His companion looked pensive for a moment before he nodded. "Sure, I suppose. It still don't mean I want us to come to blows, though. But no matter. I had the feeling you wanted more than to make peace between you and me."
"What gave you that feeling?"
"Honestly? Luther17 did when he approached me. I wondered where the little fuck grew his balls from all of a sudden and realized it could only be you. So, Hammerhand, tell me why you wanted to have this talk."
He rubbed his cheek gently, where he could feel bristle already beginning to grow. It would be a pain in the ass to shave it off if he ever piloted his Excalibur again.
When, not if, he told himself. When.
"I mostly wanted to discuss hypotheticals. You have men with you, yes? Those who would follow your actions should you need them to?"
Scar narrowed his eyes, his expression stern as he tried to decide where the conversation might go. "Sure. They're not quite as loyal as your people might be but they'll have my back. Why do you ask?"
Hammerhand leaned a little closer and lowered his voice as much as possible while still being audible to the other man. "Would they have your back in the event of a hypothetical escape from this prison?"
The larger man finally realized what he was getting at. "Why would they be? What future would be available to them after? They'd only be rounded up and shot in the city."
"What kind of future would encourage them to support a hypothetical escape plan?" he insisted.
Scar shrugged, the gesture a little jerky due to the tension in his massive shoulders. "A chance at life without being criminalized. A real chance at freedom beyond the chain links, and the possibility of being more than what they were before they were locked up here."
Hammerhand nodded slowly. "I think that would be in the realm of possibility in this hypothetical escape plan."
"They'll not accept anything less, but if you can offer something like that—honestly offer it—then, and only then, would they help."
"I hope you know I'll hold you to that." He extended his hand to the man across the table from him.
Scar took it firmly. "Something like that would be in our interest too, you know. If it can be done, you can hold me to whatever the fuck you want. I could probably find other ways to help you too if you like."
"I might take you up on that too but for now, I think it best if all plans remained…" His voice trailed off when his gaze settled on one of the mechs patrolling the perimeter "Purely hypothetical."
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Jessica13 stood her ground for a moment and stared at the Prophet’s men while she tried to decide what to do. It wasn’t like she knew the man all that well, and what she did know about him had been gleaned when he was in a good mood.
From what she could tell now, though, the man was angry and so were his followers. They had taken losses, and those who were still mobile were in desperate need of repair.
"Wait," she said, climbed slowly out of her mech, and held her hands up.
"What are you doing?" Mini asked but she ignored him and moved forward to where the leader of the Desert Warriors could see her. He would remember her face better than her mech.
"If you all are here…where's Hammerhand? Where are the other Knights?"
A somewhat strained silence followed. From the way the mechs moved, she could tell they were discussing something they didn't want to share with her.
Robert7 and the other escapees climbed out of the APC as well. They were careful to keep their hands raised to avoid any possible hostilities, which resulted in more discussion among the Prophet’s forces.
Before too much time passed, however, the hatch of the Argonaut opened and the leader climbed out. None of the others did the same but he, at least, was willing to speak to them face-to-face.
As he approached, she could see the damage hadn't been restricted to his mech. He looked bruised and a couple of cuts around his eyes and mouth told of heavy impacts that had gotten through the mech's armor.
"What happened to you?" Jessica13 whispered and took a tentative step forward. "And what happened to Hammerhand?"
"I wish I knew," the man responded in a hoarse voice. "We were led into a trap, it seems. The tunnels were collapsed on me and mine. Some managed to escape, as you see, but many did not. Among those might be Hammerhand and his Knights. But enough questions from you. I would know why you are beyond the reaches of the Auburn township and escorting those who were clearly among the captured in the battle for the town."
Jessica13 could feel the full weight of the man's growing anger in his tone, even if the words themselves were fairly polite. She couldn't tell what he would do if she didn't answer the questions to his liking, but she was long past feeling ashamed for her actions. If she was killed for her choices, she would die with the knowledge that she had done the right thing.
"These men were going to be executed," she stated firmly and took a step forward. "They said that they were ecologists who were forced into combat by FEMA City and beyond that, they offered to help to lead us into the city in exchange for their lives. The people in the town refused them justice—or even a proper trial—or consideration for how they could help us in the long run and elected to simply kill them. I could not stand by and let it happen."
She wasn’t sure where the barrage of verbiage had come from, but she certainly meant every word of it.
The Prophet studied her for a few long seconds and his piercing gaze felt like it could cut right through her and see into what she really thought. The rest of his men stood in silence and made no attempt to add anything to the conversation, but she had a feeling they would kill her and the pilots without a second's hesitation if their leader told them to.
Finally, he turned his attention away from her and strode to where Robert7 and the FEMA City pilots stood. The young man stood at the front of the group and therefore appeared to receive the brunt of his attention.
"Is what the girl says true? Are you all from the Hall of Ecologists?"
It wasn't a name Jessica13 had heard before but Robert7 appeared to recognize it, judging by his look of surprise.
"I am. And seven of the others too. The rest were gathered from the Gene Bank and other sections of the area."
"What happened to those who fought at the side of Lady Hoot or who came from FEMA City?"
"Most of their wounded were taken back. Those who weren’t ran off with the raiders and tried to find another way to freedom. I wouldn't side with any of them if my life depended on it. Not anymore."
The Prophet nodded slowly and tilted his head in a challenge. "And why would we believe you?"
"I can't give you anything more than my word as well as a hidden way into the city. I can also tell you the exact radar wavelengths the Artillery Company Omega uses."
"Which company is that?"
"It's the one that operates the Heavy Katyusha platoons at the top of the city to defend it from assault."
Jessica13's eyebrows raised. "Why didn't you say anything like that before?"
"Why?" the Prophet asked and looked quickly at her, a little confused.
"If we know the exact wavelength, we'll be able to design radar chaff strips to match it. If we could get above and shower them, they wouldn't have any way to aim their cannons. They would literally have to fire blind."
The man looked at the rest of his group. She could see the realization slowly touch him and fully engage his interest. "This would make a full-frontal assault on the city possible. Still difficult, I suppose, but possible. That doesn't answer the question of how we'd be able to get the chaff over them, to begin with."
"You captured one of the weather balloons that were launched to attack Auburn," Robert7 reminded him.
"We did?" he asked.
Jessica13 narrowed her eyes. "In the first battle, yes, we brought one of them down. Before you arrived to aid us."
"It would be simple to repair it and use it to blind them with the chaff," the young continu
ed.
The Prophet paused for a few seconds, and she could almost see the gears turning in his head. Whatever happened that had left him and his mechs in such a terrible condition clearly hung over him, and he wanted to make another attempt to attack the city.
"Very well," he stated finally and loomed over the two young people. "You two should go through this secret entrance, storm the central control facility, and open the city's blast doors. We can seize the spire and its elevators, but we may stall and fail if those doors hold."
Robert7 and Jessica13 shared a glance before she nodded. "I think that's possible. Difficult, but possible."
"I will have you know," he continued and shook his head, looking like he thought he might regret making this decision. “If this ends up a trap or a ruse, I will kill you, Robert7, and then you, Jessica13."
The man's steely gaze sent a chill down her spine. "I believe you."
Chapter Seventy
Hammerhand regretted any time he was forced to spend in his cell, but like the other prisoners, staying out in the simulated sunlight wasn't something he could enjoy all the time.
For now, he was in the tiny space that was a little too small to sleep in comfortably, and there was little he could do about it. The only option was to sit and wait in the hope that they wouldn't leave him there for too long.
There were plans he wanted to continue to work on. Besides, with the other prisoners around him, it was easier to let his mind drift and not focus on the issues that constantly plagued his mind. The echo of a single gunshot through a cavernous tunnel repeated relentlessly, over and over in the darkness around him.
He had learned how to keep himself in full control for most of his life, but this was something different. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for it and he had no idea how to handle it.
Tricks were all he had, at this point, and the reality was that he had very few cards up his sleeve.
His body stiffened when the door to his cell opened and he stood quickly to avoid being pushed and shoved into the yard again. Still, the intrusion seemed out of place. It didn't seem like enough time had passed for it to be daytime in the city yet.
His instinct proved correct. The light that streamed in was weaker and was provided by fluorescent bulbs, which told him it was still dark outside the prison. The light was strong enough to obscure the face of the person who stood outside and leave him with only a silhouette.
"Prisoner 317, you have a visitor," the guard said, stretched into the cell, and dragged him out. Hammerhand had almost anticipated this and cooperated as he was guided away. He soon realized their path wasn’t toward the general population area but deeper inside the prison building. They reached an area built to accommodate visitors without allowing them any physical contact with those who were incarcerated. Laminated, tempered glass kept the visitors separated from those they visited, and an antiquated telephone line connected the two.
There was, of course, no mistaking who waited for him on the other side of the glass. Even though it had been many years since they had parted ways, Athena was as memorable as the day he had first laid eyes on her.
Her hair was secured in a tight braid that showed a few streaks of silver, although it didn't take anything away from the sheer presence she exuded. If anything, those streaks only added to it. Her clear, clean face was marred by a couple more scars than before too, and the lean look she had always possessed had carried over. She was a little shorter than him, although not by much, and a sinuous power in her arms and shoulders was still very apparent.
She smiled when she saw him, relaxed into her chair, and gestured for him to take a seat as well before she picked the handset up and motioned for him to do the same.
"It’s been a while, Hammerhand," she said when he complied, her voice still a little raspy from when someone had tried to slit her throat and left his mark on her vocal cords. "Do they still call you that? Maybe you've gone back to your real name? What was it again?"
"It’s probably better than Lady Hoot," he replied and raised an eyebrow. "Did you come up with that yourself or did you need help with it?"
"You are still so very droll," she muttered and shook her head. "Not that talking was ever your strong suit. You were always much better at throwing your fists and hammer around in the hope that it hit something. I say were, of course, because all that is very much in the past tense, isn't it? I've spoken to the warden, and he says you've been involved in fights. That doesn't last very long when you're in a place like this, or so I've been told. Your Knights aren't here to protect you and Tinker isn't around anymore to give you his sage advice."
Hammerhand stiffened in his seat and grasped the phone a little tighter. He tried not to let any of it show but from the gratified look on her face, it was apparent that she knew how far under his skin she was.
"They fought for what they believed in,” he replied with an effort to keep his tone calm and measured. “I guess the same could be said for the crazed fanatics you surround yourself with. How do you justify such wanton destruction and violence?"
"Oh, Hammerhand." She sighed. "You always were too good for this world. You would have been right at home in the world-that-was, playing ancient knight, killing the guilty and saving the innocent in the name of country and…queen or something like that. But you never realized how those ideals have no place in the world we know and love. You were always a little too naive for your own good. Of course, you had the old man to pull you back when you were being a little too stupid. Well, so much for your attempt to stay pure in a world gone to shit. Your holding onto such antiquated ways of thinking with such stubbornness is exactly what got Tinker killed, and don't think I'll ever forgive you for that."
"He would be ashamed to see how you ended up, Athena."
His voice was a cracked whisper, and when she leaned forward, the smug gloating slipped for a moment. "You're a relic in a world that doesn’t want you anymore, and I think it's sick of trying to kill you. You might as well do us all a favor by taking care of it yourself."
He had no answer to that and merely tried not to look into the icy gray eyes as he recalled his own words on the topic. They had discussed their place in the world many times, and he had shared a good deal about himself with her. He had thought she had done the same, but in the end, it was easy to see he knew very little about the woman now seated in front of him.
"Food for thought," she whispered and placed the receiver in her hand in its cradle.
Hammerhand stared into the glass long after she left until the guard came to pry him from his seat and guided him into the now comforting darkness of his cell.
She was right, of course. Athena always did have a way to look into the truth of matters when she put her mind to it. The world was shit, and there was nothing he could do about that. He could play the knight in shining armor, but all that would do was get himself killed in a world that didn't accept his type anymore.
And if he was any good at it, all it meant was that he would get other people killed before his death claimed him.
Time ticked past in the isolated darkness of his cell and his mind churned. It could have been minutes or hours for all he could tell. It felt like years.
The slot in the door opened to give him a brief glimpse of what was happening outside his cell. A guard pushed in a plate of food, but unlike all the others he'd been given, this was covered by a piece of cloth.
He leaned forward and pulled the tray closer. It was too light to carry any food, but something rattled on the metal tray.
It was difficult to make anything out as the only light that filtered in was from the small sliver between the floor and the bottom of the door. It wasn't much, but it was certainly enough to see what was under the cover when he lifted it off.
The small knife was well-made, judging by the balance and weight of the steel. The handle was wood and something had been carved into it. His fingers traced the inscription to make it out in the darkness.
Lo
ve, A.
He sat on the cold floor and stared unseeingly at the small weapon in his hands. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d told Athena he didn't want to live in a world where there was no goodness and no chance for him to fix it. She'd remembered and turned those words back on him. There was no goodness, he reminded himself again. They were in a world of shit where everyone he tried to save either turned their backs on him when he was no longer needed or actively tried to kill him.
There was nothing that even came close to goodness, and every attempt he made to change that was met with indifference or hostility.
What point was there?
Anyone would agree that he'd fought his fight. Was there really any reason to continue now that he was stuck in this prison cell? Even if it would be Athena's ultimate victory and prove that she was right in the end, why would he question her?
The knife felt comfortable in his hands. It wasn’t the fanciest but it had been crafted by skilled hands, there was no doubting that.
"Courtesy for a gentleman," Hammerhand muttered and tested the edge on his thumb. The prick of pain and a small, warm wet spot told him how sharp it was.
It was more than effective for the task it had been sent for.
Chapter Seventy-One
He wasn't sure how long he spent staring at the knife, even though it was too dark for him to see it clearly. It was difficult to tell time inside his cell but it probably wasn't morning yet since they were likely to take him to the general population section once more when the time came.
Numbness seemed to tuck itself around him. He hadn’t seen something like this coming. Having deliberately chosen his kind of life, he had always known that he wouldn't die peacefully in his bed. Still, he had always thought it would come in the field of battle where he stood against impossible odds, fighting the good fight, as it were.
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