"Some are Born to fight
Some Are Born to sin
I was born to light the fire
All that you fear
Some are Born to fight
I was Born to win!" -Evan Bourne
A young boy, dressed in dark gray pants, white chaps, white wifebeater, gray gloves, his never leaving white and gold half-face mask and a golden cross around his neck, walked the hallways of the WWE headquarters. Not the average dress code for a job interview, mind you, but he hadn't yet mastered the oh-so-astounding ability of his mentor to strip off of his ring clothes within a blink of an eye. And after all, he had been called right when his match was over, and nobody wanted to have THE Boss awaiting for too long.
Walking through the two doors leading to Vince's office, he could see his NXT partners giving him odd looks, like they knew something he didn't. Maybe they did. Maybe they knew something, since their pros weren't giving him weird glances, instead, they gave their rookies some puzzled looks.
"You... Uhm... Wanted to... Uhm... See... Me, Mr... Uhm... McMahon?" he said as he peeked his head through the small gap he opened on the door right after he was greeted with the 'come in' yell of Shane McMahon.
"Ye-...Hey! well, 'Mr. McMahon' is my father, so Shane it's alright for me, although, i'm sure you would feel lot more comfortable with a name to call me by, so "sir" is just alright, same as you do to everyone else of us. I saw your match tonight, you and Matt were just amazing it was pretty much like watching Oscar and Chavo go at it like good old times, or maybe like that one time Marty and Michael fighted right after the Barbershop incident, or maybe like that one time Rey and Alberto had their little match, that high kick was just too high to be true, and the way you received the Star Shooting Press with your knee it wa-...! Ah! Look at me, i'm rambling again. Alright, boyo, lets head to big bad boss' office, alright?" The man in white just nodded, dumbfounded by how relaxed and familiar the other man behaved towards him.
He could smell the light scent of cologne escaping from the young McMahon's suit as he walked behind him, trying hard to focus on the pathway and not on the man before him. He looked at the sides of the room, at the practically blank walls.
He could remember faintly the yells of: "the piece of shit has locked himself in his office!", back in 97', and even if he was just a little kid then, he recalled thinking that, calling your boss a "piece of shit" wasn't quite the right thing to do.
It was his first show as part of a regular Monday Night Raw, and he was sure as hell scared. It was the first time his trainer wasn't there for him, not even waiting in the car like usual since he wanted to keep his 'incognito' travel schedule. He had been in a pretty decent standoff with Matt Korklan, or... Well, Evan Bourne. Since they were pretty much trained in the same Mexican High flying style, the show had been absolutely astounding to the unacustomed audience that just watched in awe how they skipped and threw themselves off the top ropes. And although he lost the match for a nice hurracarana pin, he was happy he was able to open the show for Mr. Orton and Mr. Cena.
"Ah, Aldo. I thought my son had put you to sleep with his flattering and reminiscing." Vince joked at the same time he got up from his chair and held the boy's hand in his, gesturing afterwards for him to have a seat in the chair right in front of his desk. Shane jus chuckled and shook his head softly, looking absently towards the eyes of the young rookie, which avoided his sight at all cost. "It was indeed an amazing show you gave out there. No overselling at all, and certainly no low acting exagerations, it was more of... Some sort of the old WWF, you know what i mean? The fireworks, the flying, the breath taking sound of the flesh hitting against the canvas... Was like watching Eddie all over again."
At this point, the boy, (Aldo Reigns, mostly known as Aldo Raine) was blushing fiercely, avoiding at the same time the looks from Father McMahon and McMahon Junior. Each one looking for his eyes for different reasons: Shane to know if the colour was real, and Vince to try and use his manipulative power over the brand new 'small town boy'.
"I guess you know where i'm heading, kid. So let's not skip around the bushes. How about i offer you a 7 month contract with the WWE. How does that sound to you, huh?"
At that moment, surrounded by Shane's scent, the ticking of the desk clock, the cold Canadian air blowing through the open window and the glow on Vince McMahon's eves, Aldo felt like he was entering the gates of heaven.