TUESDAY 21ST JULY 1992- ALTERNATIVE PAST
“Why this? Why now” implored El Diablo.
“Because you have to know how your life could have been, if you had chosen the right path,” Jorge stated.
Standing in the Diaz family home were El Diablo and his brother Jorge, only it was different from how they had remembered it. They were in the bedroom they once shared as children, but the bunk bed was gone and so were the numerous posters of past wrestling stars, instead there was a single bed and a desk in the corner.
“Why are we here? And why is it all so different?” queried The Mexican Devil.
Appearing to El Diablo, the clearest and most vividly since he started haunting his brother, Jorge was still the same eighteen year old that he last saw, with short black hair and a thin black moustache. He didn’t stand tall, at only 5’7 and weighing only 155lbs, or at least he used to. Jorge wasn’t dressed in all white like any average ghost either, he wore faded blue jeans, a white t-shirt and black shoes, appearing almost like a Mexican Homer Simpson, only a lot slimmer and a lot smarter.
“It’s different because you didn’t separate yourself from society here. Look at what is hanging on the wall over the desk, Raul, you might be surprised,” Jorge informed his brother.
Taking some steps towards the desk, The Creator of Controversy noticed a framed diploma with his name on it.
“So what? I may be educated in this dream world of yours, but in reality I’m intelligent anyway. I don’t need a diploma to inform me of that,” El Diablo bit back.
Grinning, Jorge looked his brother up and down, from his long black hair, to his broken nose and his black Affliction t-shirt, black jeans and black sneakers. Underneath the clothing, were the scars from his wrestling career that he was hiding.
“You’re right Raul, you are intelligent. But, you’re not intelligent enough to have avoided getting the scars that you carry from your insane wrestling style, and your past lifestyle,” Jorge remarked.
And on that note, the room became distorted to El Diablo before falling into darkness.
FRIDAY 14TH MARCH 2003- ALTERNATIVE PAST
The new room soon focuses in, and El Diablo quickly discovers that he and Jorge are inside a doctors office.
“Is that me?” The Mexican Devil asked curiously.
Nodding, Jorge and El Diablo can see a dark haired doctor sitting at a desk while this Raul Diaz is sitting opposite him.
“You brought me here to show me I’d have cancer if I had been different in the past?” Diablo asked.
Jorge simply laughed.
“Wait and watch, brother,” he replied.
Unable to be seen, El Diablo watched the scene unfolding before him with great curiosity.
“Mr Diaz, I’m pleased to report that after conducting your regular physical, you are in tip-top shape. You appear healthy in all aspects, and if you remain this healthy, you could probably remain wrestling for the next twenty years,” stated the doctor.
Standing up, Diaz genuinely smiled, unlike his diabolic counterpart, and shook the doctor’s hand.
“Thank you Doctor Thomas. I suppose the fact that I don’t drink, do drugs or smoke has really helped me out, and all the training I do to keep myself fit has helped too,” said Raul.
“Absolutely, keep yourself like this and you’re highly likely to live a long and productive life,” commented Thomas.
This version of Raul Diaz had short, shiny healthy black hair, a nose that hadn’t been broken and actually looked a lot younger than El Diablo did back in 2003.
“And what is this meant to be telling me Jorge?” asked the ruthless Mexican.
Wrapping his left arm around his brother’s shoulder, Jorge continued to watch the 2003 Raul Diaz intently.
“That he, could have been you. You could have taken better care of yourself, you wouldn’t have wrestled those stupid matches against Flaymin Aymin and Jason Snow, causing you to have a broken nose and other broken bones which have left scars all over your body. All of that was needless, but you pursued it anyway. Look at him, look at that Raul Diaz, he is healthy and happy, something you are not, and something you will never be if you continue to live your life this way,” Jorge told him the brutal truth.
Shrugging Jorge’s arm off of him and turning away from seeing what could have been, El Diablo stared directly into Jorge’s eyes for the first time in nearly two decades.
“Just because I drink and wrestle my way, does not make me a bad person. Life happened to me, Jorge, that’s what changed me and I would not change a thing about what happened in the past, as it’s made me the person I am today, and I’m very proud of that,” The Master of Manipulation shot back.
“Proud? Proud of what? You inflict pain on people because you enjoy it, and you enjoy pain being inflicted upon yourself for some maniacal reason, and that is just plain sick, brother. It’s so sick, I can’t even bear to call you Raul anymore, you’re just El Diablo to me,” Jorge angrily told his brother what he thinks of him.
Grinning a devilish smile, El Diablo could see the room getting distorted, once more.
“Where to now Jorge? Or are you finally going to leave me alone?”
“Perhaps you are too self involved to have noticed, but this Raul was not wearing a wedding ring,” said Jorge.
“What?”
Blackness.
FRIDAY 12TH FEBRUARY 1999- ALTERNATIVE PAST
The new scene quickly became clear to The Mexican Devil, he was back in Puebla, Mexico, but not in the Diaz family home, he was in a different home, a home that appeared to belong to Raul Diaz.
“WHERE ARE WE?” El Diablo demanded to know.
Taking a quick look around the room, El Diablo could see photos of himself hanging along the walls. A photo of him as a child with Jorge, an old family photo with Raul, Jorge and their parents Jose and Ophelia, a photo of himself in a standard portrait and another photo of Raul with several disadvantaged children.
“We’re at Raul’s home,” Jorge answered.
“What’s with the photographs? Where is Angela?” The Mexican Devil enquired.
Laughing, Jorge just pointed at the photos on the walls.
“This Raul never met her. So, he never ended up in a mental institute and he can have kids here. That is why your home is here and not in Chicago. Meeting Angela was a big mistake, Diablo, so if you took the right path in your life, you’d be a lot better off without her,” Jorge informed El Diablo.
Hearing this remark, really irked The Mexican Devil, as despite his recent and past struggles with Angela, he truly loved her, unconditionally.
“Why are you doing this to me? You know very well that Angela is good for me. How is showing this to me, making my life any better?” El Diablo stated with his anger growing.
“It’s making it better because now you can see the errors of your ways. Now you can see where you need to fix your life. Now you know the cancer that is in your life, that you need to cut away, and then maybe, just maybe, you can be the good man that you were meant to be,” Jorge told him.
Pulling at his greasy black hair, El Diablo was furious.
“ENOUGH!” he shrieked.
Shortly afterwards, the room began to distort once again.
“Lets go home,” said Jorge.
Darkness.
MONDAY 19TH MARCH 2007- ALTERNATIVE PAST
“WHERE NOW JORGE? GOING TO SHOW ME MY TOMBSTONE LIKE IN A CHRISTMAS CAROL?” he shouted loudly.
As the room focused, El Diablo soon noticed that he was home, at the Diaz family home in Puebla.
“There’s no tombstone, brother, but keep on living your life the way you are and you’re heading towards that a lot faster than what you may think,” Jorge warned him.
The angered Diablo, simply gritted his teeth as he realised he’d have grin and bear it before Jorge ended this journey.
“Okay Jorge, so what now then? Why am I back here for the first time in fifteen years?” Diablo asked.
Scanning the room, Jorge made sure to emphasise several items in the room they were in, such as the nice leather furniture, the large high definition television, a fine wooden cabinet full of precious family memories and the telephone on top of it.
“You’ll find out any moment now,”
The telephone began to ring, and it soon became evident that no one was home.
“This is great Jorge, we’re here to answer a missed phone call?” Diablo remarked bitterly.
Before The Creator of Controversy could make any other cynical comments, the answer phone kicked in.
“Hi Dad, I guess you’ve gone shopping or something. Just calling to let you know that I’ve sent you the money from my recent pay check to help you out with your medicine. There’s no need to pay me back, you looked after me for all those years, and now it’s my turn to look out for you. I’ll call you later, bye,”
Taken aback by hearing his own voice on the end of that phone call, El Diablo couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” he screamed.
Jorge smiled.
“That was you helping out Dad. He got over losing me, and realised how terrible he treated you after that and you were grown up enough to accept his apology and reclaim a relationship with each other. It was quite beautiful really,” Jorge explained.
Feeling physically sick, El Diablo knew this had to be some sort of sick joke by his brother.
“No. That would never happen. I despise him for what he did to me. I’d never knowingly forgive him. I haven’t spoken to him for years, and I’d gladly keep it that way until the day he dies. Then and only then would I go and see him, just to make sure that vile human being really is dead,” he scoffed.
Shaking his head in disgust, Jorge was wondering if he was fighting a losing battle to make his brother change his outlook on life and become the good man that he genuinely thinks he can be.
“Deep down, I know you don’t really mean that. I know that there is at least some good in you, and I will get that part of you out, so that you can change, whether it be now or when you’re eighty years old,” Jorge notified El Diablo of his thoughts.
“That will never happen, Jorge. I will die like I am now, a great man,”
Scratching his head, it was almost as if a light bulb had lit up over Jorge’s head.
“If this doesn’t show you, nothing will,” Jorge warned.
This time the room didn’t distort, but was shaking violently, much to The Master of Manipulation’s discomfort.
SUNDAY 27TH OCTOBER 2002- ALTERNATIVE PAST
Picking himself up from the ground, El Diablo found himself inside a familiar wrestling arena.
“PCW!” he mouthed.
Jorge nodded.
They were ringside at a PCW pay-per view event, with twenty thousand screaming fans in attendance, Dave Kern, Jeff Marx and Duke Williams doing colour commentary and inside the ring was Raul Diaz against Clyde for the PCW World Heavyweight Championship Belt.
“Why am I seeing this Jorge? I lost this match. I don’t need to see it again,” Diablo said, whilst trying to hide the pain it caused him.
Watching the action in the ring, Jorge saw Diaz knock down Clyde with a top rope cross body block and get a two count.
“El Diablo lost that match, just like he lost many others. This Raul Diaz is undefeated,” commented Jorge.
Shocked at what he was seeing, El Diablo was surprisingly speechless.
“I think Diaz might win this one,” stated Jorge.
Attempting a DDT, Clyde tried to drill Diaz’s face into the mat, but Diaz reversed it into a northern lights suplex.
DI-AZ! DI-AZ! DI-AZ! DI-AZ! DI-AZ! The crowd chanted.
With his green eyes fixated on the action of the ring, El Diablo was mesmerised by what he was seeing in himself.
“If you choose the right path, this can still happen,” Jorge preached.
In the ring, Diaz nailed a top rope DDT on Clyde and went for the cover as the fans cheered wildly.
1.…………….2.…………….3!
Slumping to his knees, Diaz was handed the PCW World Championship and broke down in tears as his music played throughout the arena.
“Why this Jorge?” The Mexican Devil muttered.
Watching the celebration in the ring, El Diablo’s eyes were welling up as for the first time he saw himself as a wrestling World Champion.
“Because now you can understand what being a good man can do for you,” Jorge delicately said to him.
With tears streaming down his cheeks, El Diablo blinked and everything was gone, including Jorge.
“You can be a World Champion if you’re a good human being, Raul,” stated the now invisible, Jorge.