March 3rd, 2011
Stamford, Connecticut
WWE Headquarters
A man wearing a grey suit walks sternly down a hallway. Other employees stay out his way, as he does not look like he has time for pleasantries. The man ties his long hair in a ponytail as he approaches a set of large metal doors. He lowers his face to a retinal scanner, then makes his way into a board room meeting, where an old man in a powder blue suit sits at the head of the table.
"Hunter, nice of you to finally join us." Said the old man with a look of distain.
"Sorry Vince, kids had me occupied before Stephanie could take over." Hunter replied.
Vince gave a snarky look as he continued to speak.
"As I was saying, as of last week, two of our spec ops teams have been killed, injured, or gone missing. Our biggest lost was our commanding officer, John Cena. There was an explosion at his teams rendezvous in Italy. They were waiting for evac after unsuccessfully killing their target, infamous drug lord, Alberto Del Rio. Cena's body was confirmed this morning, which is why I called this meeting."
The mood in the room died a little, as Cena was one of the most respected agents they had. A fifteen-year veteran, a mentor to all those wanting to rise up and take that extra step to defend their country. Vince turned his attention toward Hunter.
"Make sure proper accommodations are made for Cena's funeral. I'll personally give my condolences to his loved ones. In the meantime, we'll have to get a new team out into the field. There's still work to be done."
"Sir, our new recruits aren't ready for the field yet." A woman said.
"And most of our veteran agents are tied up at the moment." Replied another man. "We're short handed as it is with the targeted shootings happening on congress."
"Don't you think I know that god dammit!" Vince yelled as a silence came over the room.
"Vince, I have something that you might like." Hunter said.
Vince unbuttoned his suit and took a small sip of coffee. "Go on."
Hunter stood and began to slowly pace the room.
"Everyone, me and my partner Mr. Regal, have scoured the United States to find us some suitable, yet unorthodox new recruits."
Hunter grabs a remote from the table and turns on a monitor in the front of the room.
"Me and Regal, have found three men, who have nothing in common, yet could change the landscape of our agency."
He pressed another button as three faces appeared on the screen.
"Seth Rollins, a 3x cross fit champion. Been doing flips since he was 12. One of the most athletic kids on the planet. His IQ level is very high. An adrenaline junkie, but a smart tactician in his own right."
A few laughs cracked out from those in the meeting.
"You hired a gymnast and X games punk to "change the landscape" of our agency." Said an older board member. "You can't be serious. This guy has blonde dye in his hair."
"I am serious, because I don't play games with someone's livelihood." Hunter angrily remarked.
"As I was saying, next, we got Roman Reigns. A man of Samoan descent. He's also related to our retired specialist agent Dwayne Johnson."
Hunter looked over to see Vince raising his eyebrows in curiosity.
"Reigns is an ex-football player who never really got out of the gate. He showed great promise, with his freakish strength and high intensity, but lacked the proper discipline. I've seen this man lift hundreds of pounds with ease. Even heard stories of him being able to break concrete with his pure force alone. He's still green, but I see plenty of untapped potential."
"Finally, we have Dean Ambrose. An ex-con who…."
"Ex-con!" yelled the woman. "Mr. McMahon tell me you're not considering this."
Vince looked at the woman stone faced, then turned around to Hunter. "Go on."
"Dean Ambrose is an ex-con who is one of the toughest men I've ever seen. During his days in prison, he's broken bones and spilled blood. Whether that be his or his enemies. Through all of that, Ambrose always seems to come back stronger than before. He's a hot head, but his unpredictability can be an asset if used correctly."
Silence once again fell over the room until one man spoke up.
"Mr. McMahon, Mr. Helmsley. With all do respect, some rag-tag gang of unproven men seems ridiculous. This isn't a comic book."
Hunter stood his ground.
"Look old man, the time of tall, buff meatheads are over. Times are changing, and we need to evolve. We need to start thinking about the future, thinking outside the box. We need to prepare for a new generation, the NEXT generation."
A dead air buzzed though the room. All eyes on Vince McMahon. He sat for thirty seconds, not moving a muscle, only rolling his eyes across the screen of Hunters draft picks. After another moment, he raised up from his chair and started to make his way towards the door. Before leaving, he turned around.
"Okay Hunter, I'll give you a shot. But if any of these men fuck up, you're going to find your ass in the middle east with no way out." said in a low grunt.
"Not a problem old man." Hunter said with a smile on his face.
As he faced the rest of the board with a pleased look, he broke the down the last few details. He'll travel across the states to personally recruit these men. The only catch, he hasn't asked them to join yet, so Hunter will have to use his cunning and persuasive attitude to convince them.
"All right, tomorrow we begin my operation. Get ready, for the Black Cerberus!"