|A Call For Help|
|What: One calls Selina for help.|
One regains consciousness a few minutes after Fern is removed from his cell. His condition is deplorable. He's been skillfully interrogated. His left eye is swollen completely shut and occasionally leaks red tears. There are rings of dried blood around his nostrils and at the corners of his mouth. Most of his body and face are covered with superficial cuts and bruises. There are also burns, both chemical and electrical. He's been stripped, both literally and figuratively, leaving his wounds on display.
Even the good doctor can't help but groan when the headache hits him and the pains from his numerous injuries flood his senses. Still, he manages to roll over once. Again. He gets to his knees and shakes his head to clear it.
Someone has made a mistake. The empty tray from his last meal is still sitting in the hallway, right where he left it. Those are supposed to be promptly removed. By stretching, he's able to hook his fingers around it and pull it back into his cell, along with Nine's ID card, fallen and forgotten in his scuffle with Fern. Finally, a bit of good fortune.
For the first time since he was captured, One smiles. Not his usual lopsided grin, but the unsavory, unwholesome smile that the other clones always display. As he's under constant observation, there's no time to waste. He reaches through the bars, swipes the card through the electronic lock, and lets himself out of his cell.
Selina's been out and about to do the things that needed to get taken care of, first with a couple of meetings in Gotham and then a fitting for a gown for a gala that's coming up quickly. After that there was grocery shopping that she's only just getting home from.
Arms full of bags, she somehow manages to juggle them while letting herself in, the door opened, passed and closed with a foot. Now it's time to relax.
Meanwhile, One is doing anything but relaxing. Mother-naked, he staggers down the hallway at his best speed toward a somewhat unlikely destination. The server room. He only encounters a single patrolling guard en route, but attacking the woman from behind furnishes him with a fiberglass baton, a radio, and a riot grenade.
When he reaches the server room, One rears back and boots the door in, nearly sending himself sprawling in the process. Hugging his midsection protectively, hunched over, he tosses the riot grenade through the opening. When it goes off, rubber balls traveling at high speeds ricochet around the room, disabling equipment and personnel.
This is when the alarm goes off. Not much time. Not much time at all. Leading with his baton, he inspects the wall until he finds what he's looking for. The primary hub for the facility's incoming and outgoing communications.
Working quickly, he smashes open the hub and then empties desk drawers until he comes up with a cell phone, a pair of scissors, and a short piece of cat-5 cable. The cable is stripped and used to splice the cellular phone directly into the hub. Hurriedly, he dials Selina's number. "C'mon, pick up-pick up-pick up..."
The phone is not too far from where Selina is currently putting groceries away and feeding Isis, the compact device easily within hand's reach once she hears it go off. A quick look at the caller id has her baffled. It isn't one she recognizes and it comes in as a name she doesn't know which causes her to balk. She almost allows it to go to voice mail but something pokes at her, prodding her to hit the accept 'button' instead.
"Hello, this is Selina Kyle," she answers, sounding professional. It's assumed that the person on the other line is someone she has solicited for donations in the past, hence her tone.
"There is a God. It's me. Listen closely, I have a lot to say and not a lot of time." One clears his throat and wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. "The other clones are loose. A civilian and I have been taken captive by Organitech personnel. We're not in the New York facility, I can tell by the layout. Sel... I'm in trouble. Bad trouble."
There's a pause as a member of the private security staff arrives on the scene. Grunting with both pain and effort, One springs out, clubs his target across the back of the neck, and drags the body out of sight. Not before helping himself to another riot grenade, though.
"I'm being held above ground and close to water," he continues, huffing and panting for breath. "Dirty water, I can smell it. They have installations in Thailand and South Africa, it could be one of those. I'm being interrogated, but I can't let them crack me. If they get the information they want, they'll be more dangerous than I even want to think about. Damnit, I should've killed them all when I had the chance."
She listens while he describes his plight, the explanation as to what happened to her friend and the unknown other causing her to sigh by the end. If it was the facility they hit several weeks ago this would be so much easier to take care of, something she just might have been able to deal with on her own, but with there being no certainty as to where they are save two possible out-of-country locations she's pretty sure of only one thing.
She's going to need help.
"Alright," Selina utters at the same time she finds a pad of paper and a pen, the latter brought to the former while notes are taken down. "How long can you hold on for, do you think," she asks quietly, afraid that her own voice might carry past his ear and into the room beyond.
"As long as I have to," One replies grimly. "I'd suggest an Organitech employee or database as a likely source of information. Hang on..."
There's the sound of his baton striking several more soft targets, then he comes back on the line. "I had to escape from my cell to make this call and I've only got about five feet of tether on this phone. I'm going to be overrun soon. When that happens, don't worry. They aren't going to kill me. Not on purpose, anyway. They want me alive. I'll destroy the phone before I'm taken so they can't trace the call back to you. Whatever you need, whoever you need to get this done... I can provide adequate compensation."
"I'll go to your apartment, get what gear I need there," Selina says, speaking over One as they both rush to get what is needed to be said out before he has to go. "As for compensation, don't worry about this. This one's on me." A hand is slipped to the back of her head as she thinks, fingers pressed hard against her skull. "Try to hold on for a few more days, One. Please. I just..." Cutting herself short, she sighs and whispers again, "Just stay safe, please."
From somewhere there's a soft mew that her cell picks up, one that sounds like a sound of concern. Isis can tell her human is upset and it now has the cat ruffled as well.
As soon as One mentions being overrun, the bulk of the facility's internal security force starts to arrive on site and assemble. Several ranks of guards wielding nightsticks, tranquilizer guns, and electric prods. They are led by Nine, who is unarmed and seems very unhappy. "Take him. Take him now," he orders his troopers.
"There might not be much left at the apartment," One says quietly. "It's... It was bad. Uh oh. Gotta go. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."
The call doesn't cut off, but he's no longer speaking. As he's advanced upon, he plays his very last card. He arms his purloined grenade, wedges the phone up inside the cocking handle, and throws the entire assembly out into the approaching wolf pack. This not only slows them down, it completely destroys the phone.
This seems to be all the fight that One has left in him. He steps out into view, puts his hands behind his head, and sinks slowly to his knees. Now that he's completed his task, anything but unconditional surrender would only make his situation worse.
The sound of the voices as they come up from the background chills Selina who can only listen until the phone's destroyed, the unknown left to be dwelled upon. One had assured her that they won't kill him but how can he be sure? How could he tell her not to worry? The helplessness sinks in and for a moment she allows herself to just feel it, letting it bring her to her knees and bring her to tears that eventually give into gut-wrenching sobs. The moment of weakness passes and her calm and strength return and she can get back onto her feet.
"Looks like I got a long job ahead of me, Isis. I'll call the cat sitter." Her room is entered and the packing begins, the suitcase filled with everything from clothes to her equipment and, lastly, her costume.
Time for Catwoman to go on the prowl.