friends across the dark

[enigmaster]

Inter-dimensional Pen Pals

AU CATCHALL



( source )

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Part 4.5 - You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.

[agoodname]

[The first thing he tries is the easiest. There are several landlines around, after all, one just has to get to them. It takes some doing, including a tracking of the guard schedule, but two days after his first real "therapy" session with Strange, he manages to get to the singular landline phone inside one of the hallways.

Oswald's eyes dart frantically down the hall as he pulls the receiver from the hook, pressing it to his ear as he dials Enigma's number. He can almost hear his heart beating in his ears, but he has to get out of here. The line rings--once--twice-]

Come on, come on, come on, Enigma, pick up-- [it's hissed, frantic, into the receiver just before, lo, his eyes widen as the line clicks, and he's barreling on ahead before Enigma can say anything--]

Enigma! [almost a shout at first, but then he immediately lowers his voice as he keeps barreling on, adrenaline keeping him rambling ] Enigma, you have to help me get out of here--you were right, this--this is a bad idea, I'll do whatever you--[he hears a voice on the other line and it stops his frantic babbling mid-sentence]

We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.

[--for a moment, he's frozen in shock. Oh. Oh no. No, of course not. A landline wouldn't have enough reach. No, this didn't work, this didn't work and he can feel dread in the pit of his stomach, and it's about then that his ears pick up sounds of footsteps down the hall. He quickly hangs up the phone and scuttles back away, stomach twisting into knots in terror as he hears a shout behind him, maybe he should just run--

But no, there are strong arms wrapping around his biceps and dragging him back and he can't help but kick out, flail to try and break free. It's to no avail, but that certainly doesn't stop him from trying, flailing, yelling as though it would do any good.

The therapy sessions that week are only more rigorous as a consequence.]

1/?

[agoodname]

[the second (and last) attempt he makes, he gets to one of the guard's cell phones. It's no easy feat; it takes a solid week of planning, and some favors from some of Arkham's other inmates. It's a stupid move, and were he in a better state of mind, he might rethink it. But he's desperate, and desperate people often take whatever they can. And so here he is, managing to slip into one of the guard stations, it having been recently vacated due to a fight started between some inmates. He grabs the phone off the desk with something like manic glee, typing Enigma's number into the phone with shaking hands.]

[agoodname]

help

[agoodname]

Enigma

[agoodname]

enigma it says these arent going through

[agoodname]

they should be going through its a cell phone enigma please answer me

[agoodname]

youre right youre right ill say it as many times as you want please

[agoodname]

enigma help me

[agoodname]

theyre coming back soon and theyll take me to therapy i cant

[agoodname]

ENIGMA PLEASE

[agoodname]

HELP ME

[agoodname]

youre not going to answer are you

end

[agoodname]

[he's not answering. Enigma won't answer, because none of his text messages are going through. It's not working. It didn't work. He's trapped here. Oswald barely registers the phone falling from his numb, shaking fingers as he slumps against the wall of the guard's office, sliding to the floor. He stares at the phone where it sits now, near his knee, silent and unresponsive. He's failed. He doesn't look up, at first, when he hears the door open. It's not until a voice shouts near him, asking what he's doing in there, that he turns to look, seeing a woman in uniform scowling down at him, turning her head to call for backup. He turns his head to stare down at the cell phone, as if he could will it to respond, to give him even a sliver of hope. It doesn't. It stays silent as, once again, arms wrap under his biceps and drag him off. He doesn't struggle, this time. Therapy sessions are still more rigorous anyway.]