Moon Under The Water Part 2 / Dawn Of The Darkest Day FINALE
Jan 29, 2018 22:14:11 GMT -5
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Post by Dominator / Mortimer on Jan 29, 2018 22:14:11 GMT -5
Friday 19th January 2018 - 11.45pm
Location: Odstock Hospital, Salisbury, Wiltshire, England, United Kingdom
Tossing and turning, she shivers as though she is being blasted by a Baltic gale. The sheet that once covered her has been kicked to the end of her bed, only the gown that wears maintains her decency. Wires and tubes jiggle as her muscles jerk.
“No. No!” Amy shudders, going into spasm amidst her slumber. “Please, stay away from me.”
“I’m only here to protect you,” somebody, or something, says to her. “I am your guardian angel.”
She tries to lift her arms. Upon doing so, she immediately winces, gritting her teeth as to disallow an anguished squeal from escaping through them. With that, she feels something gently clasp her arm. As a result of the sharp awakening from her slumber, Amy is yet to distinguish the real world from that of her nightmare. She looks wearily towards the nurse through narrowed eyes.
“Just try to relax, Miss Trenton,” the nurse tries to comfort her.
“You‘re not him?” Amy slurs, yet to escape from her outlandish visions.
“Who, my dear?” the nurse asks, slightly confused but with understanding of Amy’s worries.
“The Bird Man,” Amy replies. The nurse mentally repeats those words. The Bird Man? She takes a quick look around, trying to source anything that might trigger these thoughts. In these confines that has been cordoned off from the rest of the ward by one single arcing curtain, she cannot see anything that might give this impression. Perhaps more troublingly, this was not the first time that Amy had claimed to see such a being force entry into the sanctuary of her dreams. “You’ve been dreaming,” the nurse assures Amy, assisting her into a more upright position. Amy lets out a groan that consists of fatigue, confusion, fear and sweet relief amalgamated that transforms into a yawn. Again, she cringes from a sharp pain from beneath her sternum. “Easy now,” the nurse consoles her.
“It just… seems so real,” Amy tiredly sighs, trying to shake the image of her mental stalker from her mind. Indeed, even before being admitted into the hospital, pretty well ever since her estranged husband abducted her daughter, some twisted instinct had been telling her that something threatening was close by. Like the snapping of a twig under a huntsman’s boot alerting a grazing doe, Amy had tried to distance herself however she could. But all attempts up to now had failed.
Even the afterlife refused to grace her with shelter. Instead, her bid to free herself with the knife had imprisoned her in this hospital, her bedridden state had been her sentence.
“Can I get you anything?” the nurse enquires, genuinely seeking to assist the distressed patient any way that she can. “A glass of water, perhaps?” Hesitantly, still not able to fully register what is happening, she nods her head rapidly, taking a deep breath in a bid to remain calm and regain lost composure. “Okay,” the nurse smiles. “I’ll be right back.” The medical practitioner maintains eye contact with Amy even as she reverses through the curtain. The distressed wheezes coming from Amy’s heavy breathing might suggest that she may be experiencing inner turmoil, be it that she is suppressing inner demons or going into cardiac arrest. Amy lifts her head to smile meekly at the doctor, softening her breath and slowly lowering herself back down into her pillows.
With the nurse gone, Amy stares up towards the ceiling of the ward; a monotonous canvas of white illuminated by ‘soft light;’ the kind of light designed to provide minimal hindrance to sleep during twilight hours. Yet, even as she closes her eyes again, she can still see a hue of pink as the light only slightly penetrates through her eyelids. She takes one more deep breath, holding the self-inflicted wound in a bid to stem the pain.
“You needn’t fear me,” a voice whispers hushly to her. She bolts upwards again, immediately grimacing from the grief seeping from her stab wound. “I have no reason to harm you,” it continues. Amy attempts to open her eyes, but she cannot bring herself to do so. She shies her face away, opting to believe that the voice that she hears exists solely in her head.
That is, until she feel something soft run down her cheek; a gloved finger that strokes her with the delicacy and silkiness of a feather.
“I will continue to watch over you, for I have been entrusted with your safety and wellbeing.”
That same chill comes over her, as if she has been touched by Death himself.
“Dominic,” she whimpers.
Saturday 20th January 2018 - 7.24pm
Location: The Moon Under The Water, Market Place, Wigan, Greater Manchester, England, United Kingdom
As one would expect for the time of day, the bar is heaving with activity and custom. The staff serving behind the bar are hardly capable of keeping up with demand. For every one person they serve, two more join the queue. Almost every stool around the bar area is occupied; hopeful punters pump their change into fruit machine in hopes of hitting the jackpot to pay for the rest of their evenings, or at the very least, reclaim a fraction of the money that they had already lost. Hundreds of synchronized conversations drown out faint background music designed to create a more dynamic atmosphere.
The floor is typical of any establishment owned by the JD Wetherspoons corporation; a lurid and relentless torrent of dark blue with the same unusual pattern that seemed to be randomly conceived spreading across every inch of carpet space. Away from the bar and fruit machines that greet you through the front door, a section of flooring littered with tables and chairs in odd positions. Purple tablecloths match the coloration of the chairs around them. Pillars of crudely painted grey woodwork are scattered along the room. Various historical pictures provide décor.
This would be the setting for this story’s final act. Today is the day. Today… Dawn comes home.
Horacio had taken every possible outcome into consideration while formulating the schematics of this rescue mission. The equipment and tactics being deployed would rival that of any criminal investigative agency. Every detail, from the location of those involved down to the exact timings of their respective executions had been discussed at length.
Much to Dominic’s angst and protest, it had been established, or rather concreted by Horacio, that Dominic’s involvement would be minimal. He had been assigned to sit and watch footage from the security cameras to the bar-slash-pub-slash-hotel that Shawn had sought refuge; The Moon Under The Water. It would have made more sense for Dominic to be the one to retrieve Dawn, considering the likelihood of Dawn recognising her father’s face would reduce the trauma of the incident for her as a whole. Much to his chagrin, however, it also kept any potential confrontation between him and Shawn to a minimum. For so long, he had been waiting to give Shawn a piece of his mind. Not so much ‘a piece of his mind,’ per say, more a physical example of the torment shared by Dominic and Amy as a result of their daughter’s abduction.
His location; a makeshift center of operations in the back of a Ford Transit box van. Cramped and uncomfortable conditions for a man of his stature.
This should be an ebullient occasion, yet Dominic is consumed by scepticism. As opposed to focusing on the recovery of his daughter, he simply sits in silence, glaring at Horacio. The founder of The Chronological Order had kept his distance from Dominic since meeting with him in the middle of the night just five days removed. The aberration of his usual demeanour since then was the catalyst for Dominic’s mistrust. Instead of being at Dominic’s side to relay his daily instructions, Horacio had contacted him through less than personal means; SMS and email predominantly.
It had been Harley Weiss’ unexpected phone call that had started it all. More specifically, the mentioning of Horacio willingly bestowing Dominic’s number not only to Harley, but three other anonymous individuals. Horacio had yet to clarify despite Dominic’s mounting frustrations. To such lengths Horacio had reached to in order to avoid such a conversation, he had not even travelled to Wigan alongside Dominic, instead choosing to travel to an undisclosed location nearby that had been recommended to him by the member of The Chronological Order local to the area; Harley Weiss.
Harley himself was an instrumental part of the operation. He would be meeting with Shawn face-to-face, extracting the necessary information from him and providing the distraction needed for the extradition of Dawn. All information would be wired directly to all other’s involved through earpieces, a hidden microphone clipped inside of Harley’s shirt would pick up any and all clues that Shawn may unwittingly give.
Matthew, Shawn’s identical twin brother, was also a key part to this operation. Due to their striking similarities, it would be easy for Matthew to masquerade under his brother’s identity. Of course, should Shawn detect his brother’s presence, or indeed anybody else’s aside from Harley’s, the whole procedure would come undone. His role would be to remove Dawn from Shawn’s custody. He could easily walk out with Dawn in his arms without any questions being asked. Once a safe distance away, Matt would hand Dawn to Dominic, who would catch the 8.15pm train from Wigan North Western station.
Harley had arranged to meet with Shawn at 7.30pm. Fortunately, Shawn had arrived early. Even more gratuitously, he had Dawn with him.
“Shawn! Over here,” Harley waves from a chair in the corner of the public house. He was seated facing towards the restaurant section of the establishment, meaning that, in order for Shawn to sit opposite him, he would only be able to face a wall, his back therefore turned against anything that may be happening behind him. On his chosen table, two full pints of beer fizz impatiently. One has a few mouthfuls already missing, found hidden amongst the curls of Harley’s moustache and beard. Shawn smiles to him and walks across the restaurant floor, weaving the buggy through a slalom of occupied seats.
“Harley Weiss,” Shawn smiles to the first face that he has truly recognised in weeks. “It’s been a long time.”
“Sure has, man,” Harley stands, wrapping his arms around his old friend in an embrace, trading slaps to each other’s shoulders. “You’re looking well,” he compliments.
“You too,” the kidnapper replies. “I barely recognised you with the facial hair.”
“Things change over time,” Harley states, almost retracting his words. Dominic lets out a sigh. Of course Harley would have to bring up a reference to time. Then again, Shawn had unconsciously made a similar declaration, plus it had seemed to have gone unnoticed. “I
“I’ve abstained from alcohol for a while now, actually,” Shawn looks slightly dismayed. Harley feigns a dejected look, causing Shawn to let out a submissive shrug. “But why not? One drink won’t hurt,” he compromises with himself. “After all, after the past couple of weeks I’ve been having, I could certainly use a little something.”
“Sorry to hear that, man,” Harley says, playing the innocence of his role to perfection. He lowers himself back into his seat. Shawn positions Dawn’s pram directly next to him, the girl that is the center of attention lays blissfully asleep. Harley raises his glass welcomingly.
“To old friends,” Harley toasts.
“To old friends,” Shawn repeats, clunking the glasses together before they take simultaneous gulps from their respective beverages, Harley taking a greater amount of consumption than the rather more timid Shawn. After smacking his lips, Harley gazes into the buggy as the slumbering infant. “I heard that you and Amy had a daughter. What’s her name?” Shawn hesitates momentarily. He was not about to inform Harley that the ‘daughter’ technically was not his.
“Her name is… Hope,” Shawn says, sparking a raised eyebrow from Harley.
It is fortunate that the distance between Dominic and Shawn is so great. Not so much the fact that the impact of his fist against the desk would have been audible to Shawn even about the chatter of the restaurant’s patrons, but more that, if he were any closer, the fist would have collided with Shawn’s nose with equal force.
“That son of a bitch,” Dominic snarls. “Horacio, why am I sat here doing nothing? I can’t take it.”
“Patience, Dominic,” Horacio speaks calmly to Dominic through his own receiver. “Time will unravel everything to us so long as we wait for it to grace us.” Would time not technically be gracing them now? At every passing second? Dominic shakes such philosophy from his mind, instead focusing on the screens in front of him.
“Hope?” Harley says with a surprised voice, before noticing his error and clearing his throat in a bid to reiterate himself differently. “I mean, Hope,” Harley says with more sincerity. “That’s a nice name. Did you name her that?”
“Yes,” Shawn nods. “I picked the name. I’m sure Amy still isn’t too fond of it though.”
“No kidding,” Dominic mutters with discontent from his station.
“So is Amy around?” Harley continues with the probing questions. “It’d be great to see her again too after all these years.”
“No, she’s…” Shawn cuts himself off, trying to think of a suitable excuse. “We’re on a bit of a break at the moment, to be honest. She hasn’t been feeling very well and she’s kind of struggled with motherhood. I’ve offered to look after Hope for a little while until she gets better.” That statement was stretching the truth as far as it could be stretched before it could be deemed as dishonest. Electing to tell only half a story without the remainder, which contains greater meaning and exposition, could be classed as a sin in itself. Hardly befitting for a man who claims to be so close to God.
“That’s a shame,” Harley dismisses. “So, you’re staying here?”
“That’s right,” Shawn nods. “Just for the time being though. I need some time to think about the future, for both me and my daughter. If Amy doesn’t get better soon, I need some form of contingency plan in place to secure what is best for my child.”
“Fair enough,” Harley once again glances over Shawn’s proclamation. “Are you stopping by for very long? If you’re looking for a fresh start, I have space for an apprentice in my garage.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Shawn smiles, looking down towards Dawn, or Hope, “but I’m probably going to set off tomorrow. Amy’s family own a holiday home in Tenerife. I think a bit of winter sun will do me the world of good.”
Dominic’s eyes widen. The window of opportunity is a lot smaller than they’d first realised.
“We need to act now,” Dominic shouts into his mouthpiece.
“Do not be so rash,” Horacio warns. “Harley,” he changes his point of focus, “ask if Dawn has a passport.”
“Does Hope already have a passport?” Harley asks.
“That’s an oddly specific question,” Shawn says dubiously. “But yes, I’ve got all the necessary documentation ready. I had planned to go to Tenerife anyway. I wish Amy could have made it too. Just the three of us; our first holiday as a family. Unfortunately, that isn’t going to be the case, but I can’t deprive either myself or my daughter due to her mother’s failings.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” Harley says a little solemnly.
“You don’t know the full story,” Shawn says, taking another, considerably larger, gulp out of his beer. “I’m doing this for the good of my daughter. Is it not God’s will to protect your children from harm? To save those you love from ill influenced individuals who will only jeopardise your health?”
“I’ll jeopardise your fucking health,” Dominic scowls once more.
“I’m not a religious man, dude,” Harley once again shelves any emotion towards Shawn’s despondency. “I get what you mean, though. I think anybody would feel the same way.” No sooner than Harley finishes his sentence, Shawn plants his empty pint glass on the table with surprising force. Some nearby patrons turns in their seats. The sudden noise startles Dawn into life, immediately erupting with a cry. Realising his mistake, Shawn quickly shushes her. Harley tries to play his part as well, rocking the buggy back and forth softly. Within a few moment, Dawn goes silent again, closing her eyes and going back to sleep.
“You’re a natural,” Shawn credits. Harley lets out a smile.
“What can I say?” Harley chuckles, reaching into his pocket to withdraw a ten pound note. “Would you like another drink?”
“Allow me,” Shawn says, standing up quickly. “It’s my shout. Same again?” Harley nods, gesturing to the ‘1664’ logo on the glass before slipping the sterling back into his pocket. As Shawn walks away, Harley continues to rock Dawn to ensure she remains in her quiet state. The queue at the bar is at least two people deep already. It will be a few minutes before he returns with their order.
“Not yet,” Horacio says to all involved. “We need a proper distraction before we make our move.”
“I don’t know why we didn’t just spike his drink,” Dominic seethes.
“Because we do not want to give away anything that might trace this mission back to us,” Horacio informs with conviction. “If we drug him, he will know something is up.”
“And he isn’t going to suspect anything when his daughter gets swapped with a children’s toy?” Dominic retorts, almost mockingly.
“By that point, he will most likely be too intoxicated to do anything about it,” Horacio informs. “Harley? Remember, if you are still in his company when he notices the switch, you need to get out of there as soon as possible. Do not engage him in physical violence. The last thing we want is for someone to call the police.”
“Understood,” Harley confirms. Just in time, as Shawn reappears with two more full pints of Kronenberg.
“Here we are,” Shawn grins, taking another quick mouthful of his drink, but remains standing. “Do you mind watching Hope a moment while I go for a slash?” ‘Going for a slash’ is a typically British term for urination.
“Sure,” Harley nods. “The toilets are upstairs,” he states, gesturing towards a flight of steps directly in the center of the restaurant. Shawn nods gratefully, almost stumbling as he stands. Dominic cannot believe how much of a lightweight Shawn is. Then again, in spite of his claims to have steered clear of alcohol, he knew Shawn better than that. Over the years, they had shared many a beer. How distant those times seem now.
“He’s out of sight! Let’s move, people,” Horacio orchestrates from afar. “We have a minimum of one minute. Matt, make the switch.”
From the opposite side of the stairwell, Matt comes into view on Dominic’s screen. He is wearing identical clothes to his brother, except he is clearly huddling something beneath his armpit. He approaches Harley and Dawn, Harley watches like a hawk for any sign of Shawn. The kidnapper’s brother withdraws what he had been concealing; a plastic doll in the shape of a lifesized baby.
“You’re swapping it with a kid’s toy?” Dominic gawks. “That’s not going to work. He’s bound to notice!”
“Do you suggest we kidnap another kid to swap in for your daughter?” Horacio berates Dominic sarcastically, yet this is clearly a tense moment for all involved. To make it look more convincing, Matt removed the soft woollen hat Dawn had been wearing and slides it over the plastic doll’s scalp. With Harley unstrapping her from the buggy, Matt lifts Dawn into his arms. Harley places the doppelganger in its place, fastening the straps that once secured her. Dominic keeps an eye on the monitors. He had seen Shawn enter the men’s toilet through the camera in that particular corridor.
“I didn’t see many people going into the toilet prior to Shawn,” he explains. “He’ll probably be in and out in a flash.” As expected, the door to the gents swings open. Shawn emerges, pulling up his fly-front. “He’s coming.” Dominic shouts worrisomely. “Get out of there.” With seconds to spare, Matt walks towards the door and opens it just as Shawn turns at the top of the stairs. He swiftly exits. It appears as though he has not been detected. Harley continues to rock the buggy, pretending to console ‘Dawn’ inside.
“We’re in the clear,” Matt confirms.
“Head to the van,” Mortimer instructs. The van was parked only a couple of hundred yards from the pub; around the corner to avoid detection. Seconds pass. Dominic prepares to exit the vehicle, signalled to do so by a knock on the rear door. Key in hand, Dominic opens it, handing the ignition to Matthew immediately.
“Go,” Matt instructs, handing a large backpack to Dominic, who slots his arms between the straps and hoists it over his shoulders. “Take the next train to London Easton. From there, take the Northern Line of the Underground to Waterloo and take the connection to Southampton Central. Horacio will have a driver there waiting for you both.” With that, Matt finally hands Dominic the biggest prize of all. Dawn. Dominic barely recognizes Matt’s direction, instead pivoting on his heel and walking as briskly as he can towards the train station. He daren’t run. It could draw unwanted attention if he did so. He barely looks in the direction that he is going, mesmerised by the little girl in his arms.
Two train stations situated opposite one another were a mere five minute walk from The Moon Under The Water; Wigan North Western and Wigan Wallgate respectively. It would be the former from which Dominic would embark from. He checks his watch; 8.08pm. Seven minutes were what separated the two Atkinsons from freedom and entrapment. It would be the final series of trains that would safely return them both to their final destination of Southampton Central. Any delays would result in an overnight stay in London.
The instant that he plants his foot between the doors an onto the train, an electronic series of beeps resonate behind him. With a mechanical hiss, the doors arc close behind him, sealing themselves tightly to eliminate the chance of any further passengers following in his footsteps. He crouches as he enters the carriage; a trait he has come accustomed to in any enclosed space such as this, given his height. As another act of perfect timing, a loud roar of powerful engines vibrate through the floor of the coach. The very second that Dominic sits himself in a formerly vacant seat, the train slowly rolls out of the station, gathering speed with every inch. He rest his head on the top of the foam-like padding of the seat, letting out a content and triumphant sigh.
He had done it.
Finally, the ordeal was over.
He looks down at Dawn. Through it all, she had remained in a state of almost eternal slumber, as if in stasis. Dominic’s thoughts begin to run wild. He conjures an image of what he expects to see when Amy sees Dawn in his arms. He creates a future where all is serene; a beautiful summer’s morning with Amy cooking a delicious breakfast whilst a teenage Dawn makes the finishing touches to her homework, dressed in a school uniform.
This picturesque daydream is distracted by a voice in his earpiece. In his haste, he had neglected to disengage the device.
“The mission is not yet complete,” Horacio assertively says to Dominic. “Shawn has yet to notice the switch, but it will only be a matter of time before he does. It should give you plenty of time to return to Southampton. You should arrive in five hours and nine minutes. It is impossible for Shawn to get to you before you arrive. There are no flights to Southampton from any nearby airports and, given his alcohol intake, he would be convicted for drink-driving if he were foolish enough to make such a decision.”
“So what’s next?” Dominic says into his mouthpiece softly, making sure that nobody else is able to hear him. Fortunately, the carriage is relatively empty. The majority of the passengers that do share the coach with him remain in a slumber as deep as that of his daughter’s.
“Once you are home, get some rest,” Horacio instructs. “You are to keep your phone off at all times. The last thing we want is for you to be traced. Not that Shawn would have such a means to track you, but it is a risk we cannot take. I have round the clock support for Amy. She will be safe until morning. Go and see her. Be with your family. I will be in touch tomorrow, once the mission is complete.”
“Alright,” Dominic nods, knowing that his action cannot be seen, but the intent is still meant to be positive. In spite of the all the pessimism aimed towards Horacio for these past few days, there is no denying that if it weren’t for him, Dawn would not be in his arms right now. “Horacio? Thank you.” He says this with genuine sincerity. It is not acknowledged, but he knows that is must have been heard.
Yet, as relieved as he feels, there is still something eating at him. Vengeance still remains in his mind, latching onto his brain like a leech.
Shawn’s own tragedy would not suffice. He had not truly paid for his crimes. But was there a need for Dominator to stoop to his level?
Perhaps his upcoming encounter would serve as a different perspective in how to settle these kinds of disputes.
Firstly, there was the team of Wasp and High Tide. According to Arica Lewitt, the trio referred to themselves as ‘The Sea Men.’ How apt. Few had expected Arica to pose such a challenge during their most recent encounter. Yet, somehow, she managed to pull out all the stops. She had exceeded not just the fans’ expectation, but also her own…
…but that still wasn’t enough.
How many times would High Tide oppose Dominator before he understood that he would be entering a battle that he could not win. Dominator is not just a ‘rough wave’ in the middle of the ocean. He is the living definition of a full blown tsunami; an impenetrable wall that leaves nothing but destruction and devastation in his wake.
The solace in their participation was that Dominator had already subdued one third of ‘The Sea Men.’ This Trauma, he had the opportunity to finish the job. Alongside High Tide was the enigmatic Wasp, the supposed elder of the group. His participation had nowhere near the level of impact of High Tide or even Trouble for that matter. He remained enigmatic. Perhaps that could work in his favour. Despite this, there have been many individuals on the roster that Dominator had come up against for the very first time since his arrival back in August of 2017.
And then there was ‘Club V.’ Is it ‘Club 5?’ ‘Club Vee?’ ’Vagina Club?’
Ahh, Johnny Matthews. A man as inconsistent as Razor Blade’s win-loss record.
By now, it is well documented that the former ‘Johnny Vivacious’ has not had so much to feel ‘vivacious’ about. Could it be that this is the reason for his recent identity crisis. Dominator didn’t particularly care about any internal turmoil that he might be experiencing. All he cared about was showing Johnny how trying to steal his spotlight was a bad idea.
And Dominator would be more than happy to beat that knowledge into him, even if it rendered him senseless. Should he continue this bloodfeud, he would come to learn nothing else.
Seeking vengeance for the assault made by Michaels and Matthews during The Icey Awards did not need to be made prematurely. After all, Dominator was certain that Matthews was expecting some form of backlash just two weeks ago. Yet, there was nothing.
The mastery of revenge is by striking when the target least suspects it. Johnny doesn’t know when Dominator will force Matthews to pay his dues. That is the beauty of retribution.
It is coming.
But on Dominator’s time. Not Johnny’s.
But then, of course, there is the man they call “Stormm,” the reigning North American Champion. A man guilty by association.
A man in his position should be thankful that Dominator’s priorities currently stand with his own Championship. Whilst Dominator versus Justin Michaels has money written all over it, he would surely be consumed with doubt when being challenged by The Zenith. Who knows when that day will come? Sooner rather than later, no doubt. But so long as Justin continues to waste valuable airtime with his shenanigans, there are plenty of other candidates who will be willing to put him in his place in the meantime. Trauma will simply serve as what could be should Dominator decide to take his career to the next stage.
Justin Michaels; Stepping Stone Incarnate.
The list of challenges on social media had seemed endless. Indeed, Dominator had gifted unto the Underground Championship more prestige and value than any of its occupiers in recent memory. With every passing victory, his reputation grew exponentially. Every challenge that came his way was not directly targeted towards the crown he wears with such pride. No. It had come to point where to defeat Dominator would be an accomplishment only worthy to an elite; like pulling the sword from the stone or slaying the Hydra of Lernea.
There is no man or woman in the wrestling industry that could keep The Suzerain of Time down.
Johnny had tried.
High Tide had tried.
Razor Blade had tried.
Hell, even Gabriel had tried.
But they had all failed. Each and every single one of them.
The only saving grace that these four men had would be the one single handicap that Dominator would have in this contest; his partner, Tyrone “Crazy Boy” Smith.
Dominator had grown to detest Tag Team competitons. As the saying goes, ‘if you want something done right, it’s better to do it yourself.’ These words could not ring more true when being forced to compete alongside an individual who was nowhere near his level, no matter how ‘worthy’ his position in the Hall Of Fame might be.
Tyrone was one of the only individuals who had managed to prevent Dominator from a purified victory in singles competition. Despite not actually being defeated in the contest, he also did not walk out a decisive victor. That factoid alone is the one and only redeeming quality that Tyrone possesses; the one notch on his tomahawk that Dominator could begrudgingly respect.
But, of course, if Tyrone were the one to let his team down, he would feel the full extent Dominic’s wrath. He would have wished that he had been the one to try and steal Dominator’s Underground Championship, just to make the impending onslaught have something more of a payoff.
So engrossed is he by these thoughts that they follow him into a gentle slumber.
Sunday 21st January 2018 - 10.00am
Location: Odstock Hospital, Salisbury, Wiltshire, England, United Kingdom
Newfound optimism is engaged in every stride in spite of his fatigue.
Once again, sleep had eluded him for much of the night. Though, this time, it was not out of the stress and anxiety of his missing daughter. But it was a combination of relief, excitement and the fact that Dawn’s puerile urges had kept Dominic awake through the night. Fortunately, Dominic had been provided with necessary nutritional and sanitary supplies long before his train journey began.
The dark clouds that had once filled the sky seem to have sensed the virtuousness of this new day, making way for sunlight so glorious. It feels like the sunlight follows him across the ward. The nurse, the same one who had been caring for Amy seemingly all this time, escorts him cheerily across the ward. Upon reaching her bay, she holds the curtain like the host of a games show, ready to reveal to him what he has won. Slowly, she pulls the curtain back. Dominic’s eyes land on Amy. She is resting softly, as if already at ease by sensing that Dawn in safe. Once he is fully within the bay, the nurse slides the curtain back along the rail, enclosing them completely.
“Amy?” Dominic says quietly, as if to rouse her without startling her. He knows how jumpy she has been as of late. With a squint, Amy’s eyes slowly open.
“Dominic,” Amy says as if seeking clarification.
“Not just me,” he grins, gently contorting her arm in preparation for her to receive her gift.
“My baby,” Amy gasps. Shock and joy trickle from her eyes in the form of tears. She weakly reaches out. Dominic hands Dawn into her waiting arms. She huddles the baby close to her, showering it with the love and affection that she had missed giving for what had felt like an eternity. The moisture from her tears and overjoyed kisses dampen Dawn’s soft forehead. Amy looks up to Dominic, a smile as broad as the horizon engulfing her face. “Thank you,” she weeps. “Thank you so much.” Dominic kneels in front of Amy, sliding one of his gigantic arms across Amy’s shoulders, gently pulling her into his own chest. She accepts the embrace, resting her head on his chest much like her daughter does to her. With his other hand, Dominic runs his fingers through Amy’s hair. It is greasy to the touch, but it is not something that allows Dominic to be deterred. Amy looks up at Dominic. “I love you, Dominic James Atkinson.”
He looks agog.
He had not seen such positivism from the mother of his child in months.
He looks to his daughter. She lets out a toothless, yet adorable yawn.
This girl; this beautiful bundle of joy that had been introduced into their lives, truly had a power greater than anything that a superheroine would wield. She had the power to mend broken hearts, bring smiles to faces to all in her presence and somehow strengthen bonds between everybody blessed to be a part of her life.
Grinning, he looks towards Amy.
“I love you too.”
Sunday 21st January 2018 - 11.37am
Location: Room 106, The Moon Under The Water, Market Place, Wigan, Greater Manchester, England
“Hope is lost,” he mutters solemnly to himself.
The bedroom is in total disarray. Shards of bad luck glisten on the floor beneath where a mirror used to stand. An overturned chair barely hides the broken white china of cups and saucers. A ripped duvet cover hangs limply from the bed. Shawn’s palms are pressed firmly against either side of his temple, his fingers clawing into his scalp. He stares hysterically at the floor.
All that is left to remind him of his time with Dawn are the few infantile articles nestled within an empty crib. He leans against the rickety woodwork, staring at a lonely teddy bear that he had purchased to his daughter. It’s soulless eyes stare back at him. Slowly, he reaches into the cot and lifts the bear, cradling it as if it were the young girl herself. He strokes its head.
“Hope is not lost,” a voice says from behind him. “It has simply been returned to where it first came from.” Shawn peers over his shoulder, clenching a fist.
“Dominic?” Shawn hisses.
“Indeed,” the voice confirms. “The Chronological Order seem to be far more cerebral in their tactics than I ever envisioned. Mortimer orchestrated the event. Apparently Harley Weiss is one of the four Watchmen. I would not have thought it, considering the passing of time between their last assembly. Stranger things have happened though.”
“Is Amy alright?” Shawn asks, stuffing some belongings into a suitcase.
“Her rehabilitation is going swimmingly,” the anonymous individual replies. “I thought it would be best to make myself scarce before Dominic returns. Plus, she has started to notice my presence. She refers to me as ‘The Bird Man’ for some reason.”
“Your choice of attire might give it away, Marx.” Shawn chuckles, trying to somehow amuse himself. The man steps directly in front of Shawn, glaring at him venomously.
“Do what you must to Dominic, but you are not to bring any more harm to Amy,” he warns. “She has suffered enough.”
“I’ve hired you to do a job, Marx,” Shawn snarls to him. “So far, you’ve only done half a job.”
“You’ve asked me to ensure Amy is safe and to infiltrate The Order,” Marx states. “Ironically, Mortimer has asked me to do the exact same thing, only for a smaller fee.”
“If you bring Hope back to me, I will pay you double,” Shawn says sternly, standing by his word. Marx lets out a contented nod. “This isn’t over,” Shawn sneers with a grin, almost crazed. “Mark my words, this is not over.”
Location: Odstock Hospital, Salisbury, Wiltshire, England, United Kingdom
Tossing and turning, she shivers as though she is being blasted by a Baltic gale. The sheet that once covered her has been kicked to the end of her bed, only the gown that wears maintains her decency. Wires and tubes jiggle as her muscles jerk.
“No. No!” Amy shudders, going into spasm amidst her slumber. “Please, stay away from me.”
“I’m only here to protect you,” somebody, or something, says to her. “I am your guardian angel.”
She tries to lift her arms. Upon doing so, she immediately winces, gritting her teeth as to disallow an anguished squeal from escaping through them. With that, she feels something gently clasp her arm. As a result of the sharp awakening from her slumber, Amy is yet to distinguish the real world from that of her nightmare. She looks wearily towards the nurse through narrowed eyes.
“Just try to relax, Miss Trenton,” the nurse tries to comfort her.
“You‘re not him?” Amy slurs, yet to escape from her outlandish visions.
“Who, my dear?” the nurse asks, slightly confused but with understanding of Amy’s worries.
“The Bird Man,” Amy replies. The nurse mentally repeats those words. The Bird Man? She takes a quick look around, trying to source anything that might trigger these thoughts. In these confines that has been cordoned off from the rest of the ward by one single arcing curtain, she cannot see anything that might give this impression. Perhaps more troublingly, this was not the first time that Amy had claimed to see such a being force entry into the sanctuary of her dreams. “You’ve been dreaming,” the nurse assures Amy, assisting her into a more upright position. Amy lets out a groan that consists of fatigue, confusion, fear and sweet relief amalgamated that transforms into a yawn. Again, she cringes from a sharp pain from beneath her sternum. “Easy now,” the nurse consoles her.
“It just… seems so real,” Amy tiredly sighs, trying to shake the image of her mental stalker from her mind. Indeed, even before being admitted into the hospital, pretty well ever since her estranged husband abducted her daughter, some twisted instinct had been telling her that something threatening was close by. Like the snapping of a twig under a huntsman’s boot alerting a grazing doe, Amy had tried to distance herself however she could. But all attempts up to now had failed.
Even the afterlife refused to grace her with shelter. Instead, her bid to free herself with the knife had imprisoned her in this hospital, her bedridden state had been her sentence.
“Can I get you anything?” the nurse enquires, genuinely seeking to assist the distressed patient any way that she can. “A glass of water, perhaps?” Hesitantly, still not able to fully register what is happening, she nods her head rapidly, taking a deep breath in a bid to remain calm and regain lost composure. “Okay,” the nurse smiles. “I’ll be right back.” The medical practitioner maintains eye contact with Amy even as she reverses through the curtain. The distressed wheezes coming from Amy’s heavy breathing might suggest that she may be experiencing inner turmoil, be it that she is suppressing inner demons or going into cardiac arrest. Amy lifts her head to smile meekly at the doctor, softening her breath and slowly lowering herself back down into her pillows.
With the nurse gone, Amy stares up towards the ceiling of the ward; a monotonous canvas of white illuminated by ‘soft light;’ the kind of light designed to provide minimal hindrance to sleep during twilight hours. Yet, even as she closes her eyes again, she can still see a hue of pink as the light only slightly penetrates through her eyelids. She takes one more deep breath, holding the self-inflicted wound in a bid to stem the pain.
“You needn’t fear me,” a voice whispers hushly to her. She bolts upwards again, immediately grimacing from the grief seeping from her stab wound. “I have no reason to harm you,” it continues. Amy attempts to open her eyes, but she cannot bring herself to do so. She shies her face away, opting to believe that the voice that she hears exists solely in her head.
That is, until she feel something soft run down her cheek; a gloved finger that strokes her with the delicacy and silkiness of a feather.
“I will continue to watch over you, for I have been entrusted with your safety and wellbeing.”
That same chill comes over her, as if she has been touched by Death himself.
“Dominic,” she whimpers.
Saturday 20th January 2018 - 7.24pm
Location: The Moon Under The Water, Market Place, Wigan, Greater Manchester, England, United Kingdom
As one would expect for the time of day, the bar is heaving with activity and custom. The staff serving behind the bar are hardly capable of keeping up with demand. For every one person they serve, two more join the queue. Almost every stool around the bar area is occupied; hopeful punters pump their change into fruit machine in hopes of hitting the jackpot to pay for the rest of their evenings, or at the very least, reclaim a fraction of the money that they had already lost. Hundreds of synchronized conversations drown out faint background music designed to create a more dynamic atmosphere.
The floor is typical of any establishment owned by the JD Wetherspoons corporation; a lurid and relentless torrent of dark blue with the same unusual pattern that seemed to be randomly conceived spreading across every inch of carpet space. Away from the bar and fruit machines that greet you through the front door, a section of flooring littered with tables and chairs in odd positions. Purple tablecloths match the coloration of the chairs around them. Pillars of crudely painted grey woodwork are scattered along the room. Various historical pictures provide décor.
This would be the setting for this story’s final act. Today is the day. Today… Dawn comes home.
Horacio had taken every possible outcome into consideration while formulating the schematics of this rescue mission. The equipment and tactics being deployed would rival that of any criminal investigative agency. Every detail, from the location of those involved down to the exact timings of their respective executions had been discussed at length.
Much to Dominic’s angst and protest, it had been established, or rather concreted by Horacio, that Dominic’s involvement would be minimal. He had been assigned to sit and watch footage from the security cameras to the bar-slash-pub-slash-hotel that Shawn had sought refuge; The Moon Under The Water. It would have made more sense for Dominic to be the one to retrieve Dawn, considering the likelihood of Dawn recognising her father’s face would reduce the trauma of the incident for her as a whole. Much to his chagrin, however, it also kept any potential confrontation between him and Shawn to a minimum. For so long, he had been waiting to give Shawn a piece of his mind. Not so much ‘a piece of his mind,’ per say, more a physical example of the torment shared by Dominic and Amy as a result of their daughter’s abduction.
His location; a makeshift center of operations in the back of a Ford Transit box van. Cramped and uncomfortable conditions for a man of his stature.
This should be an ebullient occasion, yet Dominic is consumed by scepticism. As opposed to focusing on the recovery of his daughter, he simply sits in silence, glaring at Horacio. The founder of The Chronological Order had kept his distance from Dominic since meeting with him in the middle of the night just five days removed. The aberration of his usual demeanour since then was the catalyst for Dominic’s mistrust. Instead of being at Dominic’s side to relay his daily instructions, Horacio had contacted him through less than personal means; SMS and email predominantly.
It had been Harley Weiss’ unexpected phone call that had started it all. More specifically, the mentioning of Horacio willingly bestowing Dominic’s number not only to Harley, but three other anonymous individuals. Horacio had yet to clarify despite Dominic’s mounting frustrations. To such lengths Horacio had reached to in order to avoid such a conversation, he had not even travelled to Wigan alongside Dominic, instead choosing to travel to an undisclosed location nearby that had been recommended to him by the member of The Chronological Order local to the area; Harley Weiss.
Harley himself was an instrumental part of the operation. He would be meeting with Shawn face-to-face, extracting the necessary information from him and providing the distraction needed for the extradition of Dawn. All information would be wired directly to all other’s involved through earpieces, a hidden microphone clipped inside of Harley’s shirt would pick up any and all clues that Shawn may unwittingly give.
Matthew, Shawn’s identical twin brother, was also a key part to this operation. Due to their striking similarities, it would be easy for Matthew to masquerade under his brother’s identity. Of course, should Shawn detect his brother’s presence, or indeed anybody else’s aside from Harley’s, the whole procedure would come undone. His role would be to remove Dawn from Shawn’s custody. He could easily walk out with Dawn in his arms without any questions being asked. Once a safe distance away, Matt would hand Dawn to Dominic, who would catch the 8.15pm train from Wigan North Western station.
Harley had arranged to meet with Shawn at 7.30pm. Fortunately, Shawn had arrived early. Even more gratuitously, he had Dawn with him.
“Shawn! Over here,” Harley waves from a chair in the corner of the public house. He was seated facing towards the restaurant section of the establishment, meaning that, in order for Shawn to sit opposite him, he would only be able to face a wall, his back therefore turned against anything that may be happening behind him. On his chosen table, two full pints of beer fizz impatiently. One has a few mouthfuls already missing, found hidden amongst the curls of Harley’s moustache and beard. Shawn smiles to him and walks across the restaurant floor, weaving the buggy through a slalom of occupied seats.
“Harley Weiss,” Shawn smiles to the first face that he has truly recognised in weeks. “It’s been a long time.”
“Sure has, man,” Harley stands, wrapping his arms around his old friend in an embrace, trading slaps to each other’s shoulders. “You’re looking well,” he compliments.
“You too,” the kidnapper replies. “I barely recognised you with the facial hair.”
“Things change over time,” Harley states, almost retracting his words. Dominic lets out a sigh. Of course Harley would have to bring up a reference to time. Then again, Shawn had unconsciously made a similar declaration, plus it had seemed to have gone unnoticed. “I
“I’ve abstained from alcohol for a while now, actually,” Shawn looks slightly dismayed. Harley feigns a dejected look, causing Shawn to let out a submissive shrug. “But why not? One drink won’t hurt,” he compromises with himself. “After all, after the past couple of weeks I’ve been having, I could certainly use a little something.”
“Sorry to hear that, man,” Harley says, playing the innocence of his role to perfection. He lowers himself back into his seat. Shawn positions Dawn’s pram directly next to him, the girl that is the center of attention lays blissfully asleep. Harley raises his glass welcomingly.
“To old friends,” Harley toasts.
“To old friends,” Shawn repeats, clunking the glasses together before they take simultaneous gulps from their respective beverages, Harley taking a greater amount of consumption than the rather more timid Shawn. After smacking his lips, Harley gazes into the buggy as the slumbering infant. “I heard that you and Amy had a daughter. What’s her name?” Shawn hesitates momentarily. He was not about to inform Harley that the ‘daughter’ technically was not his.
“Her name is… Hope,” Shawn says, sparking a raised eyebrow from Harley.
It is fortunate that the distance between Dominic and Shawn is so great. Not so much the fact that the impact of his fist against the desk would have been audible to Shawn even about the chatter of the restaurant’s patrons, but more that, if he were any closer, the fist would have collided with Shawn’s nose with equal force.
“That son of a bitch,” Dominic snarls. “Horacio, why am I sat here doing nothing? I can’t take it.”
“Patience, Dominic,” Horacio speaks calmly to Dominic through his own receiver. “Time will unravel everything to us so long as we wait for it to grace us.” Would time not technically be gracing them now? At every passing second? Dominic shakes such philosophy from his mind, instead focusing on the screens in front of him.
“Hope?” Harley says with a surprised voice, before noticing his error and clearing his throat in a bid to reiterate himself differently. “I mean, Hope,” Harley says with more sincerity. “That’s a nice name. Did you name her that?”
“Yes,” Shawn nods. “I picked the name. I’m sure Amy still isn’t too fond of it though.”
“No kidding,” Dominic mutters with discontent from his station.
“So is Amy around?” Harley continues with the probing questions. “It’d be great to see her again too after all these years.”
“No, she’s…” Shawn cuts himself off, trying to think of a suitable excuse. “We’re on a bit of a break at the moment, to be honest. She hasn’t been feeling very well and she’s kind of struggled with motherhood. I’ve offered to look after Hope for a little while until she gets better.” That statement was stretching the truth as far as it could be stretched before it could be deemed as dishonest. Electing to tell only half a story without the remainder, which contains greater meaning and exposition, could be classed as a sin in itself. Hardly befitting for a man who claims to be so close to God.
“That’s a shame,” Harley dismisses. “So, you’re staying here?”
“That’s right,” Shawn nods. “Just for the time being though. I need some time to think about the future, for both me and my daughter. If Amy doesn’t get better soon, I need some form of contingency plan in place to secure what is best for my child.”
“Fair enough,” Harley once again glances over Shawn’s proclamation. “Are you stopping by for very long? If you’re looking for a fresh start, I have space for an apprentice in my garage.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Shawn smiles, looking down towards Dawn, or Hope, “but I’m probably going to set off tomorrow. Amy’s family own a holiday home in Tenerife. I think a bit of winter sun will do me the world of good.”
Dominic’s eyes widen. The window of opportunity is a lot smaller than they’d first realised.
“We need to act now,” Dominic shouts into his mouthpiece.
“Do not be so rash,” Horacio warns. “Harley,” he changes his point of focus, “ask if Dawn has a passport.”
“Does Hope already have a passport?” Harley asks.
“That’s an oddly specific question,” Shawn says dubiously. “But yes, I’ve got all the necessary documentation ready. I had planned to go to Tenerife anyway. I wish Amy could have made it too. Just the three of us; our first holiday as a family. Unfortunately, that isn’t going to be the case, but I can’t deprive either myself or my daughter due to her mother’s failings.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” Harley says a little solemnly.
“You don’t know the full story,” Shawn says, taking another, considerably larger, gulp out of his beer. “I’m doing this for the good of my daughter. Is it not God’s will to protect your children from harm? To save those you love from ill influenced individuals who will only jeopardise your health?”
“I’ll jeopardise your fucking health,” Dominic scowls once more.
“I’m not a religious man, dude,” Harley once again shelves any emotion towards Shawn’s despondency. “I get what you mean, though. I think anybody would feel the same way.” No sooner than Harley finishes his sentence, Shawn plants his empty pint glass on the table with surprising force. Some nearby patrons turns in their seats. The sudden noise startles Dawn into life, immediately erupting with a cry. Realising his mistake, Shawn quickly shushes her. Harley tries to play his part as well, rocking the buggy back and forth softly. Within a few moment, Dawn goes silent again, closing her eyes and going back to sleep.
“You’re a natural,” Shawn credits. Harley lets out a smile.
“What can I say?” Harley chuckles, reaching into his pocket to withdraw a ten pound note. “Would you like another drink?”
“Allow me,” Shawn says, standing up quickly. “It’s my shout. Same again?” Harley nods, gesturing to the ‘1664’ logo on the glass before slipping the sterling back into his pocket. As Shawn walks away, Harley continues to rock Dawn to ensure she remains in her quiet state. The queue at the bar is at least two people deep already. It will be a few minutes before he returns with their order.
“Not yet,” Horacio says to all involved. “We need a proper distraction before we make our move.”
“I don’t know why we didn’t just spike his drink,” Dominic seethes.
“Because we do not want to give away anything that might trace this mission back to us,” Horacio informs with conviction. “If we drug him, he will know something is up.”
“And he isn’t going to suspect anything when his daughter gets swapped with a children’s toy?” Dominic retorts, almost mockingly.
“By that point, he will most likely be too intoxicated to do anything about it,” Horacio informs. “Harley? Remember, if you are still in his company when he notices the switch, you need to get out of there as soon as possible. Do not engage him in physical violence. The last thing we want is for someone to call the police.”
“Understood,” Harley confirms. Just in time, as Shawn reappears with two more full pints of Kronenberg.
“Here we are,” Shawn grins, taking another quick mouthful of his drink, but remains standing. “Do you mind watching Hope a moment while I go for a slash?” ‘Going for a slash’ is a typically British term for urination.
“Sure,” Harley nods. “The toilets are upstairs,” he states, gesturing towards a flight of steps directly in the center of the restaurant. Shawn nods gratefully, almost stumbling as he stands. Dominic cannot believe how much of a lightweight Shawn is. Then again, in spite of his claims to have steered clear of alcohol, he knew Shawn better than that. Over the years, they had shared many a beer. How distant those times seem now.
“He’s out of sight! Let’s move, people,” Horacio orchestrates from afar. “We have a minimum of one minute. Matt, make the switch.”
From the opposite side of the stairwell, Matt comes into view on Dominic’s screen. He is wearing identical clothes to his brother, except he is clearly huddling something beneath his armpit. He approaches Harley and Dawn, Harley watches like a hawk for any sign of Shawn. The kidnapper’s brother withdraws what he had been concealing; a plastic doll in the shape of a lifesized baby.
“You’re swapping it with a kid’s toy?” Dominic gawks. “That’s not going to work. He’s bound to notice!”
“Do you suggest we kidnap another kid to swap in for your daughter?” Horacio berates Dominic sarcastically, yet this is clearly a tense moment for all involved. To make it look more convincing, Matt removed the soft woollen hat Dawn had been wearing and slides it over the plastic doll’s scalp. With Harley unstrapping her from the buggy, Matt lifts Dawn into his arms. Harley places the doppelganger in its place, fastening the straps that once secured her. Dominic keeps an eye on the monitors. He had seen Shawn enter the men’s toilet through the camera in that particular corridor.
“I didn’t see many people going into the toilet prior to Shawn,” he explains. “He’ll probably be in and out in a flash.” As expected, the door to the gents swings open. Shawn emerges, pulling up his fly-front. “He’s coming.” Dominic shouts worrisomely. “Get out of there.” With seconds to spare, Matt walks towards the door and opens it just as Shawn turns at the top of the stairs. He swiftly exits. It appears as though he has not been detected. Harley continues to rock the buggy, pretending to console ‘Dawn’ inside.
“We’re in the clear,” Matt confirms.
“Head to the van,” Mortimer instructs. The van was parked only a couple of hundred yards from the pub; around the corner to avoid detection. Seconds pass. Dominic prepares to exit the vehicle, signalled to do so by a knock on the rear door. Key in hand, Dominic opens it, handing the ignition to Matthew immediately.
“Go,” Matt instructs, handing a large backpack to Dominic, who slots his arms between the straps and hoists it over his shoulders. “Take the next train to London Easton. From there, take the Northern Line of the Underground to Waterloo and take the connection to Southampton Central. Horacio will have a driver there waiting for you both.” With that, Matt finally hands Dominic the biggest prize of all. Dawn. Dominic barely recognizes Matt’s direction, instead pivoting on his heel and walking as briskly as he can towards the train station. He daren’t run. It could draw unwanted attention if he did so. He barely looks in the direction that he is going, mesmerised by the little girl in his arms.
Two train stations situated opposite one another were a mere five minute walk from The Moon Under The Water; Wigan North Western and Wigan Wallgate respectively. It would be the former from which Dominic would embark from. He checks his watch; 8.08pm. Seven minutes were what separated the two Atkinsons from freedom and entrapment. It would be the final series of trains that would safely return them both to their final destination of Southampton Central. Any delays would result in an overnight stay in London.
The instant that he plants his foot between the doors an onto the train, an electronic series of beeps resonate behind him. With a mechanical hiss, the doors arc close behind him, sealing themselves tightly to eliminate the chance of any further passengers following in his footsteps. He crouches as he enters the carriage; a trait he has come accustomed to in any enclosed space such as this, given his height. As another act of perfect timing, a loud roar of powerful engines vibrate through the floor of the coach. The very second that Dominic sits himself in a formerly vacant seat, the train slowly rolls out of the station, gathering speed with every inch. He rest his head on the top of the foam-like padding of the seat, letting out a content and triumphant sigh.
He had done it.
Finally, the ordeal was over.
He looks down at Dawn. Through it all, she had remained in a state of almost eternal slumber, as if in stasis. Dominic’s thoughts begin to run wild. He conjures an image of what he expects to see when Amy sees Dawn in his arms. He creates a future where all is serene; a beautiful summer’s morning with Amy cooking a delicious breakfast whilst a teenage Dawn makes the finishing touches to her homework, dressed in a school uniform.
This picturesque daydream is distracted by a voice in his earpiece. In his haste, he had neglected to disengage the device.
“The mission is not yet complete,” Horacio assertively says to Dominic. “Shawn has yet to notice the switch, but it will only be a matter of time before he does. It should give you plenty of time to return to Southampton. You should arrive in five hours and nine minutes. It is impossible for Shawn to get to you before you arrive. There are no flights to Southampton from any nearby airports and, given his alcohol intake, he would be convicted for drink-driving if he were foolish enough to make such a decision.”
“So what’s next?” Dominic says into his mouthpiece softly, making sure that nobody else is able to hear him. Fortunately, the carriage is relatively empty. The majority of the passengers that do share the coach with him remain in a slumber as deep as that of his daughter’s.
“Once you are home, get some rest,” Horacio instructs. “You are to keep your phone off at all times. The last thing we want is for you to be traced. Not that Shawn would have such a means to track you, but it is a risk we cannot take. I have round the clock support for Amy. She will be safe until morning. Go and see her. Be with your family. I will be in touch tomorrow, once the mission is complete.”
“Alright,” Dominic nods, knowing that his action cannot be seen, but the intent is still meant to be positive. In spite of the all the pessimism aimed towards Horacio for these past few days, there is no denying that if it weren’t for him, Dawn would not be in his arms right now. “Horacio? Thank you.” He says this with genuine sincerity. It is not acknowledged, but he knows that is must have been heard.
Yet, as relieved as he feels, there is still something eating at him. Vengeance still remains in his mind, latching onto his brain like a leech.
Shawn’s own tragedy would not suffice. He had not truly paid for his crimes. But was there a need for Dominator to stoop to his level?
Perhaps his upcoming encounter would serve as a different perspective in how to settle these kinds of disputes.
Firstly, there was the team of Wasp and High Tide. According to Arica Lewitt, the trio referred to themselves as ‘The Sea Men.’ How apt. Few had expected Arica to pose such a challenge during their most recent encounter. Yet, somehow, she managed to pull out all the stops. She had exceeded not just the fans’ expectation, but also her own…
…but that still wasn’t enough.
How many times would High Tide oppose Dominator before he understood that he would be entering a battle that he could not win. Dominator is not just a ‘rough wave’ in the middle of the ocean. He is the living definition of a full blown tsunami; an impenetrable wall that leaves nothing but destruction and devastation in his wake.
The solace in their participation was that Dominator had already subdued one third of ‘The Sea Men.’ This Trauma, he had the opportunity to finish the job. Alongside High Tide was the enigmatic Wasp, the supposed elder of the group. His participation had nowhere near the level of impact of High Tide or even Trouble for that matter. He remained enigmatic. Perhaps that could work in his favour. Despite this, there have been many individuals on the roster that Dominator had come up against for the very first time since his arrival back in August of 2017.
And then there was ‘Club V.’ Is it ‘Club 5?’ ‘Club Vee?’ ’Vagina Club?’
Ahh, Johnny Matthews. A man as inconsistent as Razor Blade’s win-loss record.
By now, it is well documented that the former ‘Johnny Vivacious’ has not had so much to feel ‘vivacious’ about. Could it be that this is the reason for his recent identity crisis. Dominator didn’t particularly care about any internal turmoil that he might be experiencing. All he cared about was showing Johnny how trying to steal his spotlight was a bad idea.
And Dominator would be more than happy to beat that knowledge into him, even if it rendered him senseless. Should he continue this bloodfeud, he would come to learn nothing else.
Seeking vengeance for the assault made by Michaels and Matthews during The Icey Awards did not need to be made prematurely. After all, Dominator was certain that Matthews was expecting some form of backlash just two weeks ago. Yet, there was nothing.
The mastery of revenge is by striking when the target least suspects it. Johnny doesn’t know when Dominator will force Matthews to pay his dues. That is the beauty of retribution.
It is coming.
But on Dominator’s time. Not Johnny’s.
But then, of course, there is the man they call “Stormm,” the reigning North American Champion. A man guilty by association.
A man in his position should be thankful that Dominator’s priorities currently stand with his own Championship. Whilst Dominator versus Justin Michaels has money written all over it, he would surely be consumed with doubt when being challenged by The Zenith. Who knows when that day will come? Sooner rather than later, no doubt. But so long as Justin continues to waste valuable airtime with his shenanigans, there are plenty of other candidates who will be willing to put him in his place in the meantime. Trauma will simply serve as what could be should Dominator decide to take his career to the next stage.
Justin Michaels; Stepping Stone Incarnate.
The list of challenges on social media had seemed endless. Indeed, Dominator had gifted unto the Underground Championship more prestige and value than any of its occupiers in recent memory. With every passing victory, his reputation grew exponentially. Every challenge that came his way was not directly targeted towards the crown he wears with such pride. No. It had come to point where to defeat Dominator would be an accomplishment only worthy to an elite; like pulling the sword from the stone or slaying the Hydra of Lernea.
There is no man or woman in the wrestling industry that could keep The Suzerain of Time down.
Johnny had tried.
High Tide had tried.
Razor Blade had tried.
Hell, even Gabriel had tried.
But they had all failed. Each and every single one of them.
The only saving grace that these four men had would be the one single handicap that Dominator would have in this contest; his partner, Tyrone “Crazy Boy” Smith.
Dominator had grown to detest Tag Team competitons. As the saying goes, ‘if you want something done right, it’s better to do it yourself.’ These words could not ring more true when being forced to compete alongside an individual who was nowhere near his level, no matter how ‘worthy’ his position in the Hall Of Fame might be.
Tyrone was one of the only individuals who had managed to prevent Dominator from a purified victory in singles competition. Despite not actually being defeated in the contest, he also did not walk out a decisive victor. That factoid alone is the one and only redeeming quality that Tyrone possesses; the one notch on his tomahawk that Dominator could begrudgingly respect.
But, of course, if Tyrone were the one to let his team down, he would feel the full extent Dominic’s wrath. He would have wished that he had been the one to try and steal Dominator’s Underground Championship, just to make the impending onslaught have something more of a payoff.
So engrossed is he by these thoughts that they follow him into a gentle slumber.
Sunday 21st January 2018 - 10.00am
Location: Odstock Hospital, Salisbury, Wiltshire, England, United Kingdom
Newfound optimism is engaged in every stride in spite of his fatigue.
Once again, sleep had eluded him for much of the night. Though, this time, it was not out of the stress and anxiety of his missing daughter. But it was a combination of relief, excitement and the fact that Dawn’s puerile urges had kept Dominic awake through the night. Fortunately, Dominic had been provided with necessary nutritional and sanitary supplies long before his train journey began.
The dark clouds that had once filled the sky seem to have sensed the virtuousness of this new day, making way for sunlight so glorious. It feels like the sunlight follows him across the ward. The nurse, the same one who had been caring for Amy seemingly all this time, escorts him cheerily across the ward. Upon reaching her bay, she holds the curtain like the host of a games show, ready to reveal to him what he has won. Slowly, she pulls the curtain back. Dominic’s eyes land on Amy. She is resting softly, as if already at ease by sensing that Dawn in safe. Once he is fully within the bay, the nurse slides the curtain back along the rail, enclosing them completely.
“Amy?” Dominic says quietly, as if to rouse her without startling her. He knows how jumpy she has been as of late. With a squint, Amy’s eyes slowly open.
“Dominic,” Amy says as if seeking clarification.
“Not just me,” he grins, gently contorting her arm in preparation for her to receive her gift.
“My baby,” Amy gasps. Shock and joy trickle from her eyes in the form of tears. She weakly reaches out. Dominic hands Dawn into her waiting arms. She huddles the baby close to her, showering it with the love and affection that she had missed giving for what had felt like an eternity. The moisture from her tears and overjoyed kisses dampen Dawn’s soft forehead. Amy looks up to Dominic, a smile as broad as the horizon engulfing her face. “Thank you,” she weeps. “Thank you so much.” Dominic kneels in front of Amy, sliding one of his gigantic arms across Amy’s shoulders, gently pulling her into his own chest. She accepts the embrace, resting her head on his chest much like her daughter does to her. With his other hand, Dominic runs his fingers through Amy’s hair. It is greasy to the touch, but it is not something that allows Dominic to be deterred. Amy looks up at Dominic. “I love you, Dominic James Atkinson.”
He looks agog.
He had not seen such positivism from the mother of his child in months.
He looks to his daughter. She lets out a toothless, yet adorable yawn.
This girl; this beautiful bundle of joy that had been introduced into their lives, truly had a power greater than anything that a superheroine would wield. She had the power to mend broken hearts, bring smiles to faces to all in her presence and somehow strengthen bonds between everybody blessed to be a part of her life.
Grinning, he looks towards Amy.
“I love you too.”
Sunday 21st January 2018 - 11.37am
Location: Room 106, The Moon Under The Water, Market Place, Wigan, Greater Manchester, England
“Hope is lost,” he mutters solemnly to himself.
The bedroom is in total disarray. Shards of bad luck glisten on the floor beneath where a mirror used to stand. An overturned chair barely hides the broken white china of cups and saucers. A ripped duvet cover hangs limply from the bed. Shawn’s palms are pressed firmly against either side of his temple, his fingers clawing into his scalp. He stares hysterically at the floor.
All that is left to remind him of his time with Dawn are the few infantile articles nestled within an empty crib. He leans against the rickety woodwork, staring at a lonely teddy bear that he had purchased to his daughter. It’s soulless eyes stare back at him. Slowly, he reaches into the cot and lifts the bear, cradling it as if it were the young girl herself. He strokes its head.
“Hope is not lost,” a voice says from behind him. “It has simply been returned to where it first came from.” Shawn peers over his shoulder, clenching a fist.
“Dominic?” Shawn hisses.
“Indeed,” the voice confirms. “The Chronological Order seem to be far more cerebral in their tactics than I ever envisioned. Mortimer orchestrated the event. Apparently Harley Weiss is one of the four Watchmen. I would not have thought it, considering the passing of time between their last assembly. Stranger things have happened though.”
“Is Amy alright?” Shawn asks, stuffing some belongings into a suitcase.
“Her rehabilitation is going swimmingly,” the anonymous individual replies. “I thought it would be best to make myself scarce before Dominic returns. Plus, she has started to notice my presence. She refers to me as ‘The Bird Man’ for some reason.”
“Your choice of attire might give it away, Marx.” Shawn chuckles, trying to somehow amuse himself. The man steps directly in front of Shawn, glaring at him venomously.
“Do what you must to Dominic, but you are not to bring any more harm to Amy,” he warns. “She has suffered enough.”
“I’ve hired you to do a job, Marx,” Shawn snarls to him. “So far, you’ve only done half a job.”
“You’ve asked me to ensure Amy is safe and to infiltrate The Order,” Marx states. “Ironically, Mortimer has asked me to do the exact same thing, only for a smaller fee.”
“If you bring Hope back to me, I will pay you double,” Shawn says sternly, standing by his word. Marx lets out a contented nod. “This isn’t over,” Shawn sneers with a grin, almost crazed. “Mark my words, this is not over.”
