Post by Dominator / Mortimer on Jul 30, 2018 21:09:01 GMT -5
Saturday 29th July 2018 - 9.27pm
Location: River Avon, Goodworth Clatford, Hampshire, England, United Kingdom
“You know where to find me.”
He had rehearsed all of his different interpretations and their outcomes in his daydreams. Shawn had been so meticulous in his secrecy for so long now and the clue that he had provided only continued that trend. Even The Watchmen had not been competent in their pinpointing Shawn’s location since he had fled Wigan after The Chronological Order’s successful reacquisition of Dawn. In spite of Marx’ assigned role of keeping track of Shawn’s movements, he had been able to evade the prying eyes ever since reuniting with his long lost sister; Amy.
There were no leads as to Shawn’s whereabouts with the exception of the note that Dominic had received some time prior to leaving the home in which he and Amy reside. Logically, Dominic must have acted quickly upon reading Shawn’s malicious words. Such threats are never something that should just be sat on. But with an air of mystique that almost mirrored that of Horacio’s. It had been expected that he should know exactly where to go. Maybe he should have consulted Horacio before going headstrong into the wilderness in search of his oppressor.
There was one place that he could think of that Shawn might have gone into hiding. With no activity taking place in his bank accounts, the belief that Dominic had come up with was that Shawn had been sleeping rough.
Back when they wore younger men’s clothes, Dominic, Shawn and Matt would hang out on a secluded section of the River Anton near a bridge that had been built primarily to allow horses, livestock and wildlife to cross the river. However, back then, they tailored it to suit their own purposes. When they were six years old, they would play endless games of ‘pooh sticks,’ where they would each pick a twig or stick from the riverbank and drop them simultaneously off one side of the bridge and then run to the other side. Whosever stick emerged from beneath the bridge on top of the flowing water first was the winner. At sixteen, they would bring their tents, girlfriends and copious amounts of alcohol that they had paid the local pisshead to buy from the local shop for them at what would have been twice the value. They would mess around in the river, climb trees and have harmless fun out of the way of prying eyes. At twenty six, they would return to this very spot to reminisce.
Even now, as the day draws to a close and the sun readies itself for a well earned rest, their ‘spot’ remains untouched by others, so much so that much of the plant life has overgrown, save for an eroded footpath of trampled grass at the riverbank and on the bridge itself where wildlife and livestock still welcome themselves to witness such scenery.
Dominic had been here for hours. Sitting. Thinking. He had taken refuge in his favourite spot; behind a bush just off the trampled bath with an indent at its rear which provided near perfect security from prying eyes due to its almost ‘circular’ deformity. There might be a chance that Shawn somehow shows up here. But if not, at least he can take the time to gather his thoughts.
Maybe he wasn’t acting as rashly as Amy, Ruth and Horacio had first thought.
He could not shake the thought of all the good times preceding the bad. Some say that things have to get worse before they can get better. Dominic refuses to believe in such logic. It is how one spends their time appropriately that determines how long something ‘bad’ can go on for, or what they change in order to make things ‘good’ again.
Shawn will pay for his sins. Johnny Matthews will get his comeuppance. But for now, The Zenith must contemplate how to face his upcoming battle.
Darren Silvaira, who has nicknamed himself “Monster” with all the creativity of a ten year old wrestling fan, has the build that lives up to such a moniker. Yet, he shows respect to all who face him by shaking their hands both before and after a match as part of his national customs. Is this meant with good intent? Really?
There is no such thing as a ‘good monster.‘ This isn’t Monsters Inc. Monsters are violent by name and by nature. Darren Silvaira is no monster. He’s a joke. And who better to enjoy a joke than Byron Belasko, better known as Tha Joka.
Mr. Belasko has vocalised his wishes to relinquish the reigning Underground King of his crown, even if his ownership of said prize is only through association. Surely, in his eyes, having his protégé obtain the gold under his guidance would be just as glorious as winning the championship through his own efforts.
Unfortunately for Darren, there is only one crowning achievement that follows him even to this day; his victory within the Last Chance Battle Royal as part of The Icemann Invitational Tournament. Since impressing the masses with this ‘out-of-nowhere victory,’ he has done little to follow up on this momentum. After crashing out of the tournament to Seromine, he managed to pick up one solitary victory to Arsen Goodstone, a competitor as green as a vegan barbecue and then has had two back-to-back losses to Hiroshi Yukio and Seromine once more.
And as for Stacy Jones, she is in a similar situation. Upon returning to PCW, she surely has come to realise that she is truly out of her depth. The Zenith had already defeated her within the oh-so revered tournament. Even after this, she still found herself with an opportunity to challenge for Stormm’s North American championship. She failed. She failed spectacularly. And ever since then, she hasn’t even had a sniff of success. Even her match with Gerard Angelo in the preliminary rounds of the Icemann Invitational was surrounded by controversy. She has gotten by on a hair and a whisker. That might have worked three years ago.
But times have changed.
She has not been in action as regularly as Darren has, also falling victim to Seromine just two short weeks ago. From all of the potential that Monster exhibited upon his arrival as well as the hype surrounding Stacy’s return after a prolonged period of absence, neither of them have been able to capitalise on their early success.
In the eyes of The Zenith, it feels like the two of them haven’t even been trying ever since. Upon reflection of their most recent contest, it was as if their heads weren’t in the game; the two of them completely different animals from those seen when they first came back into the company. They were not the hungry lions looking to pounce. Instead, they were cowering mice trapped in a corner with nowhere to run.
And now they find themselves in front of the top predator on the PCW food chain; the reigning Underground King. They have an arguably undeserved opportunity to do what no other person has been capable of doing; take the Crown from Dominator. Unlike Monster or Jones, Dominator has continued to impress even in spite of the setback caused by Johnny Matthews back at Living A Legacy. He took Holden Ross to hell and back on a journey that the latter might as well wish he had been left behind in the depths of Hades. He purchased Hiroshi Yukio a similar ticket, except it was a one-way ticket only.
The fact is this. Dominator needs the Underground title in his possession going into Return To Glory in order to prove a point. Much like any night in which he must compete, he wants to walk in a champion and walk out a champion. Yet at Return To Glory, there are stakes far greater than just his championship on the line. To drive that point into Johnny Matthews’ thick skull would be far more efficacious if The Zenith’s waist were still lined with gold. And the last thing that Dominator wanted to do was lose something that he has worked so hard to make prestigious once again.
Perhaps that is why there is such a high turnover of talent recently. Everybody craves success. Most of them want it outright from the very start. Considering that the Underground Title has been deemed ‘the lower’ of the three championships that the federation have to offer, that is the default championship that the greenhorns wish to seek out. But of course, on the realisation that the reigning champion is on a level that runs parallel to the ‘main eventers’ of the company, they cut their losses and run. Maybe it is why Silvaira and Jones both realise that they are walking straight into an open maw and, thusly, refuse to put in the actual effort necessary to accomplish a feat that even now still seems impossible.
The Zenith doesn’t run from a fight. He runs straight into it with the charge of a wild bull, ready to gore anything in its path of destruction.
Seemingly out of the blue, something catches his ear; the unmistakable whirr of a vehicle’s engine.
“This is it,” he murmurs to himself, gritting his teeth. The culmination of months of turmoil fills Dominic with an amalgamation of different emotions, yet the deed is not yet done. A readied fist is balled, clenched with the desire to put an end to this oppression once and for all. He peers ever so slightly from behind the bush to check proceedings. The vehicle draws to a slow halt at the river’s edge not far from the bridge; a black Volvo XC-90. It looks incredibly familiar… almost identical to that owned by Horacio Mortimer. He cannot see the number plate from his position. Dominic squints his eyes in frustration. “This can’t be happening,” he exasperatedly snarls under his breath. “Of all the times for Horacio to be released from hospital, of course now would be the time.”
Once the engine has been disengaged, the driver’s door opens. To Dominic’s surprise, it is not Horacio who emerges from the vehicle. Instead, a young, slender looking figure emerges. With their head wrapped some sort of scarf or dressing cloth, Dominic immediately recognises their facial structure as they look around the area.
“Amy!?” Dominic exclaims, toned to a hushed whisper. He would be a fool to give away his position so easily, even if the arrival of his future wife is an unwarranted and equally unwelcome surprise. He huddles himself back behind the bush, forcing himself to see past even more branches of shrubbery to focus on his newfound target. Amy looks up and down the riverbank. She is visibly nervous, as displayed in her body behaviour. The way that she looks up and down the riverbed in a twitching sort of motion, not even fully emerging from the 4X4. Perhaps the confines of the vehicle’s interior can provide some sort of security for any ill-fated conflict that might come her way.
“Shawn?” Amy calls out, looking over her shoulder jerkily, trying to source any indication that her voice might have been heard. The only sound that returns her call is the rippling of the flowing water and rustling of the surrounding trees and shrubbery in the breeze. Dominic immediately frowns. “I know you’re out there somewhere, so you might as well come on out.” His expression freezes as she says this. Could it be that she is aware of his presence? She knows that he had left to seek out Shawn, so could it be that they’ve
“So you came,” Shawn chuckles. “I honestly didn’t expect you to. I figured Dominic would send his ‘secret service’. What are they called again? The Watchers?”
“Watchmen,” Amy corrects her estranged husband. “And I’m not here on Dominic’s behalf. I’m here of my own accord.” She looks back to where she had seen Shawn emerge from. The bridge stretches across such a span of water that there are four arches that are evenly spread between the two banks, however the closest arc does not have water flowing through it. Instead of water, a concrete platform has been situated, perhaps put in place to ease the parking and disembarking from waterborne crafts and vessels. However, so overgrown is this section of river that it is likely that no boats have passed through this section of the waterway for a long time. Within said archway, erected on the concrete is a tent, the zippers of which are unfastened to allow fresh air to flow into the habitual marquee. “I can see that you’re doing well for yourself,” Amy remarks sarcastically.
“It’s only a temporary solution,” Shawn grumbles. “What‘s with the new headwear anyway?” he asks in relation to the scarf that Amy dons atop her head.
“If you must know, my hair has started to fall out,” Amy replies.
“Thought you were looking older,” Shawn cackles.
“I have cancer, you fucking idiot!” Amy booms, unimpressed by Shawn’s sheer lack of integrity to even joke about such a matter. Shawn immediately recoils.
“I…I’m sorry,” Shawn repents. “Look, let’s talk about Dominic. That’s what you’re here for, right? What’s wrong then? Is the big man too much of a chickenshit to face me like a man?”
“I found your note,” Amy snaps in response. “I tried to think where you might end up. When you said that Dominic’s taken everything from you, I tried thinking outside the box. This bridge has sentimental value to you. It’s the place where we…” she cuts herself short, going red in the face, “…y’know,” she concludes suggestively.
“Yes. I DO know,” Shawn says with a curled lip. “And so do you. You know exactly what this place represents.”
“Drop it, Shawn!” Amy suddenly snaps even more forcefully than before. “Right now! I don’t want to hear another word of it.” Feeling newfound confidence through her elevated tone of voice, she finally steps fully out of the car and closes the door behind her. “I here because…” her voice has suddenly taken a much sadder and darker turn, “I don’t have a lot of time left. Whatever time I do have, I want to be happy. With Dominic. And the last thing I want is for you and your selfish agenda to come between me and the man I love. So I’ve decided that I want you out of our lives for good. And in exchange…” she reaches into her pocket and pull out a sealed envelope, handing it to Shawn. He looks at the blank front, then looks at the back. There is no sign of any addressee or any indication of what might lay inside.
“What is this?” Shawn frowns.
“My life’s savings,” Amy replies, forcing the envelope upon him. “There’s a cheque for around one hundred thousand pounds in there. You can probably get yourself a decent flat somewhere up North out of it. You can move abroad for all I care. But I want you gone, out of our lives completely. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear from you. You don’t come into contact with me, Dominic, Dawn, hell, even Marx or Matt. The Chronological Order as a whole is off limits. Understood?”
“Not fully,” he shrugs. “I have a right to see my daughter, Amy,” Shawn scowls. “Is that so wrong? Why am I the one being victimised?”
“You kidnapped her, Shawn. That’s never going to be just water under the bridge.” An emotional tear is now visible, trickling down the side of her face. “Please. For me. Do what’s right.”
“I am doing what is right,” Shawn scoffs at Amy’s sorrow. “I think it’s you who is at fault here. Do you honestly think you can continue this little charade without somebody finding out? You know the truth. I know the truth.”
“Shawn. Please,” Amy begs.
“Let me guess, you still haven’t told Dominic that Dawn isn’t actually his,” Shawn sneers, taking great delight in uttering these words.
Dominic’s eyes immediately widen. He goes to stand up, but is suddenly caught off guard by somebody wrapping an arm around his neck and using another to cover his mouth. He muffles a yell that goes unheard by both Amy and Shawn. He rolls onto his back with his attacker underneath him. Before he can bridge himself to deliver something that resembles a Senton to counter the assault, the assailant slips away and clambers straight on top of Dominic, pinning him to the ground. Dominic is about to throw a punch when he suddenly notices a playful smile on the face of the aggressor.
“What in the f…”
“Sssshhh!” comes the finger on the lip from Ruth Dillinger, smiling mischievously. “They’re just getting started.”
“What are you doing here?” Dominic frowns, growing sceptical by her sudden appearance. She simply points in the direction of Amy and Shawn. He cannot determine whether she is giving her reason for being here by pointing, or whether she is directing his attention back to the conversation taking place between his future wife and her former partner.
“He knows that your name is on the birth certificate, but we used the excuse that he wasn‘t there for the birth and that we had to put someone down as the father,” Amy explains to Shawn. “You and I had just reconciled. You were there for the birth. He wasn’t. So no. He doesn’t know. With everything that’s been going on, I don’t think he’s even contemplated the fact for a long time.” Amy falls silent for a moment as Shawn simply crosses his arms, waiting for her to continue with her confession. Before she can finish wiping away the tears, Shawn notices something around Amy’s finger; the engagement ring that had been bestowed to her by Ruth Dillinger on Dominic’s behalf.
“And now you’re due to be wed?” Shawn laughs upon realising the symbolism of the ring. “How adorable!” he relishes in the series of unfortunate events in the Atkinson household that is unfolding in front of him. He lifts the envelope containing the cheque, fanning himself with it as if he were holding the cold hard cash in his hand. “I guess I should get you a wedding present.”
“If you really want to get us something, just get out of our lives!” Amy shrieks hysterically. “I love my daughter! And I love Dominic. I love the life that we have built together! Why are you trying to take it all away from me?”
“Your life has been built on a foundation of lies,” Shawn smirks callously. “Besides, don’t I get any sympathy for everything that you’ve put me through? I admit it, kidnapping Dawn was a little extreme, but I at least had justification for doing it. You were preventing me from seeing my own daughter. Not only that, but the man who thinks he is the father takes her back, using another one of my best friends and my own brother against me. How do you think that makes me feel, Amy? It makes me feel like a chump! It makes me feel like I’m shit. Worse than shit! That’s why I have come to the conclusion that I have nothing left to lose. Either I get my life back, or I throw it all away. It’s all or nothing, Amy.”
“I’m giving you the means to start a new life,” Amy says, indicating the envelope. Shawn stares at the envelope for a brief moment, twiddling with the paper container between his fingers. He looks back up to Amy, who looks back at him expectantly. With something akin to reluctance on his face, he folds the envelope in half. Amy’s spirits are momentarily lifted, before they are ultimately drowned as Shawn tears the envelope in two before tossing the two halves into the river; the flowing water immediately beginning to dissolve and disperse the fragile paper. Amy looks crushed.
“I don’t want a new life,” Shawn says firmly. “I want my old life back! There is no amount of money in the world that will change that.” By this point, Amy has dropped onto her knees, sobbing loudly. She is lost in the hopelessness of the situation. Shawn remains stoic until the moment where Amy buries her head into her hands, crying uncontrollably. At this moment, Shawn kneels down in front of Amy and leans forward. A look of genuine concern replaces the harsh expression he had worn moments earlier. “You can avoid all of this, you know,” Shawn says in a much more soothing tone. “Look at me,” he says, levering his finger under her chin to lift her head up so that her eyes meet his own. “All we both want is for Dawn to be a part of our lives. You don’t want to hurt Dominic and, I’ll be honest, I don’t really want to deal with Dominic. Perhaps there is a way you can still get out of this.”
“Get out of this?” Amy sniffs. “What do you mean?” She is met by a much more serene, caring and serious smile from Shawn; the exact same smile that they used to share on days where they would sit on the sofa watching Disney movies and eating popcorn. On days where they would go to the funfair and Shawn would spend tens, if not hundreds of pounds on amusements in order to win the grandest prize that would be worth only a mere fraction of what he had spent. On days where they would travel on long car journeys making one another laugh by coming up with dumb acronyms based on the last three letters on the number plate of the vehicles in front. She recognises that smile, causing a sudden drought in her eyes.
“Come with me,” Shawn smiles. “I already have a property in Tenerife that I was going move to if my last resort didn’t come to fruition, or alternatively I was going to leave to you in my will if anything happened to me.” He looks back to his tent underneath the brickwork of the bridge for a fraction of a second. “Like I said, this is only a temporary solution,” he chuckles. “We can live out the rest of our days together. We can watch Dawn grow up.” Amy shies away coldly. This is not the situation that she thought she would get herself into by coming here. “We both get what we want this way.”
“Dominic doesn’t.” Amy sighs forlornly.
She can’t truly be contemplating this offer, could she?
Dominic is ready to burst. He has heard enough.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” Dominic snarls, motioning to push himself off the ground on one knee. Ruth suddenly clamps her hand on his shoulder and yanks him forcibly backwards. Her strength catches Dominic unaware. He glares at Ruth, who returns an equally stern and unwavering stare.
“You’ll stay exactly where you are,” she says warningly. “If you go out there now, you’ll only end up hurting Amy even more. She’ll realise you’ve heard everything.” As much as it pains him to admit it, she’s right. The last thing he wants to do is hurt Amy, even though her admissions feel like a dagger has been plunged straight into his heart. He does his best to refrain from lashing out in any capacity, breathing deeply and heavily, but quietly enough so that it is disguised by the breeze.
“I can’t sit here and take this, Ruth!” Dominic hisses, shrugging Ruth’s hand away and standing upright.
“Don’t!” she calls. But it is too late. Dominic slowly lumbers out from behind his favourite spot. He catches sight of Shawn, who bolts upright upon catching sight of The Zenith. Amy slowly looks up, gasping upon seeing Dominic pacing towards her.
“I believe we have some unfinished business,” Dominic says to Shawn, cracking his knuckles.
TO BE CONTINUED
Location: River Avon, Goodworth Clatford, Hampshire, England, United Kingdom
“You know where to find me.”
He had rehearsed all of his different interpretations and their outcomes in his daydreams. Shawn had been so meticulous in his secrecy for so long now and the clue that he had provided only continued that trend. Even The Watchmen had not been competent in their pinpointing Shawn’s location since he had fled Wigan after The Chronological Order’s successful reacquisition of Dawn. In spite of Marx’ assigned role of keeping track of Shawn’s movements, he had been able to evade the prying eyes ever since reuniting with his long lost sister; Amy.
There were no leads as to Shawn’s whereabouts with the exception of the note that Dominic had received some time prior to leaving the home in which he and Amy reside. Logically, Dominic must have acted quickly upon reading Shawn’s malicious words. Such threats are never something that should just be sat on. But with an air of mystique that almost mirrored that of Horacio’s. It had been expected that he should know exactly where to go. Maybe he should have consulted Horacio before going headstrong into the wilderness in search of his oppressor.
There was one place that he could think of that Shawn might have gone into hiding. With no activity taking place in his bank accounts, the belief that Dominic had come up with was that Shawn had been sleeping rough.
Back when they wore younger men’s clothes, Dominic, Shawn and Matt would hang out on a secluded section of the River Anton near a bridge that had been built primarily to allow horses, livestock and wildlife to cross the river. However, back then, they tailored it to suit their own purposes. When they were six years old, they would play endless games of ‘pooh sticks,’ where they would each pick a twig or stick from the riverbank and drop them simultaneously off one side of the bridge and then run to the other side. Whosever stick emerged from beneath the bridge on top of the flowing water first was the winner. At sixteen, they would bring their tents, girlfriends and copious amounts of alcohol that they had paid the local pisshead to buy from the local shop for them at what would have been twice the value. They would mess around in the river, climb trees and have harmless fun out of the way of prying eyes. At twenty six, they would return to this very spot to reminisce.
Even now, as the day draws to a close and the sun readies itself for a well earned rest, their ‘spot’ remains untouched by others, so much so that much of the plant life has overgrown, save for an eroded footpath of trampled grass at the riverbank and on the bridge itself where wildlife and livestock still welcome themselves to witness such scenery.
Dominic had been here for hours. Sitting. Thinking. He had taken refuge in his favourite spot; behind a bush just off the trampled bath with an indent at its rear which provided near perfect security from prying eyes due to its almost ‘circular’ deformity. There might be a chance that Shawn somehow shows up here. But if not, at least he can take the time to gather his thoughts.
Maybe he wasn’t acting as rashly as Amy, Ruth and Horacio had first thought.
He could not shake the thought of all the good times preceding the bad. Some say that things have to get worse before they can get better. Dominic refuses to believe in such logic. It is how one spends their time appropriately that determines how long something ‘bad’ can go on for, or what they change in order to make things ‘good’ again.
Shawn will pay for his sins. Johnny Matthews will get his comeuppance. But for now, The Zenith must contemplate how to face his upcoming battle.
Darren Silvaira, who has nicknamed himself “Monster” with all the creativity of a ten year old wrestling fan, has the build that lives up to such a moniker. Yet, he shows respect to all who face him by shaking their hands both before and after a match as part of his national customs. Is this meant with good intent? Really?
There is no such thing as a ‘good monster.‘ This isn’t Monsters Inc. Monsters are violent by name and by nature. Darren Silvaira is no monster. He’s a joke. And who better to enjoy a joke than Byron Belasko, better known as Tha Joka.
Mr. Belasko has vocalised his wishes to relinquish the reigning Underground King of his crown, even if his ownership of said prize is only through association. Surely, in his eyes, having his protégé obtain the gold under his guidance would be just as glorious as winning the championship through his own efforts.
Unfortunately for Darren, there is only one crowning achievement that follows him even to this day; his victory within the Last Chance Battle Royal as part of The Icemann Invitational Tournament. Since impressing the masses with this ‘out-of-nowhere victory,’ he has done little to follow up on this momentum. After crashing out of the tournament to Seromine, he managed to pick up one solitary victory to Arsen Goodstone, a competitor as green as a vegan barbecue and then has had two back-to-back losses to Hiroshi Yukio and Seromine once more.
And as for Stacy Jones, she is in a similar situation. Upon returning to PCW, she surely has come to realise that she is truly out of her depth. The Zenith had already defeated her within the oh-so revered tournament. Even after this, she still found herself with an opportunity to challenge for Stormm’s North American championship. She failed. She failed spectacularly. And ever since then, she hasn’t even had a sniff of success. Even her match with Gerard Angelo in the preliminary rounds of the Icemann Invitational was surrounded by controversy. She has gotten by on a hair and a whisker. That might have worked three years ago.
But times have changed.
She has not been in action as regularly as Darren has, also falling victim to Seromine just two short weeks ago. From all of the potential that Monster exhibited upon his arrival as well as the hype surrounding Stacy’s return after a prolonged period of absence, neither of them have been able to capitalise on their early success.
In the eyes of The Zenith, it feels like the two of them haven’t even been trying ever since. Upon reflection of their most recent contest, it was as if their heads weren’t in the game; the two of them completely different animals from those seen when they first came back into the company. They were not the hungry lions looking to pounce. Instead, they were cowering mice trapped in a corner with nowhere to run.
And now they find themselves in front of the top predator on the PCW food chain; the reigning Underground King. They have an arguably undeserved opportunity to do what no other person has been capable of doing; take the Crown from Dominator. Unlike Monster or Jones, Dominator has continued to impress even in spite of the setback caused by Johnny Matthews back at Living A Legacy. He took Holden Ross to hell and back on a journey that the latter might as well wish he had been left behind in the depths of Hades. He purchased Hiroshi Yukio a similar ticket, except it was a one-way ticket only.
The fact is this. Dominator needs the Underground title in his possession going into Return To Glory in order to prove a point. Much like any night in which he must compete, he wants to walk in a champion and walk out a champion. Yet at Return To Glory, there are stakes far greater than just his championship on the line. To drive that point into Johnny Matthews’ thick skull would be far more efficacious if The Zenith’s waist were still lined with gold. And the last thing that Dominator wanted to do was lose something that he has worked so hard to make prestigious once again.
Perhaps that is why there is such a high turnover of talent recently. Everybody craves success. Most of them want it outright from the very start. Considering that the Underground Title has been deemed ‘the lower’ of the three championships that the federation have to offer, that is the default championship that the greenhorns wish to seek out. But of course, on the realisation that the reigning champion is on a level that runs parallel to the ‘main eventers’ of the company, they cut their losses and run. Maybe it is why Silvaira and Jones both realise that they are walking straight into an open maw and, thusly, refuse to put in the actual effort necessary to accomplish a feat that even now still seems impossible.
The Zenith doesn’t run from a fight. He runs straight into it with the charge of a wild bull, ready to gore anything in its path of destruction.
Seemingly out of the blue, something catches his ear; the unmistakable whirr of a vehicle’s engine.
“This is it,” he murmurs to himself, gritting his teeth. The culmination of months of turmoil fills Dominic with an amalgamation of different emotions, yet the deed is not yet done. A readied fist is balled, clenched with the desire to put an end to this oppression once and for all. He peers ever so slightly from behind the bush to check proceedings. The vehicle draws to a slow halt at the river’s edge not far from the bridge; a black Volvo XC-90. It looks incredibly familiar… almost identical to that owned by Horacio Mortimer. He cannot see the number plate from his position. Dominic squints his eyes in frustration. “This can’t be happening,” he exasperatedly snarls under his breath. “Of all the times for Horacio to be released from hospital, of course now would be the time.”
Once the engine has been disengaged, the driver’s door opens. To Dominic’s surprise, it is not Horacio who emerges from the vehicle. Instead, a young, slender looking figure emerges. With their head wrapped some sort of scarf or dressing cloth, Dominic immediately recognises their facial structure as they look around the area.
“Amy!?” Dominic exclaims, toned to a hushed whisper. He would be a fool to give away his position so easily, even if the arrival of his future wife is an unwarranted and equally unwelcome surprise. He huddles himself back behind the bush, forcing himself to see past even more branches of shrubbery to focus on his newfound target. Amy looks up and down the riverbank. She is visibly nervous, as displayed in her body behaviour. The way that she looks up and down the riverbed in a twitching sort of motion, not even fully emerging from the 4X4. Perhaps the confines of the vehicle’s interior can provide some sort of security for any ill-fated conflict that might come her way.
“Shawn?” Amy calls out, looking over her shoulder jerkily, trying to source any indication that her voice might have been heard. The only sound that returns her call is the rippling of the flowing water and rustling of the surrounding trees and shrubbery in the breeze. Dominic immediately frowns. “I know you’re out there somewhere, so you might as well come on out.” His expression freezes as she says this. Could it be that she is aware of his presence? She knows that he had left to seek out Shawn, so could it be that they’ve
“So you came,” Shawn chuckles. “I honestly didn’t expect you to. I figured Dominic would send his ‘secret service’. What are they called again? The Watchers?”
“Watchmen,” Amy corrects her estranged husband. “And I’m not here on Dominic’s behalf. I’m here of my own accord.” She looks back to where she had seen Shawn emerge from. The bridge stretches across such a span of water that there are four arches that are evenly spread between the two banks, however the closest arc does not have water flowing through it. Instead of water, a concrete platform has been situated, perhaps put in place to ease the parking and disembarking from waterborne crafts and vessels. However, so overgrown is this section of river that it is likely that no boats have passed through this section of the waterway for a long time. Within said archway, erected on the concrete is a tent, the zippers of which are unfastened to allow fresh air to flow into the habitual marquee. “I can see that you’re doing well for yourself,” Amy remarks sarcastically.
“It’s only a temporary solution,” Shawn grumbles. “What‘s with the new headwear anyway?” he asks in relation to the scarf that Amy dons atop her head.
“If you must know, my hair has started to fall out,” Amy replies.
“Thought you were looking older,” Shawn cackles.
“I have cancer, you fucking idiot!” Amy booms, unimpressed by Shawn’s sheer lack of integrity to even joke about such a matter. Shawn immediately recoils.
“I…I’m sorry,” Shawn repents. “Look, let’s talk about Dominic. That’s what you’re here for, right? What’s wrong then? Is the big man too much of a chickenshit to face me like a man?”
“I found your note,” Amy snaps in response. “I tried to think where you might end up. When you said that Dominic’s taken everything from you, I tried thinking outside the box. This bridge has sentimental value to you. It’s the place where we…” she cuts herself short, going red in the face, “…y’know,” she concludes suggestively.
“Yes. I DO know,” Shawn says with a curled lip. “And so do you. You know exactly what this place represents.”
“Drop it, Shawn!” Amy suddenly snaps even more forcefully than before. “Right now! I don’t want to hear another word of it.” Feeling newfound confidence through her elevated tone of voice, she finally steps fully out of the car and closes the door behind her. “I here because…” her voice has suddenly taken a much sadder and darker turn, “I don’t have a lot of time left. Whatever time I do have, I want to be happy. With Dominic. And the last thing I want is for you and your selfish agenda to come between me and the man I love. So I’ve decided that I want you out of our lives for good. And in exchange…” she reaches into her pocket and pull out a sealed envelope, handing it to Shawn. He looks at the blank front, then looks at the back. There is no sign of any addressee or any indication of what might lay inside.
“What is this?” Shawn frowns.
“My life’s savings,” Amy replies, forcing the envelope upon him. “There’s a cheque for around one hundred thousand pounds in there. You can probably get yourself a decent flat somewhere up North out of it. You can move abroad for all I care. But I want you gone, out of our lives completely. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear from you. You don’t come into contact with me, Dominic, Dawn, hell, even Marx or Matt. The Chronological Order as a whole is off limits. Understood?”
“Not fully,” he shrugs. “I have a right to see my daughter, Amy,” Shawn scowls. “Is that so wrong? Why am I the one being victimised?”
“You kidnapped her, Shawn. That’s never going to be just water under the bridge.” An emotional tear is now visible, trickling down the side of her face. “Please. For me. Do what’s right.”
“I am doing what is right,” Shawn scoffs at Amy’s sorrow. “I think it’s you who is at fault here. Do you honestly think you can continue this little charade without somebody finding out? You know the truth. I know the truth.”
“Shawn. Please,” Amy begs.
“Let me guess, you still haven’t told Dominic that Dawn isn’t actually his,” Shawn sneers, taking great delight in uttering these words.
Dominic’s eyes immediately widen. He goes to stand up, but is suddenly caught off guard by somebody wrapping an arm around his neck and using another to cover his mouth. He muffles a yell that goes unheard by both Amy and Shawn. He rolls onto his back with his attacker underneath him. Before he can bridge himself to deliver something that resembles a Senton to counter the assault, the assailant slips away and clambers straight on top of Dominic, pinning him to the ground. Dominic is about to throw a punch when he suddenly notices a playful smile on the face of the aggressor.
“What in the f…”
“Sssshhh!” comes the finger on the lip from Ruth Dillinger, smiling mischievously. “They’re just getting started.”
“What are you doing here?” Dominic frowns, growing sceptical by her sudden appearance. She simply points in the direction of Amy and Shawn. He cannot determine whether she is giving her reason for being here by pointing, or whether she is directing his attention back to the conversation taking place between his future wife and her former partner.
“He knows that your name is on the birth certificate, but we used the excuse that he wasn‘t there for the birth and that we had to put someone down as the father,” Amy explains to Shawn. “You and I had just reconciled. You were there for the birth. He wasn’t. So no. He doesn’t know. With everything that’s been going on, I don’t think he’s even contemplated the fact for a long time.” Amy falls silent for a moment as Shawn simply crosses his arms, waiting for her to continue with her confession. Before she can finish wiping away the tears, Shawn notices something around Amy’s finger; the engagement ring that had been bestowed to her by Ruth Dillinger on Dominic’s behalf.
“And now you’re due to be wed?” Shawn laughs upon realising the symbolism of the ring. “How adorable!” he relishes in the series of unfortunate events in the Atkinson household that is unfolding in front of him. He lifts the envelope containing the cheque, fanning himself with it as if he were holding the cold hard cash in his hand. “I guess I should get you a wedding present.”
“If you really want to get us something, just get out of our lives!” Amy shrieks hysterically. “I love my daughter! And I love Dominic. I love the life that we have built together! Why are you trying to take it all away from me?”
“Your life has been built on a foundation of lies,” Shawn smirks callously. “Besides, don’t I get any sympathy for everything that you’ve put me through? I admit it, kidnapping Dawn was a little extreme, but I at least had justification for doing it. You were preventing me from seeing my own daughter. Not only that, but the man who thinks he is the father takes her back, using another one of my best friends and my own brother against me. How do you think that makes me feel, Amy? It makes me feel like a chump! It makes me feel like I’m shit. Worse than shit! That’s why I have come to the conclusion that I have nothing left to lose. Either I get my life back, or I throw it all away. It’s all or nothing, Amy.”
“I’m giving you the means to start a new life,” Amy says, indicating the envelope. Shawn stares at the envelope for a brief moment, twiddling with the paper container between his fingers. He looks back up to Amy, who looks back at him expectantly. With something akin to reluctance on his face, he folds the envelope in half. Amy’s spirits are momentarily lifted, before they are ultimately drowned as Shawn tears the envelope in two before tossing the two halves into the river; the flowing water immediately beginning to dissolve and disperse the fragile paper. Amy looks crushed.
“I don’t want a new life,” Shawn says firmly. “I want my old life back! There is no amount of money in the world that will change that.” By this point, Amy has dropped onto her knees, sobbing loudly. She is lost in the hopelessness of the situation. Shawn remains stoic until the moment where Amy buries her head into her hands, crying uncontrollably. At this moment, Shawn kneels down in front of Amy and leans forward. A look of genuine concern replaces the harsh expression he had worn moments earlier. “You can avoid all of this, you know,” Shawn says in a much more soothing tone. “Look at me,” he says, levering his finger under her chin to lift her head up so that her eyes meet his own. “All we both want is for Dawn to be a part of our lives. You don’t want to hurt Dominic and, I’ll be honest, I don’t really want to deal with Dominic. Perhaps there is a way you can still get out of this.”
“Get out of this?” Amy sniffs. “What do you mean?” She is met by a much more serene, caring and serious smile from Shawn; the exact same smile that they used to share on days where they would sit on the sofa watching Disney movies and eating popcorn. On days where they would go to the funfair and Shawn would spend tens, if not hundreds of pounds on amusements in order to win the grandest prize that would be worth only a mere fraction of what he had spent. On days where they would travel on long car journeys making one another laugh by coming up with dumb acronyms based on the last three letters on the number plate of the vehicles in front. She recognises that smile, causing a sudden drought in her eyes.
“Come with me,” Shawn smiles. “I already have a property in Tenerife that I was going move to if my last resort didn’t come to fruition, or alternatively I was going to leave to you in my will if anything happened to me.” He looks back to his tent underneath the brickwork of the bridge for a fraction of a second. “Like I said, this is only a temporary solution,” he chuckles. “We can live out the rest of our days together. We can watch Dawn grow up.” Amy shies away coldly. This is not the situation that she thought she would get herself into by coming here. “We both get what we want this way.”
“Dominic doesn’t.” Amy sighs forlornly.
She can’t truly be contemplating this offer, could she?
Dominic is ready to burst. He has heard enough.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” Dominic snarls, motioning to push himself off the ground on one knee. Ruth suddenly clamps her hand on his shoulder and yanks him forcibly backwards. Her strength catches Dominic unaware. He glares at Ruth, who returns an equally stern and unwavering stare.
“You’ll stay exactly where you are,” she says warningly. “If you go out there now, you’ll only end up hurting Amy even more. She’ll realise you’ve heard everything.” As much as it pains him to admit it, she’s right. The last thing he wants to do is hurt Amy, even though her admissions feel like a dagger has been plunged straight into his heart. He does his best to refrain from lashing out in any capacity, breathing deeply and heavily, but quietly enough so that it is disguised by the breeze.
“I can’t sit here and take this, Ruth!” Dominic hisses, shrugging Ruth’s hand away and standing upright.
“Don’t!” she calls. But it is too late. Dominic slowly lumbers out from behind his favourite spot. He catches sight of Shawn, who bolts upright upon catching sight of The Zenith. Amy slowly looks up, gasping upon seeing Dominic pacing towards her.
“I believe we have some unfinished business,” Dominic says to Shawn, cracking his knuckles.
TO BE CONTINUED
