Side Effects May Include The Following




There was something to be said about the stubbornness of Mankind, long after their souls have been doled their final judgment according to divine doctrine.

Gabriel stands upon the grand bridge that oversees most of the distant city of Lust. Up here, the winds are at their strongest, but still nothing compared to the strength of an angel. King Minos's newly risen corpse rampages in the distance, scaring the sinners below into hiding, or outright destroying any caught under its gaze.

A fitting end for a monument to a cardinal sin, he supposes.

It's a different punishment from what God had originally intended for those who indulged in the sins of the flesh. But the massive husk will, eventually, completely crush the city, and things will be as they were before they changed the layer so drastically. Order will at last be completely restored to Hell.

Gabriel turns his gaze from the distant city swathed in neon, over to the neat rows of crates lined up along the eastern wall that flanks the bridge. Under his helm, his expression twists into one of disgust upon beholding, once more, what may be the last dredges of what is already a very impressive amount of contraband.

Brightly colored shapes, of every size and length imaginable, fill most of them, so many that they now almost overflow from their confines. A Virtue swoops in from above and drops three more of these unholy possessions into the nearest near-full crate. Amongst these obscene objects are bottles full of clear liquids and glittering powders, ridiculously skimpy silks and lace, even long cords of rope dyed in varying hues. Entire flocks of the lesser angels have been gathering these and bringing them here for several hours now, well out of reach of the sinners that still remain below in the decaying city of Lust.

Where had they gotten the means to create so many?

From behind him erupt three pillars of light, the sound echoing hollowly through the bitter winds of Lust's skies. Gabriel turns expectantly to the Powers who float towards him. They salute, sharp and prompt, and he nods in greeting.

"How many more?" The lead angel asks as they land on the surface of the bridge.

"These five are ready to be incinerated." Gabriel gestures to the assembled crates. "My Virtues will do one final sweep, but I believe we've just about emptied the city."

"Thank The Father." Another mutters under her breath as she bends to pick up one of the lids and close the crate, at last hiding the sinful items from view.

"Sir," The third approaches him before joining the other two, who are stacking them gingerly. "The Heavenly Council sends along a summons for you. They require your presence as soon as you are finished here."

"We're just about done here; they won't be waiting more than an hour."

He dismisses them with a nod. As they turn to assist the other two with gathering the crates, his keen eyes spot a flock of five approaching them from the southern districts. Only three of them carry contraband. There must not be much left down there.

Beyond them, Minos's corpse leans down, fist plunging through a high rise. In spite of its empty white eyes and the prevalent amount of rot across its body, the colossal husk looks so much like him. But now parasites control its every movement, every wrathful stomp and swipe, wrecking havoc upon everything it once held dear.

For a moment, memories of a few rare, quiet evenings after the quelling of Greed's rebellion rise to his forethoughts. Of evenings spent pouring over a book in the palace library, or back-and-forth discussions of philosophy and occasional stories from the heyday of the Hellenes. Idle days during a period of returning calm, both here in Hell and in Paradise.

It hadn't been anything personal, really. Orders were orders, and Gabriel is nothing but dedicated to what remains of The Father's Will.

"They will be happy to hear that Hell is at last under Heaven's control once more." Gabriel says to himself, perhaps a bit more quietly than he intended. But he swiftly shakes away these thoughts. There's no point in dwelling on them, not when there are many more pressing matters to attend to still.

The Virtues with objects in their possession glide down one by one, dropping a couple more silicone devices into the sixth open crate, and then several silk pieces of human clothes. The third drops a single, ornately decorated bottle.

It immediately bounces off one of the thicker, rubbery organ casts and starts rolling down the pile. The Virtue lets out a brief but faint cry when they notice. Gabriel's body dips into a practiced, graceful lunge, hand snapping out to catch it just as it starts falling towards the hard metal surface of the bridge. The smaller angel emits a series of distressed chirps.

"It's alright," He straightens up, and comforts them with a gentle tone, the contraband tucked safely in his grasp. "Just be more careful."

They hum quietly in answer, still a little shaken. Gabriel glances down to the crystalline container nestled in his palm. It's full of... whatever this blasphemous, bright purple concoction they had created during their Renaissance is supposed to be, but there are no cracks to be seen in the delicate glass. The archangel sets the bottle back upon the pile, and gives one of their wings a reassuring stroke.

"Go with the others and aid those still searching the western districts." He tells them. "Then you may return to your normal duties."

He's given a hollow trill in affirmation, before the Virtue turns away and follows after the rest of the small flock. Gabriel places the lid over the crate, and secures it with a solid click. The box sealed, he picks it up, finding it surprisingly heavy.

Before he follows the Powers to the Fourth Sphere, where incinerators powered by the sun would burn everything within into less than ashes, Gabriel spares one final glance out to the city. The mindless corpse is stomping upon a warehouse and knocking it flat. If he strains his already excellent hearing, he wonders if he'll be able to hear the screams of any sinners who might have been sheltering within.

Truly, it was a shame that he had to put Minos down. The man was one of the wisest human souls he had known; a friend, even. But it was clear that his centuries as Judge had gradually worn away at his resolve to follow divine order. Gabriel's duty to God and the Heavenly Spheres came before everything else. The Father's Word is law, after all.

(Even amidst His excruciating absence.)



The further V1 descends into Hell, the more their curiosity wars with their deep-seated bloodlust.

Battles are vicious and fun, the sounds of exploding shrapnel and flying coins ringing in their audials. Their creative carnage is rewarded not just with fuel, but with better weapon forms, ample more opportunity for experimenting and bloodshed. They can sharpen their skills endlessly with no risk to their life in the Cyber Grind until they are the dominating force through every successive chamber.

But there is also so much to discover; there is potential reward for that too.

For now, the sounds of strife have fallen silent. The husks here have been killed, drained of fuel. Any machine standing against them has been eliminated. They flit in and out of the buildings, searching for anything of interest, or for another secret way out of the area. Most just hold the bodies of long-dead sinners, always in groups of two or more. Others are of a fresher kill, simple husks and demons drained of their lifeblood and left discarded upon the ground.

They don't find a hidden exit anywhere near here, but something of interest comes by way of a small, open home. Dust has long collected upon the surfaces within. No hungry machine has been in here, drawn by the call of bloodfuel-bloodfuel that eternally beats in their plastic veins. They do a rapid fire scan of the wide living space before flitting to the next room.

Inside here lies a set of intertwined skeletons, unmoving upon the floor by the bed. A round, empty crystal bottle lays forgotten to their left, rolled on its side. But what really catches their attention is the thick, crinkled sheet of paper sitting on the nightstand.

V1 steps over the bones, and snatches up the page. Their optics scan the scrawling print, gilded with lacy red flourishes along the edges. After a moment, the text pops up on their HUD, without any of the fancy loops.

"ESSENCE OF EROS

Congratulations on your purchase of what many consider to be the crown jewel of Lust City Labs! Essence of Eros is a chemically engineered aphrodisiac designed to induce arousal, increase sensitivity, and intensify, prolong, and multiply orgasms. With development overseen and approved by His Majesty King Minos himself, it's sure to give your sex afterlife the spark it needs.

If using for the first time, please review the following:

Apply 5ml externally on the skin, or add to the drink of your choice and ingest. Wait 3 hours before taking more. The time it takes effect may vary between individuals, but arousal and sexual activities will accelerate efficacy.

WARNING: Contents become volatile when shaken. Do not ingest and apply externally at the same time. Do not ingest more than the recommended amount at a time. Do not add to food.

Overdose symptoms may include-"

V1 dismisses the rest of the text, and glances down at the scene of death just at their feet, at their pelvic bones pressed desperately together. Their optic trails over the plush carpet, catching the faint sparkles their light reflects. It comes to rest on the upended glass sphere.

There's little left in the bottle, but what is in there matches the spilled blue powder surrounding the bodies. They've seen something similar to it, a container of which V2 had once snuck back into the labs after a security showcase. He emptied it all over the seats in the researcher's offices that same night, awaiting the moment they would shuffle into the lab, drinking from steaming mugs and not yet awake enough to notice the addition to their chairs. It isn't hard to draw conclusions after, between their positioning, the near empty glass container by the bodies, and the faint tremors of the massive husk stomping around the city.

That was certainly one way to go out.

Interesting, but certainly not what they were hoping to find. They let the paper flutter to the floor and swiftly exit the townhouse, leaping to the wall of the building opposite and bouncing across until they reach the rooftop. The decaying colossus looms in the distance, above even the spiraling high rises. There's nowhere else to go but forward, to the power plant near the heart of the city.

The next elevator can't be far, but they would do one more sweep for any further secrets.



Where once sinners had cowered beneath Minos' towering corpse, machines now rampaged in the streets. They fight each other for a rapidly depleting amount of fresh blood, tearing the paved roads to pieces and setting the buildings that haven't been crushed on fire. There is only chaos and death here, now.

Gabriel grimaces as he takes in the state of the layer from the safety of the skies. Everywhere he looks, there's just destruction, the blood-drained corpses of husks and demons alike. The last remnants of humanity here had been purged, slowly being driven to their twice-over extinction as the invading machines delve deeper and deeper.

Gluttony, Greed, Wrath, and now Heresy, soon to be taken, and then all the other succeeding layers will be overrun. Before now, this had been manageable, guarding the entrance to the Fourth Circle and easily crushing each of those inferior objects that challenged him. Even if they lost the upper two layers, those below would have been safe.

They do not deserve this slaughter. None of them do.

But that infuriating, insignificant machine...

That soulless thing had beaten him into submission, utterly humiliated him, allowing for the rest of the swarm to claw further and further in, following the paths their predecessors had dug years ago. He's been stripped of his title, the source of his power, and given mere hours to live. If the mob got any farther than Heresy, Hell itself would be at a massive risk of collapse, and take everything with it.

Gabriel pumps his wings faster, soaring along the outskirts of the free-for-all battle one final time, searching. For anyone, anything that could have escaped the keen senses of a bloodthirsty machine. Then he will depart this layer for Heresy, and await the arrival of that terrible, hungry thing. There, he will tear it to pieces; he will put an end to its rampage, regain his purpose, his connection with what remained of The Father's presence, and restore his duty to God..

But then something flits in the corner of his eye, far down below: a shadow, ducking into a townhouse just three blocks away from the edges of chaos as it creeps ever further across the city.

Swiftly, he dives down into the empty alley, landing with practiced grace upon the careful brickwork of the street. Neon lights pour over him from every possible direction; nothing can truly escape its glow. The sounds of strife are distant, but audible. He will not have much time to look.

Gabriel hurries to the door, and finds it swinging outward, just slightly, but it is apparent that it had been opened recently. He pulls it further open and ducks inside, his halo and wings lighting the musty interior. It's a kitchen, neat and orderly, clean save for the layer of grime upon each and every surface. The room is otherwise untouched. Minos' corpse hadn't reached this part of the city before it fell.

"Hello?" He calls into the darkness, tone carefully neutral. "Be not afraid, sinner. Salvation from this unholy terror is at hand."

There isn't an answer. His keen eyes scan the near-dark for disturbed dust, for any sign of a potential surviving soul having passed through here. He has little luck finding any sort of trail, but something else catches his eye. Something glittering on the edge of the counter, where the kitchen becomes the communal space.

Gabriel steps closer, easily making out the shape and contents. A small, round bottle, filled with a glimmering pink substance, one reflecting in the light of his wings like tiny stars. He hasn't seen one in decades now, not since they restored order to the circle. The corner of a note sits beneath the edge, pinning the bright green parchment to the marble.

'I've been saving this for a special occasion. See you tonight, gorgeous!'

They must have missed a bit of contraband during their sweeps of the layer; there had only been so much time to search after Minos had fallen and Gabriel had been tasked with his former duties. Normally, anything that this layer had created during its Renaissance would be confiscated immediately, but he does not have the time nor the desire to dispose of it properly. Besides, it would soon be destroyed in the chaos that was going to consume this city.

Gabriel leaves it alone, about to turn further into the shadowy home, when from behind him comes the faintest creak of metal.

His reflexes kick in, whirling around with a grunt as his would-be assailant lunges at him from the darkness. His fist catches onto metal, and he crushes its head with a loud, bursting sound of shorting electricity. It crumples to the floor with a high-pitched whine that quickly tapers into silence. He looks down at the machine's corpse, and huffs with blatant disgust.

Had it really just tried to ambush him?

"Infernal thing." He spits quietly. It must have been fleeing from him upon sight, ducked into the house to hide, and then decided to attempt a cheap shot when he followed it.

He shakes his head with a long sigh. He's wasting his time looking; of course nobody had lived through this nightmare. The layer of Lust is doomed, and such a fate would befall the rest of the circles if he did not get his act together and fix his mistake.

He'll have to shorten his time in Gluttony if he hopes to cut the deadly warmachine off in time. There's only one human-built shaft that leads down into Violence, right below Heresy's grandest cathedral, but if they make it past him again, it will be over for the remains of humanity.

With a discontented huff, Gabriel turns to leave, irritation coursing through him. He faintly registers the sensation of the edge of his wing brushing along something as he turns towards the door. Reflexively, it flicks outward before tucking itself against his back. He catches the clatter of glass against marble, and then a brief, but abrupt silence.

That's all the warning he gets before it shatters right behind him.

Gabriel glances back just in time to get a powerful blast of pink right into his face, rapidly changing into swirls of purple and blue. His instinctive gasp at the sudden assault of color causes the thick smoke to fill his lungs, particles of it hitting the back of his throat. Where it smells sickeningly sweet, the taste burns. His arm throws itself over his mouth with a violent cough, wings beating rapidly to disperse the sudden burst of fog, clearing the air long enough for him to turn heel and fly back out the kitchen door.

His lungs are still recovering from the onslaught of powered-something into every one of his senses as he lands out on the back alley, well out of range of the spiraling smoke bursting out of the townhouse. Another ragged cough escapes him, but he stifles the next, gathering himself swiftly.

His wing must have accidentally knocked that small bottle off the counter. Now there's a very fine dust settled on his gauntlets and, when he checks, the rest of his armor. It sparkles in the glow of the street lights all around him, spicy-sweet flavor lingering in the back of his throat.

Gabriel growls, a surge of fury carrying him upwards. With a powerful pump of his wings and an angered shout, he shakes off the glimmering powder. It floats downwards to the street, like the tiniest flakes of snow. A very fine layer still resides on his wings and in the gaps between his armor. He tries wiping it off his skin, but only succeeds in smearing it on his fingertip.

He doesn't have time for this. He'll be fine, angels were entirely immune to mortal diseases and their drugs. It won't have any effect on him, aside from leaving this awful taste in his mouth.

"Revolting." Gabriel hisses with another faint cough, and then swoops back towards Mino's corpse. One more check, and then he will descend ahead of the swarm, and stop them in their tracks once and for all.

He will not fail again.



There's a hollow sound when his hands slam upon the wooden frame of the organ, right when that infernal, godless object draws close enough.

"Machine," he rumbles, the true depths of his anger barely concealed in his tone. "I will cut. You. Down. Make you apart! Splay the gore of your profane form across the stars! "

The chapel shakes, briefly threatening the integrity of its masoned walls.

"I will grind you down until the very sparks cry for mercy!"

As he whirls around to face them, faster than he can track, their hand flickers between weapons. new colors and forms from their last battle flash by his gaze, red as blood at the edges.

"MY HANDS SHALL RELISH ENDING YOU," Splendor is freed from her sheath, followed by Justice. "HERE! AND! NOW!"

Four twirling coins, the lightning blue of electric agony. Even as it pierces him, Gabriel's anger carries him through the pain, arcing through his body. His sword just swipes at their plating before the machine leaps back with a dash. Their pace stays ahead of his own by a beat as they charge a piercing shot, burrowing through his shoulder, and at once goading him to follow along.

"LET'S SETTLE THIS!"

Gabriel throws his swords with a roar, only to see Splendor's blade hit with a blinding flash, forcing him to dodge as they fly right back at him. Justice's edge cuts his side, but they return to his hands in a heartbeat as he swoops in for another attack.

He's met with a core eject, knocking him backwards from the sheer force when the explosion collides with his pauldron, and he barely avoids the rocket launched at him a moment later. Gabriel swoops upward, putting a momentary distance between the two of them, another coin flick catches his attention.

They spin their revolver around their finger, the weapon gaining rapid speed with each twirl. Before Gabriel can react, its grip is snapped back into their hand, and then they fire. The reflected ray of red light tears through him. Multiple times.

It leaves him stunned, for just a moment, before a spray of nails snaps him out of it. He pushes through the pain, and dives back into the fray.

"NOTHING BUT SCRAP!"

The machine remains one step ahead of him, leading him in a macabre dance around each swing, every swipe and stab, driven by the roaring blaze of his anger. He only just manages to land mere scratches on their plating as they remain infuriatingly out of his reach. The archangel's attacks become more erratic, more desperate.

He can't hit them; their prowess in combat has only grown since their first clash.

"IS THIS WHAT I LOST TO?!" He taunts, but in vain, for he misses again, and again, and again.

As he readies to throw his swords with wild abandon, a spearhead snags into the thin groove between his pauldron and cuirass. Then the machine is suddenly upon him, feet planting on his thighs and keeping them high in the air with him. Their shotgun at the ready, they blast him with several quickdraws that tear through his armor. Before he can even recover from the onslaught of shrapnel, a concussive blast tears them apart.

His back hits the ceiling, and then his flesh is being peppered with sharp nails. The machine's form falls back down to the marble pool below, nozzle of the nailgun firing nonstop. Gabriel is overwhelmed with pain, white fire momentarily blinding him. Each strike sends thin arcs of blood spraying from where they hit him, flashing vivid red through the sparks of light that pierce behind his eyes with each hit.

A taste like nothing he's ever experienced before floods his mouth, hot and bitter. It coats the interior of his helmet when he chokes on it.

Blood. His own blood, imbuing his senses with its intoxicating flavor. The lifegiving liquid drenches his body, oozes from his torn flesh. Thick droplets catch the light as they fly through the air.

He is aware that he's losing, again. But suddenly, he doesn't care about that anymore, nor does he register the pain. He is transfixed by the sight, any agony from his wounds completely buried under the rush of adrenaline that floods his veins.

All at once, his anger evaporates, drowned in the overwhelming joy he feels. Years upon years beneath the Council, carrying out their orders, destroying everyone that ever stood in his way, crushed beneath his heel. An army of insurrectionists hadn't been enough, and his strength alone could subdue budding Prime Souls.

And finally, here, at the end of everything, he's finally found an opponent to match his own power.

"IS THAT THE BEST YOU GOT?!" He laughs, elation rushing through his injured form, and the chapel suddenly bursts with blue, crystal clear light. It chases the blood red of the center most pool away with a stunning azure and tinges of gold.

He dives for his opponent, deftly veering to the side to miss the deadly blast of bright blue laser, and lands a deep swipe upon their plating of their chest, rending part of the metal. A manic sort of satisfaction pushes another delighted laugh from his lungs.

They're ripped apart with another powerful blast of overloaded shrapnel, machine and archangel soaring in different directions. His ears ring, the beautiful stained glass windows fly by in a whirl of color as he catches himself in the air, charging right back into the fray. Their dance resumes.

"Now this is a fight worthy of God's will!"

Gabriel spins around a rocket and swoops in close once again. Their red arm collides with one of his swords, the blade digging in between their loaded knuckles. He's blasted backwards, skidding atop of the astonishingly clear pool below.

"That's it! Come and get some blood!" He jeers, dodging the magnetic rod they fire at him, catching the follow up spray of nails in his thigh as they track his movements, dodging more and more rapid swipes.

He battles on, spurred by the iron taste sitting thick on his tongue, and a newfound fire that drives him. Gabriel chases them relentlessly, voice rising with unrestrained mirth as the adrenaline pushes him to fly faster, hit harder. They fire, parry, and dash, blood flying in all directions as they struggle to keep up with his attacks, thrown at them with blinding speed. He lands another hit, and then another.

The sight of the two long cuts marring their chassis renews his determination more than any hymn or prayer ever did. Gabriel twirls around another oncoming laser, keeping up the pressure. He can feel his strength waning, but he doesn't want to stop. He never wants this to end.

Heat crawls across his skin, setting what blood that hasn't been torn from him alight with fire. Gabriel wants it to burn him alive, he wants to do this forever-

But then it burrows into his gut in the very next moment, and settles like he's swallowed a flaming red coal.

His next attack misses. A dull thud as their new winch arm attaches to him again follows. They fly at him in a blur of hard light and pumping caliber. The blast hits him hard. He can barely keep himself airborne as a fresh wave of pain knocks his sense of orientation loose.

Suddenly, the heat gets worse. He's hot, all over, feverishly so. The lapse in his concentration allows for a bullet, shot off of one single coin, to pierce into his side and send him plummeting down onto the marble stretch of floor before the massive instrument. There Gabriel crouches, dazed, the pain feeding the fire running rampant across his body.

He tries to say something, but all that comes out is a sharp inhale when his wound pulses, the agony twisting with heat and spilling over into his stomach. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spots the machine approaching him, observing his prone form at the top of the landing.

"Twice!" He manages to get out, at last. "Beaten by an object, twice!"

He falls onto his back. The sharp taste of iron in his mouth surges anew, heavy on his tongue and needle-thin on his palette.

"I've only known the taste of victory, but this taste--is..." He marvels at it, this coppery flavor, this forbidden fruit. "... is this my blood?"

Clarity hits him, sharp and crystalline, through all the feverish ardor and anguish wracking him. Gabriel, Archangel of God, bleeds freely; no different from the mortals whom he once cared the best he could for, before their impending extinction. It oozes down his body in steady rivelets and drips in tiny rivers from his mouth. A laugh escapes him; he can't help it.

"I've never known such... such relief?"

But before his mind can come to its senses, back away from this blinding revelation far enough to even begin to parse it, the machine is suddenly upon him, legs landing on either side of his midriff. And then their hands are pawing for his blood, for fuel. His surprised gasp is cut off by a pained shout when their fingers dig into the wounds on his abdomen, where shrapnel tore through his sides.

Claws score his back, ripping the flesh anew, and then it buries the sharp digits deep into the viscera. Their new arm grabs tightly at his torn left thigh and squeezes even more from them. Gabriel struggles to throw them off, but his diminished strength is nothing to theirs.

Their bloodfrenzy presses them together, rubbing themselves on him for more blood like a starved animal. His wounds burn as their vampiric touch feasts upon them. It's agonizing; every nerve Gabriel has suddenly becomes a live wire. His back arches into them, the blazing pain descends into heat, and then-

The moan that erupts him borders upon filthy, but most damning of all is the powerful throb deep within his loins that accompanies it.

As the sound escapes him, the machine suddenly stops, freezing mid-rub against Gabriel's tensing body. Silence falls upon them both. With creeping, burning horror, Gabriel slowly looks up at his opponent, and the light of their optic meets his helm. All Gabriel can suddenly focus on is a terrible mortification, threatening to clamp down on his throat and cut off his breath for a moment.

Is this... it can't be. Why would he be experiencing this, here and now?

Fury comes to his rescue. Not as deep and all-consuming as before, but enough to give him a much-needed burst of strength; to try and push the machine off of him.

"Remove yourself from me at once!" He demands, struggling to get a hand on them. He's shaking, suddenly, a tremor wracking his frame right before another blazing pulse arcs through him, coursing through his veins and leaving something akin to hunger in its wake. His anger fizzles just as quickly as it descended, but still he struggles, if only to save whatever scraps of pride he still possesses after such a resounding defeat.

"M-Machine, you get--get off of-'' He bites off another gasp as the next surge hits him, struggling to stay focused on the unpredictable automata still crouched atop him. They continue to stare, that expressionless gaze fixed on his hidden visage, and suddenly Gabriel becomes hyper aware of every point of contact they share.

There's a hand still on his back, a knee pressed into his thigh, part of their chassis still glued to his stomach (V1, he reads, printed right over where a heart might be. Is that their name?). Pleasant tingles begin to crawl across his skin from where they're connected. The next jolt sends him flat to the marble floor, shivering and practically cooking in his own armor, shredded as it is. The machine leans back, as if surprised. He hardly notices.

"What--what is this feeling... ?" He groans aloud, not entirely meaning to. Gabriel is hot; much too hot. Warmth radiates from his flesh like he's standing too close to an open flame. His fingers fly for the leather straps of his cuirass almost instinctively, struggling to unlatch them.

Is he dying? It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, and he can barely get his hand into the gaps of his own armor; it quakes too much, his strength is failing him. Gabriel's middle finger keeps catching on a leather strap and slipping, unable to unhook it. He's too warm, too sweaty, too distracted by the steady pressure of V1's plating on his flesh.

The divine metal abruptly lifts away from his chest, exposing his chest to both the cool air of the cathedral, and the machine's unrelenting gaze. It drifts from his helm, over the twin scars cupping his pecs, and down to his stomach. They unceremoniously toss the armor piece away, head tilting and the light of their optic suddenly dimming to a gentle gold as it clatters somewhere upon the marble floor to his left.

"If you're not going to kill me, Machine," Gabriel grunts out through gritted teeth, pushing all his focus into his words. "Then get out of my sight--"

That one final burst of brittle irritation is all he manages, because the fluctuating pulses of rushing heat all descend upon him at once, and they don't stop. Completely unbidden, his thighs jam together, at once trying to halt the spread of warmth rolling down his body and to seek some form of relief. His entire body jerks at the assault of sensation it brings.

Oh, Father have mercy, this is lust; its sinful jaws have his body locked in a vice grip. Why is this happening? What could be causing this to happen to him? He has been nothing but steadfast in his vows of celibacy for all of his existence-

...

It's because of that bottle of volatile dust from over an hour ago now; because of that sickly-sweet, pink powder inside, that he had unwittingly knocked over and broken in his earlier search of the upper layers. Specifically the layer where he sent sinners for indulging in obscene acts.

Mortification briefly dawns on him through the haze before it's drowned in a nonstop flow of salacious desire.

"Oh fuck..." Gabriel rolls to the side with a barely concealed whimper. His insides twist with a tight heat, with a terrible want, crashing over him like a breaking ocean wave as he curls into himself. "Nnhh--shit!"

A hand slaps over his helm, but it does nothing to muffle the thin cry that pours from him as his nethers throb. Unbidden, his hips buck, seeking any semblance of satisfaction to this unbearable need seizing him. A fog descends upon him, one that dampens his strength, and yet imbues him with restless energy.

Something grips his shoulder, and then he's being pushed onto his back. The machine's arm keeps his spine flat against the ground. One of their other hands drags down his stomach, leaving behind invisible flames that blister his skin. As he lies prone, utterly helpless to this hunger that all but consumes him, the machine climbs off of him, sliding backwards.

Their arms swiftly and methodically relieve him of his belt and pauldrons before he can even muster the thought capacity to stop them. Gabriel's attention snaps into focus, just in time to register his skirt being hiked up his hips. Right after, his thighs are being wrenched apart. The rough treatment only sends more fire spiraling into his center.

Here is where they stop, looking back up at him. Are they waiting for something? For him to give the go-ahead?

The part of him not yet clouded over with a warm, heady fog warns him that he shouldn't. He's already been stripped of his title as the Will of God, of his connection to the Light, and any remaining dignity he possesses. His very purpose has been taken from him, here, at the impending end of Hell. Is he to lose his celibacy as well?

But before he can muster any amount of willpower to argue with himself, Gabriel finds himself offering them a firm, desperate nod, coupled with a pathetic whine.

He only feels the faintest hint of their claws, tearing his loincloth away with a wild but precise slicing motion. The cool air of the cathedral is suddenly stark where he's become hot and wet. V1 presses in further, hands laying upon either of his pecs and fondling his bare skin with eager fingers.

It's enough of a distraction that he doesn't notice their thigh pressing in, and then down firmly upon his aching cunt.

There's a hollow, sonorous sound as Gabriel's head slams back into the marble, unable to stop the cry that leaves him. Radiance blossoms across his body in powerful waves, at once satiating all his desperate wants and yet feeding the fire that sears him alive. Their leg glides down, and then up, again and again in languid, easy movements.

Gabriel desperately rolls his hips into their touch, the metal plating quickly becoming slick and aiding each subsequent slide. His voice rises like a chorus singing hymns to The Father, dancing to the distant, dark ceiling, as his swollen clit grinds fervently against the machine's limb. They continue to grope at his chest, fingers cupping one pec and tracing the scars of the other.

Higher and higher he climbs. The heat in his core tightens unbearably, winding until he's sure he'll shatter and become but the stardust from whence he was born. It's so much; it's too much, too fast. He's going to die-

It all releases out of him at once in a powerful rush of euphoria. His body arches and bucks with shameless fervor as it spreads from his core to the very tips of his fingers, consuming him in its thrall. The shout that escapes him bounces across the cathedral, staining its halls with its debauched echo.

He comes down in a sudden, dizzying rush that leaves his heart racing in his chest and his entire form quivering with the fading pulses. The machine's motions slow to a halt, lingering on his oversensitive, humid flesh. He gradually becomes aware of their optic staring down at him, as if they had been transfixed by the sight of him falling apart beneath them. The cold clutches of reality threaten to take him, as his mind, in a brief moment of lucidity, starts to really register what he'd just done.

But all at once, the heat surges again.

Like flames kindled with something unseen, bright sparks ripple across his body and center between his legs. Any form of clarity is suddenly robbed of him once more by its fiery claws. How could his body still be so fucking sensitive after all that?

His hands fumble aimlessly at the floor below him, pushing desperately into the searing wet warmth of V1's plating. They pull the limb away, and Gabriel doesn't have time to mourn the loss. Not when two of their fingers suddenly slip into him.

The sudden, stinging spread of his entrance sends him reeling. Helplessly lost in the throes of the sins of the flesh could bring, Gabriel rolls his hips up into their touch. Their digits glide in and out of him in short, but firm thrusts, burrowing deeper with each pass. The third joins it shortly after, and the stretch is nothing short of divine. He just wants more, mind going wild with the sheer need that crawls over his flesh, left hungry for too long.

They fuck him with little mercy, pumping their fingers in and out him with a pace he's not sure anything else would be capable of. Gabriel can only produce cracked whimpers, his body writhing under their attention. The fire winds tighter and tighter again, spiraling in his core, ready to tear him asunder yet again. Their thumb brushes over his clit, once, twice-

Gabriel's hips snap upwards with a shout as a second wave of searing ecstasy releases from his center. He burns, the pleasure igniting every nerve end he has.

Even as the smothering grip of his second release finally eases off of him, Gabriel still smolders. That enticing heat quickly begins to sink into his veins, rushing to his head and washing across his mind like a rolling fog on the surface of a still sea. He mindlessly ruts into their motionless hands over and over, seeking more--he needs more.

The heavy, heady cloud of lust at last overtakes him. It chases away all coherent thought, and a senseless smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.



V1 had certainly not foreseen this happening when they had run several simulations before their next fight with Gabriel.

Unbridled fury? Definitely. A possibility of those swords hanging at his hip being drawn? Of course. A far greater challenge than their last battle with a higher chance of dying horribly? Entirely within their expectations.

But this?

His completely unpredictable fluctuation in behavior, from raging fury, to ecstatic glee, to wanton arousal, sends their processors for a metaphorical loop. Particularly when he gives them the go ahead to help relieve the surge of tension he is experiencing. Never had they seen anybody so sensitive, so receptive to pleasure. He comes so quickly just from the first sensual touches, and again to their hasty prep work.

Having watched him release twice now from their administrations, their patience finally reaches its limits.

Their crotch panel swiftly clicks open and slides out of the way, dick springing forth from its sheath for the first time in years. Precum already beads at the tip, a faint throb pulsing down its length. The fingers of their Knuckleblaster and Whiplash arms squeeze the flesh his inner thighs as he continues to roll his hips against their hand. With a quick push, they spread him a little more, quickly pulling their Feedbacker hand out of him, prompting a pathetic whimper.

They're shuffling forward on their knees, anticipation surging through their wires, when something else suddenly catches their attention.

Gabriel's wings are beginning to change color again. In silent wonderment, they watch as a brilliant magenta bleeds down the blue, starting just below the auric edges. Steadily, the hue washes the azure out of its length. The clear colors all across the cathedral now reflect the rosy shade, bathing them both in its warm haze.

This was certainly not something they'd expected, either.

V1 is given no warning at all when Gabriel suddenly pounces, flipping them onto their back faster than they can react. They hit the ground with a clatter of metal against marble, and V1 is left blinking at his covered visage. The gold of his laurels glint in the softer lights, and his thighs pin them to the cold floor of the cathedral with a strength he certainly did not possess minutes ago.

V1 just barely stifles the instinct to attack, particularly when they make a single attempt to sit up. A sharp, guttural snarl erupts from Gabriel's throat, the sound bordering on primal as it tapers off into a rumbling growl. The warmachine freezes mid-movement, staring up at the panting archangel. Gabriel's breath huffs out hot and heavy, misting in the cooler air of the cathedral. His colorful wings spread wide at either side of him, all but blocking their view of the ceiling.

Just for formality's sake, they calculate the risks of attacking, or even just stunning him long enough to make a break for the exit. V1 has little doubt that their power can overcome Gabriel's. Like this, weaponless and with a good chunk of his armor lying two meters away, a well-placed strike at this range would cripple him. The elevator shaft further down cannot be far, and if nothing else, they can make a tactical retreat back to the start of the area. Despite his sudden display of vigor, they're fairly sure he isn't in any state to follow.

But ultimately, they decide to go with the third option: the one most likely to get them laid.

Slowly, like they were faced with a starving, unpredictable predator, V1 lies down flat, complying with his unspoken demand.

After a moment of staring intently at one another, Gabriel leans back, hovering above them on his knees. The archangel's wings twitch into a different angle, fanning out more openly; it reminds them, quite absurdly, of a video clip they once saw of a bird, displaying their feathers to a prospective mate.

Gloved fingers reach up to grip their shoulders as his kneeling form shifts. His cunt, dripping with slick, caresses their tip with sensual fervor, a low, dazed giggle erupting from behind his helm somewhere. The humid folds brushing along their sensitive dick sends a jagged burst of static along the edges of their visuals.

His hips at last snap down, impaling himself onto them with a debauched moan.

Gabriel is hot, wet, and perfectly tight around them. His silky walls drag along their length as he rolls his body back up, and then down in a harsh thrust. V1's optic glitches, the feed skipping for just a moment, but buffers in time to see Gabriel's pace pick up. The archangel rides them with a mindless sort of ferocity, holding onto their shoulders for balance and gasping with each drop down onto their dick, the sound laced with his intoxicated laughter.

Beneath him, V1 thrashes aimlessly. Each plunge back down sends more bursts of static arcing across their HUD. It's been far too long; they'd forgotten this glorious, addictive heat. His back arches with a sharp, broken gasp, fingers digging into their chassis and nearly denting the plating.

It's far too much for their systems to handle all at once. They won't last; he feels so good-

Gabriel comes untouched and without warning. His rapturous moan echoes across the distant ceiling. As his cunt squeezes them, their visuals plunge into momentary darkness. Every pleasure receptor ignites with pulsing waves of euphoria. The whine of their fans fills their audials as they spill inside of him, coming harder than they think they ever have before.

White noise dances across their sightless eye. V1 comes down to a heady afterglow that causes most of their thought processes to buffer. They vaguely register Gabriel still seated atop their lap. Tremors wrack his body still, and they can hear his lungs shuddering in his chest.

Visuals reboot. Beads of sweat fall from his jaw and shoulders onto their plating. As his breathing steadies, they watch his unseeable gaze drift downward to where they're joined.

His hips begin to shift, gyrating in small circles and grinding their dick inside him, as if savoring how it feels fully sheathed in his pussy. Their internal fans stutter in their frames. They've barely even begun to recover, and already his cunt throbs needily.

V1 hears a soft, senseless chuckle over the whining noise filling their head. His abdominals flex, and he clenches around their sensitive dick with little mercy. Their entire frame jolts involuntarily.

"How satisfying, seeing you--mmff--like this." They go blind again for a brief moment as his cunt squeezes them again. "Beneath me, at last."

And then his hips roll up, slow and teasing, before abruptly plunging back down. Static arcs across their visuals, and their sensory receptors burn from the oversensitivity.

"Are you enjoying this, Mmh-Machine?" As it clears, he leans in close, magenta-stained wings leaving them both awash in its gentle light. Gabriel's breathy half-sigh, half-chuckle rolls across their helm. "G-Godless thing..."

Something in them sparks, be it the word or his silky tone. Electric pleasure jolts down their wires. They try to jerk up into him, struggling to burrow deeper into the molten wet warmth of his pussy. His body shifts, weight further pinning their legs down and stripping them of control.

"How vile... " his movements resume, languidly so. "That your creators should--mph--make you enjoy this. To use you... "

Lightning dances across their sensors, feeding the fire. A background process that hasn't yet crashed highlights the hypocrisy of his own words; that his own maker gave him similar capabilities. It goes ignored because Gabriel's words are igniting every synthetic nerve they have with a new kind of hunger.

"P-Perverse Machine... " He breathes, his pace quickening with each pass. "Lowly object... "

His hands move to clasp their forearms, holding them to the floor below their prone form. They can't move; they couldn't even if they wanted to. The sensations flooding their pleasure center border on pain but all they want is more. In mere moments, he's bouncing on their dick again, slamming down on them with the sheer strength of his thighs.

"Is--is this really the best you can do-" Anything else Gabriel is going to say is cut off with another sharp inhale. His back arches over them like a sliver of the moon, riding their dick like his life depends on it.

Through sheer desperation, they at last manage to free their legs. V1 shifts just enough to plant their feet firmly into the ground and buck up.

Gabriel cries out, whether in surprise or rapture, they care not. Their hips thrust wildly, pace meeting his own in a matter of seconds. Moans begin pouring from his throat, unabashed and loud as static bursts in their audials. How are they this close again already?

"Oh fuck," Gabriel chokes out between grunts, head thrown back and utterly blissed out. "Fuck, fuck, hhnnff--fuck, V1-"

As if the sound of their name on his lips is too much for them this time, audio cuts out. They don't hear him after, but they are sure whatever sound he's making would likely have filled the whole cathedral. Their artificial synapses fire repeatedly with euphoria as his walls massage them hungrily.

The next thing they know, they're staring into a rapid surge of pop-up boxes, all signifying countless errors. In their peripheral is the pipe organ to their right. Sound returns, along with Gabriel's ragged inhales. His hips jolt erratically atop theirs, and the onslaught of sensations swiftly spill over into too much.

"Haaaah! Machine, I--I can't... !" As their chassis borders on overheating, V1 quickly frees their arms from his lax grip, grabs at his hips and yanks him off of them. Gabriel lets out a wounded noise in response, trying to free himself from their hold, like pulling out had hurt him far more than any physical injury ever did. "Please... "

V1 sits up on their elbows and quickly wiggles the fingers of their Feedbacker between the two of them. He takes all three they offer with slicked ease and desperately grinds down onto their digits. They shift their hand enough that their heel grinds firmly into his clit. Gabriel moans breathily in answer. Relief surges through them, and warmachine goes idle in this position, letting him do the work.

This gives them the proper few minutes they need to recover, reeling still from the amount of errors occurring across their systems. Swiftly, V1 runs diagnostics and troubleshoots all their individual subsystems to keep it from worsening. Several background processes that had crashed restart, internal temperatures return to nominal levels as their fans restabilize, and overall functionality of their video and audio feeds begin to return.

V1's focus snaps back to Gabriel's hands clenching their shoulders as he continues to ride their fingers, taking them as deep as he can. The sudden lack of overwhelming stimuli and momentary return of lucidity allows them to begin processing the, frankly, absolutely absurd situation at hand.

What's happening to him? They've certainly had some enthusiastic partners before, of both the organic and robotic variety, but this was bordering on ridiculous. Four orgasms in just under twenty minutes-

"Haah--aaahh!"

Five. Make that five.

They narrow it down to two conclusions: either he's been pent up for far longer than V1 has been, or there was something else at work here. He's trembling against their plating, sweat pouring from him in rivulets, frantically humping himself onto their hand still. They press down just a little harder against his clit, marveling at how he jolts violently like that had been the first touch.

Fuck, the most rounds they've ever gone before in a twenty-four hour period amounted to six, and that had been during a very long, very boring holiday weekend in the labs cooped up with an equally horny V2. Gabriel is showing no signs of slowing down.

Their free hands roam his overheated skin, partly to explore and partly to examine. The Knuckleblaster caresses his chest, talons light against his flesh. Meanwhile, their Whiplash arm finds the base of one of his wings, solid despite their transparency. They follow its length curiously, taking note of how the hardlight appendage presses into the feeling eagerly. It's softer than they would have imagined it being.

Experimentally, their claws scratch at his pec, drawing tiny beads of crimson fuel.

Gabriel, again, clamps down around their fingers. He barely even moans, they just hear a gasping whine. His helmet falls onto their shoulder, hips still jerking erratically. They're pretty full of fuel already, but they readily absorb the blood made available to them.

They pull their Whiplash away from his wing, intending to place it on his thigh and maybe get more of that armor off of him. But as they turn their palm over into the light of his wings, a collection of tiny, sparking lights catches their attention. Something coats their hand, something that glitters in the glow of Gabriel's wings.

It's a powder of some kind, the solid pink stark against the green plating.

They've seen this before, they realize.

V1 captures a photo of the fine dust and runs it through their image database collection, starting from their entry into the Lust layer. The narrowed search parameters allow them to find the right one within moments.

It's a ninety-five percent chance of a match. Sure, this one's a different color, but it's the same texture of a similar looking substance they had encountered mere hours ago. It had been scattered across the plush carpets of a forgotten apartment, around the couple locked together even in death, and in the ornate bottle beside them.

Essence of Eros.

When did--had he accidentally encountered the substance, somehow? Gabriel had mentioned the upper layer in his monologue being empty. Something must have occurred while confirming such a proclamation; the instructions had mentioned the substance being volatile. How much had been absorbed through his skin? Had he ingested any?

The archangel suddenly growls, shoving them back down with considerable force, and his hand scrabbles for their cock.

V1 puts their unspoken questions on hold, optic narrowing disapprovingly at him. In answer to his aggressive attempt at dominance, they surge upward and roll him over with their superior vigor. Gabriel twists with them, clearly trying to return them to their prior position, and the two of them become locked in a brief, obscene sort of wrestling match.

Both archangel and machine tumble across the marble tiles in a tangle of limbs and wings, and for once, Gabriel's size proves to be advantageous when there's little space between them. But just as Gabriel somehow traps them under his sheer mass, they hook their heel under one of his outstretched legs. With a sharp tug, they deprive him of his balance, roll them over one last time, and slam his body down to the floor with all their strength.

The warmachine flips him onto his stomach, all four of their arms pinning him flat to the ground. Gabriel writhes under their hold with more angered snarls that they can feel rumbling in their chassis. They lock their body in place, refusing him any quarter.

His struggles quickly grow weaker; they don't have to wait long before he buckles to the floor.

"Please," They hear him plead, almost sobbing. "Please, Machine--fuck, more, more, please...

In spite of their irritation with him, Gabriel's begging does funny things to their central processors, aiding in their recovery towards being ready for the next round.

Two of their hands drop down to his hips and quickly coax him up onto his knees. Their head cranes back, allowing them a full view of his slit, glistening in the dim glow of their optic. V1 digs a thumb into the meat of his ass and pulls the folds aside, watching his hole clench desperately around nothing as their cum oozes from it, dripping down his inner thigh.

(Their lens clicks faintly as they record the image. For later.)

They decide to grant him a semblance of mercy, sliding three fingers back in and loosening their grip just enough to allow him to push back against their slick digits. The archangel whines softly, but he takes what they offer him with no further complaint.

With Gabriel thoroughly distracted, V1 turns their attention back to their primary data banks, skimming through countless recordings of all their battles, photos of the sunsets in Limbo and the halls of the sunken ferry in Wrath, and all the other things they have discovered on their journey through Hell thus far. They haven't yet had a rest cycle to categorize everything since they dropped into the gaping mouth of Hell nestled within Earth's molten rock; the exact clip isn't too hard to find.

But when the file is played, they find that they still can't interpret the curling writing on the instruction sheet.

They dismiss the memory with a flare of annoyance and delve deeper, following other file paths. Beneath them, Gabriel's thrusts grow more and more wild, whimpering needily and squeezing tight around their digits. They press further down on him in reminder. Finally, they find the text data they hadn't yet deleted. The file is easy to spot, labeled with the same timestamp from their earlier discovery.

V1 opens the document and scrolls swiftly down to where they had stopped reading.

"Overdose symptoms may include but are not limited to the following:

-high fever
-shaking
-dehydration
-excessive sweating
-extreme sensitivity to touch
-inhibited judgment
-elevated libido
-compulsive intercourse
-high blood pressure
-death

In the event of an overdose, immediately contact Lust City Emergency Services. Until Emergency Services arrive to provide an antidote, continue administering pleasure to the afflicted. Effects will eventually wear off on their own."

A one hundred percent match, then. Gabriel is exhibiting most of these symptoms. Truthfully, it didn't really matter how he had gotten drugged up on the concoction, for he's experiencing those particular consequences now. That just left the conundrum of what to do about it.

'Emergency Services' are out, and they are certainly not going all the way back up to Lust to try and find the aforementioned antidote. They're fully aware they can just walk away, too. He's in no state to continuously pursue them.

But a hungrier part of them wins over; the part that drives them to fight harder, move faster, to partake in the thrill of completely crushing one of the (reportedly) most powerful angels alive under their superior strength. They want to see just how far his desperate pleasure will go; how many times they can make him come before he forgets his own name and can only utter their own.

Gabriel's fist slams down abruptly, cracking the marble floor below, but V1 is ready for him this time. They double their efforts, keeping him in place as his body jerks with a ferocious sound. Despite his efforts, he's unable to break free of their renewed grip. They pull out their fingers and let him fight against their unbreakable grip, waiting.

Gradually, his thrashing dies down once more, swiftly descending into needy, empty thrusts back towards them. His voice cracks on a low, desperate keen.

"Machine..." He sobs, voice utterly broken.

Their free hand takes their cock, rubbing it into the mess of slick and lubricant already leaking out of his cunt. They rolls their hips with subtle, teasing movements, reveling in the way it makes Gabriel tremble.

"Pl--please V1, please, I need--please...!"

Their palm rubs at the curve of his ass, in a manner that might have been soothing. Then they line themselves back up and savagely thrust themselves in, deep as they can go. Gabriel's near-scream in answer is delightful. His hips jerk mindlessly into theirs, unsteady against the quaking that wracks him still.

"Aahhh--oh God, yes, yes... !"

Their servos rev up as they adjust their grip, palms wrapping around either hip, before pounding into him at an inhuman pace. His moans grow more urgent, more animalistic with each brutal pound of their dick until he's practically howling with need. Their visuals glitch in rhythmic pulses, but they push their focus through it, intent on watching Gabriel as he falls apart again beneath them.

V1 reaches around to find his clit. Just a few rough touches makes him tumble into another climax, and then another right after with a helpless cry. They keep going, keep fucking him with all the desperation of their third orgasm of the hour. All they hear from him is unintelligible babble. He's so tight, they can barely stand it.

V1 feels like they're edging up on the verge of a system crash. Sure enough, flashing red text scrolls across their HUD, warning of an imminent shutdown. They dismiss it without a second thought. They're beyond caring. Background programs buffer before crashing, a pneumatic in their lower leg hisses loudly as it slides out of balance, their wings twitch uncontrollably in their pack as they reach desperately for that euphoria-

A sudden surge of radiant energy, arcing through their body, suddenly stops the shutdown process in its tracks. Their feed freezes with multiple warnings plastered across it; audio processing stutters and skips, Gabriel's shameless moaning on loop in their head. They are gone, body alight with ecstasy and the internal drone of trembling metal plating.

When they come down, they still feel their dick throbbing inside of him, almost insistently. Their optic dazedly strays from the expanse of his shoulders, along the arching curve of his back, and down to where they're joined. There's slick all over their crotch plating and painting the inside of his spread thighs. Their release continues to spill down his legs, thick and milky white.

As they watch Gabriel's hips roll desperately into their own, V1 realizes that one of the especially flashy error boxes is a warning from their fuel system. Sure, they're now around three-fourths capacity, but that won't be an issue when they can just knock Gabriel into another orgasm by tearing his side with their talons. How odd, though; it doesn't normally warn them at this current level.

But then they look closer, read the text instead of immediately dismissing it, and realize that they've never seen this one before.

WARNING: UNKNOWN CHEMICAL REACTION IN FUEL STORAGE.

What the shit?

V1 runs a rapid diagnostic of their pumps, their filters, and then their fuel cells. The latter is what flagged their warning system, which is experiencing a strange and sudden increase in power output as Gabriel's blood is converted into their energy.

As it continues to pulse across the network of artificial veins sprawled throughout their chassis, V1 is made acutely aware of Gabriel's walls still squeezing them; how warm and wet he is. It's like every hidden sensor designated to receive physical stimuli all light up at once. Static hums across their body, and it's especially rewarding when they instinctively rut themselves deeper into his pussy, any oversensitivity swiftly being forgotten.

A particularly strong aftershock knocks their video feed offline again, flickering back on with another wave of error messages. Something's wrong.

They activate a program they haven't had to run since the lab. It isolates a small sample of their fuel and analyzes its components. Gabriel's still keeping up the momentum, and suddenly it feels ridiculously good, the pleasure amplifying through some unknown occurrence. It's distracting, and they struggle with themselves for a moment, whether to encourage him even more or stop him in his tracks. But all they can do is force their hands to grab onto his hips and steady his pace until their ability to think stabilizes again.

Through the white noise breaking up their video feed, a window pops up with the chemical results, bright highlights over the unknown components possibly causing the reaction. They don't recognize most of the elements, but a possibility of where it might have come from suddenly rears its ugly head.

Gabriel had, somehow, encountered a notably powerful aphrodisiac, completely unaware of its effects. It either had been absorbed through his skin, taken orally, or both, and in greater quantities than is recommended by its manufacturers. And the rate at which it's affected him means that the substance is primarily in his capillary system: the network of veins of an organic being that carry precious fuel throughout its body.

... which they had happily helped themselves to after they'd knocked him out of the air.

V1 minimizes the result screen, attention briefly snagging on the way Gabriel's still eagerly fucks himself onto their cock, his folds parted around them and their cum dripping from his pussy. V1 struggles to keep their focus. Their remaining hands grab at his thighs, fingers sinking into the meat of them, and attempt to ground themselves against the tide of heat slowly rising to engulf their entire body. They open their simulations program and start running it for possible solutions.

It doesn't make any sense. Their filters are supposed to catch everything that isn't related to the fueling process: diseases, alcohol, medicines, toxic chemicals, anything harmful. How could this possibly be affecting them?

A sensation crawls across their plating, like nothing they'd ever felt before. It's enthralling, potent. V1 gropes at Gabriel's ass, sliding it down to his lower back. The muscle beneath is powerful, well-toned, but his skin is supple beneath their palm. They massage it, reveling in the softness littered with scars.

With a determined shake of their optic, V1 forcibly enlarges the window of the program to block their view of Gabriel, rushing to figure out how to counteract the reaction.

They have no means to eject fuel. Even if they did, and the only nearby source of such currently has even more of the stuff in his blood. They can't risk shutting down and trying to reset at these energy levels. Attempting to vent the extra power without a proper cable or output is a great solution if they also wanted to risk frying their delicate circuits.

Their survival program gives them a solution, highlighting the last part of the instruction sheet. V1 would have groaned aloud reading back the text if they could have.

There's no other option save to ride this out. They don't know how long the effects will last for, how long it'll be in both their bodies. It's just getting stronger, more heady. For once, refueling isn't going to be an issue, but the state of their circuitry after the effects wear off might be.

Their dick twitches deep inside Gabriel's writhing body, and they can barely stand it anymore. A wail, thin and needy, resounds across the rosy walls of the cathedral.

"Please--more, please V1, don't stop--please..."

Fuck it.

V1 dismisses everything from their HUD. They pull out, flip Gabriel onto his back, and immediately hike his legs around their elbows. This gives them the maneuverability to practically fold him in half, grabbing at whatever else is in reach: shoulders, thighs, his pec. And in turn, Gabriel grabs onto them, holding on with all his might, fingers clawing at the gaps in their plating.

They shove their dick back inside and fuck him with everything they've got, throwing their strength behind each ruinous thrust.

Gabriel can only manage half-formed words, strung into complete nonsense. His hands dig into their chassis hard enough for the steel to groan worryingly. They climb higher and higher, reaching heights like never before. They burrow their helm into his neck, right as their eye shorts out-

And then they are plunging into a static-laden sea, interlaced with surging magenta; deep, bright, euphoric. Somewhere next to their audio receptors, they hear Gabriel practically singing, every heavenly moan like music to their audials.

All this succeeds in doing is make them tumble further into ecstasy. V1 fucks him through their orgasm, refusing to let up for a moment. Each thrust feels better than the last, driving them for more, more, more. Every other thing that had been weighing on their subprocesses is silenced. It is nothing compared to the importance of laying claim to the archangel, marking him, filling him until he can't think of anything else but them.

Bloodlust forgotten, they press him harder into the marble, body twisting as close as they can until they are essentially entwined, rolling themselves into him in powerful motions. Their audials hone in on his moaning, endless and passionate, as they take him over, and over, and over, like a loop of programming locked in a feedback glitch.

The world around them dissolves into misty pink, the only sounds the wet collision of their bodies, and the gentle caress of Gabriel whispering their name.



Through the euphoric haze that blocks any sort of higher thinking with its density, awareness occasionally tugs at the edges of Gabriel's senses. It's like he's submerged beneath the roiling waves of the ocean, drowning in its depths. And then without any warning, the current would force him up to the surface for air. It allows him very brief moments of clarity, if they could be even called that.

The machine is squirming beneath him again. His hips stutter as another thick, hot load floods into him. Most of it spills out around their cock, oozing down their hips and into the gaps between their plating. Gabriel keeps riding them, as if that alone could fuck his recently shattered faith back into him. His hands pin their shoulders firmly to the floor, hastening each roll of his hips.

One of their trembling fingers finds his clit, pressing into it firmly, and the ecstasy that follows pulls him right back into the fog.

He's lying on his front, staring out into the rosy hues that now paint the rest of the cathedral as he's taken from behind. There's drool smeared on the inside of his helmet. Talons swipe viciously across his back, and his body seizes, the delightful sting feeding the relentless fire still consuming him with fresh kindling. Blood dribbles down his sides, and then overheated steel presses hungrily against his opened flesh.

Lights burst behind his eyes, and Gabriel goes under once more.

He's curled up on his side, one of his calves hiked up over a broad metal shoulder and a hand scrabbling uselessly for purchase on the bloodstained marble floor. Silky wet warmth rubs fervently into his cunt. He can do little more than push his hips back, pinned to the ground and completely helpless to the rising tide of rapture, cresting over his shaking form as their clit grinds against his own. Their pace picks up, clinging to his leg as their plating shudders violently against his body.

Gabriel's mind goes empty with ecstasy, washing over him once more in a powerful, ceaseless wave.

His eyes open to the distant ceiling, now swathed in shadow. The only light is from the dimmed, pink glow from his wings, and the machine's muted optic just above him, blurred by the first tendrils of exhaustion creeping in. Heat still encases his shuddering form, drenched in sweat and blood and lubricant, but at last, its unrelenting grip has loosened.

It leaves him completely drained, nearing his limit, and yet his cunt still throbs achingly. Artificial cum oozes endlessly from between his swollen lips, every muscle is sore with a dull but all-encompassing anguish, and countless scratches across his front and back sting and itch as they heal.

V1 straddles his thigh, and Gabriel detects the slick their rolling hips leaves upon his bent leg. They have one hand wrapped around their dick and stroke it in time with each glide. Another clutches his opposite knee to keep their balance. The burning light from their eye is fixed down between his legs, staring intently.

Gabriel becomes suddenly aware of his fingers, passing over his clit steadily. Some distant part of him knows, logically, he should be ashamed. But it's drowned still in the adherents of this sinful desire, burning bright and hungry even as it flickers on the verge of dying out completely.

The archangel presses his fingers down a bit more, rolling the tiny pearl of flesh in little circles. What was once endless pleasure now borders on agony, needle-sharp upon his overly-abused nub, and yet his core still somehow calls out for more. He aches in all the worst ways, but he's desperate to chase another peak, for that holy fire that has cleansed him in his entirety.

His throat feels completely shredded, yet it's a distant concern compared to everything else; the sound that leaves him can hardly be called a moan. As he pleasures himself, Gabriel watches V1's entire form twitch sporadically, wings flickering as their fist picks up the pace. It just encourages him to jam his fingers down harder, clawing his way towards one last release. His hips rise, thigh unintentionally pressing up into the silicone folds fervently humping it.

They come dry, with a powerful shudder and a high-pitched whine within their body. Clouds of steam burst from their vents, swathing them in its thick vapor. The sight alone causes his unmaking, surging through him like a lightning strike that at once ignites every nerve he has. He doesn't even hear the sound tearing from his throat over his pulse throbbing in his head.

And then all at once, his body at last gives out. His fingers jerk away from his clit as belated oversensitivity at last chases away the pleasure. Gabriel is left quaking from the aftershocks, and all his other senses feel like they've been stuffed full of cotton. Something falls atop of him, but it barely even registers. Soft edges of black pool in the peripherals of his vision, enticing him to sink down beneath its comforting surface.

The last thing he remembers is the light of his wings, fading away, plunging the cathedral back into red-tinted darkness.



Gabriel's slowly returning consciousness is greeted by a pulsating agony, centered in his skull and lancing down his neck. Bright sparks burst behind his eyes when he instinctively shifts, pain shooting down his spine, and a muted jolt wracks his prone form. It jostles something that lays atop his body. His mouth is appallingly dry as he releases a ragged groan.

A single eye blearily opens to blood-stained marble, awash with glowing scarlet. The windows of Heresy bleed red, like they always have. The archangel struggles to recall--anything. He had... been pouring his soul into the notes resonating from the organ, awaiting the arrival of the machine for their final duel. And he had lost.

Gabriel fights his way through the fog that stifles his thoughts. His head twists up the best that it can, blinking the exhaustion away as the thing atop him stretches itself over his torso, shifts more deliberately-

And his gaze locks with one of muted gold, shining down from behind a half-shuttered optic, one that flares back into full brightness as the pair of them swiftly process one another's proximity.

The semi-fragmented memories of their desperate, feverish connection all slam into him at once.

The pair of them leap away from each other, Gabriel's horrified yelp bouncing hollowly off the stone walls. His desperate scramble backwards is cut short when his body collides with the sturdy frame of the organ. It sends a fresh wave of pain surging through his spent nerves.

As they stare at one another, mortification at last settles in. It sears over his skin in a dizzying rush of prickling heat, his heart racing in his ears. A quick glance down at his torso doubles its potency.

Dried blood and sweat stain his skin, the lines of gold marred with the milky white of sticky cum, and the machine's plating is in a similar state of disarray. Somehow it comes off as more damning evidence than the soreness that he can feel everywhere, the worst of it centered in his hips. His embarrassment just burns hotter as he further untangles the blur of touch and warmth and nonstop ecstasy clogging his thought processes.

Gabriel can hardly believe it; he had--with the machine, no less.

And yet it makes him so weightless with relief.

"I--Machine, you... " He slumps back down onto the cool, stone floor, soothing against his aching back. A manic giggle bubbles out of him. "What have I done?"

Those last words he barely feels the weight of, because it immediately dawns upon him that this taboo indulgence of the flesh is, unsurprisingly, yet another lie. Just another of many fed to him by those parading as the speakers for a God no longer listening.

Gabriel feels free, in a way he never thought he could before.

There's a whirr of moving mechanical limbs, and then the machine pops into view. For a brief moment, he instinctively tenses, but the machine simply stares down at him. Silence follows, growing thicker and thicker with each passing second. Gabriel finally sits back up and, when he comes up at a loss of how else to react to their ceaseless stare, falls back once more on irritation, as muted as it has grown to be.

"What--what is it, Machine?" He asks, tone becoming laced with mild annoyance.

Their head tilts a little, and then they crouch. He can't help but feel like he's being scrutinized. For a moment, the machine's--no, V1's--optics are rapt upon his visage, and then their optic subtly flickers, this way and that, like they were roving his body.

"Don't tell me you didn't get enough." Is what comes out of his mouth mockingly, but it's born out of sheer nervousness. Right after, a most unholy of horrors dawns upon him. "I-I mean--"

V1 gives no indication if they've caught onto his unending embarrassment or not. Their upper optic shutter drops partway down, and the lower rises just a tiny bit, as their head tilts a little more sharply this time.

If Gabriel didn't know any better, he'd say they were making the human-equivalent of an eyebrow raise.

"I-I didn't--this was not what I had intended to happen when I faced you again." He huffs, arms crossing and barely able to withstand further eye contact, even if they can't see his own. "There was an accident when I was surveying the Lust layer and I knocked over a bottle of... it was something that made me... "

He trails off, still far too reserved to want to further reference it verbally. But to that, V1 simply shrugs in answer. They watch him still, as if waiting to see if he had anything else to say.

"But..." He drags the words out of him, needing to at least clear this up between them. "I can't say I regret any of it."

Their wings twitch in their pack, optic shutters fully opening. He catches the minute movements of their posture relaxing, and Gabriel is surprised to find honesty behind his tone.

He really doesn't. Their battles have taken everything from him: his title, his duties, his anger, his pride. But it's made room for humility, passion, and a blazing desire that has allowed him to think clearly for the first time since... perhaps since The Father disappeared.

Reality catches up to him a bit further, and this time with a cold splash of realization. There's no telling how much time had passed between when their battle had ended, and when they had both awoken from their exhausted states. He doesn't know how much longer The Father's Light will burn within him.

He doesn't know how long he has left to act.

"I--" The archangel stands abruptly, striding past the machine and to where his discarded armor lies scattered on either side of the platform. "I need some time to think."

He throws his cuirass and pauldrons on in record time, ignoring how the machine stares intently at him as his arms move in a near blur of motion. But before he departs, he gives them a nod, a motion, meant to give thanks. It's the least he can do.

"We will meet again, Machine."

Reality rends around him, pulling him through the cracks in the air, and the cathedral of Heresy disappears behind the light as Gabriel departs for the heavens for the last time.



V1 swiftly shields their vision circuitry when the archangel vanishes in a flashbang of light and sound. He doesn't even call down to them, mockingly so, this time. Silence falls, sudden and abrupt. The warmachine is left crouching on the floor, their chassis coated with a variety of organic and artificial fluids and a central processor still rife with minor glitches.

Well, that had just happened.

Every synthetic nerve still feels uncomfortably sensitive, buzzing from overuse and leaving them feeling oddly lethargic despite having a surprisingly full tank of fuel. Their joints creak, louder than they should be, as they rise, moving away from the organ, and over to where the pair of them had evidently spent most of that blurry stretch of time. Blood and dried cum are smeared obscenely along the marble tiles, soaked into some of the cracks in the floor.

They sit at the top of the steps, running a complete system diagnostic now that Gabriel's vexing pattern of behavior had come to an end from their immediate view. The Terminal would likely have more information about that later. They have a feeling that he won't make another appearance for quite some time.

While that operates in the background, V1 checks their recently saved files, and, sure enough, finds a very long list of newly made video memories that vary wildly in length. The longest is around forty-five minutes, and the shortest, no more than twenty seconds. Some of the files are outright corrupted.

It's unsurprising that their recording functions had crashed multiple times throughout the ordeal, but they're a little disappointed they won't remember what might've been the wildest sex they've ever had in full.

Results pop up at last. Nothing major suffered damage when they were finally forced to shut down, but the internal device that converts blood to lubricant was overclocked due to the stress they put on it. Not to mention just how low the levels for it were now. While not as vital as fuel, movement would gradually be hindered. They divert repair priorities to the component; they can't exactly move on from here until that's back up to a hundred percent.

As they wait, they replay the memories, rapid-fire, in their primary processors, converting them for long-term storage. The longest file starts upon entry to the cathedral, their battle with Gabriel, their victory, the moment the aphrodisiac had fully taken hold of him, all the way up to when they succumbed to its effects as well.

In particular stands out when the archangel had spoken down at them; how it made their nerves ignite with a heady sort of warmth and how it made their dick throb-

V1 feels the interior of their chassis flare red hot, born from an irritated sort of embarrassment. Had his insults really gotten them off like that? How could such hypocrisy get under their plating like this? Even if the tone of his voice had been silky smooth and caressed their pleasure center in all the right places-

They firmly shove the sudden surge of embarrassment away with a shake of their optic, and focus their attention on uploading the massive file to memory banks for later sorting. A pleasant chime resounds in their head: the lubricant conversion component has finished repairing. But they continue to idle for just a moment longer until a full recovery. It's safe here, and they aren't sure what they'll face up ahead.

V1 skims the remaining disjointed memories up to their recent reboot, and then takes a quick glance over the corrupted files they haven't yet touched. While debating whether or not it's worth burning processing power repairing the files, they spot a text document amidst all the unplayable memories. They open it up with a sudden surge of curiosity, and find that it's from their blood analysis function: the list of all the elemental components from Gabriel's blood. Hemoglobin, iron, plasma, no different from the blood of any living creature.

Their interest is drawn to the abnormal ingredients amongst what appeared to be several sugar molecules, and trace elements that might have made up a palatable flavor. The molecular makeup is entirely unknown, matching nothing on the periodic table. But it was likely the same one that had sent them both into such a mindless state.

And they have a hunch about what it could be. That it might have a lot to do with what gave the Mindflayers their powers, what gave them their extra arms and weapons every time they found that strange, hard light symbol, and this place its manipulation over its interiors.

Overall repairs at last finish, joints relubricated and whisper quiet when they flex their arm. V1 rises, turning to where the exit was at last rising from the floor. Perhaps the answer to this lay further ahead, along with greater weapon forms and secrets, waiting to be uncovered.

And, perhaps, yet another chance to see the archangel. V1 is quite looking forward to whatever their next meeting brought.