Gray turns to face you, the emerald eyes and creepy, lop-sided smirk cutting in your confidence like a knife through jelly.

"Do me a favor, ace. Close your eyes and tell me what you see. "

Nothing.

"That's exactly how much you know about Silverback. And if you truly had any idea about who I am or what I've accomplished, you wouldn't be throwing out vague prophecies of my downfall like candy. The whole getting under your skin deal, verbally tearing opponents apart limb by limb - yeah, I mastered that shit years ago. So you're going to have to come up with a helluva lot more for me to even consider taking you seriously.

But how about, instead of shooting your mouth off like every other idiot rookie, you actually use the wad of fat in that misshapen head of yours and consider this. Friday isn't just another opportunity for you to advance in some tournament; it will be the most challenging night of your life, the night you step into the ring with a God. Not many men can make that claim, and those that could pray to forget.

Forget about fuckin' titles, slick - what you should really concern yourself with is how you plan to walk back up that ramp with two broken ankles."

A quick furrow of his brow tells you this isn't an idle threat - and it's more than just a possibility.

"I'll be honest - the thought of beating you doesn't thrill me in the least. I could do that with my eyes closed and one arm tied behind my back…y'know, despite my age. As far as I'm concerned, you haven't even earned the right to be in this match. I'm not even giving you the option to show me otherwise.

So get laid or get high or do whatever it is that takes to make you feel like a man, because in the end it really doesn't matter. Even at his best, The Expert is merely an amateur when stacked up against me.

You can even bring a friend or two, if you think that will help. Although if wasn't obvious before, I'll clue you in now…"

Gray thumbs over this shoulder at the Brutal.

"My friend is bigger."