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Since their last encounter, Gabriel had studied V1 obsessively.
He didn't have much else to do since being cast out from Heaven. No souls to judge, no sinners to subdue, Gabriel was left with one and final mission.
Stop the Machine. Restore his Divinity.
The hole in his body where the Light of God used to reside is a cold, aching wound, but he distracts himself from the emptiness by focusing on the rage in his heart, the force that drives him forward.
The Machine had bested him once, Gabriel would be sure to not repeat that mistake.
And so, he studies and observes. Taking careful note of each physics defying move the Machine pulls off in its beautifully violent dance through every layer of Hell. The way it flips through its arsenal of weapons, golden coins glittering between its agile fingers before they're being shot halfway across the room, straight into the skulls of Machine and Filth alike.
It's terrifying and it's glorious.
Gabriel feels the full wrath of that glory in Heresy when the Machine finally comes for him. He quickly learns that no amount of study or training or time could ever help an Angel understand a godless Child of Man, for it doesn't take long before Gabriel is beaten and bested once more, splayed across the chapel's stone floors in a pool of his own blood.
He had lost. Again.
In his delirium, Gabriel's wings flutter as he rises to his feet, his halo dull, his wings waning. He is Lost, but there is one final act he must do before his fury burns out quietly into the void.
He must leave Hell, return to Heaven in disgrace and begin his final act of justice upon the members of the council.
Gabriel had studied the Machine known as V1 and he'd tasted defeat at its hands despite his efforts, and yet the sound of the Whipshot firing and his sudden inability to move surprises him more than any of its insane battle tactics ever could.
His surprise renders him motionless for a second long enough for V1 to approach, the metal cable of the Whipshot that had only snaked around his wings and chest suddenly tangled around his arms, wrists and thighs binding him completely in a series of complicated knots and even the slightest flexing of his arms causes the metal wire to dig into his skin painfully.
“Go on then Machine,” Gabriel laughs, baring his neck in surrender as he is brought back to his knees once more. “Finish me. I'm dead either way!”
“Not so fast, angel,” V1’s shoulders shake in the immigration of laughter, its lithe steel body humming with energy, wings twitching with each movement. “You're mine now.”
“Indeed, you've bested me.” Gabriel agrees. “Do you plan to humiliate me further? Leave me here defenceless for the last dregs of Hell's demons to finish off?”
The Machine's optic flickers slightly, the orange light darkening for the briefest of seconds to a deep red before it fixes itself.
“You're mine.” It repeats. “Mine, mine, mine.”
It darts forward, feet pressed against Gabriel's thighs as it pushes him backwards, his back and wings meeting the floor with a painful thud, the metal cable around his body winding tighter.
“What are you doing?” Gabriel can't stop himself from asking as the Machine perches itself on Gabriel's stomach like a particularly satisfied cat.
“Mine.” V1 repeats again, unhelpful as ever.
But while the Machine's words give nothing away, its actions explain all that Gabriel needs to know. Metal fingers efficiently stripping him of his armour, tearing away his black undershirt to leave his chest completely bare and still bound in wire, half healed wounds glittering crimson in the red lowlight of Heresy.
V1 runs its knuckles over the gashes with an uncharacteristic gentleness and Gabriel keeps his eyes fixed to its hands as it trails his fingers lower. Between his chest, over his belly and stalling just as it reaches the band of his skirt at his hips.
Gabriel swallows thickly. He really has fallen far from grace if he thinks the Machine is about to do what he suspects. Surely an instrument of war couldn't–
“Stay.” The Machine commands him, interrupting Gabriel's thoughts as thousands of years spent perfectly following orders has Gabriel holding his breath on instinct as he freezes in places.
The Machine's shoulders shake with silent laughter again and Gabriel only closes his eyes, unwilling to let his shame show.
His eyes go flying open in shock a second later as V1 hoists him up with a single finger hooked through the wire, relieving the pressure on Gabriel's wings that was starting to hurt and the ache falls away completely as the Whipshot releases all tension in the wire, allowing V1 to free him of it's tangles completely.
“Hold,” V1 commands next, grabbing Gabriel's hands by his wrists and lifting them up.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Gabriel asks again, obeying the command despite his rational mind warning him against it.
He could try and fight against V1. He would only need a minute to gather the last of his power and teleport away.
But the Machine is fast, and Gabriel is already injured and despite the fight for their lives a moment ago, V1 is behaving oddly tame now that it has had its fill of Gabriel's blood.
So Gabriel stays still, conserving his energy and watching curiously as V1 unspools the cable of the Whipshot completely and begins binding Gabriel's arms from wrist to elbow.
When it's done, it releases Gabriel, allowing him to pull experimentally at the wire, a frown tilting his lips as he realises that weak as he is, he currently can't break free.
V1 pushes him down again and without the wire around his wings, Gabriel can comfortably splay them out across the stone floor as he lays down. The Machine is still perched on his hips, head tilted to the side, each blade of its hard-light wings fluttering individually. Gabriel stares back at it, unamused and wrought with tension.
“Are you done tying me up like a prize?” He scoffs. “What do you want from me, Machine?”
“Prize,” V1 chirps the word back at him like it's just discovered it, wings fluttering and hands once again poking at his wounds, absorbing the last of the blood that spills.
“Prize,” V1 repeats. “Mine. Prize.”
Before Gabriel can form a scathing response to the Machine's mindless chatter, V1 dives forward and twists its unforgiving fingers into the feathers of his wings.
Gabriel's back arches, head thrown back as a strangled sound tries to escape his throat. His arms are still tied, cradled to his chest helplessly, but he still pulls against the binds, trying his best to push V1 away as it continues to roughly pet his down.
“M-machine,” Gabriel manages to stutter out. Even despite the touch, the pleasure is overwhelming and unfamiliar. Pinned beneath V1’s hips, he presses his thighs together tightly. “Just what are you doing?” He asks once more.
“Fuck you,” V1 replies, the words the most that Gabriel has ever heard of it's limited vocabulary. Usually, the taunt is one of bloodlust and glee.
Now, Gabriel is starting to think the Machine means it more literally.
“You– you can't seriously–” Gabriel pants at a loss for words.
V1 doesn't deign him with an answer, fingers artfully combing through Gabriel's feathers once more, managing to stay straddled over the angel as he writhes and arches. Despite its lack of features, it looks visibly amused at the sight of Gabriel beneath it, helpless and pinned and bare before the thing he hated so much.
Gabriel doesn't even get the chance to feel embarrassed about his position as V1 shifts, pressing one of its legs between Gabriel's thighs and hiking his skirt up to his hips
“Machine,” Gabriel whines as his hips buck against its thigh on instinct. An instinct he hadn't even been aware he could possess. The burning heat of pleasure that coils in his gut with the action is heady and addictive and Gabriel hates himself for it as he bucks his hips again, desperately chasing after more of that pleasure.
Gabriel had damned humans to hell and eternal torment for less sin than he was currently guilty of, but he couldn't bring himself to care for his hypocrisy as V1 shifts closer, pressing its thigh firmly against Gabriel's core and his breath hitches into a shocked gasp.
Heaven above, Gabriel is wet. He can feel it on the inside of his thighs, sticky and dripping and feel it in the way V1’s slender leg easily slips between his folds, pressing against his clit. He gets the sense V1 is amused by Gabriel's desperate behaviour as he clumsily chases after a high he's never experienced. But how could a machine built for war possibly know anything about that either–
Any coherent thought quickly slips Gabriel's mind as V1 begins to vibrate. A low buzz against his clit that has Gabriel throwing head head back, a shout of pure ecstasy escaping his lips. He ruts against V1’s leg like a dog in heat, an angel once held in such high regard reduced to a wailing bitch beneath a Machine’s blood stained hands. His own blood, no less.
And the worst part is, Gabriel cannot bring himself to hate it. Not truly.
The ecstasy feels like freedom even as the shame tries to consume him. But V1, has a warm hand on his hip, guiding his wild rutting into an easy rhythm and another hand pets through his wings which flutter uselessly against the floor.
Gabriel’s peak reaches him by surprise, a moan tearing out of his throat that might be a curse or blasphemy or a cry of the Machine's name. The burning please sparks all through his veins leaving him shaking in the aftermath and his still bound arms reach for V1, begging for more or less, even Gabriel isn't sure.
“Good,” V1 tells him, petting against his hip, a finger trailing over the gold markings of his skin with curiosity. “Mine.”
“Yours,” Gabriel agrees breathlessly.
And despite everything, the claim does not scare him nearly as much as it should.