𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 | 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐎𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧

1

From what she had read, Sylwia knew that it was usually Vince's children, Shane and Stephanie, who coordinated the various tryouts, but, honestly, she wasn't worried. There could have been anyone in there, whether one sucked or was excellent, the outcome wouldn't have changed.

Fortunately, soon the first names began to be called, and people began to enter one by one. It was all very simple: they called you, you came in, they asked you something like every scrutineer, and then everyone moved on to the practical part. That was the final selection, it was either in or out.

"Where have you wrestled before?" A boy asked Sylwia. He tried to start a conversation with her for a while by now, but unsuccessfully. "I've never seen you around. Some independent circuits? Maybe some indies?"

"Very independent." Sylwia replied, sounding totally nonchalantly.

"Me too!" The boy replied enthusiastically. "Where are you from? You have a strong accent."

"Poland."

"Oh, that must be why I've never seen you around!"

Sylwia had to bite her inner cheek to not bitterly laugh at his stupidity. "Yeah, that must be why." She sarcastically replied, hoping that he would understand she was not in mood for a conversation.

But he did not and kept asking. "What are you bringing?"

"Bro." The blonde girl stated, looking at him straight in the eyes due also being the same height. "Shut up, will you?"

As he was about to speak, again, a woman came out and read on her folder. She seemed to have problems at reading, and Sylwia had that feeling that she was about to try to call her name.

"Sylwia Wo... Oh, fuck it, there's only one Sylwia!"

Chuckling, Sylwia straightly walked to the woman. "Good morning." She cordially greeted.

"Good morning." The woman eyed her up and down, before gesturing to follow her on the inside.

Upon entering the building, Sylwia was impressed; it was really nice. Very modern and smelled clean too, thankfully. At the entrance a sort of jury table had been set up, if it could be called that, where Vince McMahon and other men sat, who must have been diligent or even some sports trainer judging by their clothing.

The woman motioned for Sylwia to stop a few steps from the table. "Gentlemen, she is Sylwia."

The Polish girl nodded, trying to even crack a smile. "Good morning." She said. She felt Vince's gaze and those other men fixed on her, studying her carefully.

"Sylwia." Vince McMahon himself called, laying down on his chair. "Very interesting name, I suppose you're not American."

"No, I am not." The tall girl shook her head. "I am from Poland."

"You would be the first Polish woman in the company." Mr McMahon nodded. "If you get chosen, obviously."

"Of course." If there was one thing Sylwia failed to do, it was never have the final say. It was stronger than her, she always had to argue back. Something this led her to troubles, but apparently she never learned her lesson. What a luck. She cleared her throat and placed her tray on the table. "A little present."

"What is this?" One man asked, narrowing his eyebrows. At least, he did not look angry.

"Homemade pierogi." The girl simply shrugged. "I know it's WWE and not Masterchef here, but if I stay or go, at least I could leave a positive impression. I hope."

At her words, all men started to laugh. It was not a mocking laugh, but a real one. "I like you, I give you that!" Mr McMahon spoke, opening the tray. "It's such an unorthodox method, but they look delicious. Gentlemen, let's serve ourselves!"