3By All My Sins Remembered
Samuel Hayden.
Or at least, he assumed it was Samuel Hayden – for all he knew, the UAC had another giant bi-pedal robot that looked exactly the same as the one he'd encountered on Mars. He wouldn't have put it past them. It appeared that across dimensions, the UAC was one of the constants of the multiverse, always there on Mars when the gate to Hell was opened. Yet the UAC of his world, in memory and place both distant, the extent of their ambitions had been simple teleportation. Experiments between Phobos and Deimos in the hope of one day revolutionising transport between the worlds of the solar system. Heck, perhaps even on Earth itself. Nowhere had their ambitions extended as far as to tap into Hell itself, using it as a resource for the use of mankind.
In that he supposed, the UAC of his world had been slightly less mad.
But he knew it was Samuel Hayden. Not just from the bi-pedal robot lying on the ground before him. Not just from the Crucible he still carried, its gleaming blade not carrying any hint of the amount of blood that had been spilt with it. No. It was the way the thing looked at him through its diodes. That faint flicker of recognition. That spark of the human mind, fed down into its soul, fed out for the world to see, even if the eyes of the sane decreased every second.
"Doom Slayer," the machine whispered.
And, that, he supposed. The words and the voice were the final confirmation.
"How are you…"
The Doom Slayer walked past him. He'd had nothing to say to Hayden on Mars. He had less to say to him here.
"Still…the same…I see…"
The Slayer quickened his pace, heading towards a terminal at Hayden's desk. He not only had little to say to the man, he had even less inclination to remain in his presence.
UAC Headquarters was a mess. So was the rest of Los Angeles for that matter. Looking out through the shattered windows of the towering monolith, like a proverbial Tower of Babel struck down by God Almighty, he reflected that if not for the fact that the geography of this Earth was the same as his, and if not for the fact that he remembered at least some of it, he would have had no idea that it was Los Angeles at all. The sky was ablaze, its cloud darkened, and reflective of an atmosphere being transformed to better suit demonkind. The shattered cityscape was like an upturned graveyard, with the tombstones of mankind cloven in two or on odd angles, surrounded by fissures in the ground. Around them, demons crawled like maggots, and within them was boiling magma - fire taken not from the Earth's core, but literally 'bubbling over' from the dimension that sought to claim this world as its own. To the west, he could make out the Atlantic, its seas a dark, boiling red. For on Earth, the skies rained fire, and the seas were as blood, and one, never-ending plague had come for the sons and daughters of mankind, its days not a mere seven years, but rather the number of eternity.
"What…are you…"
And somehow, the UAC Building had survived all that. Damaged, battered, its workers slaughtered or transformed into the walking dead, but 'survived' all the same. He inserted a data chip into the desk's in-built drive (no seat, he noticed – Hayden didn't need a chair) and glanced at the man who had once been lauded as the saviour of mankind. In all of this, Hayden was somehow still alive. The multiverse might repeat the great joke of existence over and over, but that wasn't to say it couldn't tell other jokes as well.
"…doing?"
Or maybe it was down entirely to Hayden's merits. In the office, and the hallways leading up to it, the walls were decked with the blood and bone of demons – from the lowliest imp, to the knights of Hell themselves. Looking at the great tear in Hayden's chassis, at the sparks coming from it and the flickering in his eyes (such as they were), the Slayer could tell that in the end, Hell had struck a crippling blow, but not without sacrificing dozens of its servants to get at the man who had made this possible.
In another time and place, he might have even admired him for it. But time was as nothing to him – time was the circle, not the line, and each place ended up the same. Fire. Scorched earth. Barren worlds that no amount of blood could ever feed.
"Got it."
He looked at the data chip. On the desk above in a hologram, appeared the words ACCESS GRANTED.
"VEGA?" Hayden asked.
"Yes Sir."
Behind the visor, the Slayer's lips quivered – nearly a smirk, but so little caused him joy, he had forgotten how to smile. The universe laughed at the expense of mortals across worlds, but he could, at times, laugh back at it.
"You…saved him?" Hayden shifted his head to face the Slayer – not his body, broken as it was. "Even after I told you…"
"Mister Hayden, I don't know if you noticed, but it appears that the Doom Slayer is not particularly adept at following orders."
Hayden laughed, and the Doom Slayer frowned. The laugh. It was not the cackling of Baphomet, nor was it the laughter of Man. It wasn't even in-between, but something else. Unnatural. Perverse, in its own way.
"What…did you…take?"
The Doom Slayer said nothing. He had nothing to say. All that was left to do was walk around to Hayden and yank the Crucible from his cold, metallic fingers.
"Ah yes. Of course."
He took a moment to admire the weapon – a relic of Argent D'Nur. A beam of energy with the strength of steel, adept at tearing through bone and sinew. Not his weapon. But not Hayden's either. And Samuel Hayden wasn't going anywhere.
He deactivated the blade and headed back to the terminal to retrieve VEGA. Where they were going, it was unlikely that the AI would help, but better to err on the side of caution. The AI didn't talk as much as he once had, having since realized that the Doom Slayer would never talk back, yet at times, for whatever reason, he enjoyed the conversation, one-sided as it was.
"Perhaps you…hate me," Hayden whispered. "Perhaps you see me as…no better."
The Slayer said nothing. Hayden might not have been the one to have slaughtered billions, but he had put the cleaver in the hands of the butcher nonetheless. Him taking up a sword against that butcher meant nothing.
"But…the best of intentions…"
The Slayer went into the folder containing VEGA's audio files. He selected one and double tapped.
I'm willing to take full responsibility for the horrible events of the past twenty-four hours…
Hayden stopped talking.
…but you must understand. Our interest in their world was purely for the benefit of mankind.
Began to whisper something.
Everything has clearly gotten out of hand now, yes, but it was worth the risk, I assure you.
The Slayer exited the file and disconnected the data chip. He strode out of the room, not looking at the broken…thing, beside him. One where the breaking extended to body, and whatever remained of soul.
As usual, the Doom Slayer walked in silence.
For the first time he could recall, Samuel Hayden remained silent as well.
