Chapter Text
A directive was given by the council to exterminate an intruder in Hell. It was a ravenous creature- no, not even a creature, but a thing. An entity, an object. While they made it out to be a contingency, an object isn’t anything to be troubled about.
Blam!
But as a charged shot from V1 echoed off the walls of the fleshy interior of Gluttony, he realized this was not like other fights; for the first time in many years, he was disadvantaged.
Gabriel had heard the noise before through years of observing humanity’s habit of resorting to war, but being the target of it felt like a bolt of lightning pierced through his torso. As if light itself punctured through his organs, veins, muscles; every layer of him.
Blood ribboned from his chest and cascaded to the ground with a splat. Saliva began to pool in his mouth as a metallic tang rushed to his tongue and flowed from his lips. It traveled from jaw to helmet, the scent as cloying as it was infuriating. The liquid seeped into his clothing and between the spaces in his armor, gliding down the curve of his stomach deliciously.
Although he was mesmerized, there was a distinct burning sensation that was impossible to ignore. It rapidly progressed from a slight ache to an excruciating heat. A searing prickling sensation that boiled his blood and stole any reflex to fight back.
It was unlike anything he had ever felt. He had never been struck like this despite humans creating the weapon some time ago. It made his sturdy frame tremble and his wings grow weak. Unlike the occasional laceration or abrasions from demons that left him charred or with a warm, feverish pain that he had grown accustomed to, this felt hot inside and out.
His wings continued to keep him aloft. Although slightly swaying, he kept his head held high as blood continued to slide down his body and drip on the floor. He refused to be downed by an object…!
He expected to be shot down the second he hovered in place; for the skinny machine to finish him off and collect its fill. But it remained where it was. Though still positioned to strike, it only stared, lens frozen in deliberation.
“FIGHT ME, MACHINE!”
Hubris laced his words, but they both knew that it was false, even as he brandished Splendor. He ignored the reason it hesitated, instead directing his fury toward recovering from his injury.
“YOUR MERCY IS MISPLACED…!”
His wings propelled him higher into the air to gain distance. Whipping around, he slung his spear toward V1, only for the blue figure to send it hurtling back toward him with just as much force. As he threw himself to the side to dodge it, the point barely nicked the portion of flesh uncovered by metal on his arm.
Swords extended, Gabriel lunged forward, dodging projectiles from its shotgun. His shoulder jolted forward as a spear attached to a winch was hooked onto his armor, rapidly pulling the machine closer until they were inches from each other. After one, then two swift, unsuccessful slashes toward the robot’s abdomen, he catches its gaze in his.
Up close, the lens glimmered a brilliant golden yellow, reflecting his featureless, red-smeared visage in its own for a split second before it abruptly vanished behind a thick splatter of blood.
Gabriel didn’t need to look down to register that the blood was his own, the sudden pain outweighing the rapid firing of the gun resounding in the chamber. A sash of nails and torn muscle stretched from his waist to his hip, blood flowing down his skirt hot and thick like melted wax. His legs give out, dropping him to the ground on his knees.
It hurts… fuck, it hurts...
His pained groans only worsened the heavy ache of defeat he felt deep in his chest. Brought to his knees without getting a hit in… with such efficiency… by an object? An object?!
It ignited a spark he had never experienced before; Anger was an emotion he commonly felt, but this was something different. It was a bone-deep hatred, the kind that bubbles up in your throat and sinks into your eyes. It filled him with an ache; the microtears of a challenge after years of letting his skills atrophy from the mindless tasks he commonly found himself undertaking. Yet, this new endeavor filled him with passion, even if he couldn’t grasp the paradoxical nature of it.
“This is not over…!”
His mouth twisted into a snarl behind his armor as he pulled himself to his feet. Injured or not, he wanted to avoid the cause of his humiliation, the reminder of his shattered pride. So with a powerful beat of his glowing wings, a bright column of light envelopes him, transporting him from the room in a near-instant.
As he stepped back onto Heaven's grounds, he gave himself time to breathe, sensing the trace of blood that still lingers. His eyes glance to the injuries left behind from the fight as he slumps onto his hip.
The council is not going to be pleased.