Post by Dominator / Mortimer on Dec 4, 2017 10:00:08 GMT -5
Sunday 3rd December 2017 - 9.34am
Location: Residence of Amy Trenton-Metallinos, Shipton Bellinger, Hampshire, England
It had been nigh upon thirteen days since Amy had heard the infantile gurgles of her daughter’s voice. With every passing day, her anxiety grew and grew. In spite of her best intentions to remain optimistic, her failing body would not allow it. The internal pains, both physical and mental, had taken their exponential toll on her. Nightmares had plagued her slumber. Paranoia had engaged her in mental combat consistently.
She could not shake the feeling that there was someone watching her. Judging her. This was especially true when Dominic was not there.
Much to Horacio’s displeasure, Dominic had been spending an extensively large amount of time at Amy’s side. He felt it was his duty to stay by Amy’s side during this trying period. However, the founder of The Chronological Order did not vocalise his grievances. Instead, he had informed Dominic that he would instead ‘pursue alternative projects in the interim,’ although Dominic’s position within the Order itself would not be threatened. In spite of his management of time and relative lack of empathy or sympathy alike, he could at least distinguish the appropriate courses of action based around other’s circumstances. Truly, his ability to manage the time belonging to himself and others is second to none.
She sits rigid, nestled between the cushions that have comforted her since waking prematurely. The mug of tea that she had made hours ago has now cooled to the point where it is undrinkable. Only one single sip had been consumed made clear by a ring that stains the porcelain at its apex. The steam ascending from Dominic’s mug indicates that his arrival had been recent. The two sit in awkward silence. Dominic leans on the edge of seat, simply staring despondently at Amy’s own levels of hopelessness. Amy sits with her hands clasped tightly buried between her thighs. With their conversation stagnant, Dominic addresses the silence by offering encouragement in the form of the contents of a text message he has just received.
“Horacio says he is right outside,” Dominic says optimistically. “He just has to make a call first.”
“That’s great,” Amy replies emptily, void of any enthusiasm. Dominic looks at the message one final time before mirroring Horacio’s quirk of staring at his watch until the hand that displays the passage of seconds reaches one precise twelfth of that minute, making it 9.36am exactly. He lowers his wrist before looking back over to Amy.
“I can’t take it, Dominic,” Amy shakes, her eyes as red as the skin sodden on her face by her own tears. She trembles like an autumn leaf in a heavy breeze. “What kind of mother am I to let my own daughter be taken away from me? I am supposed to protect her, yet I can’t even look after myself right now. What is the point of even pretending that everything is going to be alright?” Dominic immediately lurches out of his seat and positions himself directly in front of Amy, planting both of his hands against opposite shoulders.
“Look at me,” he says assertively, yet by no means aggressively. He tries to manoeuvre his head under Amy’s, which is hung so that her chin is buried into the top of her chest. He uses his own forehead to lever Amy’s head upwards, finally able to achieve eye contact as a result. She sniffs solemnly, unable to find the will to meet Dominic’s stare and defiantly looks instead at Dominic’s arms. “Whatever happens,” he whispers, “I promise that I will bring Dawn home. I will make Shawn regret ever making you feel like this. And, most importantly, we can start anew and live together, you, me, Dawn, as a family.” He speaks with the purest conviction, his intentions realising themselves like a flower blooming deep in his cerebellum. Despite this, Amy shakes her head, still incapable of looking Dominic in the eye.
“I can’t,” Amy whimpers. "It's been two weeks almost and we still haven't found her. Why is this taking so long? Why can't I do anything? I’ve failed her,” her lips continue to wobble uncontrollably as she wipes away yet another waterfall of tears that torrentially pour down her cheeks. “How can she ever forgive me? Things like this scar at such an early age.”
“It all boils down to the passage of time,” comes an all too familiar voice. Horacio enters the lounge with a self righteous expression across his face, not even entertaining the disheartened expressions that both Amy and Dominic possess. “Scars are nothing but physical manifestations of memories. Time is the best healer. It is a greater medicine than laughter, it is more proven than any experimental drug.”
“Any news?” Dominic asks Mortimer, who simply bobs his head in response.
“Indeed. It appears that Shawn is convinced that he is Dawn’s father, therefore I cannot see him bringing her to any harm,” Horacio says. Somehow this, above anything Dominic had promised, lifts Amy’s spirits. A stuttered gasp escapes from her.
“Do you really think so?” Amy says with a sniff.
“I know so,” Mortimer corrects her abrasively as a familiar looking man steps into view beside him. “Or rather, I know somebody who does.”
Immediately, Dominic springs onto his feet, staring belligerently towards the intruder like a guard dog baring its fangs. For that brief moment, he truly believes that Horacio had somehow managed to apprehend and subdue Shawn. However, upon truly focusing on the individual, he is able to notice some subtle differences in their appearance. Or, indeed, Dominic realises the radical transformation undertaken by the twin brother of his daughter’s kidnapper.
“Matt?” Amy asks, seeking confirmation of her suspicions, to which she is met with a nod accompanied by a smile.
“It’s good to see you, Amy,” Matt says politely and courteously. “I hold a great amount of regret for not being of greater assistance to you before now. I’ve had my own demons to battle against.” It was true. The last time Dominic had seen Matt was nearly two months ago. More specifically, Friday, October the sixth.
“Matthew here had allowed time to decay his body,” Horacio explains. “He had been living alone, subjecting himself to daily intoxication and incarceration in order to deal with his unrelenting depression. Fortunately, Dominic was able to convince him to at least trial what insight ’The Chronological Order’ could offer,” Horacio beams towards Matthew, also taking into consideration the drastic change in Matthew’s appearance. The last time that Dominic and Matthew were in the same room together, Matthew’s hair had grown long, wild and unmanageable. His skin had sagged through the simple abuse of narcotics. His clothes were stained with weeks-old food splatter and stale cigarette smoke.
That was a far cry from the man stood before them.
The beard that once clung to his face had been eradicated a razor’s blade. The hair atop his head was short and moulded around his scalp with the use of some form of gel or wax. Coloration had returned to his skin as opposed to the pasty, white, almost ghoulish shade it had been just months ago. The bags under his eyes are still present, although his own dermatological improvements could not go unnoticed. Even his clothes were brand new. They still hold that ‘fresh from the store’ smell that accompanies the clothing that is worn immediately after purchase. Horacio seems proud of the man that Matthew has become, staring at him as if he were his own son.
Maybe this is what Horacio meant by ‘pursuing alternative projects.’
“Despite his initial apprehension,” Mortimer continues, “he has progressed in leaps and bounds. I’ve had to adopt a more personal approach to Matthew. I figured coming into group contact would be too much for him at this early stage, but individually he has exceeded even my expectations.” Elated, Dominic had distanced himself from the grounded posture into a vertical stance. He was delighted to see that his friend had been able to turn himself around and haul himself out of the pits of oblivion that bound him for even the months and years prior to his visit. However, he kept a small amount of animosity hidden. He pensively looks towards Horacio, who immediately recognises Dominic’s distain.
“I’m pleased you’ve managed to find succour,” Dominic says to Matthew, before cranking his head towards Mortimer. “but this doesn’t necessarily move us any closer to finding where Shawn and Dawn are.”
“On the contrary,” Matthew says in a tone that reflects Horacio’s method of speech, “we’ve made significant headway…” he quickly cuts himself off, causing both Dominic and Amy to stare worriedly towards him, “although,” he continues with a slight droop in his voice, “I’m afraid you might not like what you’re about to here.”
“Just give it to us straight,” Dominic says firmly. He perches himself on the arm of the chair in which Amy is sat. He reaches for Amy’s hand, which she takes hesitantly, pulling it downwards into her gut as if huddling it for support.
“Very well,” Matthew says, reaching into the inside of his jacket. “Shawn and I have not been on talking terms for a long time now, so making contact with him has served fruitless. But I have managed to make something akin to a discovery.” From beneath his armpit, he withdraws a piece of paper contained within a plastic sleeve. He hands it to Dominic. Amy peers over his thigh to see the document. “This is Dawn’s birth certificate,” he explains. Dominic looks nonplussed. Clearly, he has not seen the aspect of the document that has Amy even more visibly perturbed. She lets got of his hand and curls up in her chair once more, shying her face away.
“How did you get that?” Amy whines.
“I sourced to a key to your property from your parents,” Matthew replies. Amy lets out yet another gasp. She had not informed her parents of Dawn’s disappearance. She did not want their judgement cast upon her. No. She would rather accept the burden alone, even though that burden was killing her faster than the cancer was. “They were more than willing to oblige,” Matthew added, incrementing a smile upon completion of this report before resuming, “but don’t worry, I did not let on that anything was wrong.” Matthew must have been given a clear mission statement from Horacio, to which Dominic gives an impressed hum. “
“But how would you even know where to look for it?” Amy moans. “I keep it secure. It’s meant to be out of reach.”
“A fireproof box at the back of your wardrobe is hardly considered as secure,” Matthew says distastefully. “Keeping the key to said box under a shoebox on the opposite side of the same wardrobe is equally as reckless.” Amy’s paranoia grows. Could it be that Matthew himself had been spying on Amy these past two weeks? Perhaps her wariness was more justifiable than she thought. “Which begs the question, why would you want to hide it in the first place? I understand that it is an important document that is needed in compliance with future documentation needed in Dawn’s future, but it seems more like you were trying to hide it than keep it safe. I mean, credit card bills, insurance contracts and mortgage information was all readily available inside of a drawer in your study,” Matthew deduces. “In fact, everything else in your security box seemed to be of sentimental value, all with the exception of the birth certificate.” Amy has now fallen silent, refusing to even acknowledge these statements in spite of the fact that the tears continuously run down her face.” Dominic glares at Shawn’s brother.
“Can’t you see that you’re making her upset?” Dominic snarls. “Our daughter has been kidnapped and all you can do is belittle her.”
“You don’t understand her logic,” Matthew says, as if speaking on Mortimer’s behalf with his exact voice. “Take a look.” With a frown, Dominic looks back at the document. Nothing seems to be amiss, in his eyes. He scours the piece of paper again. There is still nothing that jumps out at him. Dawn’s full name is there. Amy’s name is there as the mother, along with her occupation. Even the father’s name has Shawn Christopher Metallinos…
Dominic’s face suddenly sinks, but he quickly shakes it off.
“Shawn is down on the birth certificate as Dawn’s father?” he states. “That doesn’t detract from the fact that I am her biological father.”
“I’m afraid it does,” Horacio counteracts. “You see, in terms of a custodial battle, the first port of call in the eyes of the authorities would be the birth certificate. Yes, you are Dawn’s biological father. However, legally, Shawn is her father. This explains why he believes that Dawn should be in his care.”
“Hold on,” Dominic interjects, refusing to accept this truth. He looks down to Amy, who stares at him as if telling him with her eyes not to believe the evidence that Matthew and Horacio have presented to them. “you knew that I was the father before Dawn was born. So why put Shawn’s name?”
“We were trying to make things work,” Amy screeched, her sadness now manifesting itself as rage. “You weren’t around. You were too busy with your Chronological Order to give a damn about me.”
“I was there for you when the two of you were going through difficulties in your marriage,” Dominic growls, doing his best not to retaliate with a raised voice of his own.
“Shawn didn’t know that you were the real father until the day of the Christening,” Amy cries, pulling herself up out of the chair for the first time in hours. “I can’t deal with this right now…” she squeals, running weakly out of the lounge. The hollow clomping sound of her feet impacting each of the stairs can be heard throughout the house, followed by the abrupt slam of a door. Dominic lets out a large, exasperated sigh that transforms into an anguished grunt, sitting down in Amy’s seat forcefully and running his hands through his long, tangled hair. There is an awkward pause as Horacio and Matthew stare at each other. Horacio nods to Matthew, who proceeds to silently leave the lounge and follows in Amy’s footsteps up the stairs.
“This is such a fucking mess,” Dominic groans. “So is that it?” he asks, looking up at Mortimer. “Is there nothing else that we can do?”
“If Shawn was already aware that he was not the father before signing the birth certificate, it would technically be considered as fraud.” Mortimer states. As if hearing his words through the floorboards, Amy immediately breaks down in yet another tearful bout, the prospect of imprisonment sending her over the edge. “It’s a good job that we haven’t acquired police involvement in this, isn’t it?” Mortimer states, somehow trying to reassure Dominic, though this is also targeted at Amy, “although vigilantism is equally frowned upon, but there is a considerable difference between vigilantism and settling things outside of the law.”
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Dominic stands up aggressively. “Time is running out.”
“Time DOESN’T run out,” Mortimer states, “but I agree that we cannot allow too much time to pass. Evidently, Amy herself is a ticking time-bomb. Her sanity and wellbeing are the greatest contributions to the formation of a deadline.”
“Any suggestions?” Dominic mutters.
“Matthew will continue to assess the situation,” Mortimer replies. “In the meantime, you need to focus on what is at hand. The Chronological Order still needs to be operational. Interest in our ambitions continues to warrant public support and we cannot let this go unnoticed. It is imperative that we resume operations sooner rather than later.” Dominic nodded in agreement. Despite his prodigious desire for all of this to resolve itself, he knew that he had to put this matter on the backburner ahead of Collision Course.
Dominator had never once claimed to be invincible, although recent victories had proven he was certainly close to being comparable to such a label. Hiroshi seems brazen in the fact he managed to knock Dominator off his feet, as if this were an accomplishment in itself. What Hiroshi failed to realise was that Dominator was a seasoned veteran inside of a wrestling ring. He had been beaten down by bigger and better men in the past. However, since stepping between the ropes in a Pure Class Wrestling sanctioned ring, Dominator had utilised a combination of past experience and newfound present knowledge to carve a path towards a shining future. Hiroshi believes to have superior speed and strength from the perspective of an expert in the art of sumo. Speed and strength can be personified and compared to different entities. A cheetah can chase down its prey and strike with deadly force, but in the animal kingdom, only a small percentage of hunts are truly successful. All failed attempt resulted in a drastic loss of energy, the source of replenishment would mean sourcing a new target and trying again.
That is why the most successful hunters target the weakest of prey.
While Hiroshi may compare to a cheetah hunting on a savannah, Dominator is more of a great white shark, his sleek body evolved to suit its environment enable to navigate the darkest waters with unparalleled agility and stealth, its teeth serrated to induce the most fatal of blows to its quarry. It had evolved to become the perfect killing machine; inducing nightmares to creatures that dare not even venture into its domain.
Clearly, Hiroshi had his own demons that he was attempting to battle. Whilst the circumstances surrounding Dawn’s abduction clearly took a toll on Dominator, when he was in that ring, he had to remain professional. It didn’t matter whether he were a wrestler, a support worker, a lawyer, or any other profession one could think of; personal matters were to be left at home. Dominator had proven that he was capable of this time and time again. Much like Yukio, they might have knocked him down, but they could not keep him down.
He could sympathise with Hiroshi’s self doubt. He had been in a similar position long before arriving within this company. It was thanks to Horacio Mortimer that Dominator had set off on a quest to find himself, The Chronological Order showing him new directions as opposed to the ones he used to follow, the ones which had often guided him off a beaten path. Hiroshi was in need of assistance in finding himself.
Indeed, The Chronological Order would welcome his inclusion, if he were to seek it.
Amongst the locker room and in the realms of social media alike, there is a large quantity of hype surrounding the upcoming duel. The two largest combatants among PCW’s ranks are set to step into the ring together. Some expect nothing short of a pure slugfest. Others portray the contest as an unstoppable force meeting with an immovable object. But what Dominator would portray this contest the same as every other match he had been a part of since debuting. He would compete not just to win… but to dominate.
“I have an idea,” Dominic says upon reflection. “Matthew said about Amy leaving her credit card bills laying around. Can we track Shawn through transactions in his bank account?”
“Matthew attempted to source recent bills and bank statements,” Horacio replies, “but most bills were dated prior to their disappearance. However, if we are able to acquire a more recent transactional history, we might be able to pinpoint his location, or at the very least, narrow it down.”
“Do you think we can pass Matthew as Shawn?” Dominic ponders. “They are identical twins after all. Have
“The banks are closed on a Sunday,” Mortimer states, “but we can get him to enter a branch tomorrow to acquire the information that we need.” Horacio gives Dominic an encouraging look. “I’m impressed,” he states. “I am a little disappointed in myself that I didn’t think of such an idea myself. Clearly, I’ve taught you well after all this time.”
“I just want Amy and Dawn to be safe,” Dominic adds. “Can you ask Matthew to take care of Amy while we’re away?”
“I’m sure he will be more than willing,” Mortimer grins. Dominic lets out a relieved smirk. He takes a look at his watch. Already, the day has moved past its tenth hour. Already, his coffee has cooled into a placid pool of brown. He elevates to his feet and takes a step past Mortimer and proceeds towards the staircase. “We need to depart in the next fourteen minutes,” Horacio states. Dominator nods in acknowledgement, traversing the steps to reassure Amy one final time prior to their departure.
Location: Residence of Amy Trenton-Metallinos, Shipton Bellinger, Hampshire, England
It had been nigh upon thirteen days since Amy had heard the infantile gurgles of her daughter’s voice. With every passing day, her anxiety grew and grew. In spite of her best intentions to remain optimistic, her failing body would not allow it. The internal pains, both physical and mental, had taken their exponential toll on her. Nightmares had plagued her slumber. Paranoia had engaged her in mental combat consistently.
She could not shake the feeling that there was someone watching her. Judging her. This was especially true when Dominic was not there.
Much to Horacio’s displeasure, Dominic had been spending an extensively large amount of time at Amy’s side. He felt it was his duty to stay by Amy’s side during this trying period. However, the founder of The Chronological Order did not vocalise his grievances. Instead, he had informed Dominic that he would instead ‘pursue alternative projects in the interim,’ although Dominic’s position within the Order itself would not be threatened. In spite of his management of time and relative lack of empathy or sympathy alike, he could at least distinguish the appropriate courses of action based around other’s circumstances. Truly, his ability to manage the time belonging to himself and others is second to none.
She sits rigid, nestled between the cushions that have comforted her since waking prematurely. The mug of tea that she had made hours ago has now cooled to the point where it is undrinkable. Only one single sip had been consumed made clear by a ring that stains the porcelain at its apex. The steam ascending from Dominic’s mug indicates that his arrival had been recent. The two sit in awkward silence. Dominic leans on the edge of seat, simply staring despondently at Amy’s own levels of hopelessness. Amy sits with her hands clasped tightly buried between her thighs. With their conversation stagnant, Dominic addresses the silence by offering encouragement in the form of the contents of a text message he has just received.
“Horacio says he is right outside,” Dominic says optimistically. “He just has to make a call first.”
“That’s great,” Amy replies emptily, void of any enthusiasm. Dominic looks at the message one final time before mirroring Horacio’s quirk of staring at his watch until the hand that displays the passage of seconds reaches one precise twelfth of that minute, making it 9.36am exactly. He lowers his wrist before looking back over to Amy.
“I can’t take it, Dominic,” Amy shakes, her eyes as red as the skin sodden on her face by her own tears. She trembles like an autumn leaf in a heavy breeze. “What kind of mother am I to let my own daughter be taken away from me? I am supposed to protect her, yet I can’t even look after myself right now. What is the point of even pretending that everything is going to be alright?” Dominic immediately lurches out of his seat and positions himself directly in front of Amy, planting both of his hands against opposite shoulders.
“Look at me,” he says assertively, yet by no means aggressively. He tries to manoeuvre his head under Amy’s, which is hung so that her chin is buried into the top of her chest. He uses his own forehead to lever Amy’s head upwards, finally able to achieve eye contact as a result. She sniffs solemnly, unable to find the will to meet Dominic’s stare and defiantly looks instead at Dominic’s arms. “Whatever happens,” he whispers, “I promise that I will bring Dawn home. I will make Shawn regret ever making you feel like this. And, most importantly, we can start anew and live together, you, me, Dawn, as a family.” He speaks with the purest conviction, his intentions realising themselves like a flower blooming deep in his cerebellum. Despite this, Amy shakes her head, still incapable of looking Dominic in the eye.
“I can’t,” Amy whimpers. "It's been two weeks almost and we still haven't found her. Why is this taking so long? Why can't I do anything? I’ve failed her,” her lips continue to wobble uncontrollably as she wipes away yet another waterfall of tears that torrentially pour down her cheeks. “How can she ever forgive me? Things like this scar at such an early age.”
“It all boils down to the passage of time,” comes an all too familiar voice. Horacio enters the lounge with a self righteous expression across his face, not even entertaining the disheartened expressions that both Amy and Dominic possess. “Scars are nothing but physical manifestations of memories. Time is the best healer. It is a greater medicine than laughter, it is more proven than any experimental drug.”
“Any news?” Dominic asks Mortimer, who simply bobs his head in response.
“Indeed. It appears that Shawn is convinced that he is Dawn’s father, therefore I cannot see him bringing her to any harm,” Horacio says. Somehow this, above anything Dominic had promised, lifts Amy’s spirits. A stuttered gasp escapes from her.
“Do you really think so?” Amy says with a sniff.
“I know so,” Mortimer corrects her abrasively as a familiar looking man steps into view beside him. “Or rather, I know somebody who does.”
Immediately, Dominic springs onto his feet, staring belligerently towards the intruder like a guard dog baring its fangs. For that brief moment, he truly believes that Horacio had somehow managed to apprehend and subdue Shawn. However, upon truly focusing on the individual, he is able to notice some subtle differences in their appearance. Or, indeed, Dominic realises the radical transformation undertaken by the twin brother of his daughter’s kidnapper.
“Matt?” Amy asks, seeking confirmation of her suspicions, to which she is met with a nod accompanied by a smile.
“It’s good to see you, Amy,” Matt says politely and courteously. “I hold a great amount of regret for not being of greater assistance to you before now. I’ve had my own demons to battle against.” It was true. The last time Dominic had seen Matt was nearly two months ago. More specifically, Friday, October the sixth.
“Matthew here had allowed time to decay his body,” Horacio explains. “He had been living alone, subjecting himself to daily intoxication and incarceration in order to deal with his unrelenting depression. Fortunately, Dominic was able to convince him to at least trial what insight ’The Chronological Order’ could offer,” Horacio beams towards Matthew, also taking into consideration the drastic change in Matthew’s appearance. The last time that Dominic and Matthew were in the same room together, Matthew’s hair had grown long, wild and unmanageable. His skin had sagged through the simple abuse of narcotics. His clothes were stained with weeks-old food splatter and stale cigarette smoke.
That was a far cry from the man stood before them.
The beard that once clung to his face had been eradicated a razor’s blade. The hair atop his head was short and moulded around his scalp with the use of some form of gel or wax. Coloration had returned to his skin as opposed to the pasty, white, almost ghoulish shade it had been just months ago. The bags under his eyes are still present, although his own dermatological improvements could not go unnoticed. Even his clothes were brand new. They still hold that ‘fresh from the store’ smell that accompanies the clothing that is worn immediately after purchase. Horacio seems proud of the man that Matthew has become, staring at him as if he were his own son.
Maybe this is what Horacio meant by ‘pursuing alternative projects.’
“Despite his initial apprehension,” Mortimer continues, “he has progressed in leaps and bounds. I’ve had to adopt a more personal approach to Matthew. I figured coming into group contact would be too much for him at this early stage, but individually he has exceeded even my expectations.” Elated, Dominic had distanced himself from the grounded posture into a vertical stance. He was delighted to see that his friend had been able to turn himself around and haul himself out of the pits of oblivion that bound him for even the months and years prior to his visit. However, he kept a small amount of animosity hidden. He pensively looks towards Horacio, who immediately recognises Dominic’s distain.
“I’m pleased you’ve managed to find succour,” Dominic says to Matthew, before cranking his head towards Mortimer. “but this doesn’t necessarily move us any closer to finding where Shawn and Dawn are.”
“On the contrary,” Matthew says in a tone that reflects Horacio’s method of speech, “we’ve made significant headway…” he quickly cuts himself off, causing both Dominic and Amy to stare worriedly towards him, “although,” he continues with a slight droop in his voice, “I’m afraid you might not like what you’re about to here.”
“Just give it to us straight,” Dominic says firmly. He perches himself on the arm of the chair in which Amy is sat. He reaches for Amy’s hand, which she takes hesitantly, pulling it downwards into her gut as if huddling it for support.
“Very well,” Matthew says, reaching into the inside of his jacket. “Shawn and I have not been on talking terms for a long time now, so making contact with him has served fruitless. But I have managed to make something akin to a discovery.” From beneath his armpit, he withdraws a piece of paper contained within a plastic sleeve. He hands it to Dominic. Amy peers over his thigh to see the document. “This is Dawn’s birth certificate,” he explains. Dominic looks nonplussed. Clearly, he has not seen the aspect of the document that has Amy even more visibly perturbed. She lets got of his hand and curls up in her chair once more, shying her face away.
“How did you get that?” Amy whines.
“I sourced to a key to your property from your parents,” Matthew replies. Amy lets out yet another gasp. She had not informed her parents of Dawn’s disappearance. She did not want their judgement cast upon her. No. She would rather accept the burden alone, even though that burden was killing her faster than the cancer was. “They were more than willing to oblige,” Matthew added, incrementing a smile upon completion of this report before resuming, “but don’t worry, I did not let on that anything was wrong.” Matthew must have been given a clear mission statement from Horacio, to which Dominic gives an impressed hum. “
“But how would you even know where to look for it?” Amy moans. “I keep it secure. It’s meant to be out of reach.”
“A fireproof box at the back of your wardrobe is hardly considered as secure,” Matthew says distastefully. “Keeping the key to said box under a shoebox on the opposite side of the same wardrobe is equally as reckless.” Amy’s paranoia grows. Could it be that Matthew himself had been spying on Amy these past two weeks? Perhaps her wariness was more justifiable than she thought. “Which begs the question, why would you want to hide it in the first place? I understand that it is an important document that is needed in compliance with future documentation needed in Dawn’s future, but it seems more like you were trying to hide it than keep it safe. I mean, credit card bills, insurance contracts and mortgage information was all readily available inside of a drawer in your study,” Matthew deduces. “In fact, everything else in your security box seemed to be of sentimental value, all with the exception of the birth certificate.” Amy has now fallen silent, refusing to even acknowledge these statements in spite of the fact that the tears continuously run down her face.” Dominic glares at Shawn’s brother.
“Can’t you see that you’re making her upset?” Dominic snarls. “Our daughter has been kidnapped and all you can do is belittle her.”
“You don’t understand her logic,” Matthew says, as if speaking on Mortimer’s behalf with his exact voice. “Take a look.” With a frown, Dominic looks back at the document. Nothing seems to be amiss, in his eyes. He scours the piece of paper again. There is still nothing that jumps out at him. Dawn’s full name is there. Amy’s name is there as the mother, along with her occupation. Even the father’s name has Shawn Christopher Metallinos…
Dominic’s face suddenly sinks, but he quickly shakes it off.
“Shawn is down on the birth certificate as Dawn’s father?” he states. “That doesn’t detract from the fact that I am her biological father.”
“I’m afraid it does,” Horacio counteracts. “You see, in terms of a custodial battle, the first port of call in the eyes of the authorities would be the birth certificate. Yes, you are Dawn’s biological father. However, legally, Shawn is her father. This explains why he believes that Dawn should be in his care.”
“Hold on,” Dominic interjects, refusing to accept this truth. He looks down to Amy, who stares at him as if telling him with her eyes not to believe the evidence that Matthew and Horacio have presented to them. “you knew that I was the father before Dawn was born. So why put Shawn’s name?”
“We were trying to make things work,” Amy screeched, her sadness now manifesting itself as rage. “You weren’t around. You were too busy with your Chronological Order to give a damn about me.”
“I was there for you when the two of you were going through difficulties in your marriage,” Dominic growls, doing his best not to retaliate with a raised voice of his own.
“Shawn didn’t know that you were the real father until the day of the Christening,” Amy cries, pulling herself up out of the chair for the first time in hours. “I can’t deal with this right now…” she squeals, running weakly out of the lounge. The hollow clomping sound of her feet impacting each of the stairs can be heard throughout the house, followed by the abrupt slam of a door. Dominic lets out a large, exasperated sigh that transforms into an anguished grunt, sitting down in Amy’s seat forcefully and running his hands through his long, tangled hair. There is an awkward pause as Horacio and Matthew stare at each other. Horacio nods to Matthew, who proceeds to silently leave the lounge and follows in Amy’s footsteps up the stairs.
“This is such a fucking mess,” Dominic groans. “So is that it?” he asks, looking up at Mortimer. “Is there nothing else that we can do?”
“If Shawn was already aware that he was not the father before signing the birth certificate, it would technically be considered as fraud.” Mortimer states. As if hearing his words through the floorboards, Amy immediately breaks down in yet another tearful bout, the prospect of imprisonment sending her over the edge. “It’s a good job that we haven’t acquired police involvement in this, isn’t it?” Mortimer states, somehow trying to reassure Dominic, though this is also targeted at Amy, “although vigilantism is equally frowned upon, but there is a considerable difference between vigilantism and settling things outside of the law.”
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Dominic stands up aggressively. “Time is running out.”
“Time DOESN’T run out,” Mortimer states, “but I agree that we cannot allow too much time to pass. Evidently, Amy herself is a ticking time-bomb. Her sanity and wellbeing are the greatest contributions to the formation of a deadline.”
“Any suggestions?” Dominic mutters.
“Matthew will continue to assess the situation,” Mortimer replies. “In the meantime, you need to focus on what is at hand. The Chronological Order still needs to be operational. Interest in our ambitions continues to warrant public support and we cannot let this go unnoticed. It is imperative that we resume operations sooner rather than later.” Dominic nodded in agreement. Despite his prodigious desire for all of this to resolve itself, he knew that he had to put this matter on the backburner ahead of Collision Course.
Dominator had never once claimed to be invincible, although recent victories had proven he was certainly close to being comparable to such a label. Hiroshi seems brazen in the fact he managed to knock Dominator off his feet, as if this were an accomplishment in itself. What Hiroshi failed to realise was that Dominator was a seasoned veteran inside of a wrestling ring. He had been beaten down by bigger and better men in the past. However, since stepping between the ropes in a Pure Class Wrestling sanctioned ring, Dominator had utilised a combination of past experience and newfound present knowledge to carve a path towards a shining future. Hiroshi believes to have superior speed and strength from the perspective of an expert in the art of sumo. Speed and strength can be personified and compared to different entities. A cheetah can chase down its prey and strike with deadly force, but in the animal kingdom, only a small percentage of hunts are truly successful. All failed attempt resulted in a drastic loss of energy, the source of replenishment would mean sourcing a new target and trying again.
That is why the most successful hunters target the weakest of prey.
While Hiroshi may compare to a cheetah hunting on a savannah, Dominator is more of a great white shark, his sleek body evolved to suit its environment enable to navigate the darkest waters with unparalleled agility and stealth, its teeth serrated to induce the most fatal of blows to its quarry. It had evolved to become the perfect killing machine; inducing nightmares to creatures that dare not even venture into its domain.
Clearly, Hiroshi had his own demons that he was attempting to battle. Whilst the circumstances surrounding Dawn’s abduction clearly took a toll on Dominator, when he was in that ring, he had to remain professional. It didn’t matter whether he were a wrestler, a support worker, a lawyer, or any other profession one could think of; personal matters were to be left at home. Dominator had proven that he was capable of this time and time again. Much like Yukio, they might have knocked him down, but they could not keep him down.
He could sympathise with Hiroshi’s self doubt. He had been in a similar position long before arriving within this company. It was thanks to Horacio Mortimer that Dominator had set off on a quest to find himself, The Chronological Order showing him new directions as opposed to the ones he used to follow, the ones which had often guided him off a beaten path. Hiroshi was in need of assistance in finding himself.
Indeed, The Chronological Order would welcome his inclusion, if he were to seek it.
Amongst the locker room and in the realms of social media alike, there is a large quantity of hype surrounding the upcoming duel. The two largest combatants among PCW’s ranks are set to step into the ring together. Some expect nothing short of a pure slugfest. Others portray the contest as an unstoppable force meeting with an immovable object. But what Dominator would portray this contest the same as every other match he had been a part of since debuting. He would compete not just to win… but to dominate.
“I have an idea,” Dominic says upon reflection. “Matthew said about Amy leaving her credit card bills laying around. Can we track Shawn through transactions in his bank account?”
“Matthew attempted to source recent bills and bank statements,” Horacio replies, “but most bills were dated prior to their disappearance. However, if we are able to acquire a more recent transactional history, we might be able to pinpoint his location, or at the very least, narrow it down.”
“Do you think we can pass Matthew as Shawn?” Dominic ponders. “They are identical twins after all. Have
“The banks are closed on a Sunday,” Mortimer states, “but we can get him to enter a branch tomorrow to acquire the information that we need.” Horacio gives Dominic an encouraging look. “I’m impressed,” he states. “I am a little disappointed in myself that I didn’t think of such an idea myself. Clearly, I’ve taught you well after all this time.”
“I just want Amy and Dawn to be safe,” Dominic adds. “Can you ask Matthew to take care of Amy while we’re away?”
“I’m sure he will be more than willing,” Mortimer grins. Dominic lets out a relieved smirk. He takes a look at his watch. Already, the day has moved past its tenth hour. Already, his coffee has cooled into a placid pool of brown. He elevates to his feet and takes a step past Mortimer and proceeds towards the staircase. “We need to depart in the next fourteen minutes,” Horacio states. Dominator nods in acknowledgement, traversing the steps to reassure Amy one final time prior to their departure.
