Dominion

                                    

                                          

|| 𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟐𝐧𝐝, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏 ||
"...It's been three long, and grueling months since the cities of Clearlake, California and Berkley, California, were struck by a series of devastating dinosaur attacks. The creatures, from the 'presumed dead' INGEN facilities, injured three hundred and sixty civilians, and cost the lives of nearly a hundred more, including a hunting party, a regiment of the national guard, and a few others at a Biosyn Research Facility that was supposedly administering a drug to combat the COVID epidemic. Since then, recovery has been slow, but promising; the thousands displaced are finally returning to their homes and families because of the support of Washington. There still isn't much information regarding what caused these attacks, but all eyes have turned on an Ex-Infantry Marine, Tommy Peters, who was the only conscious survivor found at the scene-"
"Excuse me? Mister Peters?"
Tommy Peters blinked from his stare. His wrinkled fingers paused, throbbing from the constant rubbing act upon a pointed white fang, which still had a red stain to it. Nevertheless, the pain didn't amount to where he was; being in a hospital was something he did not wish for. The IV needle stung, the bed groaned under the weight of his sadness, and the painted white sheets glistened with a deep red flare. Memories would wail in his head as he sat there, contemplating the past few hours. He'd wonder why it had to end that way. And, worst of all, where'd he go now that Seven was gone. Tommy then exhaled, defeatedly turning to the doctor's voice to reply.
"I said I don't want to talk to the press."
The doctor shook her head. "It's not the press. You have visitors."
	His eyes squinted. Visitors? Tommy's immediate thought became INGEN or Biosyn; of course they'd show to cover up whatever he'd say or think, he wouldn't have expected anything different. Or maybe some accomplice of them disguised as a visitor. He knew they'd never let him off the hook, even while in death. So he growled defensively, forcing the fang against his thumb to mimic that of a knife. His heartbeat elevated, sweat beads of woe slithering down his bandaged forehead in readiness. Tommy waited for a sound, a whisper, a call. A warning. And without a moment's notice, three masked figures waded into view: two teenage girls and a boy, all roughly the same age. The boy he didn't know, but the girls...
He couldn't tell at first. Not until they removed their COVID masks.
	Tommy's eyes flashed. Their eyes... their soft blond hair, the freckled bumps near the bends of each saddened smile -- this wasn't a memory. And once that became clear, emotions erupted like fireworks within the poor Marine.
"Abbey? S-Sarah?"
The first girl, Abbey Peters, solemnly walked over to her father's side, tears brimming the base of her eyelid. She lowered down, grasping his cold hands on her own. They stared at each other, face to face, taking in their perfumes and studying their features like two hybrids introducing each other. Once the first of her tears streamed down Abbey's softened face, her voice cracked aloud in pain.
"I-I," Abbey trembled, wavering between words. "I'm s-sorry... I-I didn't come sooner, dad-"
Tommy reached up and pulled his daughter into a tight hug. Abbey faltered in his hold, losing herself against his embrace and giving into her sobs. Sarah joined in on the right side, hugging her father all the same. Neither one of the three could dare let go, not for a while. But it was Tommy's face that brought life into this moment, his tears not just of sorrow, but of joy. To see his daughters again after all this time was nothing more than a miracle. If only Janet was here to fill the rest of the hole in his heart, everything would fall into place. But he'd take anything life granted him in a heartbeat, even this. Nothing was worth more than this.