/hel/ noun

A place regarded in various religions as a spiritual realm of evil and suffering, often traditionally depicted as a place of perpetual fire beneath the earth where the wicked are punished after death.

R1 had been familiar with the concept of eternal damnation. After meeting the literal version of Hell incarnate, they could consider it the closest to a friend they had experienced. Better than the wretched bird, at least. Which is why they knew that this pain, this urge, this insatiable want was surely not the fault of Hell.

It had to be their own fault, yes. After a few hours alone in the now empty Hell, they had begun to crave. Then itch. And when it finally did get unbearable, they had grasped, and pulled, and clawed, until they could find that blood, blood BLOOD- but unfortunately, the only source was their own.

Another quick glance down at themselves would confirm that, if it could even be seen past all of the alerts assaulting their visuals. Flesh pulsed, the sweet smell of blood going stale by the moment, but it did not stop the hypnotizing way their intestines squelched and squirmed, as if trying to escape the weight of R1’s gaze.

It hurt; Hell did it hurt. But within that pain was a sort of comfort. Like a taste they had been longing for, now satisfied, if only slightly.

A sweet red ran down their body, the plating of their thighs and arms soaking in as much as they could, but not getting it all. R1 was distantly aware that this was not an everlasting or efficient solution, but it was much better than the alternative. When that ran out, maybe they could pull out the wings. Or dig further into the wrists. Or rip into the plating of their thigh until they hear it crunch, click, and gush.

But for now, in this pleasant moment without pain, they simply enjoyed the blood running down them. Since when had they enjoyed that?

Gabriel paused on one of the many whispering trees of Violence, perched in an almost birdlike fashion. The branch groaned beneath him, a small, begging whisper escaping from the fleshy oak. He paid it no heed; even the twisted nature of Hell knew what he intended to do, and begged against it.

“It is for the best,” he justified to no one in particular, watching the little machine from some distance away. It was watering what seemed to be plants. Tomatoes, maybe? Most likely a variety, knowing Emitri. Delicate life, being tended to by such bloodsoaked hands. He wondered if those plants knew of its sins, as these trees knew of the ones he intended to do.

He couldn’t beat around the bush, that he knew. Time was something sacred, and he had so little extra. He finally stood, walking off of the tree. His wings caught him, as they always did, and he landed near it. Such a dreadful creature, this he knew, as its curious little optic flicked to him. It shrank down, a small twitch escaping the filth, as it blinked expectantly. “What. Are youuuu… Go away.”

“Please, please. I must discuss something. With you. About Emitri.” The second the name left his lips, the parasite seemed to calm down, its body relaxing and pupil dilating once more. The thing had the audacity to get attached to his dearest brother. This would not do.

But it followed him obediently, as he hoped. It didn’t go to the spot by the tree, where he had seen it uncover and recover a little stash of weaponry. Good. This would be easier without an arsenal on its side.

Finally, a good ways away, he turned back to it, keeping his voice level. “Now. About Emitri. Do you understand what you are to him?”

R1 paused, finally beeping thoughtfully and letting their gaze fall to the trees. These beautiful, wonderful trees that Emitri cherished so. And he liked reading, and gardening, and humming, and crafts, and all sorts of things that they had never known, but now became well acquainted with, just for him. “Something like… uh… husband, but not… partner? Is that the word? Oh! Spouse, yes. That is the word I meant. Because we got married! Very amazing. Very awesome. Very demure.”

“Right!” Gabriel paused again, making a motion with his hand. “A marital partner! An accomplice through life. The ultimate covenant. And that is absolutely, entirely… revolting.”

They paused their fidgeting.

“... What?”

“Ah! Forgive me.” Another motion, this time to the trees, as he took a casual step forward. Then another. Then another. Too slow, for the fastest angel. Too casual, for what he intended to do. “Emitri, my dearest brother. My most trusted friend! And you have… desecrated. Him. He is a being of light, an angel, outside of Heaven. He sits down here, alone, solely depending on you. And with the blood on your hands, with the lack of humanity you have, with the thing you are… I cannot allow it. I cannot allow that stain on his honor. I cannot allow this isolation.”

R1 did not make a move for a weapon. They did not do much more than take a step back, eyes darting for any potential escape routes. There weren’t any. “I am… But that will be sad… I do not want to hurt you, or be hurt. Emitri would detest either. I will not hurt you, so please do not hurt me.”

A laugh escaped Gabriel, one resoundingly bitter. Bitter that his brother chose an object over him. Bitter that he had forgiven Emitri so much for his abandonment, his heresy… And here he was, doing more, for his dearest brother. “It is not that simple, object. This is for his good, you see. He will return to where he belongs. He will be among his brethren. And we will not have to worry about you losing your mind one day and devouring him. You are a thing! Replaceable. Ephemeral. He will ache, but he will heal, and perhaps find someone one day deserving of his kindness.”

And with that, he lunged. R1 let out something like a screech- or a whirr?- and rolled backwards on its heels, but Gabriel was quicker, a kick connecting with their chassis. They fell back, looking down at the blood escaping them. They recalled their lungs. The last time they had seen their lungs- the last time they had almost died. Betrayed by the bird. Again, it seemed, this would be their fate. Would they come back again, just like last time, and kill everyone? That couldn’t be. They wouldn’t hurt Emitri. They wouldn’t.

“PLEASE-” Was all they could spit out, as Gabriel stomped down onto their chest plating with a crunch. That didn’t sound good- and wasn’t, judging by the amount of alerts flooding their vision- but Gabriel’s laugh haunted their audials, leaving a resounding horror that this, this was the moment they must relive. Something. Anything was better than that laugh, just like last time.

“Emitri,” they called through static, repeating it like a broken vinyl. Yes, if they wanted to hear anything as they died, his name would do nicely. They should have been pushing processing power into fighting back, maybe, or struggling, but they wasted it all on recalling his voice. Smooth, soft, sweet. A true form of kindness that was foreign to them.

But Gabriel wasn’t done, grabbing R1’s throat and forcing it up, holding it high. He watched it pull against his wrist for a moment, feet flailing as it refused to take his brother’s name out of its mouth. He made another chuckle at the irony- a heretic, until death. “I considered which way to kill you. Beheadment, as I would any other criminal? No. That would be another agony for Emitri, if he ever knows you died. I intend to let him think you ran off, don’t worry. That would hurt him less, I’m sure. But no, you do not deserve the death of those kings, so instead I suppose I could settle for…”

R1 felt a strain on their neck, wires forcing themselves to stay in place, but giving way to the force against them. They managed a few more frantic, halfhearted begs, cries for Emitri, anything that might fix this. This couldn’t be how they died! Emitri, how would Emitri, please, think of Emitri, where is Emitri?- “EMITRI-”

SNAP.

First, the struggling ceased, but Gabriel waited until the optic fully died with it before letting go and watching the lifeless mass of metal fall to the ground. He stared at it for a long moment, finally taking his blade- Justice- and sending it through its side. The sound of its inner organs being pierced was enough for him to be satisfied. When he did draw back his blade, though, he curiously realized that the blood was… Stale. Not new. Clotted.

Damn it all, it really had kept to the nonviolence ideal.

Guilt began to build in Gabriel’s stomach, but he quickly forced it down. This was for Emitri’s betterment. No machine shall dare to try such disgusting acts with an angel again.