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**02-26-2013, 11:37 AM**

This scene takes place at the private training facility of the Administrator Network where everyone must show their white access card at the gates!

Tyrone's taped fists collided with the punching bag as it swayed through the air. The bolt that attached the bag to the steel beam of the building creaked as the bag bounced back and forth. The man behind the punches is Wallace Witasick's hired gun; Tyrone. The six foot five, boxer turned bodyguard, doesn't lose his focus even with the presence of the XWF camera crew and journalist nearby. Sweat pours down the big man's forehead as he exhales after each strike. His body movements are profound, and his striking power shows no signs of decline. The man is a machine!

What could Tyrone have to say to an XWF camera crew and that pushover journalist who can't even speak up over the sounds of his fists hitting the bag? Tyrone was locked in on his target. The journalist, Steve Sayors, knew that interrupting Tyrone's training session was a big no-no. He knew that Tyrone would grab him by his shoulders, hang him in place of the bag, and punch him around for a couple of hours instead.

Trash talk was never Tyrone's specialty. He never cared for interviews or promos. Tyrone wasn't hired for his "mic skills," or trash talking ability. He was hired for his strength and fighting ability. Fighting is all Tyrone knows. He grew up a fighter, fought through tough times, and fought his way into the position that he is in today.

When did Tyrone sink his teeth into legitimate fighting? Well, Tyrone's amateur background picked up around the age of fourteen. Prior to that, he would fight the other kids in the neighborhood. At that time, even at a young age, he was known within a hundred yard radius for being one of the toughest and strongest fighters around. He was even dubbed by others as having "Hands of Stone." As the years went by, Tyrone built himself a reputation in the sport of boxing. Nothing mountainous at the time, but he was destined to be a star of the future. He was only a couple of years away from making it to the big leagues. However, that did not happen for multiple reasons outside of the ring.

But for now let's just say that mistakes were made, and situations came up that took Tyrone out of the driver's seat. Let's just say that Tyrone didn't quite "make it," and has been bitter about it ever since.

Tyrone doesn't get fulfillment out of doing Wallace's dirty work. But it's a job he's good at, and gets paid a lot of money to do.

Tyrone lets out a grunt as he lands a right hook on the bag which seems to cause him discomfort in his shoulder. That shot of pain seems to snap him out of his "zone," and back down to reality. The reality? Steve Sayors just walked right in the middle of your training time and has his camera right up in your face.

Tyrone responds aggressively to Sayors. "What you want n****?!" Not quite the language you would expect to come out of the mouth of Wallace's right hand man. Warfare prides itself for displaying a professional image at all times! Tyrone even acknowledges this as he tries to regain his composure. Tyrone represents the strength of the Administrator Network. He must conduct himself professionally at all times despite his true feelings.

Tyrone apologizes. "I'm sorry about that, Steve. I got carried away there. But seriously; what you want? Can't you see I'm trying to get ready for Warfare?"

Steve Sayors returns to his normal state after nearly pissing himself at the tone of Tyrone's voice. "Tyrone, we could hear you from outside the facility! The only question I have is what's going through your mind right now as we're less than two days away from the fatal four way match?"

Tyrone shouts at the top of his lungs: "I'm thinking about how I'm going to knock Mark Flynn out if he doesn't call this match down the middle!"

The small recording device is shaky as Steve Sayors trembles from the sound of Tyrone's angry black man voice.

Tyrone

D*** right I'm mad. A lot of people here try to hide their anger out of fear that some punk a** will call them out on it. I don't give a d***. I'm not some punk kid that you're talking to behind a keyboard. I'm a pissed off man who fights people. And while I may not be "fighting" this Wednesday, I'll be there on Wednesday to enforce the rules of the main event. My job isn't that hard. I just wait for Flynn to slip up so I can go in there and whoop that a** like I did last week. I'll be waiting for you Flynn. I hope you make a bad call this week because I'll be there to correct it every single time. This is your one and only warning. On Wednesday, you get no warnings. The only thing you'll get are these four knuckles across your jaw.

I really can't lay it out for you any more simple than that. Sorry bub, I don't have any interest in going back and forth with you over the semantic of a metaphor. I'll let Neonero play those b**** game with you.

This week the game is simple. You call the match down the middle, and I won't knock your head off. What's your move going to be Flynn? I couldn't care less. I get to have fun either way.

As for who I'm pulling for. Well, I think them Crimson boys have a lot of potential. I'd love to see Crimson Deadly get a shot since Cobra had his last week. We'll see what happens.

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