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Reggie Estrada · (05-02-2026)

To be honest, i know i that i am at a disadvantage. Three people who claim ownership to the second best belt to Anarchy, but that’s okay with me. I am not afraid of a challenge, and to be honest i needed to restart myself again in the circuit again. I was blacklisted in Mexico, and now restarting life again in San Diego; its hard, but I'm trying my best to make dime and nickel out of nothing. I almost resorted to drug dealing, and i did one sell before, but once i saw a dead body in the street, I decided to change up the whole thing. For all my life, if it wasn’t abandonment issues, it was violence and fear growing up. While I crossed the border with my uncle and auntie, they ended up in custody as they felt sorry for me.

I still have that memory of being apart of them, and one day i told myself as i get older I will track them down, and pay my respects to them. You see, what i am saying is that i have goals and dreams i hope to achieve, but i know the American Dream isn’t one of them. Gas, inflation, you name it i see it all day on the news. Outside of my shady dealing past, i keep up with NPR news on the low in my own home. I might not be the best American that stepped on stolen land, and lord knows that I am not the best wrestler in the company. But what i am best at is slaughtering the pigs, and i don’t mean the popo muchaos.

I mean this X-Treme rules eliminator match, where one can walk away with a contendership to the Revolutionary belt that Besty or Blade might hold before the night is done, while i can care less who will win that belt; what i do care about is that if one of them walks away with that belt, im coming not only for their belt, but their head as well. I guess im approaching as a predator towards the prays, whom need to stay out of my way,

That goes to psycho Oz, a has been son of a former XWF worker Solomon, and the narcissistic, plain, boring, knock off Breakfast at Tiffany’s very own Summer Page. These three are what i claim as my prey in the minefield. As one of them step on the mines, boom, blown into pieces that even crows wouldn’t want to feed on their carcass. While all them has skills, talent, and enough chapstick to kiss the asses of the corporate edgelors like Musk, and em to get noticed. I surely don’t follow that method to get far, oh no, my own principles aren’t aligned with them. If that gets me less likely to get a shot at the title, then so be it.

My truth is this, while it would be lovely to be a contender, a belt that JB made relevant before he lost it, before it gotten into the hands of the Besty types that damn near caters to those who are in need. Maybe i don’t need it, maybe I shouldn't even had recorded this promo at the last minute on my way to Oakland. All the maybes in the world don’t mean that will not put up a fight, even if I have to become a landmine myself in a all no holds barred, anything goes match this coming Anarchy. I am ready to see some red, some sweet sweet “crimson” shade of red outside these people’s bodies.

Something about seeing red on that Oz dude, or seeing red on bastard seed like Solomon, or even daddy’s little princess Summer seeing red. Thats the lengths i promise these fans i will go, and be one with a bloody hand up in the air as the last man standing.

Mientras permanezco aquí, hago una proclamación: aun si no resulto ganador, eliminaré a toda la competencia que se atreva a interponerse en mi camino para convertirme en el próximo aspirante al Campeonato Revolution. Prometo a estos fanáticos que lo daré todo, hasta que ya no me quede nada por dar.

Ya sea que gane o pierda este combate... no permitiré que mi impulso se vea frenado por un tropiezo momentáneo en una lucha por la aspiración al título; pero no piensen ni por un segundo que me encontrarán desprevenido en el fragor de la batalla: acabaré con cualquiera —incluido el árbitro— que se cruce en mi camino.

¡Reggie se despide!

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