-=-Raquel Diaz-=-
The city of Montreal has a rich and interesting history. From its earliest days right up until the present. Someone more bookish than myself, such as Leva Bates, could speak volumes about the beauty present in this city. My knowledge on the other hand is limited in scope. This recreation of Notre-Dame is outside the purview of influence I wield. Wrestling is my sphere of power and knowledge. It’s the realm I know everything about where nothing escapes my notice. And, that’s why I find it so interesting that we find ourselves in Canada on the eve of my title defense to Alexa Bliss. Who would have thought that Trish Stratus of all people would have abandoned a chance at MY title in her home country for the benefit of Alexa Bliss? I for one could have never guessed at the outcome of that interaction if given a thousand chances.
La Diosa stepped from under the arch and made her way toward the nearby statue of Paul de Chomedey. The camera kept both time and pace keeping her framed and facing it at all times. A light splash heralded the cameraman backing into the fountain surrounding the statue to keep the shot framed to Raquel’s request. She stared up at the statue with a devilish grin. As her face tilted toward the camera, her eyes pierced as if staring into the soul of everyone watching from their browsers and phones.
-=-Raquel Diaz-=-
When Trish started spewing my name and making claims about my reign two weeks ago on Warfare I knew where we were going to be. I knew about this little trip to Canada and how soon it was coming on the horizon. Most importantly I knew that it was going to be Trish on the other side of the ring in this match. Nothing could have changed my mind that she was going to challenge me and I was going to beat her on my way to beating her record.
Raquel sighed. Her hand dropped to her waist and she shook her head slightly. There was a moment of realization turning about in her head. She smirked to the camera, her eyes finally breaking contact.
-=-Raquel Diaz-=-
But, I was wrong. Dead wrong. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not afraid to admit when I was wrong. I misjudged Trish. I thought her more conceited than this. I thought her more selfish than this. I thought a lot of things and now I am having to run back and rethink each and every one of them. It puts doubts in my mind about what she was planning. On what she wanted when she came out to the ring. It makes me ponder her motivations. It darkens my thoughts. But, regardless of the motivation, no matter what Trish has rattling around in her pretty little skull, it all comes out the same. Doesn’t it? Tomorrow on Warfare I’m set to defend my title against Alexa Bliss in my second Main Event in as many weeks. It’s been a long road but it looks like the Women’s division is finally earning the respect it deserves. We’re being rewarded with more and better screen time. We’re being put at the top of the card where we belong. No longer a second hand title meant to fill the preshow!
Raquel tilted her head slightly back toward the statue standing proud above her. She motioned and the camera followed her gaze with a smooth pan. Paul de Chomedey and his flag adorned the top of the high pedestal. The clear night sky backed him and made the light illuminating the statue’s edges stand out. Though she was no longer shown, Raquel continued to speak to the camera.
-=-Raquel Diaz-=-
Borrowing from Leva, I did my research. And, do you know what I see here? This man, immortalized in bronze, laid the foundation for this entire town. Without him, none of this would be possible. The people, the buildings, the venues, this upcoming show. It all rests at the feet of this man that died over three hundred years ago. Still these people honor and cherish him. They come and throw change at his feet. They speak to him as often as they cross the street and speak to the saints. His name, his likeness, his essence has bled into this city and become a lasting part of it.
As if pulled in by her magnetism, the camera reframed around Raquel. She was sitting at the edge of the fountain with her right hand trailing in the water. Her body turned away from the camera in such a way that forced her to look over her shoulder. The back of her jacket had La Diosa De La Lucha Libre written in a flaming script embroidered on it.
-=-Raquel Diaz-=-
The EBWF Women’s Division is my Montreal. Built around the foundation that I have laid since claiming this title at Wrestlemania from a so-called transitional Champion. Filled with my blood, sweat and tears. That I spilled in some of the most grueling and entertaining matches to ever grace the division. Made stronger by my presence. Stronger by each defense I’ve made against each opponent. This division has grown by my draw of new blood seeking to challenge me for the right to call themselves the top of this food chain! Like Montreal, my reign has been threatened by a flood. A flood of women who want nothing more than to see me laid low, buried under the tide of their onslaught. Women like Becky Lynch who sought to make my time as the Champion a controversy that could paint me in a less than flattering light. Women like Leva Bates who sought to snuff out the candle of my moment before I had a chance to bask in its light. Women like Trish Stratus who want to ensure that no one knocks them off the fragile pedestals they cling to in the halls of bygone history. Women like Alexa Bliss who seek a resurgence of their career by toppling the best. And, I am the best!
Raquel pushed her hand forcefully through the water of the fountain creating a small wave that crashed toward the camera and out of frame.
-=-Raquel Diaz-=-
Under threat of that flood, Paul here, lowered his head and he prayed to Our Lady of Guadalupe that she deliver him and his people from the storm. Soon the rains stopped, the waters receded and the city of Montreal was born. Not me. While I have been known to seek out the Virgin Mother for a request or two in the past, I’m not that woman anymore. No longer do I rely on a higher power to guide my hand, make my choices and prepare me for the tough road ahead. No longer do I seek assistance from anyone outside of myself in the ring or out of it. Because, I am La Diosa de la Lucha Libre and I am the one people seek guidance from. I am the name young women call out to when they want to know what path to take in this industry. I am the one the fans seek to guide them through the storm of disrespectful rookies and dried up icons. I am the name on the lips of those who want to walk the path. I am the woman that the women on pedestals look up to.
Raquel stood up. As she brushed her pants clean she nodded slightly to the camera. Once again, they were walking in perfect sync as she continued toward the screen to a park bench. Aiden was waiting on the bench with the Women’s Championship laid across his lap. His outfit was a mirror of her own with a black leather jacket and faded denim pants. Raquel leaned over him and clasped the belt on either side of the main plate. She kissed her husband on the side of the head before lifting the title up and over her shoulder. She ran her hand across his shoulders as she turned and continued walking. The camera was now following her in profile with the Basilica and statue lingering in the background.
-=-Raquel Diaz-=-
I’ve done my best to guide this division and allow those under me to flourish and grow into their roles here. I’ve made it my mission to accept the challenges of anyone and everyone who felt like they could step up and knock me down. I would have accepted the challenge of Trish Stratus if she would have just let the words float from her mouth. But, her fear paralyzed her and she handed that opportunity over to Alexa without hesitation. Without need. Instead, she escaped the fate of everyone who has tried before. She robbed the EBWF Universe of a match that would have set a standard for the new year. Instead it’s Alexa Bliss and Raquel Diaz.
Raquel shook her head and took another deep breath.
-=-Raquel Diaz-=-
Alexa, I knew that there was going to come a day when you and I were going to meet in the ring for this title. It’s unavoidable that you eventually earn a shot at my Championship. Sadly, I did think that you would earn that shot. I didn’t think for a second that you would allow yourself to be handed a shot that you didn’t earn, that you don’t deserve, that you’re not prepared for. Two weeks. It’s not enough time to prepare for a match against the best female wrestler in the industry. It’s not enough time to prepare for a diety. Today is the eve of our match. It’s the night before you and I meet in the ring and put on a spectacle for the fans. But, it’s also the eve of your destruction. It’s your history in the making because I’m going to make damn sure that you don’t walk away from this match the same as you’re walking into it. I’m going to give you the same respect, the same treatment that I gave to Bayley last week. I’m going to lock you into the Lasso from El Paso and I am going to make you admit that you don’t want the title bad enough to take it from me. I’m going to make you beg for mercy. I’m going to make you question your desire to climb into the ring with me. I’m going to prove to you that I am still the best female wrestler in the EBWF, in the wrestling industry. I’m going to prove that Trish didn’t do you a favor, she did herself one by getting out of my way. I’m going to give you a reason to hate Trish Stratus before you go and meet her as the number one and number two entrants into the first ever Last Survivor match! And I’m going to do it from atop my pedestal with the foundation of my division laid out at my feet and you under it.
Raquel stopped and whipped around to face the camera. Her hair flung wildly around with her. There was a sudden intensity in her eyes, her teeth clenched. Another long deep breath as she stared into the camera. Suddenly she broke a grin out to the left side of her face. She ran her hand across the EBWF Women’s Championship and chuckled.
-=-Raquel Diaz-=-
I’ll see you tomorrow Alexa. All this talk of Saints, mothers and deities leaves us with a simple phrase. I'm going to send you to meet your maker, so he can witness his greatest failure in person!
Raquel blew the camera a kiss. As the vignette started to shrink in on the screen Aiden walked up and put his hand around Raquel’s waist. He gave a sly smile of his own just before the black completely collapsed on the screen.