Hammersmith told Krysty to leave him alone seven times before he finally opened the door to his office. “What’s your problem?” he snapped.
“I’m breaking out in a rash from all those stings.” Krysty scratched her left arm with a vengeance. “And I need to get my friend back from the shifters.”
“Tough break,” Hammersmith said. “I’m not in the friend-saving business. Or the friend-having business.”
“Mebbe not.” Krysty shrugged as she glided past him into the darkened room. “But are you in the payback business?”
Hammersmith snorted and slammed the door shut. “I don’t give a fuck about payback. I just want out of this place before those mutie assholes turn up the gas.”
“You’re full of shit,” Krysty said as she plopped down in the only chair in the room—a black-and-chrome swivel chair in front of a bank of computer and video monitors. “If you wanted out so bad, you’d be long gone by now.”
“You’re talking out of your ass, lady,” Hammersmith said. “Maybe I gave you too many of the good drugs when I had you on the table.”
“You faked your death and went underground before Union got away,” Krysty said, slowly turning back and forth in the swivel chair. “You’ve been hanging around awhile now, haven’t you?”
Hammersmith shrugged. “I just needed to shut down some equipment and pack a few things.”
“Right.” Krysty smirked at how transparent he was. “Then, why does all the equipment in this place still seem to be running?”
“It’s on autopilot,” Hammersmith said dismissively. “I’ve already switched off the hardcore stuff to keep it from falling into those little pricks’ hands.”
“Okay.” Krysty folded her arms over her chest and tapped her chin with an index finger. “So you’re telling me that if you had a chance for revenge against the shifters, you wouldn’t take it?”
Hammersmith scowled. “I didn’t say that.”
Krysty narrowed her eyes and stared at him for a moment, still turning back and forth in the chair. “Here’s the thing about my friends and me, Dr. H. We’re really good at fighting our enemies.”
“Not so good fighting animals in the Devil’s Slaughterhouse, though,” Hammersmith commented. “From what I could see.”
“So we had a little trouble with the piranha-wasps and the invisible monsters. So what? We still fought them off and killed them, didn’t we? And we’ll do the same thing to those muties in the core.”
Hammersmith frowned. “You don’t seem much like coldhearts to me.”
“You can kill without being a coldheart,” Krysty said. “Just like you can be a genius without being a complete asshole.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Hammersmith replied.
“Let me ask you a question. How many other fighters do you have lined up to take down the shifters and stop your tech from tearing apart the Shift?”
Hammersmith didn’t answer. He just leaned against the wall and watched her with his beady, close-set eyes.
“And how many of those fighters will work for nothing,” Krysty added, “while freeing one of their own from captivity?”
“Who cares?” Hammersmith stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and jingled something that sounded like coins. “I’m not recruiting for the job.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Krysty got up from the chair and stepped toward him. Chin up, back straight, shoulders squared, she didn’t look like someone who’d been in a coma just a short time ago. “We’re going anyway, with or without you.”
“Good riddance.” Hammersmith jingled his change with increased agitation. “The sooner, the better.”
“However…” Krysty took a step closer and raised an index finger between them. “If you came along, we’d have a better chance of finding our friend. Your knowledge of the core would help us find who we’re looking for much faster. And your expertise would make it easier to shut down the tech they’re using to weaponize, as you call it, the Shift. You built it after all.”
Hammersmith nodded slowly as if considering what she’d said, then raised a finger of his own: the middle finger of his left hand. “Forget it. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
“You just don’t want to face what you’ve done,” Krysty said. “The mistakes you made that have empowered the shifters.”
“Fuck them,” Hammersmith. “And you, too.”
“Mebbe you’re a coward, too. Mebbe, for all your attitude, you’re a scared little boy.”
He remained silent, staring at Krysty.
“Or mebbe there’s something else.” Frowning, she stepped closer to him, tipping her head to one side. “Something you’re not telling us about. Something that keeps you away from the core.”
Hammersmith shook his head, looking thoroughly disgusted. “Do you mind?” He gestured at the door.
Krysty took one more step toward him. “So what are you going to do after we leave? Run as far as you can from the core and the Shift? From the destruction you’ve made possible?” She took one more step closer. “But what happens if it follows you? What happens then?” She smiled grimly. “Because that’s what mistakes do, Dr. Hammersmith. They follow you all your life, until you deal with them.”
“Wow.” Hammersmith nodded. “Thank you.” He pretended to wipe tears from his eyes. “You’ve really turned me around, you know? You’ve helped me see the light.”
Taking Krysty’s arm, he guided her to the door. Krysty knew full well what was coming next, but she let him pull her along anyway. Resisting would not have done any good.
“Go ahead out and get your friends ready.” Hammersmith pushed the door open and shooed her through it. “I’m so looking forward to working with them to make amends for my mistakes.”
As soon as Krysty had cleared the doorway, Hammersmith shut the door. That left Krysty back in the main lab, face-to-face with the rest of her team.
“Well?” Mildred asked. “How did it go?”
“Hammersmith help?” Jak said.
“He refuses, but don’t worry.” Krysty grinned. “It’s just temporary.”
“You sweet-talked him?” Ryan asked.
Still smiling, Krysty shook her head. “I didn’t need to. He was already convinced.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” J.B. told her.
“Deep down, he wants to make things right,” Krysty said. “Though he’s bound to do everything wrong in the process.”
“Sound like liability,” Jak commented.
“As long as he’s more of an asset, I want him to come with us,” Ryan told them.
“You sure about that?” J.B. asked. “He’s got some mouth on him.”
“I said I wanted him along.” Ryan grinned. “I didn’t say I’d never give him a fat lip.”