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
