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I really love the idea of Gabriel specifically using The flame to revive V1 because it means so much compared to the alternative.

Gabriel probably knows or at least have known by then about the power that Hell (the entity) has and that it can bring things back to life such as himself and V2, hell (the swear word) it'd probably jump through hoops to bring it's favourite murder doll back to life, Gabriel knows this but then goes out of his way to bring V1 into heaven to try and use The flame instead, not placing the life of V1 into the hands of such a powerful yet malicious entity. That's not even mentioning how much of a leap it is for Gabriel to attempt this, sure he knows of the power that lies in The flame and probably contemplated it for a long time before attempting it but he'd have no way of knowing for sure.

There's just so much love and passion in that and I wish so much for the two of them. I wonder how V1 reacts to being brought back in that form? Do they still need blood to survive or do they not need sustenance like Gabe once did? Does V1 still strive for violence anymore or does this revival untangle them from the eternal loop of violence they were in? Has V1 gain any angelic powers and how do the ferryman react to them now?

...

I am completely normal about this.

OUUUGHHH EXACTLY....the reason i decided to have gabriel go to such extremes is because nothing in him trusts hell as an entity and he knows whatever it does, it does to harm others. and at that point, with a largely empty world which gabriel and v1 inhabit in relative privacy, he's positive any way that it would be brought back would be designed to tear apart what they've made. so gabriel knows he can't let v1's body stay here, he can almost feel the way hell mass is gathering at their door and is set poised to steal what's left of it. he waits only a few days in a literal frozen grief, ice locking the two of together until he forces his heavy body to move and soon tears through the deepest layers of hell with all the strength he has. he ignores the way treachery itself attempts to trap him, desperate to root him to the lake of ice before he can reach its center and escape where hell can no longer touch him. can no longer touch v1. perhaps the power of heaven has nothing for them now, perhaps he will be torn apart for just stepping foot there, but v1 can't stay, hell's dead hands pulling at him until he falls so far he's clawing back upward to the shores opposite mount purgatory. and now he will bring v1 back by his own hands or will die himself. either way, v1 is safe now.

i talked a bit about v1's general feelings on its revival here, but in short it proves its tireless adaptability, never resentful despite how it has changed, despite the terrible half-memories of its death state - at most, v1 can become frustrated in the adjustment phase, but it really just reminds it of the distant memories it has of when it was first activated. it once had to become accustomed to a body, and now it will become accustomed to divinity in the same way. it can lose its train of thought to grow distant and existential, thinking of what happened in that time between or when its quantum computer starts to iterate on holy mysteries, but v1 primarily views itself as a construct. it's reaction to coming back actually truly shows just how v1 identifies and what the self is to it - v1 was built, v1 had its parts changed and remade and taken away many times in its early life, had its mind cracked open and rewired on dozens of occasions by engineers a literal lifetime ago. and so it's happened again. it's a scary process, it's one v1 has no say in, yet it knows every time something like that happened, it changed for the better. it grew stronger, smarter, more capable with every part change or computer enhancement. they would reach inside of its very dna, the code that composes who it is, and cut entire blocks, rewrite its programming, manipulate it until v1 became what they wanted. this feels no different, and it's confused at first when gabriel offers an unexpected apology for being unable to gain its consent. it's a strange idea to it, yet it's oddly appreciative when he asks for forgiveness despite reviving it. no one had ever considered its own mind or internal reactions to such a process, and it's more than enough that gabriel acknowledges the turbulence he introduced despite only ever thinking of v1. if it did harbor any unease about its new state, gabriel's care roots it out.

depending on the route i take, v1's blood need differs - if i go with looting god's corpse, that ichor is basically eternal and v1 is freed from ever needing to refuel. if it is revived with gabriel's light, it does still need blood on occasion to repair damage and wear to its still very mechanical body (WHICH opens up me being able to possibly get both routes, since they could seek out god's blood to rid v1 of the need) however, no matter what, v1 is still absolutely violent and remains a being that thrives on the battlefield - this is inherent to what it is, foundational to its personality and it would collapse if it didn't have this. luckily, in either scenario, it's revived by someone that's similar (gabriel is an intrinsic warrior in the same way v1 is, while god is certainly violent in many of his own ways) however, it has corrected one thing that led to its deterioration in the first place, which is its constant and unending pursuit of war as it is unachievable. so while fighting remains its primary language, it no longer is caught in a loop of needing to create war to maintain stability in its code.

i'm still not totally sure what powers i want to give v1, though divine light usage is a given to me, as well as teleporting (EVIL in its hands!!!!) as for the ferryman, i like to think they had an idea that gabriel had something planned which he refused to speak (in part because he knew how it would sound, but largely so hell couldn't know) - they saw the desperation growing in him as v1's mind faded more and more, they could see the his heart break in every word and action. they couldn't exactly know how far he would go, but they do know well enough that gabriel's passion would lead him to any risk if it would give him a chance to save v1. it's his way, and that hasn't changed in all these years. that doesn't really blunt the shock of seeing v1 upon their return and gabriel recounting just what he had decided on to achieve it...however, they also believe, as he tells them the full story of his return to heaven and how he fought so hard, how he traveled so far, that something in his love has been rewarded. this is the result of the deepest affections, the end of a truly selfless act of love that must have torn him apart in body and mind as an embattled fallen angel traversing heaven's hostility. maybe it's not god's will, but how can heaven, an entity apparently composed and founded on the highest love, deny them their one wish if it comes from that same source? a demon and a machine, so loathed by god and by all the angels, forcing heaven to acknowledge them and grant them what they came for. that's their perspective anyway...and in some ways, v1 now reminds them of their idols. it is an artifact crafted in love, loathed so by heaven yet given its very light by the one who adores it. they know v1 is far beyond their little carving, yet they see the way gabriel venerates it, they see how his love moved and transformed it, and they could never find fault in such blasphemous worship when they're guilty of the exact same.

Tick...Tock...Tick.....

Plot/Prompt: A game of tag goes horribly wrong for Peter and Tony.

TW: Major character death

Reposts are appreciated ^^

You can also read it here on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26739538

                                                  __________

Every night, Peter went out to save the world in his own little way. Swinging through the air and doing flips, shooting a sticky fluid at muggers and crooks, and even just helping that one orange tabby cat get out of a tree. It was always something he did. A routine that had been engraved so deeply into his mind that it was an automatic system his body seemed to have. He would always go out, school homework or not. He always threw himself high above the streets below, eyes wide and scanning for any signs of threats. Sometimes he was even accompanied by a friend on the phone or even another “hero.”

This night was one of those nights. That being said, it was a much less active night. Nothing terribly amazing had happened, and Peter found himself chasing around a red and gold suit at ten pm. Not what he had exactly expected this whole “Spider-Man” gig to lead to, but here he was. Chasing around the Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, in a game of tag. It was an odd and hilarious sight to see when you first saw it, but it became something common after a year or so. There was even a group of little kids that sat at a park sometimes that would jump up excitedly when they saw Iron Man diving low to avoid Spider-Man.

It was good. Life was good. There was nothing that could go wrong! ...but then it did.

“Having trouble catching up there, webs?” Tony taunted over the coms that had connected the suits automatically once in range. The billionaire was currently weaving between street lights, his thrusters humming softly so as to not disturb anyone. He was flying through the air on his back, palms aimed towards his feet as he looked back at Peter. The boy was flinging himself high into the air, swooping low, hooking himself on a street light, and then proceeding to arc back into the air. An obvious attempt at gaining momentum.

“You should add some of those fancy thrusters to my suit.”

“Not happening.” “Oh c’mon! Why not”

“Because,” Tony stopped in place, hovering in air near a taller building and slowly letting himself rise higher into the air. “Because I said so.” He finished, clearing his throat and looking down. He expected to see Peter speeding up the side of the building or shooting webs at him, but he didn’t see a thing. Just empty space with no sign of the spider-themed vigilante. Stopping his ascent, Tony furrowed his eyebrows and hummed thoughtfully. “Peter? You there? ...Marco?”

“Polo!”

The shriek that came spewing out of Tony’s mouth left the man a bright red and Peter a laughing mess. The boy had come down from above, tapped Tony’s shoulder, and proceeded to swing away. With the added advantage of falling down and gaining more momentum, the first swing he took was big and propelled him forward a good amount of distance. But that wouldn’t save him. Tony blinked his eyes and shook his head, bending his knees and curling his body in on himself. A moment later, he was kicking his legs backwards and zooming forward after Peter. It was nights like these where he truly allowed himself to relax. Peter was an entertaining kid, and that was saying something since Tony didn’t like children. He was a verified genius in Tony’s eyes. But that wouldn’t stop him from making mistakes. 

He narrowed his eyes on Peter’s form, watching as the kid webbed onto the corner of a roof and sent himself hurling around the building. Tony twisted his body, dipping his right shoulder towards the ground and turning the corner less sharply, losing some of the speed he had built up. Thankfully, it wasn’t very hard to get it back with his thrusters. “You can only outswing me for so long, kid.”

“You aren’t swinging, mister Stark. I can only evade you for so long.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me.” 

“Don’t you take that tone with me.” 

Peter parroting what Tony had just said was enough of an encouragement to call for backup. He brought his right wrist up to his mask, raising a hand and tapping a holographic button labeled “Bird V2.” Then his focus was set back on Peter… who was nowhere to be seen again. Tony’s first instinct was to look up, but he got one hell of a surprise when he was suddenly being pulled down. 

His head snapped down so fast that he thought he’d given himself whiplash. But it was worth seeing Peter crouched on top of a streetlight with some web attached to it. Said web was also attached to the heel of Tony’s suit. “Cya mister Stark!” The kid stood upright, saluting lazily as he fell backwards off the streetlight. Tony watched as the kid shot out a web towards another building, yet again, but he wasn’t worried about Peter escaping. He watched, humming in amusement as a sign showed up in the corner of his screen. Back up had arrived.

“Getting a little windy, Peter. Wouldn’t you say?’

“Huh- Woah!”

And suddenly, the air is howling. Peter’s web that he had just shot towards the corner of a building goes slack and flails around while the kid desperately twists in the air, legs churning and arms shaking around wildly. But Tony doesn’t panic. He knows what caused that burst of wind, and he can say for sure that Peter is safe. His suit brings him forward towards Peter where he taps the boy before reeling away.

A moment later, Peter is perched on top of a roof. “That isn’t fair! Sam can’t help you!”

“Yes he can.” Tony cocked his head, hovering a few feet in the air in front of Peter. “You never said he couldn't.” He pointed out jokingly, pointing a finger at Peter as if to tease the phrase ‘i gotcha there.’ He craned his neck over his shoulder at a faint humming, raising an eyebrow as Sam wandered over. He stopped a little above Tony, a smug smirk plastered across his face. “That’s for Germany, web-head.” Sam sneered in a teasing tone, earning a thread of sputters and word vomit.

“Thank you very much my bird friend.,” Tony waved a hand at Sam, a little chuckle leaving him at the annoyed expression that danced onto Sam’s face at the nickname., “but me a bugs here have a game to get back to playing.” He threw a thumb towards Peter’s direction, who had now fallen silent and was definitely glaring icily at the two heroes. Sam snorted, folding his arms. “Ah, yes. A great game of tag… y’know, it’d be a shame if I told the others that you were playing tag.”

“Steve already knows, and it's safe to say Natasha knows too. The only people you’d surprise would be Clint and maybe Bruce… and honey bear if you count him in.” 

“Man, you are no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun!” Tony threw his arms out to his slides, facing Sam. “Now shoo. Go on, now. A little birdy told me that Clint is trying to beat your high score in Mario Karts.” Tony waved his hands, carelessly tossing a few jabs and teases here and there. Sam reeled backwards, eyes widening. “He’s what?!” And before Tony or Peter could get a word in, he was doubling backwards and whirling around in the air, zooming off towards the tower.

Tony snorted and turned back around to see Peter standing with his arms folded, tapping one foot. “No more enlisting the help of other Avengers from now on. I let it slide the first time with Steve, but now it's just unfair.” And Tony can just see Peter rolling his eyes beneath his mask as he recollects what had happened when he got Steve’s help. Sure, the kid almost got hit head first with a shield, but it was worth hearing him shriek and Steve panicking.

“Fine, fine… No more outside forces. Got it. I understand.”

“Don’t lie to me mister-”

Then there’s a crack. A terrible, loud crack that shatters the calm atmosphere. He can practically feel the air around him breaking like glass. There’s a brief moment of frozen shock and he manages to briefly catch a warning flaring in his vision: “high-speed object incoming.” And then there’s this terrible, terrible feeling that pools in his gut. This terrible feeling that sends him reeling- wait. No. Peter just did that. Because one second later, Peter is jumping off the building straight into Tony. 

He hits him with a thump, and the sudden weight brings the suit down. Having set his thrusters on a low setting to keep them quieter had meant that the suit wouldn’t be able to support too much weight. Having done that meant he was sent crashing to the sidewalk below, his thrusters flickering as he clumsily falls to the ground. The heel of the suit hit the ground first, sending him tumbling backwards onto his back with Peter still pressed up against his suit. For a moment, his suit scrapes against the cement as his thrusters push him along before dying off.

“...Jesus.” Tony breathes out shakily, letting his mask retract. He brings his chin to his collarbone, looking at Peter who is sprawled out on top of his chest suspiciously quiet. “Up and at ‘em, kid. The cement isn’t getting any comfier.” He jokes, ignoring the fact that he has just used a word that isn’t in the dictionary. But all of his focus is on Peter. Because he still hasn’t moved. Not even a grumble of words. Nothing. He blinks a few times before slowly sitting upright, his hands moving to guide the motionless body on top of him to the cement.

And then all the air in his lungs is violently ripped away.

There’s a stomach-churning amount of dark red forming around Peter’s stomach on his suit, turning the vibrant red into something close to black. He way his body slumps lifelessly to the side and how his neck lolls at a sickening angle is enough to send Tony into overdrive. He’s on his knees in an instant, ripping off Peter’s mask. “Scan him.” He spits out, tapping Peter’s pale cheek with his hand gently. Nothing happens except for Peter’s head lolling another way. “GSW to lower abdomen. The bullet hit him in the side around his hip and traveled up, finally stopping around his rib cage on her left side. Immediate medical attention required.”

“Call Sam.” He had to be closest. He had just flown by, after all. And so what if he saw the kid’s face. This was a matter of life or death. “Tell him to get medical and get here fast.” His voice broke off into a whisper as his hands moved to Peter’s side. He shakily intertwined his fingers and pressed his palms down on the area where the red was coming from, trying to even his shaky breathing.  

“Jesus- fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“Boss. You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!”

“Judging from your elevated heart rate and-” Tony cut the AI off before she could finish, practically snarling into his mask. “Not now!” He’d seen the kid in bad shape before, but never this bad. Sure, he got a concussion sometimes and maybe a broken bone. Hell… When that big guy in Germany hit him, it nearly gave Tony a heart attack. But this was different. This was a gunshot. This was life or death. 

“ETA on Sam!”

Time was moving too slow. Tick.. tock… tick…...tock……….tick……

“No heartbeat detected.” The blood in Tony’s veins turned to ice. He shook his head, peeling his hands away from Peter’s body. No… no, no, no, no, no! A low, mournful sound left him, eerily rising out of his throat. Oh god… No. No. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening! “Pete? Peter? Buddy… hey, hey. C’mon. Open up those eyes now.” He whispered, his voice coming out as a croak. Trembling hands slowly slid up towards Peter’s face and he gently tapped his cheek once again.

Nothing.

“..get up.” He whispered, voice trembling. He stared for a few moments before his body just moved on its own. He drew his arm back, suit still encasing his hand, before swinging it forward and slapping the boy. “Get up! C’mon!” He demanded. Frantically, he moved his hands over top of Peter’s chest and began compressions. He couldn’t think clearly on whether or not this mattered right now, but he didn’t care. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon… breathe, Parker! Fucking breathe!” His voice was shrill, cracking and shaking. This wasn’t happening. Clenching his jaw, he reeled backwards and threw his head back, letting out an animalistic scream. And then he was slumped over, arms folded on top of Peter’s chest as he sobbed. No, no, no… This couldn’t… it was fake. “Wake up… c’mon… you can do this.” His gaze drifted blearily to Peter’s face, his stomach churning as he stared at the lifeless face that didn’t even twitch. Skin ghostly pale… lips turning blue.

“You can’t do this to me, kid! Goddammit!” 

He shot upright again, hands flying to Peter’s shoulders. He jerked the boy upright into a sitting position, shaking his body. “Open your eyes! Please! Just do something! Anything!” He begged, a sob rising in his throat. But nothing happened. Peter’s head lolled lifelessly, dropping so that his chin met his chest. His arms were dangling at his sides, knuckles turned towards the sidewalk and brushing up against it. 

“Please.” 

And then he pulled Peter close. He brought the lifeless body of the kid he was supposed to protect close to his body, cradling it. With one hand wrapped around Peter’s back holding onto his shoulder and the other cradling his head, Tony wept. He bowed his head, ugly noises rising from him as his shoulders bounced up and down. He squeezed his eyes shut, fat, salty tears waterfalling down his face.

Tick...tock...tick…………..tock.

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