"Probability would tend to stack the odds in your favour, Pimp Bizkit.  However..."

"...Don't be foolish enough to take probability as anything more than advanced guesswork.  You have never beaten me in a singles match without help from at least one external party, Pimp.  That's not going to change.  With such an array of possible 'assistants' to choose from, everything appears as though I'm set to challenge for the World Heavyweight Championship - against the odds - at Fallout: Against The Odds.  It's disgusting that you are still being booked as something of a comedy champion, scraping wins by the skin of your teeth without truly doing anything for yourself."

"It saddens me and should tear you apart inside that this has all become part of one big gimmick for you.  You're Pimp Bizkit, one of the few title-holders in a lineage of Champions.  You're the guy that'll go for weeks on end without even wrestling, let alone defending 'your' belt.  All of that will be coming to a bitter end on the thirtieth of this month, and it excites me to say that I'll be the one responsible for it."

"Responsibility is something that, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, is placed upon the World Heavyweight Champion by default.  You don't have an ounce of it in you, though.  You can't bare to face the reality that you are no longer the carefree 'Midcard Killer'...  You simply can't afford to be anymore.  But your flesh and blood in the Command Suite have seen to it that their dear brother is immune to all of that.  They'll shift the responsibility onto somebody else and allow you to just reap the rewards.  Pay-Per-View bonuses, sponsorship deals and the highest salary of them all are merely the tip of one big perk-filled iceberg."

"If I'm right and that's the case, then think of Lord John Taylor as a freak heatwave, whose only purpose is to see the very core of Pimp Bizkit melt into his personal sea."

"This is no longer about a professional rivalry or one man's strive to truly best the other.  Make no mistake, Pimp - I'm after your head.  You've dragged that championship too far down and you've got a career's worth of responsibility to live up to.  At Fallout: Against The Odds, I'm going to dish that out to you the only way to which you are accustomed - on a silver platter.  You've always had an ego, and until recently I've been able to live happily in ignorance as far as that goes.  Not any longer.  When it's the World Heavyweight title being dragged behind you, somebody's got to intervene.  Justin Sharp tried and failed.  Jay Jameson tried and failed.  Bane got ahead of himself and made the mistake of assuming he'd gotten his foot in the door for a round or two with "I, The Living Legend", but Crimson showed just how wrong he was."

"As I said weeks ago, it has to be me that cleanses that title of your name once and for all.  I'll accept the responsibility that it was - technically - me that allowed you get yourself into this mess, and as such I'm ready to repair the damage done.  The only favourable outcome of too many possible ones is that I walk into the Pay-Per-View and beat you in the middle of the ring.  It's the only way..."

"The Hellions will be non-factors in this match.  I'll see to that personally if that's what needs to be done.  Once they're out of the picture, and it's just Pimp Bizkit staring down the barrel of the proverbial loaded gun, the self-realisation will hit you like an incoming freight train.  You never could quite manage to beat me on your own, and at the end of the month, all you'll be able to do is give in and accept it.  Your days as World Heavyweight Champion are numbered.  They were from the moment you 'beat' me at Aftermath, in fact.  Since then, however, I've sat back and allowed you your free run at being the man to beat.  Unfortunately for you, though, I've grown tired of the same old shit.  Lacklustre, lazy and second-rate performances.  You're even losing your weasel's touch, Pimp."

"Once the final bell sounded on New Year's Eve last and you were declared World Heavyweight Champion, a deceptively vague time limit was stamped right across you and your second title run.  It wasn't until Crimson and the Fatal Fourway match that a decisive limit was physically spelled out.  The thirtieth of April, 2005, is the day that it all goes away for the Absentee Champion.  Don't forget that for a second."

"You won't so much be going out with a bang as you will with the monotone knell of the GZW2K1 ring bell.  Pimp, Against The Odds spells the end for you and your half-assed, worn-out stay at the top.  It can't happen any other way..."

"You've been given far too many chances to prove your worth and managed to mess it all up far too many times.  Simply stripping you of your title this late in 'the game' would slip off you like water from a duck's back.  You'd have gotten the better of the World Heavyweight Title and you'd be able to strut off telling yourself that you were never beaten for the title.  It would be an atrocity to give you the distinction of having your title merely taken away.  What must happen at Against The Odds MUST be big...  It must be memorable and it must be so damaging to you and your credibility that you won't dare show your face on my side of the card ever again."

"Pimp, I can assure you that you will not know the man that picks you apart, piece by piece, at Against The Odds.  You won't know how the man that will take your disgraced title from you operates.  Yes, his name will be Lord John Taylor, but that's the only thing you'll recognise.  When I step between those ropes and lock up with you for what, as far as I'm concerned, will be the last time, you're going to get a side of the Lone Gunman that you couldn't even comprehend.  I won't be some ambitious challenger doing what it takes to put on some 'show'...  I'll be the fucking debt collector.  I'll be the sinner hell bent on wiping his hands clean of the guilt of ever letting you near the belt.  Electric Sharpe was handed his punishment at Crimson in the form of a dozen head shots to the steel steps.  He got off lightly for his part in all of this."

"The brunt, as I hope you're beginning to understand, can only fall on you..."

"Don't try to challenge or resist it in any way, title-holder.  Your title is gone.  That's a foregone conclusion.  Neither payback or revenge will have any bearing on the preset fact that I will leave Cancun, Mexico as the GZW2K1 World Heavyweight Champion.  The only thing in which you now have any say is exactly how far I'll need to go to show you that you're finished at the top.  If it takes me simply beating you in the middle of the ring, that's fine.  If it takes an all-out assault, that's even better.  You probably don't realise yet how far I'm willing to go in order to rid the main event scene of you forever.  I am deadly serious, Pimp.  Do no come to Against The Odds underestimating me or my motives..."

"To the naked eye, probability has the odds stacked in your favour.  Look a little closer and you'll realise that you've already lost the title.  Closer again and you'll begin to see the pure amount of ways I can make you suffer after the match and force you to pay up for months of sloth and inactivity.  So many possibilities would floating around would blind even the sharpest champion, but don't fall into that.  Allow me to put it like this, Pimp..."

"I COULD do ANYTHING to you at Against The Odds to simply erase you, but at the end of the day, I WILL do SOMETHING."

"I guess it all depends on what kind of mood you have me in leading up to the Pay-Per-View..."