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This was his last stand. In the cold darkness of treachery, a reformed Gabriel stood, hearing the echoes of the machine slaughtering the most unfortunate souls to be subjugated here. Despite the frozen attacking his senses, he felt oddly numb.
Nothing could stop his death now, the stare into the abyss. He had no remaining issues to linger, to make the bitter taste on his tongue. This was only a form of respect to him now. No matter the outcome, he knew that his last breaths would be frozen into the air. Remembered by betrayal, a pitiful stain of everything an angel could not be.
He finally heard it. Scratches of ice dawning upon where he stood. His only act of his will came before him.
Machine stood before Gabriel, deadlier than last time. A multitude of arms splintering out of it forming a distorted shadow over rich sky-blue ice. It carefully approached, marksman in hand ready to blow if Gabriel had even made a twitch, a thought of attack. However, he did not.
For once, he was not going to be the aggravator. He denied the beginning of bloodshed for his own first and final act. He wanted the machine to attack, to bring war upon him like it had with humankind all those centuries ago.
There, they stood. Neither biting, on familiar and even ground. They knew the masochistic dance, it would be ludicrous if they hadn't learnt it by now. The smell of that oh so fulfilling crimson liquor kept them entranced time before, fueling rage and the need to kill, the need to prove another's worth with freedom being ripped from one. And yet neither took the first step, neither took the other's hand with unexpected reverence to lead a continuing cycle of toxicity.
V1 was the only one to react, the tilt of its lens silently asking “what are you doing?” It got no response. It took another step, metal scratching and scraping to what was supposed to be a place of sacred punishment only for the most wretched of souls. And yet, maybe it was serving its only purpose.
V1 approached Gabriel, each step more of a leap, each breath of distance slowly becoming something scarily near trust. The pace confused Gabriel utterly, it crippled him in a way only this damned machine could ever do. Shattered the will for him to step away, to create that distrust once again. Every conscious effort to convince himself to do something, to even breathe was met by “I’m going to die, what does it matter?” It kept him straight legged.
It eventually reached him, suddenly imposing stature becoming casual, careless. His full attention was on it now, helm dragged down to meet its lens, representing… Hunger? Savageness? Need? It was hard to tell. Gabriel tensed as metal from V1’s red arm slid down his helmet. The thick steel fingers of the large hand dragged downwards, almost testing the waters, and it scared him.
His blood only pulsated under its touch, a familiar ardour rushed through him in a flash as the tips of its digits scraped along him, skin prickling underneath as if fingernails were on chalk. This was wrong, all of it. Even the excuse of dying refused to stand by him now. Hate pursued, but adoration snuck into the scent of closeness.
Nothing was said, although there was desperation for there to be. Finally, V1 had pulled away making Gabriel slump, a window of breath before his senses once again were being attacked by its original, blue arm. Blood smeared over part of his already grimy helmet, then over his torso. The blood of holy, perfect, impervious councilman now mixed with the filth of lowly demons. The very thought of it, something so high brung down to what it had been all along made Gabriel forget his situation, his defences slipped, chuckling quietly.
V1 looked up at him, a now obvious curiosity blinked in its lens. A tilt of its head before pressing ever so harder on Gabriel's chestplate. Electricity spurred from where the touch had been. Even through armour something shook through him. A rival to holy light.
Gabriel wasn't sure what was going on now, thoughts swirled together and original ambition vanished through some meaningless touch, at least that’s what he told himself. Finally, a form of communication had formed. Something they could both share. He placed a light touch on V1’s hand, coolness invading the palm of his hand.
“You’re aware I'm dying?”
V1 perked up at that, digits nearly leaving him before Gabriel pressed down for them to remain. The camera-like head shook left to right. Light catching onto its oddly shaped body as it did so.
“Ah, I wasn't expecting you to.” Quietness only interrupted with the slight shake of breathing or the whirring of fans. Nothing of necessity needed to be said afterwards, at least to Gabriel. He would be dead within an hour or two, a death beyond that no angel knew. Something beyond was incomprehensible, too much for a being devoted to faith and religion. Now was the time for wonder, the time for debate within one's own soul and yet he lacked the need. He lacked ambition, lacked a pleasure to be righteous, all good.
Within moments, Gabriel’s own entranced state became undone by the push of V1, yet harshness was not part of the intent. He simply sat against iced walls, back up against a corner willingly. Watching, waiting as V1 stood over him. It wasn’t the first time anyways.
It dropped down onto him, almost crawling above him like an owner. He was stunned, before crunches above sounded before him, a limb being snapped in a sickening desire of violence. An abundance of blood poured over him, coating his helmet in what must’ve been a stunning site for the machine. Coughing and spluttering erupted from the angel himself as the addictive liquids dripped into the ventilation of his helm. It was the stench of some filth's blood, indefinitely from something V1 had fought earlier. And yet, Gabriel relished in it.