Post by Dominator / Mortimer on Nov 20, 2017 21:02:17 GMT -5
MONDAY 21st NOVEMBER 2017 - 4.08pm
LOCATION: Residence of Dominic James Atkinson, Shipton Bellinger, England, United Kingdom
“14: For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. 15: But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”
Having found God, Shawn had become more obnoxious than ever. Every day, a new pamphlet was posted through Dominic’s door to the point where it could almost been deemed as harassment. Each of their covers had only been viewed for all of half a second before meeting the same fate as all the others; being torn in half and tossed dismissively into a well placed bin adjacent to the door that the letterbox is situated.
This very pamphlet on which the biblical quote was written on is the only exception. Instead, it is clenched into a crumpled ball in Horacio’s hand with a dismayed shake of his head.
He had started to notice deteriorations in Dominic’s output when it came to his obligations as both a wrestler and as a member of The Chronological Order. He had not shown nearly the levels of potential or endeavour during his training regimes as he had done when, say, he were readying himself for the sudden death confrontation with High Tide for his Underground crown or when preparing to face the threat of Gabriel and his religious philosophy not a fortnight ago.
Maybe the barbarianism of the Underground scene had taken even a greater of a toll on his body than the decades of wrestling that predated his debut in Pure Class Wrestling. Maybe Dominic’s hardships lay with his absence from his daughter’s life, or even his daughter’s mother’s life for that matter. Or, more feasibly, perhaps Shawn had managed to indeed get deeper under Dominic’s skin than Horacio had first realised.
But at least Horacio could appreciate Dominic’s commitment. Even though his grievances remain buried, he would still keep to the timelines that Mortimer had set out to him. And doing “something” was far, far better than doing nothing at all.
He stares at his watch. Nigh upon ten minutes had passed since Dominic was meant to cease his programme. The seconds tick down. Mortimer bobs his head with each passing second more and more vigorously until the final second of the tenth minute of the hour reaches its culmination. It was understandable for Dominic to take a minute or two to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow upon completing such a routine, but never before had it taken him ten minutes to emerge in preparation for the next article on their agenda.
“What’s keeping him?” Mortimer taps his foot with agitation. “He’s never usually this long,” he whines to himself. All the while, he eyes remain transfixed on his watch. He lets out an impatient breath of air before relenting, unwilling to wait any longer, he pulls out his cellphone from the inner left pocket of his jacket. He takes a look to a door to his left. No sound comes from behind it, nor in fact from anywhere else. So silent are his surroundings, all he can hear is the mechanical innards of the watch itself.
Suddenly, there is a loud crash from a room deeper in the house. Then another. And another. It is like someone, or something, is going berserk. A loud, enraged cry confirms this theory. Mortimer reaches the door from which the noise emanated from. He bursts into the room, uncertain of what to expect…
What he sees daunts him.
Where an assortment of gym equipment had once been laid out across the room in a reasonably accessible order, the room is now in total disarray. Mangled metal and plastic is strewn across the room. Holes have formed in the wall where various weights have impacted against the plaster. A treadmill is overturned, laying on its side like a lame horse incapable of righting itself, a weight-lifting bar has been skewered through the conveyer belt to deliver the deathblow.
“What in the…” Mortimer grimaces like a parent whose child has emptied the contents of their toybox all across their bedroom. He sees Dominic with his back turned him, shirtless with shoulder muscles bulging out of his back. He contorts his neck to glare at Mortimer over his shoulder, letting out a snort like an enraged bull. He pivots as if ready to charge, yet Mortimer looks more disgusted by the room’s disorder than Dominic’s distress. “And what, may I ask, is the reason for this?” he asks like said parent scolding said child.
“It’s YOUR fault!” Dominic booms angrily, holding his own cellphone with an outstretched arm with the screen directly in front of Horacio’s eyes. He reads aloud.
“Twenty-seven missed calls?” he queries, before shrugging dismissively. “If something is so important, they will call you a twenty-eighth time.”
“Twenty-six of those calls were from Amy,” Dominic exclaims. “I had one other missed call and a text message from Shawn.” Horacio immediately rolls his eyes. He could sympathise with Dominic to some extent regarding Shawn’s relentlessness as of late, but to garner such a reaction as this was the catalyst to undo everything that they had worked towards.
Dominic’s temper had been wild in years gone passed. Through appropriate scheduling and time management, Horacio had managed to tame the savage beast. That temper had been one of his biggest downfalls in the past. Of all times for this ‘condition’ to rear its ugly head, of course it would pick now.
“Do you really think this is the best way of airing your dirty laundry?” Mortimer folds his arms scathingly. “Come on now, Dominic. You’re better than this.”
“He‘s taken her, Mort,” Dominic relents with a red face, as if sucking the tears back into his eyes before they can even form. Now, normally, Horacio would not take kindly to being referred to by such a nickname, but given the nature of Dominic’s distress, he takes exception to it. Horacio quickly grabs the phone from Dominic’s hand, noticing the severity of the situation.
“Calm down and explain,” Mortimer instructs, scrolling through the text messages on Dominic’s phone to obtain something of a lead.
“That bastard Shawn. He’s taken my daughter.” Dominic snarls. “Amy’s still sick. She can’t take care of Dawn on her own. I knew Shawn had been visiting Amy, but why in the hell would he do something like this! Someone who had supposedly converted to Christianity; a former career criminal who has found God.”
“This is exactly what he wants,” Mortimer explains calmly. “He wants to see you vulnerable. He wants to see you suffer in the same way that he did when you took Amy from him.”
“I didn’t take Amy from him,” Dominic scowls, his levels of frustration mounting by the second. “Amy chose me over him.”
“Twice,” Mortimer corrects. “And by taking baby Dawn, he has leverage over the both of you. He’s literally trying to kill two birds with one stone.” Horacio stops himself before lowering the phone to stare at Dominic straight in the eyes. “And how exactly is this my fault?”
“If it wasn’t for your stupid routines, I might have been able to do something about it. I might have been able to
“Not once have I prohibited you from spending time with your family,” Mortimer retorts, insulted by the blame Dominic is laying on him. “All I have asked you to do is determine what you want to prioritise in your life. I can only arrange how you spend your time to such an extent. What you do in your own “down time” is up to you. Whether you choose to spend it trying to relax, or be there for your family, that is a decision that only you can make.” Dominic quickly turns his back on Horacio, clasping the sides of his head with his heads, ripping his fingers through his hair in anguish. “I can only do so much for you, but if you don’t want me to treat you like a child I suggest you stop acting as such. I don’t want to patronise you, not during this clearly troublesome time, so let us save this conversation for another time.” Appeased somewhat, Dominic turns around and nods his head.
“Where on earth do we even start?” Dominic frowns. “There’s no way we’ll be able to find them before we set off for America ahead of Trauma.”
“And failing to show for Trauma is also not an option,” Mortimer adds. “As understanding as I’m sure the PCW board will be, we both have a professional duty to uphold on behalf of both PCW and The Chronological Order alike.” Clearly, Dominic does not seem pleased about this reality. A stern look from Mortimer seals this as truth. Reluctantly, he nods his head with gritted teeth. “Taking matters into our own hands is not an option at this stage, not until we understand what Shawn’s actual intentions are. They may not be as malevolent as we think.”
With that, a series of loud, rapid and almost panic-stricken knocks pound on the front door.
Dominic barges past Mortimer and weaves from room to room to get to the source of the knocking, which does not stop until the moment Dominic opens the door. A tearful Amy Trenton is the culprit. Immediately, she cries hysterically in Dominic’s chest.
“He’s taken her,” she wails, “I don’t know where he’s gone, but he’s taken our daughter. You have to do something, Dominic. I can’t live without her. She’s all I’ve got.”
“I know,” Dominic reassures her, holding her close and the top of her head taking care not to dislodge the wig that she has to wear, having lost her natural hair as a result of her condition. “I promise you, we’ll find them and make that son of a bitch pay.”
“I just don’t understand why he’d do something like this,” Amy weeps. “After everything that we’ve been through together and all the things that he used to do that I would let go over my head, this is the worst thing he’s ever done.”
“Let’s all just calm down and assess the situation here,” Mortimer tries to restore a little more order. “Amy, did Shawn give any indication as to why he left with Dawn, or where he was going?”
“He said that I was incapable of looking after her,” Amy whimpers. Having taken a moment to properly look at Amy, Dominic and Mortimer could both see how frail Amy looked. She is trembling, almost unsteady on her feet. Dominic ushers her inside and sits her down on a sofa in the lounge. Again, Mortimer follows. “I’ve not been feeling too good for the past couple of weeks,” she continues, “more so than usual. Shawn said he only wants what is best for the child.”
“By separating her from her parents?” Mortimer chuckles in disbelief. “An interesting way of showing it. But I’m sure Dawn is just as worried and upset as you are. Nothing warrants fear like the unknown,” Horacio states somewhat solemnly, “although the truth comes frighteningly close.”
“Have you called the police?” Dominic asks. Amy replies with a simple shake of the head.
“I was so upset, I just needed to speak with you first,” she replies.
“Judgement can be clouded during traumatic experiences,” Mortimer states once more, “but you cannot be undeterred. That applies to both of you. Amy, you need to keep fighting that cancer. The minute you start giving up on yourself, that cancer will get an even greater grip and make the battle all the more difficult, no matter how difficult things seem now.”
“Can’t you see she’s upset!?” Dominator scolds once more.
“I’m just being realistic,” Horacio replies calmly. “And as for you, you have your first exposure to your Collision Course opponent this week and you cannot allow such an opportunity to learn what this man will bring to the table, even in these circumstances.”
Horacio was right. No matter how hard they were hurting, the bigger fight was yet to come. Hiroshi Yukio had defeated both Tyrone Smith and Razor Blade in order to set himself on a collision course with Dominator at the next Pay-Per-View event. To underestimate a seasoned veteran would be foolish, never mind a five hundred pound monolith such as him even in spite of the fact that Dominic himself had dismantled Tyrone Smith like an old wardrobe on multiple occasions and Razor Blade seemed like a deer trying to show off its impressive antlers in a field of stampeding rhinos. No matter how impressive, he’d inevitably be flattened or gored either way. Yet, Tyler Scott’s resume since his return had been lacklustre, achieving only shortcomings most recently in the Halloween Horror Match on the night of Dominator’s inauguration of Underground King, as well as the Deadly Rumble, a trait shared with Yukio himself.
No doubt High Tide would share the same level of hatred and jealousy as Shawn himself. A pirate he may be, at least Dominic did not have to fear that he would use the same underhanded tactics Shawn had deployed. His Underground Championship, however, would be the kind of plunder that he craved to get his hands on. Yet, although he would never express it verbally, if High Tide brought to the table the same level of determination, grit and dedication that he had brought throughout the entirety of the Round Robin Tournament, Dominator would be honoured to have that incarnation of High Tide at his side.
Trust seemed to be a major issue to Dominic at this stage.
“No matter how angry you feel,” Mortimer continues, “use it to your own advantage in battle. Continue to see through any given situation by analysing everything around you, but when you strike your opponents, think of them as your greatest oppressors. But don’t let the rage blind you and leave you open to attack.” Dominic and Amy look at each other, somehow in agreement with what Mortimer is telling them.
“We need to get the police involved,” Amy states assertively, now recomposed after her meltdown.
“No need,” Mortimer smiles, withdrawing a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “Time waits for no man, but men will wait for their own time to come.” With that, Horacio withdraws his own cellphone from his pocket once more and proceeds to scroll through his contacts. After pressing a few more buttons on the touch screen, he lifts the device to his ear whilst unfolding the piece of paper with one hand, using his hip for extra leverage.
“What’s that?” Amy asks, trying to decipher the writing on the piece of paper. She is quickly silenced by Mortimer, who motions a ‘shushing’ noise by puckering his lips. “Greetings, Matthew. Horacio Mortimer speaking,” he says coolly down the phone.
“Matthew?” Amy gasps. “As in Shawn’s brother.”
“Yes, I appreciate you answering my call,” Mortimer continues. “We need you to assist The Chronological Order. One of our youngest members has gone missing and is supposedly with someone who used to be very close to you.” Amy and Dominic glare at each other, their suspicions both accurate. “The Chronological Order would like you to help locate our missing member by any means necessary. Of course, you will be rewarded for your efforts. Unfortunately, our founding members will be out of the country as of this afternoon, so it is imperative that you meet with Amy. As you’re undoubtedly aware, she is in no condition to go on such a manhunt, so I appreciate you using every resource that is indispensable to you.” A moment of silence follows, before Mortimer lets out a smile.
“Can we trust him? They are brothers after all,” Amy queries with justification.
“They’ve not been on speaking terms for months,” Dominic replies with a grin. “I certainly trust Matt more than I do Shawn right now.”
“Excellent,” Mortimer confirms down the phone. “It is a pleasure doing business with you. I will be in contact daily for an update on your progress and you are to contact me if you have any details or leads whatsoever.” Mortimer nods towards Dominic to confirm the deal is done. “Thank you for your cooperation. Farewell for now.” With a triumphant smirk, Mortimer slides the phone back into his pocket. “We have our best man on the case,” he exclaims.
“Just how did you know to call Matthew anyway?” Amy asks.
“I think I know,” Dominic answers, taking the pamphlet out of Mortimer’s hands.
“14: For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. 15: But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”
“From the Book of Matthew,” Dominic says, almost frowning. “Hark at you, seeking inspiration from such a source. Is this divine intervention?”
“It’s not divine intervention,” Mortimer chuckles. “It is merely being at the right place, at the right time.”
LOCATION: Residence of Dominic James Atkinson, Shipton Bellinger, England, United Kingdom
“14: For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. 15: But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”
Having found God, Shawn had become more obnoxious than ever. Every day, a new pamphlet was posted through Dominic’s door to the point where it could almost been deemed as harassment. Each of their covers had only been viewed for all of half a second before meeting the same fate as all the others; being torn in half and tossed dismissively into a well placed bin adjacent to the door that the letterbox is situated.
This very pamphlet on which the biblical quote was written on is the only exception. Instead, it is clenched into a crumpled ball in Horacio’s hand with a dismayed shake of his head.
He had started to notice deteriorations in Dominic’s output when it came to his obligations as both a wrestler and as a member of The Chronological Order. He had not shown nearly the levels of potential or endeavour during his training regimes as he had done when, say, he were readying himself for the sudden death confrontation with High Tide for his Underground crown or when preparing to face the threat of Gabriel and his religious philosophy not a fortnight ago.
Maybe the barbarianism of the Underground scene had taken even a greater of a toll on his body than the decades of wrestling that predated his debut in Pure Class Wrestling. Maybe Dominic’s hardships lay with his absence from his daughter’s life, or even his daughter’s mother’s life for that matter. Or, more feasibly, perhaps Shawn had managed to indeed get deeper under Dominic’s skin than Horacio had first realised.
But at least Horacio could appreciate Dominic’s commitment. Even though his grievances remain buried, he would still keep to the timelines that Mortimer had set out to him. And doing “something” was far, far better than doing nothing at all.
He stares at his watch. Nigh upon ten minutes had passed since Dominic was meant to cease his programme. The seconds tick down. Mortimer bobs his head with each passing second more and more vigorously until the final second of the tenth minute of the hour reaches its culmination. It was understandable for Dominic to take a minute or two to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow upon completing such a routine, but never before had it taken him ten minutes to emerge in preparation for the next article on their agenda.
“What’s keeping him?” Mortimer taps his foot with agitation. “He’s never usually this long,” he whines to himself. All the while, he eyes remain transfixed on his watch. He lets out an impatient breath of air before relenting, unwilling to wait any longer, he pulls out his cellphone from the inner left pocket of his jacket. He takes a look to a door to his left. No sound comes from behind it, nor in fact from anywhere else. So silent are his surroundings, all he can hear is the mechanical innards of the watch itself.
Suddenly, there is a loud crash from a room deeper in the house. Then another. And another. It is like someone, or something, is going berserk. A loud, enraged cry confirms this theory. Mortimer reaches the door from which the noise emanated from. He bursts into the room, uncertain of what to expect…
What he sees daunts him.
Where an assortment of gym equipment had once been laid out across the room in a reasonably accessible order, the room is now in total disarray. Mangled metal and plastic is strewn across the room. Holes have formed in the wall where various weights have impacted against the plaster. A treadmill is overturned, laying on its side like a lame horse incapable of righting itself, a weight-lifting bar has been skewered through the conveyer belt to deliver the deathblow.
“What in the…” Mortimer grimaces like a parent whose child has emptied the contents of their toybox all across their bedroom. He sees Dominic with his back turned him, shirtless with shoulder muscles bulging out of his back. He contorts his neck to glare at Mortimer over his shoulder, letting out a snort like an enraged bull. He pivots as if ready to charge, yet Mortimer looks more disgusted by the room’s disorder than Dominic’s distress. “And what, may I ask, is the reason for this?” he asks like said parent scolding said child.
“It’s YOUR fault!” Dominic booms angrily, holding his own cellphone with an outstretched arm with the screen directly in front of Horacio’s eyes. He reads aloud.
“Twenty-seven missed calls?” he queries, before shrugging dismissively. “If something is so important, they will call you a twenty-eighth time.”
“Twenty-six of those calls were from Amy,” Dominic exclaims. “I had one other missed call and a text message from Shawn.” Horacio immediately rolls his eyes. He could sympathise with Dominic to some extent regarding Shawn’s relentlessness as of late, but to garner such a reaction as this was the catalyst to undo everything that they had worked towards.
Dominic’s temper had been wild in years gone passed. Through appropriate scheduling and time management, Horacio had managed to tame the savage beast. That temper had been one of his biggest downfalls in the past. Of all times for this ‘condition’ to rear its ugly head, of course it would pick now.
“Do you really think this is the best way of airing your dirty laundry?” Mortimer folds his arms scathingly. “Come on now, Dominic. You’re better than this.”
“He‘s taken her, Mort,” Dominic relents with a red face, as if sucking the tears back into his eyes before they can even form. Now, normally, Horacio would not take kindly to being referred to by such a nickname, but given the nature of Dominic’s distress, he takes exception to it. Horacio quickly grabs the phone from Dominic’s hand, noticing the severity of the situation.
“Calm down and explain,” Mortimer instructs, scrolling through the text messages on Dominic’s phone to obtain something of a lead.
“That bastard Shawn. He’s taken my daughter.” Dominic snarls. “Amy’s still sick. She can’t take care of Dawn on her own. I knew Shawn had been visiting Amy, but why in the hell would he do something like this! Someone who had supposedly converted to Christianity; a former career criminal who has found God.”
“This is exactly what he wants,” Mortimer explains calmly. “He wants to see you vulnerable. He wants to see you suffer in the same way that he did when you took Amy from him.”
“I didn’t take Amy from him,” Dominic scowls, his levels of frustration mounting by the second. “Amy chose me over him.”
“Twice,” Mortimer corrects. “And by taking baby Dawn, he has leverage over the both of you. He’s literally trying to kill two birds with one stone.” Horacio stops himself before lowering the phone to stare at Dominic straight in the eyes. “And how exactly is this my fault?”
“If it wasn’t for your stupid routines, I might have been able to do something about it. I might have been able to
“Not once have I prohibited you from spending time with your family,” Mortimer retorts, insulted by the blame Dominic is laying on him. “All I have asked you to do is determine what you want to prioritise in your life. I can only arrange how you spend your time to such an extent. What you do in your own “down time” is up to you. Whether you choose to spend it trying to relax, or be there for your family, that is a decision that only you can make.” Dominic quickly turns his back on Horacio, clasping the sides of his head with his heads, ripping his fingers through his hair in anguish. “I can only do so much for you, but if you don’t want me to treat you like a child I suggest you stop acting as such. I don’t want to patronise you, not during this clearly troublesome time, so let us save this conversation for another time.” Appeased somewhat, Dominic turns around and nods his head.
“Where on earth do we even start?” Dominic frowns. “There’s no way we’ll be able to find them before we set off for America ahead of Trauma.”
“And failing to show for Trauma is also not an option,” Mortimer adds. “As understanding as I’m sure the PCW board will be, we both have a professional duty to uphold on behalf of both PCW and The Chronological Order alike.” Clearly, Dominic does not seem pleased about this reality. A stern look from Mortimer seals this as truth. Reluctantly, he nods his head with gritted teeth. “Taking matters into our own hands is not an option at this stage, not until we understand what Shawn’s actual intentions are. They may not be as malevolent as we think.”
With that, a series of loud, rapid and almost panic-stricken knocks pound on the front door.
Dominic barges past Mortimer and weaves from room to room to get to the source of the knocking, which does not stop until the moment Dominic opens the door. A tearful Amy Trenton is the culprit. Immediately, she cries hysterically in Dominic’s chest.
“He’s taken her,” she wails, “I don’t know where he’s gone, but he’s taken our daughter. You have to do something, Dominic. I can’t live without her. She’s all I’ve got.”
“I know,” Dominic reassures her, holding her close and the top of her head taking care not to dislodge the wig that she has to wear, having lost her natural hair as a result of her condition. “I promise you, we’ll find them and make that son of a bitch pay.”
“I just don’t understand why he’d do something like this,” Amy weeps. “After everything that we’ve been through together and all the things that he used to do that I would let go over my head, this is the worst thing he’s ever done.”
“Let’s all just calm down and assess the situation here,” Mortimer tries to restore a little more order. “Amy, did Shawn give any indication as to why he left with Dawn, or where he was going?”
“He said that I was incapable of looking after her,” Amy whimpers. Having taken a moment to properly look at Amy, Dominic and Mortimer could both see how frail Amy looked. She is trembling, almost unsteady on her feet. Dominic ushers her inside and sits her down on a sofa in the lounge. Again, Mortimer follows. “I’ve not been feeling too good for the past couple of weeks,” she continues, “more so than usual. Shawn said he only wants what is best for the child.”
“By separating her from her parents?” Mortimer chuckles in disbelief. “An interesting way of showing it. But I’m sure Dawn is just as worried and upset as you are. Nothing warrants fear like the unknown,” Horacio states somewhat solemnly, “although the truth comes frighteningly close.”
“Have you called the police?” Dominic asks. Amy replies with a simple shake of the head.
“I was so upset, I just needed to speak with you first,” she replies.
“Judgement can be clouded during traumatic experiences,” Mortimer states once more, “but you cannot be undeterred. That applies to both of you. Amy, you need to keep fighting that cancer. The minute you start giving up on yourself, that cancer will get an even greater grip and make the battle all the more difficult, no matter how difficult things seem now.”
“Can’t you see she’s upset!?” Dominator scolds once more.
“I’m just being realistic,” Horacio replies calmly. “And as for you, you have your first exposure to your Collision Course opponent this week and you cannot allow such an opportunity to learn what this man will bring to the table, even in these circumstances.”
Horacio was right. No matter how hard they were hurting, the bigger fight was yet to come. Hiroshi Yukio had defeated both Tyrone Smith and Razor Blade in order to set himself on a collision course with Dominator at the next Pay-Per-View event. To underestimate a seasoned veteran would be foolish, never mind a five hundred pound monolith such as him even in spite of the fact that Dominic himself had dismantled Tyrone Smith like an old wardrobe on multiple occasions and Razor Blade seemed like a deer trying to show off its impressive antlers in a field of stampeding rhinos. No matter how impressive, he’d inevitably be flattened or gored either way. Yet, Tyler Scott’s resume since his return had been lacklustre, achieving only shortcomings most recently in the Halloween Horror Match on the night of Dominator’s inauguration of Underground King, as well as the Deadly Rumble, a trait shared with Yukio himself.
No doubt High Tide would share the same level of hatred and jealousy as Shawn himself. A pirate he may be, at least Dominic did not have to fear that he would use the same underhanded tactics Shawn had deployed. His Underground Championship, however, would be the kind of plunder that he craved to get his hands on. Yet, although he would never express it verbally, if High Tide brought to the table the same level of determination, grit and dedication that he had brought throughout the entirety of the Round Robin Tournament, Dominator would be honoured to have that incarnation of High Tide at his side.
Trust seemed to be a major issue to Dominic at this stage.
“No matter how angry you feel,” Mortimer continues, “use it to your own advantage in battle. Continue to see through any given situation by analysing everything around you, but when you strike your opponents, think of them as your greatest oppressors. But don’t let the rage blind you and leave you open to attack.” Dominic and Amy look at each other, somehow in agreement with what Mortimer is telling them.
“We need to get the police involved,” Amy states assertively, now recomposed after her meltdown.
“No need,” Mortimer smiles, withdrawing a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “Time waits for no man, but men will wait for their own time to come.” With that, Horacio withdraws his own cellphone from his pocket once more and proceeds to scroll through his contacts. After pressing a few more buttons on the touch screen, he lifts the device to his ear whilst unfolding the piece of paper with one hand, using his hip for extra leverage.
“What’s that?” Amy asks, trying to decipher the writing on the piece of paper. She is quickly silenced by Mortimer, who motions a ‘shushing’ noise by puckering his lips. “Greetings, Matthew. Horacio Mortimer speaking,” he says coolly down the phone.
“Matthew?” Amy gasps. “As in Shawn’s brother.”
“Yes, I appreciate you answering my call,” Mortimer continues. “We need you to assist The Chronological Order. One of our youngest members has gone missing and is supposedly with someone who used to be very close to you.” Amy and Dominic glare at each other, their suspicions both accurate. “The Chronological Order would like you to help locate our missing member by any means necessary. Of course, you will be rewarded for your efforts. Unfortunately, our founding members will be out of the country as of this afternoon, so it is imperative that you meet with Amy. As you’re undoubtedly aware, she is in no condition to go on such a manhunt, so I appreciate you using every resource that is indispensable to you.” A moment of silence follows, before Mortimer lets out a smile.
“Can we trust him? They are brothers after all,” Amy queries with justification.
“They’ve not been on speaking terms for months,” Dominic replies with a grin. “I certainly trust Matt more than I do Shawn right now.”
“Excellent,” Mortimer confirms down the phone. “It is a pleasure doing business with you. I will be in contact daily for an update on your progress and you are to contact me if you have any details or leads whatsoever.” Mortimer nods towards Dominic to confirm the deal is done. “Thank you for your cooperation. Farewell for now.” With a triumphant smirk, Mortimer slides the phone back into his pocket. “We have our best man on the case,” he exclaims.
“Just how did you know to call Matthew anyway?” Amy asks.
“I think I know,” Dominic answers, taking the pamphlet out of Mortimer’s hands.
“14: For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. 15: But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”
“From the Book of Matthew,” Dominic says, almost frowning. “Hark at you, seeking inspiration from such a source. Is this divine intervention?”
“It’s not divine intervention,” Mortimer chuckles. “It is merely being at the right place, at the right time.”
