Focus (Terra)

[Clayton Lang]

New York City
*************
It seemed as if Clayton Lang was already reaping some of the benefits of his newfound association. The accommodations supplied to him were quite generous. The money was quite generous too. And then there was this state of the art training facility which he found himself in.

Surrounding him were random observers. Some corporate types in suits, a few groupies he had picked up, some guys he brought along from Chi-town. He was looking like a typical fighter with a typical "entourage".

But despite all that, Lang's mood was more sour than it usually is. He's working out some frustration on a poor heavy bag, which doesn't seem heavy at all from the sheer force of the punches and kicks he's delivering to it. Barechested, his hand are outfitted with some Everlast training gloves and his legs with nothing but a pair of black TapouT shorts.

Son of a...

BAM!!!

Who's he think he is?

BAM!!!

I'mma kill him!

BAM!!!

I'mma kill him!

BAM!!!

Each and every word he said was followed by a wicked hit to the bag that sent it flailing in the direction of his punch or kick. One could say Lang was motivated. One could say he was simply mad. But at who was the question?

Another visitor enters the scene. Unlike everyone else though, he actually aims to find out.

[Tyson Terra]

As Tyson walked into the training gym, he looked around at the people surrounding Lang. This was a man who apparently drew a lot of attention. Maybe it could be a good thing in terms of motivation, but it could also be a distraction. Tyson had to be sure which was the case.

He walks over and grabs a hold of the hapless heavy bag as it almost ripped off of it's chain.

Easy, Lang. You're going to burn yourself out. A lot of good you'll be if you waste all that energy on this thing. We want you to inflict that kind of punishment on actual people.

[Clayton Lang]

Lang was breathing heavy. You could almost here a growl coming out from under his breath. He points swiftly at Terra.

You just wait then. You wait till this season starts, Terra! I'm take that pasty-skinned chump Cervantes, and I'mma beat him black and blue!

That was my match! My time! My moment! That sucka thinks he can ruin it and get away with it? He's got another thing comin'. No. He's got a whole lotta pain comin'! You want some "inflicted punishment"? You gonna see it. You gonna SEE IT!

Motivation or anger? There was quite the possibility that it was both.

[Tyson Terra]

That sounds good, Lang. But I'm a man who believes what he sees and not what he hears.

Tyson wore a black leather jacket, pants and boots. He slid off the shades from his eyes and put them in his pocket.

But, you should already have an idea of what kind of "performance" I'm expecting from you. Use myself as example. Relentlessness. Remorselessness. When we strike, they'll not see it coming, and it will be too late for them to recover.

Now, I'm quite sure you're capable of that, Mr. Lang. But if you go after this Dante Cervantes, you're going to have to see to it that your focused. Blind rage only goes but so far.

[Clayton Lang]

You're gonna see some focus, Terra. Me focused on ripping him apart!

Lang unleashes another looping punch to the bag, sending it swinging once more.

You better watch what you're asking for. You might not like what you see me do. You didn't come here to give me a pep talk though. So what's on your mind?

[Tyson Terra]

That's the kind of answer Tyson was looking for. Business.

It's a few weeks until the new XWA season begins. I came to inform you that I've arranged a little meeting before that happens. Something of a "strategy session" if you will. You'll meet some other members of the team then, and I'll fill you in on a few more details as far as what's to be done.

I know that I've been a little "cryptic" in giving you the full extent of my plans, but I assure you, once you find out why...you'll consider yourself glad you decided to become a part of The Consortium.

[Clayton Lang]

You just make sure you hold up your end, and you ain't gotta worry about what I'm gonna do.

There was a bottle of water on the ground near the two. Lang picks it up and twists off the cap in one motion. He takes a few sips, then wipes his lips dry.

You make sure I get my money, and I'll take out anyone, anytime, anyplace...but not before I get my hands on that chump Cervantes. That's the first man on my list and he damn sure ain't gonna be the last, you dig?