make a fetching picture however, in front of his own visage. He doesn’t feel like the man in the window, not anymore. Not after all he’s done. But the little machine is standing transfixed by his elevation. Time to perform, he supposes. For at least in the moment, he can turn away from the truth by pretending for a little longer.
“Machine! Wretched thing! Come and face me!” It does. So very well. Why was he even upset about his impending doom again? What is he here for if not for this? To hear his own swords sing to each other. To go strike for strike with the machine. To turn his deep grievances into a moment of fun. Just like when he and Michael or Uriel had used to spar with their newly created weapons while Raphael watched and played whatever instrument he had just made. Before duty had taken him away from them and filled every crack in his armour with hell muck. He knows his swordsmanship is sloppy today. He’s bleeding from the arm, sue him. But luckily the machine hasn’t spent millennia learning to fight, so they’re more or less evenly matched. It’s fast as always. But not deadly as it is with a firearm. He chuckles and throws himself into the thrill of fighting again.
Gabriel is off his game, even if can tell. Maybe he’s going easier on it. V2 never ever did that for it. What a lovely thing to have. A truce. Moment to fight for something other than just ichor. Maybe the pompous prick angel wasn’t so bad after all. He swings and it moves to block, but with his free gauntleted hand connects with its waist. It freezes. Warning signals should be flaring up… but they’re not fighting to kill, and this clearly isn’t all Gabriel *could* throw at it if he was able. No pricking feeling that accompanies the warning pop up, no pop up at all. It stills for a moment— oh. Gabriel has his sword over it’s neck.
“You lose! Finally! I mean- well fought Machine,” He’s panting, and it’s own fans are at a lively hum. That was fun. It carefully unbuckles the scabbard on its hip and connects it with the sword. Then offers it back to him. He just looks right with both his swords. It’s internals start to protest. It needs blood. It looks wistfully at the Angel’s gaping wound.
“What are you looking at? Oh. Blood? Well you already spilled it. May as well not waste it. Go on.” That’s all the invitation it needs. It presses its chest to his bleeding abdomen as best as it can.
REFUELING… PLEASE WAIT… 40%
REFUELING… PLEASE WAIT… 70%
Oh. It’s tank is close enough to full to let go. But why should it? This is the first tissue it has ever touched that’s still attached to a living thing. The rest was all punches and it punches plenty of things.
Gabriel clears his throat. “Machine. You aren’t even absorbing this blood anymore”
Shit. It beeps in apology and lets go. Gabriel is looking at something. At his own depiction— no— under it. At the corpse beneath. It beeps at him inquisitively.
“Listen machine… I’ve lost many good friends over my lifespan. But they don’t usually come back to haunt me so long after I try to accept their loss. I- where are you going?” It knows he will be happy if it retrieves this. It darts into the next room and searches… there it is. Discarded on the floor. The book penned by the occupant of this place. It quickly returns with the book. He flips it open. His wings relax a little and shoulders slump. Then at long last, he sighs. “Thank you machine. It’s nice to have a little something they wrote down before they… left.” He looks around, book held like a treasure “I’m afraid I have nowhere to put this on my person. Can you put it back where you found it?” It has a better idea. It puts the book into the hard light in its wing blade for him. “Thank you, machine— V1. That’s your name?” It nods. He sounds so warm now. It gestures up to the sky. Time to get moving.
“Right. Um. Hold on to me. I’ll warp us up.” He’s clearly surprised when it wraps its arms around his waist and presses itself close, optic closed. It was a little shaken by the last teleportation, hopefully Gabriel doesn’t mind. He wraps his arms around them in return and the dwindling light envelopes them both.