April 11
Waterford, Ireland
Descending the stairs of Mal’s childhood home that they had been staying in, Bella Madison yawned as she tied the sash of her robe. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, she smiled as she took her seat at the table watching her mother-in-law Aileen turn to her with a cup of tea and a plate of toast already in hand.
“Good morning, darling,” Aileen said in her soft Irish accent. She placed the cup and plate in front of Bella and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Did you sleep well?”
“Since we’ve been here, I think I’ve consistently had the best sleep I’ve had in a long time. As much as I love New York, it’s nice to be out of the city, away from the noise and the hectic pace,” Bella sighed, picking up a piece of toast and nibbling the corner. “But the last two nights, since we got home from Scotland…” A wrinkle formed in the middle of her eyebrows as she frowned.
Aileen took the seat next to her and gently grasped Bella’s hand in both of hers. “I know, darling. It was an absolute shame what happened in Mal’s match. And for that beast of a man to threaten you the way he did…” Aileen’s face took on an uncharacteristically fierce look as her brown eyes narrowed. “Mallacht na baintrí ort.”
Bella stared wide-eyed at her mother-in-law with her mouth agape. She may not have completely understood what she said, but she had said it with such venom that Bella had never heard from the older woman before. Normally Aileen was a sweet-tempered and kind lady, but this was a rare break in character for her. “You know, I think I’m starting to see now where Alanah gets it from,” she finally said.
The dark look faded away from Aileen’s face, and she looked up at Bella with a smile again. “Well, when someone threatens my family, that is absolutely unforgivable. Though I hardly think I’m the only one who went after that Harris fellow.”
“Oh trust me, the guy was about to have an entire O’Neil clan on his ass…even the ones that don’t wrestle.” Bella bit into her toast. “I guess that’s something the O’Neils and the O’Connells have in common - strong family bonds.”
“And that’s why you and Mal are so well suited for each other.” Aileen patted Bella’s cheek as she rose up to prepare her own breakfast. “People may see him as cold-hearted and ruthless, but he will always stand up for family, no matter the cost.”
Bella finished up the last of her toast and swallowed the last of her tea. “Speaking of, where did my husband get off to? I know he’s usually up with the birds for his workouts, but he should have been back by now.”
Aileen nodded her head towards the back door. “He’s out back splitting wood. Been at it for hours now. He’s probably got enough wood cut to keep the entire neighbourhood warm clear through until next spring.”
After clearing her dishes off the table and depositing them in the sink, Bella pressed a kiss to Aileen’s cheek and headed towards the back door. As she drew closer she heard the telltale thunk! of an axe hitting wood, and her gaze traveled through the small window in the door and out into the backyard. Sure enough, she caught sight of Mal…or rather, the back of him. He was shirtless, despite the chilly spring morning, dressed in grey sweatpants with his mid-length hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He reached down and lifted a thick chunk of wood to place on an elevated platform, before he picked up a large woodcutter’s axe. He centered his grip on the handle before swinging it above his head and in one fluid motion brought it swinging down with force into the log, splitting it cleanly in half. He picked up the two pieces and tossed them onto a massive pile that was growing in front of him.
Shaking her head slightly and pushing the impure thoughts currently fogging her mind away, Bella pushed the door open and walked out onto the stone patio, drawing the robe around herself a bit tighter to ward off the chilly morning air. “Well, after seeing this little display, I kind of want to put in a wood-burning fireplace back home now.”
At the sound of her voice, Mal turned to look over his shoulder. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and a few loose tendrils of hair had fallen across his forehead. He gave her a lopsided grin, one that he knew made her go weak in the knees. “And just where would I find wood to split in the middle of New York City, hm?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Minor details. Then again, we could always move out to the woods somewhere.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “City girl like you roughing it in the woods? I highly doubt it.” He loaded up another hunk of wood and brought the axe crashing down into it.
“Hey! I could absolutely rough it if I needed to. Although, I do enjoy running water…and electricity…and internet…”
Mal shook his head with a laugh. “How about a compromise - we can always go rent a cabin somewhere this summer. Kind of like what we did a couple years ago, remember?”
She smiled as she remembered the trip they took out to the woods. They had rented a private cabin for just the two of them, and it was a blissful vacation free of obligations and responsibilities. “That was pretty amazing. But back then, I wasn’t…” She gestured to her stomach, the swelling now large enough to be noticeable under her clothes. “And I don’t know if I want to be out in the middle of nowhere at seven or eight months pregnant.”
“That…is a good point.” He leaned the axe up against the nearby shed as he walked over to the patio. He dropped into a chair and quickly pulled Bella into his lap. “As it is, I’m probably going to take the whole month of August off. I don’t want to get stuck somewhere and not be able to make it back in time.”
“Well, babies do run on their own schedule,” she said, rubbing her hand along her belly. “Look at Alanah’s twins. They weren’t due until September, but surprise!”
“I know, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. We’ve got enough savings that taking one month off won’t hurt us financially anyways.” He looked down towards her stomach. “You just better not give us any trouble, missy. You just take it easy and get here on time. Not early or late, you hear me?”
Bella giggled a bit, before a sharp gasp cut off whatever she was about to say. “Mal, quick! Gimme your hand!”
He jumped slightly at her change in tone, but held out his hand to her. She quickly grabbed it and put it on her stomach, near the middle of the bump. “When you were talking to her, she started kicking! Say something again!”
His eyes widened, but he looked back down to her stomach. “Hey, you take it easy on your mum’s insides, alright? Once you get here, I’ll teach you all about football -”
He was interrupted by the feel of a tiny foot pressing against his hand from the inside of Bella’s stomach. The sensation startled him slightly, but almost immediately he was overwhelmed with emotion. “Holy shit,” he whispered.
Bella was beaming at him, putting her own hand over his. “Apparently someone likes the sound of Daddy’s voice. That’s the hardest she’s kicked so far.”
He smiled as he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her stomach. They sat together quietly for a moment, enjoying the solitude of the early morning together. But then, Bella shifted in his lap to look up at him. “So…do you want to talk about Sunday?”
Immediately, he felt his mood sour. He had been trying to keep his mind off of what had happened, and for the most part he had been successful. Still, he wasn’t mad at Bella for asking. She had been just as vocal as him in her opinions about the match, and he knew she was just trying to help him work through the roiling emotions building up inside of him. He thought he had gotten rid of most of his anger at the conclusion of the match, but there were still some lingering tendrils whenever he thought about it. He let out a sigh and pushed his hand through his hair, pulling out the hair tie as he did. “What else is there to say? The fucker twisted that finish in his favour, and I got royally screwed. Not much else to talk about at this point.”
She gave him a sad look, taking his hand in hers and gently rubbing at the back of his knuckles with her thumb. “Hey, you were absolutely amazing in that match. If it hadn’t been for Harris and his little harlot harem, I fully believe you would be sitting here as the SCW World champion.”
He gave her a small smile, gently pressing his lips to hers. “Well, what’s done is done. No use dwelling on it more than we have to. Harris will get what’s coming to him eventually, and I will enjoy every damn second of his downfall.” A pensive look came over his face at this point. “But there is one loose end that needs tying up, and it’s something that needs to be done in person, I think.”
She gave him a look of concern. “Mal…please don’t do what I think you’re going to do.”
He gave her another kiss. “I’m not going to attack anyone, I promise. On the contrary, I need to make an apology…”
—-----------
April 17
Waterford, Ireland
“Has this man completely lost his fuckin’ mind?”
The incredulous voice of Malachi rang out in the kitchen as he stared wide-eyed at the email he had just received to his phone. The door of the fridge was left open as he stood in front of it, barely registering the cold air washing over him.
Walking out from the living room into the kitchen, Bella gave him a curious look. “What are you yelling about?”
“Just the fact that I think Mark Ward is about to get us all killed, that’s all.” He snapped the fridge door shut as he turned around to stare at his wife. “He’s completely lost the plot, I swear to Christ.”
A bewildered look crossed Bella’s face as she leaned up against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. “Uh, you wanna run that by me one more time?”
He simply held his phone up to show her the email, which was the card for the upcoming SCW show on the 23rd. She looked it over, the puzzled expression remaining on her face. “Am I missing something? Like, is there some hidden message or something I can’t see? Looks like a pretty standard match card to me.”
He tapped a finger towards the top of the card. “Mark’s little decree here. Apparently everyone that’s booked for this show is supposed to camp out in the woods.”
Bella blinked at him. “I mean, that’s kind of weird, but I’m still not seeing how that’s some kind of sinister plot by Mark Ward to have you all killed.”
“Bella…we’ll be in Romania.”
“Yeah.”
“More specifically…the Transylvanian region. In one of the most haunted forests in the entirety of Europe.”
It was like the lightbulb suddenly went on in Bella’s mind as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Wait a minute…Mark wants you all to camp out in the middle of DRACULA territory?!”
“Apparently. And before you even ask…no way in hell are you coming to this one.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it.”
He gave her a withering stare. “Gee, thanks for putting up a fight.”
“Hey, there are certain things I just do not fuck with. Haunted forests are definitely one of them. Not to mention camping at five and a half months pregnant? No thank you.” She reached over and patted his shoulder in a somewhat mocking manner. “You go have fun with that one, Boy Scout. And hey, at least you won’t be totally alone. You’ll have the rest of the SCW roster and crew there with you.” She smiled sweetly at him before kissing his cheek and heading back into the living room.
He watched her go before letting out a beleaguered sigh, running a hand through his hair as he followed her. “You don’t seem too concerned by the fact that you could potentially end up a widow, you know.”
“Oh, stop being such a drama llama. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“You literally just said that you don’t fuck with haunted forests. So you do believe that there’s something out there.”
She gave him a devilish little smirk. “Whatever is out there would be absolutely stupid to mess with you. I know that you’ll be the scariest motherfucker in that entire forest.”
He stared at her for a moment, before his own smirk turned up his mouth. “You know…you just may be right.”
—--------
April 21
Hoia Forest
Romania
During the day, it was hard to reconcile the stories of Hoia Forest being one of the most supernatural places in all of Europe. It was densely packed with towering trees that were currently just starting to sprout green buds in anticipation of the warmer weather on its way, as well as freshwater springs and even a small lake. There were numerous walking and biking trails, and plenty of spaces for outdoor activities. All in all, it was a typical outdoor greenspace with no outward indication that there was anything suspect about it.
But when night descended, the rumours became just a bit more believable. This current evening, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, the entire atmosphere of the area changed. The towering trees became sinister creatures, their branches twisting into the air like spindly arms. A thick fog rolled in and obscured the ground, lending an eerie ambience to the already spooky scene. The cheerful birdsong that filled the air during the daylight hours was now replaced with the chirping of crickets and the occasional caw of a crow or hoot from an owl.
But soon, these sounds were joined by the crunch of approaching footsteps across the ground. Faint at first, they grew closer and closer, until a dimly silhouetted figure could barely be made out in the distance. The footsteps continued and the figure drew closer and closer until the slight illumination from the half-moon that peeked through a haze of clouds in the inky black sky revealed Malachi. The Irish fighter was dressed head to toe in black, nearly blending into the night around him. His bright blue eyes shone, however, as they stared directly into the camera lens.
“And yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For I am the most dangerous motherfucker here.” A cocky smirk turned up one side of his mouth. “A little trite and cliche, but accurate nonetheless. I realize that Mark Ward arranged this little ‘camping trip’ as some kind of test of character, or whatever excuse he concocted in his mind. But there’s nothing in this forest that is as dangerous as Malachi on a damn mission.”
He slid his hands into his pockets as he paced a few steps. His footsteps seemed to echo, though there was nothing around him for them to echo off of. The effect was somewhat…unnerving, though he paid no mind to it. “Two weeks ago, I was absolutely robbed of my opportunity to finally reach the pinnacle of this company by a sniveling, pathetic cowardly excuse of a ‘champion’. And when I say that pissed me off…well, I may be understating it a bit. But what it also did was motivate me like never before. One way or another, I will earn my way back to that title, and I guarantee that I will rip it from Michael Harris’ bloody, broken hands and raise it high over my head. That is, if he’s lucky enough to still have the title in a few weeks’ time.”
His eyes narrowed with that forceful declaration, before his face fell back into its cocky expression once again. “But before I get to that point, I have another opportunity in front of me, it seems. In fact, another chance at the Roulette title. Shame that Goth was forced to vacate, as he was an actually good champion. I have no shame in admitting my defeat to him, because he and I took each other to our limits and he just happened to be the better man on that night. I had hoped to get another match with him, but it seems like that won’t be happening anytime soon. Rather, there’s going to be a fatal four way match at Into The Void to determine a new champion. And how did Mark and Christian decide to celebrate this announcement? By throwing two of the men into a match, which will be guest-refereed by the third man, with the fourth man being announced that night.” He let out a short laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Well, you can’t say that they don’t keep things interesting, that’s for sure. So, this Sunday night, it’s going to be me stepping into the ring against Peter Vaughn, with Bill Barnhart as the special guest referee.”
He stopped pacing to stand in front of the camera, his legs slightly apart and his arms now crossed over his chest. “Now, I can’t say that I know much about Peter Vaughn, besides what he’s done here in SCW and what I’ve been able to gather from a bit of research. And just going by what he’s done here in SCW, I can say that the man is pretty damn talented. After all, he is unbeaten in singles matches. But all good things must come to an end eventually. Hell, I had a pretty damn good unbeaten streak going for a while, and sure enough it came to a screeching halt. But I’m more than ready to reclaim that streak, and ride it all the way to championship gold at Into The Void. Now, it would be remiss of me to overlook the fact that you happen to be a member of the Saviors, and while at one time that could have been considered impressive, the recent addition of a certain member has kind of…dulled the shine of your illustrious group. I mean, The Troll? Seriously?” He gave a raised-eyebrow look to the camera. “The guy’s been beaten more than a pinata at a birthday party. I should know, I’ve got two wins over him myself. But hey, if you’re all into taking on charity cases, then good on you, I guess.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “But I want you to keep something in mind - you try to run the numbers game on me, I’ll dismantle each and every shitheel that’s fool enough to step to me. I’ve already been screwed over by interference, and I didn’t really care for the experience. So if you’re even entertaining the idea, I invite you to test that assumption at your convenience.” The cocky smirk slipped back onto his face at his more palatable phrasing of ‘fuck around and find out’.
“And then we have my good buddy, Bill Barnhart.” The sarcasm dripping from his words was so thick it could almost be seen as clearly as the mist escaping his mouth in the late night chill. “I find it a little bit ironic that the last time we met up in the ring, you had a lot to say about how much you thought I would cheat in our match…and now you suddenly find yourself as the guest referee for this match. I’m just gonna let you know the score right here and now - I have never, nor will I ever need to resort to cheating in a match. Unlike some people I could mention on this roster.” He gave a pointed look towards the camera, his blue eyes practically throwing daggers through the lens as they seemed to say ‘if you think this is about you, it probably is’. “When I beat Vaughn, it’s going to be under my own power, using my own moves and that’s it. So all you need to do is be ready to count the one, two, three once I pin him to the canvas. I know you tend to be a bit scatterbrained at the best of times, but I sincerely hope you can manage at least that.”
He raised a hand up and stared at it with a contemplative look on his face, curling it into a tight fist. “I’ve been within a fingertip’s grasp of gold on two occasions now, and I’ll be damned if I let it slip through my fingers again. There may not be any gold on the line in this match, but the one that walks out with the victory will have one hell of a head start going into Into The Void. I’ve got a good track record in that area so far, and I don’t plan on changing my strategy anytime soon. The only difference being that where I failed to capture gold before…it won’t happen again.”
As his eyes stared into the camera, they almost seemed to start glowing with a faint red hue. He raised his hand up with his thumb extended, drawing it across his throat with his signature gesture before he turned on his heel and began walking into the treeline. The darkness seemed to swallow him as he disappeared from sight, and all was quiet for a moment…
Until an ear-piercing scream tore through the night air, and a bright white blur dashed across the screen. The camera shuddered and fell over on its side, and as it hit the ground the feed suddenly cut to white static for a brief moment before snapping to black.
