Post by Dominator / Mortimer on Nov 6, 2017 21:10:26 GMT -5
7.01pm - SUNDAY 7th NOVEMBER 2017
LOCATION: Residence of Dominic James Atkinson, Shipton Bellinger, Salisbury, England, United Kingdom
The clocks had gone back in England one week ago. As autumn begins to surrender to winter, the day’s end seems to arrive so rapidly. It has already been dark for hours. The ensuing rainstorm has turned the sky not just black, but vantablack, so dark that no light seems to be able to escape from it. The roar of water smashing against the windowpanes of the lounge do not deter two men full of pride who reside within.
In spite of the toil that the human body takes while on the road in a professional capacity, Horacio had allowed Dominic something to the effect of ‘free time’ highly sparingly. Aware of the torment Dominic went through, Horacio had decreed that the duties of a king were far more exuberant and plentiful than being just another man on the street. Even the scars from matches prior to the Sudden Death finale of the Round Robin Tournament had not fully healed, they were only masked by newer, fresher blemishes on his skin. Yet, this happened to be such an occasion where Dominic had been allowed to rest for all of an hour. It gave him a chance to cook and subsequently eat before being disturbed from a moment’s complete peace by Horacio’s relentless schedule.
“Are you ready to depart?” Mortimer asks a relaxed looking Dominic, who himself is comfortably reclined in an armchair, flicking through various sports channels on the television. “We are already a minute behind, but I’ve given us some respite between journeys.” With a heavy sigh, Dominic heaves himself to his feet.
There is a knock on the door. Dominic lets out a sigh. A bother like this is not warranted, especially if it eats into Mortimer’s schedule.
“Could you get that?” Dominic asks whilst attempting to allocate a suitable overcoat given the weather conditions. “I expect it’s someone from the Poppy Appeal doing some collecting.”
“In this weather?” Mortimer scoffs. “I doubt it.” Feeling obliged to comply with Dominic’s request given its simplicity, Horacio motions towards the door, unlocking it with a turn of the key and a twist of the door handle. He looks into the open doorway and smiles. There is no charity collector, just a very sorry looking Shawn Metallinos, drenched to the bone with rainwater. The fleecy jacket he wears has absorbed all of the moisture that has engulfed him during his trek here. It looks as though he has been walking for hours.
“Can you be helped?” Mortimer bluntly asks, unimpressed by this disturbance. While his expression initially depicts the displeasure mirrored in his voice, Mortimer does give Shawn the benefit of the doubt upon closer examination. Amidst the concoction of rainwater and natural oils dripping from his hair down his face, the white’s of Shawn’s eyes are as red as his skin. Human tears seem to trickle down his cheeks, camouflaged amongst the moisture. His head is hung low as if defeated by life. “By the looks of things,” Mortimer continues having completed his analysis of Shawn, “I guess that is rather a stupid question.”
“May I come in?” Shawn asks with a deep, subjugated tone. Uncertainty suddenly comes over Mortimer as he feels the towering presence of the Underground King loom over his shoulder. Dominic gives Shawn a glare so cold it could freeze flames. He stares at the pathetic and sorry sight stood in the doorway. To rub salt in the wounds, even the guttering above the porch turns on Shawn, overflowing to drip down in a constant torrent on the top of Shawn’s head.
“What do you want?” Dominic grunts inhospitably.
“I’m here because I feel the need to sort this mess, man to man, once and for all,” Shawn says, slowly looking up to return Dominic’s stare. Immediately, Dominic is hesitant. Shawn had been the reason for a lot of conflict, at least outside of a wrestling ring. Never mind treasure seeking pirates and jealous cult members trying to get his goat. With friends like Shawn, who needs enemies? With a slight roll of the eyes, Dominic gestures with a head twitch for the soaking man to enter the house.
“Thank you,” Shawn smiles, unsettlingly sincerely. Dominic’s eyes are fixed on Shawn as he walks into the hallway, courteously removing his shoes upon wiping them on the doormat that somewhat ironically reads “Welcome.” He hangs his coat on a vacant hanger of a conveniently located coat stand.
“We have much to prepare with little time remaining,” Mortimer mutters impatiently to Dominic, not keen on his protégé’s decision. “Need we even entertain this idea?”
“At the very least, he deserves a chance,” Dominic replies abruptly, catching Mortimer by surprise. “We were best friends after all.” Mortimer tilts his head to one side, bemused by the notion. Letting out a sigh of exasperation, knowing that there is little to no point in even trying to reason with The Zenith, he resorts to staring at his watch.
“Five minutes,” Mortimer instructs, “and no more. We are on a very strict schedule.” Dominic nods in agreement before following in Shawn’s footsteps along the corridor into the lounge area. Shawn had visiting Dominic’s home countless times, so it should be of little surprise that he should know his way around. Various pictures are hung up on the walls; nostalgic memories captured within frames for eternity, or at least until time itself erodes the coloration from the card on which they are printed.
“So?” is the word that Dominic tries to say, pressing for the conversation to move forward, given Horacio’s deadline. Before he can even exceed past the letter “s,” Shawn cuts him off.
“I owe you an apology,” comes Shawn’s statement. Dominic seems a little taken aback. The last thing he was expecting was an apology. There was an element of his mentality that anticipated bloodshed would make its presence in place of words. Then again, Shawn had yet to elaborate on what he is sorry for. Something he has done, or something he is about to do. “I haven’t been in a good place for a long time and I have been voices my grievances against the people that I treasure the most. Yourself included.” Shawn wipes some of the excess water from his hair and face with his hand and subsequently dries it on his shirt, which had been the only time he did not stare Dominic directly in the eyes. “I feel as though ever since my relationship with Amy fell apart, I have been trying to patch my life back together, but it just seems like a leaky water pipe; as soon as you block one hole, water starts leaking from somewhere else.”
“That’s a good analogy,” Horacio hums, exultant with Shawn’s level of understanding.
“Anything that could go wrong DID go wrong,” Shawn resumes. “Amy left me, my brother Matt spiralled deeper into depression, drinking and drug abuse, my career was going nowhere and, to top it all off, I find that my best friend impregnated my wife.”
“Ex-wife,” Dominic corrects.
“The divorce was never finalised,” Shawn retorts, doing his utmost to remain composed. “The proceedings had certainly entered their final stages, but officially, we were still man and wife when you…” he stops himself once again, wiping away a tear before it can form. “And then, just as Amy and I decide to give things another chance, she walks out on me when we were due to renew our wedding vows simply to join your Chronological Order. But do you know what hurts me the most? It isn’t that she left me twice, not even the fact that she has a daughter with my best friend…” he pauses, turning away from Dominic to hide his distress. “The worse part is,” he sniffs, “is that I find out that the woman I love is dying. She’s dying and I can’t do a single fucking thing about it. I thought that there wouldn’t be anything that I can do anyway, considering that she didn’t want me in her life.” Dominic stands rigid, his ears absorbing every word and every sincere emotion of sadness, anger and pain in his voice. He takes a look towards Mortimer as a source of inspiration. The only assistance Mortimer provides is the gesture of tapping on his watch, indicating that this process needs to pick up the pace. A small frown appears on Dominic’s face to signal his gratitude, or lack thereof.
“Look,” Dominic says softly, striding towards Shawn slowly, “it hurts me as well. It is a difficult situation for all of us, but the last thing I want is for any of us to suffer.” Shawn looks back at him unsurely. “I needed to make changes to my life as well,” Dominic exclaims, “and I’ve succeeded.” Shawn finally turns around once more, his eyes now dry, letting out a small smile towards his friend.
“And so have I,” Shawn grins. This time it is Dominic who exudes uncertainty.
“How so?” Dominic asks incredulously. Shawn spreads his arms expressing stigmata with a proud and triumphant look on his face.
“I’ve sought guidance from a higher power,” Shawn beams. “Before you joined this little Time Club of yours, you and I always sought out power. Look at our lives back then to what they are now. They were good times, but you were always under the misconception that you, yourself, WERE that power as an incarnated God. What were some of the things you called yourself? “The Self Proclaimed God?” “The Necessary Existence?” “The Greater Power?” You can’t deny it, Dominic. You once said that about yourself without conviction.”
“That’s true,” Dominic agrees. “I’m not about to argue that. But that was a long time ago, during more infantile years.” Horacio simply shakes his head at this. He had been told these stories before. He was unimpressed back then. Now, even more so.
“Well,” Steel says with his arms still in place, “I have found God.”
Immediately, Dominic’s face sinks. Horacio looks mortified by this statement.
“What?” Dominic blurts out in disbelief.
“I had nowhere else to turn, so I turned to God,” Shawn beams. “I am now a lion lying down with the lamb. Everything we want in life is a desire to have something or get away from something. I wanted to get away from all the pain and suffering and have peace and happiness. That can become a reality simply by believing.” The more Shawn talks, the more Horacio’s face turns from disgust to absolutely joy. The prospect of delivering one of his famed speeches about The Chronological Order and it’s message apparently ready to burst out of his mouth. He prepares his monologue mentally as Shawn continues. “In spite of everything that has happened between you, me and Amy, I hope that you forgive me as I have forgiven you.”
“Forgiven me?,” Dominic curls his upper lip. “For what?” He knew full well ‘what,’ yet he refused to solely accept the blame.
“While you’ve been on the wrestling circuit and busy with all this time-related stuff, I’ve been with your daughter,” Shawn smiles, causing the curl on Dominic’s lip to move higher up his face. “You see, everybody needs a father figure. An infant more so, but I too needed the help of a Father to make things right. The Father who art in Heaven, more specifically. Not only that, but Amy also needs support, support that someone who worships time as a deity does not give her.”
“We do not ‘worship’ time,” Mortimer elaborates. “To worship something means that you must revere it as a god. By extent, a god is a divine being that has power over all nature and human fortunes. Time is not a ‘being’ in the way that the Christian God “supposedly” is.”
“Either way,” Shawn resumes undeterred, “I have been at Amy’s side, praying for her and baby Dawn. Thankfully, she is on the up and up. It is as though just me being there for her is doing her good. So perhaps I really am making a difference. Certainly more of a difference than you are making.”
“Don’t make me dismantle you and your entire religion right here and now,” Dominator threatens. He had been hoping to save such a statement for Gabriel, but now was as good a time as any. Mortimer simply tutts to himself, making a ‘tch’ sound by flicking his tongue against the back of his clenched teeth.
“Christians,” Horacio mutters discontentedly. “They’re so terribly easily corruptible. Even people who classify themselves as Christian still partake in sinful actions and vices on a daily basis. So ignorant are they that they don’t even realising they are sinning when they do so. Yet, so long as they seek forgiveness, they are automatically entitled to eternal salvation and life after death. The politics of religion are as fraudulent as a dictatorship.”
“What would you rather have?” Shawn continues to smile in spite of the contrary opinions, “a life of salvation or an eternity of darkness?”
“Hell is as fictional as halitosis,” Horacio says calmly, though a little agitated. “Do you know how they first started to market Listerine as a mouthwash? They claimed to aid in the cure of halitosis, in spite of such a condition never being recognised in medicine. Well, it was, but it was simply referred to as ‘bad breath.’ Did you also know that Listerine was originally designed as a floor cleaner? And yet they now sell it across the world as a mouth-cleansing agent. That’s Christianity in a nutshell.”
“Even the Bible states; Hell is eternal pain, and we're all going there without believing in Jesus. And God is eternal pleasure: "In your presence is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore" (Psalm 16:11).”
“Tell me,” Mortimer grins, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Would you not say that the difference between happiness and sadness can be obtained through one’s own merit and the way that they spend their time on this Earth?” Dominic shoots Mortimer a look before pointing at his watch. Because of Mortimer’s spiel, they have now well exceeded their deadline by another five minutes. Five minutes and seven seconds to be exact.
“Absolutely,” Shawn nods. “That’s why I am devoting my time to Jesus Christ.” Dominic cannot help but hide his amusement as Horacio’s face plummets. Aghast originally, it soon transforms back into disgust.
“I think what Horacio means is; we’re pleased that you’ve managed to find something to believe in, but we, as members of The Chronological Order, have different beliefs that conflict yours.”
“I’m afraid Hell awaits you,” Shawn replies solemnly.
“I’m counting on it,” Dominator finally flickers a malicious grin, one that takes him back to his days as a power-hungry megalomaniac. He takes a bold step towards Shawn before jerking his head rapidly from side to side to taut the muscles in his neck aggressively. “If Hell truly does exist, then I must be living it right now, listening to you talk such utter, utter bollocks. When you listen to what The Chronological Order believes in, how can you look at Christianity in the same light?” Dominator licks his lips sadistically.
Shawn suddenly looks unnerved.
“You claim to love Amy, yet you clearly don’t know a lot about her. Amy has always been a devout Christian, a regular churchgoer and even assisted in fundraising for her local parish. Yet, she has developed a malignant form of cancer, one that doctors say will be difficult for her to defeat. Imagine that. Someone who has given so much of her time to The Lord, and how does he repay her? Like that!?” Shawn has fallen silent. “Is it supposedly part of his ‘plan,’ to rob a baby child from its mother?” Shawn glares at Dominator consumed with frustration. Dominic had been wise to Shawn’s intentions. The alleged apology was nothing short of a ruse simply to rub his newfound religion in The Chronological Order’s face. Yet, unfortunately for him, there was no possible way for him to defend even Jesus Christ himself against Dominic’s logic. Slowly, Steel turns and begins walking towards the door.
“I’ll see myself out,” Shawn says quietly, heading for the hallway. “But to clarify,” he says, turning back to Dominic and Horacio, “I am genuinely sorry for everything.”
“Everything that has happened, or everything that is about to happen?” Dominic queries, echoing the same sentiments that he felt first upon Shawn’s arrival.
“Both,” he replies. As Shawn opens the front door, the sound of the hammering rain increases in volume and ferocity. He looks somewhat intimidated and unwilling to step out into the torrential downpour. He takes one step out of the door to survey the situation in greater depth after stuffing his feet back into his shoes.
“And to clarify as well,“ Dominator grins, throwing Shawn‘s coat high over his head and straight into the eye of the storm, “I accept your apology,” he adds before slamming the front door closed in Shawn’s quarrelling face. With a smug look on his face, Dominic glances at his watch. A total of fifteen minutes and twenty four seconds have passed. Mortimer, though unimpressed with the time taken to deal with such an exchange, remains optimistic over Dominic’s prospects under his mentorship.
LOCATION: Residence of Dominic James Atkinson, Shipton Bellinger, Salisbury, England, United Kingdom
The clocks had gone back in England one week ago. As autumn begins to surrender to winter, the day’s end seems to arrive so rapidly. It has already been dark for hours. The ensuing rainstorm has turned the sky not just black, but vantablack, so dark that no light seems to be able to escape from it. The roar of water smashing against the windowpanes of the lounge do not deter two men full of pride who reside within.
In spite of the toil that the human body takes while on the road in a professional capacity, Horacio had allowed Dominic something to the effect of ‘free time’ highly sparingly. Aware of the torment Dominic went through, Horacio had decreed that the duties of a king were far more exuberant and plentiful than being just another man on the street. Even the scars from matches prior to the Sudden Death finale of the Round Robin Tournament had not fully healed, they were only masked by newer, fresher blemishes on his skin. Yet, this happened to be such an occasion where Dominic had been allowed to rest for all of an hour. It gave him a chance to cook and subsequently eat before being disturbed from a moment’s complete peace by Horacio’s relentless schedule.
“Are you ready to depart?” Mortimer asks a relaxed looking Dominic, who himself is comfortably reclined in an armchair, flicking through various sports channels on the television. “We are already a minute behind, but I’ve given us some respite between journeys.” With a heavy sigh, Dominic heaves himself to his feet.
There is a knock on the door. Dominic lets out a sigh. A bother like this is not warranted, especially if it eats into Mortimer’s schedule.
“Could you get that?” Dominic asks whilst attempting to allocate a suitable overcoat given the weather conditions. “I expect it’s someone from the Poppy Appeal doing some collecting.”
“In this weather?” Mortimer scoffs. “I doubt it.” Feeling obliged to comply with Dominic’s request given its simplicity, Horacio motions towards the door, unlocking it with a turn of the key and a twist of the door handle. He looks into the open doorway and smiles. There is no charity collector, just a very sorry looking Shawn Metallinos, drenched to the bone with rainwater. The fleecy jacket he wears has absorbed all of the moisture that has engulfed him during his trek here. It looks as though he has been walking for hours.
“Can you be helped?” Mortimer bluntly asks, unimpressed by this disturbance. While his expression initially depicts the displeasure mirrored in his voice, Mortimer does give Shawn the benefit of the doubt upon closer examination. Amidst the concoction of rainwater and natural oils dripping from his hair down his face, the white’s of Shawn’s eyes are as red as his skin. Human tears seem to trickle down his cheeks, camouflaged amongst the moisture. His head is hung low as if defeated by life. “By the looks of things,” Mortimer continues having completed his analysis of Shawn, “I guess that is rather a stupid question.”
“May I come in?” Shawn asks with a deep, subjugated tone. Uncertainty suddenly comes over Mortimer as he feels the towering presence of the Underground King loom over his shoulder. Dominic gives Shawn a glare so cold it could freeze flames. He stares at the pathetic and sorry sight stood in the doorway. To rub salt in the wounds, even the guttering above the porch turns on Shawn, overflowing to drip down in a constant torrent on the top of Shawn’s head.
“What do you want?” Dominic grunts inhospitably.
“I’m here because I feel the need to sort this mess, man to man, once and for all,” Shawn says, slowly looking up to return Dominic’s stare. Immediately, Dominic is hesitant. Shawn had been the reason for a lot of conflict, at least outside of a wrestling ring. Never mind treasure seeking pirates and jealous cult members trying to get his goat. With friends like Shawn, who needs enemies? With a slight roll of the eyes, Dominic gestures with a head twitch for the soaking man to enter the house.
“Thank you,” Shawn smiles, unsettlingly sincerely. Dominic’s eyes are fixed on Shawn as he walks into the hallway, courteously removing his shoes upon wiping them on the doormat that somewhat ironically reads “Welcome.” He hangs his coat on a vacant hanger of a conveniently located coat stand.
“We have much to prepare with little time remaining,” Mortimer mutters impatiently to Dominic, not keen on his protégé’s decision. “Need we even entertain this idea?”
“At the very least, he deserves a chance,” Dominic replies abruptly, catching Mortimer by surprise. “We were best friends after all.” Mortimer tilts his head to one side, bemused by the notion. Letting out a sigh of exasperation, knowing that there is little to no point in even trying to reason with The Zenith, he resorts to staring at his watch.
“Five minutes,” Mortimer instructs, “and no more. We are on a very strict schedule.” Dominic nods in agreement before following in Shawn’s footsteps along the corridor into the lounge area. Shawn had visiting Dominic’s home countless times, so it should be of little surprise that he should know his way around. Various pictures are hung up on the walls; nostalgic memories captured within frames for eternity, or at least until time itself erodes the coloration from the card on which they are printed.
“So?” is the word that Dominic tries to say, pressing for the conversation to move forward, given Horacio’s deadline. Before he can even exceed past the letter “s,” Shawn cuts him off.
“I owe you an apology,” comes Shawn’s statement. Dominic seems a little taken aback. The last thing he was expecting was an apology. There was an element of his mentality that anticipated bloodshed would make its presence in place of words. Then again, Shawn had yet to elaborate on what he is sorry for. Something he has done, or something he is about to do. “I haven’t been in a good place for a long time and I have been voices my grievances against the people that I treasure the most. Yourself included.” Shawn wipes some of the excess water from his hair and face with his hand and subsequently dries it on his shirt, which had been the only time he did not stare Dominic directly in the eyes. “I feel as though ever since my relationship with Amy fell apart, I have been trying to patch my life back together, but it just seems like a leaky water pipe; as soon as you block one hole, water starts leaking from somewhere else.”
“That’s a good analogy,” Horacio hums, exultant with Shawn’s level of understanding.
“Anything that could go wrong DID go wrong,” Shawn resumes. “Amy left me, my brother Matt spiralled deeper into depression, drinking and drug abuse, my career was going nowhere and, to top it all off, I find that my best friend impregnated my wife.”
“Ex-wife,” Dominic corrects.
“The divorce was never finalised,” Shawn retorts, doing his utmost to remain composed. “The proceedings had certainly entered their final stages, but officially, we were still man and wife when you…” he stops himself once again, wiping away a tear before it can form. “And then, just as Amy and I decide to give things another chance, she walks out on me when we were due to renew our wedding vows simply to join your Chronological Order. But do you know what hurts me the most? It isn’t that she left me twice, not even the fact that she has a daughter with my best friend…” he pauses, turning away from Dominic to hide his distress. “The worse part is,” he sniffs, “is that I find out that the woman I love is dying. She’s dying and I can’t do a single fucking thing about it. I thought that there wouldn’t be anything that I can do anyway, considering that she didn’t want me in her life.” Dominic stands rigid, his ears absorbing every word and every sincere emotion of sadness, anger and pain in his voice. He takes a look towards Mortimer as a source of inspiration. The only assistance Mortimer provides is the gesture of tapping on his watch, indicating that this process needs to pick up the pace. A small frown appears on Dominic’s face to signal his gratitude, or lack thereof.
“Look,” Dominic says softly, striding towards Shawn slowly, “it hurts me as well. It is a difficult situation for all of us, but the last thing I want is for any of us to suffer.” Shawn looks back at him unsurely. “I needed to make changes to my life as well,” Dominic exclaims, “and I’ve succeeded.” Shawn finally turns around once more, his eyes now dry, letting out a small smile towards his friend.
“And so have I,” Shawn grins. This time it is Dominic who exudes uncertainty.
“How so?” Dominic asks incredulously. Shawn spreads his arms expressing stigmata with a proud and triumphant look on his face.
“I’ve sought guidance from a higher power,” Shawn beams. “Before you joined this little Time Club of yours, you and I always sought out power. Look at our lives back then to what they are now. They were good times, but you were always under the misconception that you, yourself, WERE that power as an incarnated God. What were some of the things you called yourself? “The Self Proclaimed God?” “The Necessary Existence?” “The Greater Power?” You can’t deny it, Dominic. You once said that about yourself without conviction.”
“That’s true,” Dominic agrees. “I’m not about to argue that. But that was a long time ago, during more infantile years.” Horacio simply shakes his head at this. He had been told these stories before. He was unimpressed back then. Now, even more so.
“Well,” Steel says with his arms still in place, “I have found God.”
Immediately, Dominic’s face sinks. Horacio looks mortified by this statement.
“What?” Dominic blurts out in disbelief.
“I had nowhere else to turn, so I turned to God,” Shawn beams. “I am now a lion lying down with the lamb. Everything we want in life is a desire to have something or get away from something. I wanted to get away from all the pain and suffering and have peace and happiness. That can become a reality simply by believing.” The more Shawn talks, the more Horacio’s face turns from disgust to absolutely joy. The prospect of delivering one of his famed speeches about The Chronological Order and it’s message apparently ready to burst out of his mouth. He prepares his monologue mentally as Shawn continues. “In spite of everything that has happened between you, me and Amy, I hope that you forgive me as I have forgiven you.”
“Forgiven me?,” Dominic curls his upper lip. “For what?” He knew full well ‘what,’ yet he refused to solely accept the blame.
“While you’ve been on the wrestling circuit and busy with all this time-related stuff, I’ve been with your daughter,” Shawn smiles, causing the curl on Dominic’s lip to move higher up his face. “You see, everybody needs a father figure. An infant more so, but I too needed the help of a Father to make things right. The Father who art in Heaven, more specifically. Not only that, but Amy also needs support, support that someone who worships time as a deity does not give her.”
“We do not ‘worship’ time,” Mortimer elaborates. “To worship something means that you must revere it as a god. By extent, a god is a divine being that has power over all nature and human fortunes. Time is not a ‘being’ in the way that the Christian God “supposedly” is.”
“Either way,” Shawn resumes undeterred, “I have been at Amy’s side, praying for her and baby Dawn. Thankfully, she is on the up and up. It is as though just me being there for her is doing her good. So perhaps I really am making a difference. Certainly more of a difference than you are making.”
“Don’t make me dismantle you and your entire religion right here and now,” Dominator threatens. He had been hoping to save such a statement for Gabriel, but now was as good a time as any. Mortimer simply tutts to himself, making a ‘tch’ sound by flicking his tongue against the back of his clenched teeth.
“Christians,” Horacio mutters discontentedly. “They’re so terribly easily corruptible. Even people who classify themselves as Christian still partake in sinful actions and vices on a daily basis. So ignorant are they that they don’t even realising they are sinning when they do so. Yet, so long as they seek forgiveness, they are automatically entitled to eternal salvation and life after death. The politics of religion are as fraudulent as a dictatorship.”
“What would you rather have?” Shawn continues to smile in spite of the contrary opinions, “a life of salvation or an eternity of darkness?”
“Hell is as fictional as halitosis,” Horacio says calmly, though a little agitated. “Do you know how they first started to market Listerine as a mouthwash? They claimed to aid in the cure of halitosis, in spite of such a condition never being recognised in medicine. Well, it was, but it was simply referred to as ‘bad breath.’ Did you also know that Listerine was originally designed as a floor cleaner? And yet they now sell it across the world as a mouth-cleansing agent. That’s Christianity in a nutshell.”
“Even the Bible states; Hell is eternal pain, and we're all going there without believing in Jesus. And God is eternal pleasure: "In your presence is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore" (Psalm 16:11).”
“Tell me,” Mortimer grins, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Would you not say that the difference between happiness and sadness can be obtained through one’s own merit and the way that they spend their time on this Earth?” Dominic shoots Mortimer a look before pointing at his watch. Because of Mortimer’s spiel, they have now well exceeded their deadline by another five minutes. Five minutes and seven seconds to be exact.
“Absolutely,” Shawn nods. “That’s why I am devoting my time to Jesus Christ.” Dominic cannot help but hide his amusement as Horacio’s face plummets. Aghast originally, it soon transforms back into disgust.
“I think what Horacio means is; we’re pleased that you’ve managed to find something to believe in, but we, as members of The Chronological Order, have different beliefs that conflict yours.”
“I’m afraid Hell awaits you,” Shawn replies solemnly.
“I’m counting on it,” Dominator finally flickers a malicious grin, one that takes him back to his days as a power-hungry megalomaniac. He takes a bold step towards Shawn before jerking his head rapidly from side to side to taut the muscles in his neck aggressively. “If Hell truly does exist, then I must be living it right now, listening to you talk such utter, utter bollocks. When you listen to what The Chronological Order believes in, how can you look at Christianity in the same light?” Dominator licks his lips sadistically.
Shawn suddenly looks unnerved.
“You claim to love Amy, yet you clearly don’t know a lot about her. Amy has always been a devout Christian, a regular churchgoer and even assisted in fundraising for her local parish. Yet, she has developed a malignant form of cancer, one that doctors say will be difficult for her to defeat. Imagine that. Someone who has given so much of her time to The Lord, and how does he repay her? Like that!?” Shawn has fallen silent. “Is it supposedly part of his ‘plan,’ to rob a baby child from its mother?” Shawn glares at Dominator consumed with frustration. Dominic had been wise to Shawn’s intentions. The alleged apology was nothing short of a ruse simply to rub his newfound religion in The Chronological Order’s face. Yet, unfortunately for him, there was no possible way for him to defend even Jesus Christ himself against Dominic’s logic. Slowly, Steel turns and begins walking towards the door.
“I’ll see myself out,” Shawn says quietly, heading for the hallway. “But to clarify,” he says, turning back to Dominic and Horacio, “I am genuinely sorry for everything.”
“Everything that has happened, or everything that is about to happen?” Dominic queries, echoing the same sentiments that he felt first upon Shawn’s arrival.
“Both,” he replies. As Shawn opens the front door, the sound of the hammering rain increases in volume and ferocity. He looks somewhat intimidated and unwilling to step out into the torrential downpour. He takes one step out of the door to survey the situation in greater depth after stuffing his feet back into his shoes.
“And to clarify as well,“ Dominator grins, throwing Shawn‘s coat high over his head and straight into the eye of the storm, “I accept your apology,” he adds before slamming the front door closed in Shawn’s quarrelling face. With a smug look on his face, Dominic glances at his watch. A total of fifteen minutes and twenty four seconds have passed. Mortimer, though unimpressed with the time taken to deal with such an exchange, remains optimistic over Dominic’s prospects under his mentorship.
