Post by Serizawa on Sept 4, 2014 12:32:54 GMT -5
<“Excuse me, mister, can you help me?”>
A lone man in business casual garb paused as a woman wearing a full black outfit, leather jacker, muscle shirt, jeans, and a pair of black sneakers – even in the warmth of the west coast summer sun – stepped in front of him. The sidewalk was wide enough to walk around the minor inconvenience, but before he could politely nod and smile and continue on his way home, the woman reached her hands out and grabbed the collar of his shirt. And then she spoke. Was that Japanese? The man could do nothing but shake his head and stammer, babbling a response that the woman couldn’t follow.
<“Sir?”>
Serizawa asked once more, her head tilted to the side, a universal sign for confusion. Unless that had simply been a local custom, she wasn’t exactly used to America quite yet. The man whom she had stopped was searching for a way to respond. He didn’t understand her language and he assumed that she didn’t understand his. To his credit, a fair assumption to make, and exactly the one Serizawa had counted on. That was the gambit, after all.
“Do you…airport…where?” Serizawa spoke in English, her accent heavy and thick. Risky. Too risky. The man might pick up the exaggerated way she said the word ‘airport’ to sound like ‘aeo-poor’. Or perhaps he didn’t understand her at all. The far more likely scenario given that he himself was now shaking his head, favoring a slight tilt to the left in confusion. “Airport. Airport!” Serizawa repeated, removing her left hand from the man’s collar in order to turn her hand into a shoddy pantomime of an airplane flying in the sky.
“Oh! Airport! You want to find the airport?” The man repeated, awkwardly chuckling both at the situation and at the palm puppet airplane display. Now came the part Serizawa loved the most of all: The polite-yet-misguided man treating the foreigner as if she was a small child or animal that hadn’t yet learned table manners and bathroom etiquette. She had to keep herself from smiling. That would just spoil everything.
“The airport is five miles down that way.” Right on cue, the man spoke slowly and loudly with every other word. His thump pointed behind him, towards the direction where the airport wasn’t located. In that moment, Serizawa questioned the man’s motivations. No doubt he had simply wanted to get out of the situation as quickly as possible, and by the time the little Japanese girl had found out she was lied to he’d be at home sponging in front of the television while his stupid children sponge out his wallet.
Serizawa wasn’t stupid, but this man surely was.
“Airport?” Serizawa repeated, zooming her left hand outwards like it was taking off. For added emphasis, she removed her right hand from his collar and slapped the ball of her left palm with her right fingers, shooting her left airplane palm outward quickly. She tossed in a wide eyed stare and higher pitched tone of confusion, staring directly towards the man in a cheap white button shirt and cream colored khaki’s that were probably on sale at Target.
“Yes, airport.” The man nodded, smiling his exasperated smile. His awkward, impatient chuckle following immediately after.
“Airport!” Serizawa nodded and returned the smile with one of her own. It was as genuine as the one given to her. “Airport where?” Serizawa could see the last fragment of the man’s patience running out from the look on his face. If this kept up, his emphasis on directions would devolve into him shouting.
“The AIRPORT is FIVE MILES…” for added emphasis he held his palm up as people do when counting to five on their fingers.
“Five…five…” Serizawa added, her accent cutting out the ‘ve’ sound, nodding her head in understanding.
“Five miles THAT WAY.” The man turned his head and his torso to the side, pointing his finger down the road. He turned back to a smiling Serizawa.
“Okay…five that way. Thank you,” Serizawa added in a polite bow of her head in addition to her understanding smile. The man nodded his head and mumbled a response that vaguely sounded like he was saying ‘you’re welcome’ but it was far from genuine. As soon as he stepped around Serizawa to continue his trek home, he shook his head and let out an audible sigh.
“Tourists…” the man spoke, just loud enough for Serizawa to hear him. She said nothing in response, but internally she was laughing at his sentiments. As if he wouldn’t be in her shoes had he come to Japan for some reason.
Serizawa rolled her eyes and, despite knowing the airport was not, in fact, ‘five miles that way’, began walking in the direction the man had given her.
She didn’t get very far.
<“Give it back, Serizawa.”>
Leaning against the brick wall of some eating establishment on the corner near where the delightful conversation had taken place was a woman wearing a navy blue two piece pant suit. The white shirt underneath the jacket was showing, its collar popped up slightly. In her right hand, nestled between her index and middle fingers, was a cigarette slowly burning away. Like Serizawa she was speaking in Japanese. Her gaze was forward, on the intersection, idly watching as cars drove past. From a distance, with how short her brown hair was, she could’ve passed for a male. Her husky tone of voice merely added to that potential illusion.
<“What are you talking about, Aki?”> Serizawa asked, standing next to the smoking woman, crossing her arms and adopting an innocent tone of voice.
<“Give it back.”> Aki repeated, taking a drag from her cigarette and blowing it away from Serizawa. <“He’s going to find out.” > Akira Kawase sighed as she took another drag from her cigarette. It was a full time job, babysitting Serizawa and being the responsible one of the pairing. There were only so many times she could go to bat for the impulsive ways of Serizawa, and she certainly wasn’t looking to do so here and now, in America. She doubted that Serizawa would get off with a slap on the wrist here, and even back home now that Serizawa was legally an adult it was doubtful the police would be so kind as to look the other way.
To say nothing of the image Serizawa now had to maintain. Serizawa wasn’t just representing herself, and Akira wasn’t just representing Serizawa. The last thing they needed was a criminal record. Well, an American one.
<“You’re no fun anymore, Aki.”> Serizawa sighed and reached into her pocket. The fatal mistake in the American man’s direction giving was taking his eyes off of Serizawa. In that instance she had won. The Academy Award had been hers, the masterful performance of the lost foreigner was so convincing to the uninformed masses. From her pocket she removed a brown leather wallet. <“If he wanted to keep it he should’ve not let it go.”>
<“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Give it back to him.”>
Serizawa opened the wallet and began searching through it. Credit cards. Store specific discount cards. A driver’s license. “Mitchell…Royce?” Serizawa wasn’t fluent in English, but she was learning, and what better way to learn names than by reading them straight from the driver’s license. <“Oi oi, Aki, look at this. Do you think this is his wife? She looks like your grandmother. Look at that dress, it looks like wallpaper!”> Serizawa was looking at what she assumed to be a family photo. Mitchell and his wife and a young child holding a basketball in his lap – Serizawa assumed that to be his son. The wife’s outfit, a normal sundress, was causing Serizawa no small amount of humor with its blue floral pattern.”
<“Give it back, Serizawa.”> Akira took another drag from her cigarette, flicking the finished stick to the sidewalk.
<“Why would I want to do that? After all the work I put in to steal the thing…”> Serizawa finally took her eyes away from the stolen wallet in order to speak with Aki. <“I’ve still got the charm to pull this off, too. Just like high school. Remember Kitase-sensei? She was looking for her wallet for MONTHS!”>
<“Because it’s illegal. That’s why you need to give it back.”> Akira stepped off of the wall, her tone of voice authoritative yet calm.
<“I know it’s illegal, that’s what makes it fun. That’s what makes it funny! Besides, I can’t give it back.”> Serizawa was laughing happily, resuming her search of Mitchell’s wallet.
<“What do you mean you can’t?”>
<“Use your brain, Aki, you were smart enough to be an O.L. but you’re not smart enough for this? Jeez, I thought you were the brains of the group.”> Serizawa spoke mockingly to an Akira who was far from amused. Serizawa sighed, rolled her eyes and spoke.
<“Okay, think of it like this. If I went up to him and told him about the wallet he would assume that I took it. Or if I told him he dropped it, he’d think I was lying. If he really cared enough about his wallet he would have come back by now and asked me if I saw it. He hasn’t even noticed yet and probably won’t until he’s already home. Even if he calls the police and assumes I stole it, he only knows my face and naturally he would assume I found my way to the airport and was on my way back to Japan. Are you with me so far?”>
Serizawa pausedfrom her rapid-fire delivery, gauging Aki for a response. Aki nodded, but only after a long sigh of incredulity.
< “Now what we could do is take it to a police station, but there’s so much paperwork involved in that. Giving back the wallet is the worst thing we could do, since now that I’ve taken it there’s really no way for him to press charges or anything. But here’s what we’re going to do…”>
Serizawa removed the cash money from the wallet, folding the American currency and placing it into her own pockets. Closing the wallet she turned around and threw it further down the sidewalk, quickly then turning back and running past Akira and around the corner to stand in front of the restaurant. It took Akira a moment but she followed after Serizawa, standing next to the thief while shaking her head.
<“There. Problem solved. Admit it, Aki. That was fun.”>
In response, Akira shook her head towards Serizawa. Even so, a smile did form on her lips. <“Sometimes I fear for the world if you ever used your twisted mind for anything other than personal glory.”>
<“Why the hell would I use it for anything else, Aki? Now come on, we’ve got work to do. But let’s get food first. Mitchell Royce is buying.”> Serizawa patted her stolen cash lined pockets before entering the restaurant proper. It took a heavy sigh and a look upwards towards the sky before Akira followed after her.
Akira would never admit it, but even these illegal activities were certainly more enjoyable than the alternative. So long as prison was out of the question, anyway.
‘SUKEBAN’ VIDEO ONE
Uploaded to the internet on 3/9/2014
[The video opens with a view of a woman decked out in a navy-blue pants suit. Her hands are in her pockets and her head is tilted slightly to the right. Brown hair slicked and fancy, there’s a smirk on her lips. Crouching to the woman’s side is a black haired woman dressed in what looks like a Japanese high school uniform but with a much longer skirt. The crouched woman wears a scowl as she stares towards the camera, but even with her scowling look the woman’s sharp features are on display. The setting appears to be a parking lot, though it’s an empty one. It is the suited woman that speaks. She speaks in English, fluently though the Japanese accent is present. Below her words are subtitles in kanji, just in case.]
Viewers of this video and fellow members of the Ladies All Star Wrestling promotion, my name is Akira Kawase – call me Aki – and things are about to change. Oh sure, you ladies are all recovering from that little tournament thing you just had, the changing hands of a championship, the crowning of a Queen, all exciting events to be sure. But in time those milestones will seem like nothing more than bad memories. In time no one will remember who was the Queen of the Ring or when what championship changed hands or anything of the sort. What will be remembered is the night the sukeban entered your lives.
You’re probably wondering just what a sukeban is. Maybe you’re not, because you’re just oh-so-worldly and intelligent. But I’ll educate you. I mean, I’m Japanese, our country churns out smarter citizens then America does, so educating you all is only natural. A sukeban in your parlance – that’s a fancy way of saying speech – is like… a thug. A sukeban doesn’t conform to your rules of what is and isn’t acceptable. A sukeban doesn’t care about your stupid laws because a sukeban is better than the laws. Above the laws. The only law a sukeban cares about is the law between fellow members of their gang, a law similar to a code of honor, and breaking that code is worse than breaking any pedestrian law. That, in essence, is a sukeban.
But why should you care about a sukeban entering your otherwise meaningless lives? Well if you’ve got a working pair of ears you’ll notice I didn’t say that a sukeban was coming, but rather that the sukeban was. Oh yes, while there may be several who consider themselves among the ranks, only one can claim to be the real boss lady, the one true Queen. And her name is Serizawa.
[Aki steps to the side to let the camera focus on the crouching woman, Serizawa. She looks straight into the camera, her scowl molding into an evil smirk. She lifts her chin, speaking silently to the camera with her attitude and gaze. After a few seconds of Serizawa’s intimidating mugging, Aki re-enters, her hands still planted firmly in the pockets of her dress slacks.]
I’ve known many who claim to be tough, who claim to not give a shit, but it wasn’t until I met Serizawa that I knew what a real boss was. Serizawa here used to start fights with bikers just because she was bored. And you know what? She never once lost to those pathetic bastards who hide behind metal and steel for compensation. Serizawa doesn’t care who or what she fights since ultimately it doesn’t matter. At the end of it all, only one real Queen remains. The one true boss of bosses. You might not believe me, after all who am I but just some woman educating your ignorant asses? Well fear not, because come September seventh, you’ll see that if anything I’m under exaggerating Serizawa’s ability.
Because, you see, Serizawa got to thinking. She said to me, “Aki, what if I could fight people, legally, and show the world who’s the boss for good?” and at first I thought she was crazy. Hell, I still think she’s crazy, but that’s the kind of crazy you want to place your faith in, the kind of crazy that you want to follow into hell because you know she can best the demons as well as the men and women of Earth.
And as luck would have it, Ladies All Star Wrestling, or LAW for short, welcomed her with open arms. Funny how they call themselves LAW when their new signing has nothing but contempt for the law, isn’t it. But of course, Serizawa has to make an impact because I can talk her up for aeons but it’ll amount to nothing if she doesn’t live up.
Fortunately I doubt Serizawa here will have any trouble making her presence felt in LAW as she faces off against the poor, poor victim named Jenny Tuck.
Tuck, Tuck, Tuck, all run out of luck, luck, luck.
Jenny Tuck, pretty little Jenny Tuck, strutting her stuff. The welcome wagon to LAW comes complete with Deadly Lust. Shame that the only lust that matters for Serizawa is a lust for violence, which she will happily mete out to you. A pity, Jenny. You’ve got such a pretty face and after the boss of bosses herself is done with it, done with the punching, the kicking, the slapping, the scratching, and of course a little application of the Menthol Warning, you just might have to take your pretty little body to the hospital for a bit of a nip, Tuck.
Sure, Serizawa might not be used to your stupid concepts like ‘rules’ when it comes to squaring off, but she’s the damn sukeban, rules matter as much as laws do. And besides, it’s only illegal if she gets caught, and Serizawa is the master of not getting caught. You may have experience, Jenny, I’ll give you that, but what you don’t have is the ferocity, the willingness to go all out against someone. But Serizawa does.
After the sukeban arrives, nothing in LAW will ever be the same. And it all starts with you, Jenny Tuck. You should be flattered, but I’m sure you’re used to that by now, being flattered. You should be flattered because you’ll have a spot in the history books. As a footnote.
All you LAW girls start taking notes, maybe you’ll actually learn something for when it’s time for you to face off against my boss.
Abayo.
[Aki’s goodbye in Japanese came with a noticeable hint of arrogance. Before the video ends, Serizawa stands and approaches the camera. She stares into it, giving one final smirk, before spitting a rush of green mist from her mouth. The camera is stained with the remains as the video ends on a shot of the liquid dripping down.]
A lone man in business casual garb paused as a woman wearing a full black outfit, leather jacker, muscle shirt, jeans, and a pair of black sneakers – even in the warmth of the west coast summer sun – stepped in front of him. The sidewalk was wide enough to walk around the minor inconvenience, but before he could politely nod and smile and continue on his way home, the woman reached her hands out and grabbed the collar of his shirt. And then she spoke. Was that Japanese? The man could do nothing but shake his head and stammer, babbling a response that the woman couldn’t follow.
<“Sir?”>
Serizawa asked once more, her head tilted to the side, a universal sign for confusion. Unless that had simply been a local custom, she wasn’t exactly used to America quite yet. The man whom she had stopped was searching for a way to respond. He didn’t understand her language and he assumed that she didn’t understand his. To his credit, a fair assumption to make, and exactly the one Serizawa had counted on. That was the gambit, after all.
“Do you…airport…where?” Serizawa spoke in English, her accent heavy and thick. Risky. Too risky. The man might pick up the exaggerated way she said the word ‘airport’ to sound like ‘aeo-poor’. Or perhaps he didn’t understand her at all. The far more likely scenario given that he himself was now shaking his head, favoring a slight tilt to the left in confusion. “Airport. Airport!” Serizawa repeated, removing her left hand from the man’s collar in order to turn her hand into a shoddy pantomime of an airplane flying in the sky.
“Oh! Airport! You want to find the airport?” The man repeated, awkwardly chuckling both at the situation and at the palm puppet airplane display. Now came the part Serizawa loved the most of all: The polite-yet-misguided man treating the foreigner as if she was a small child or animal that hadn’t yet learned table manners and bathroom etiquette. She had to keep herself from smiling. That would just spoil everything.
“The airport is five miles down that way.” Right on cue, the man spoke slowly and loudly with every other word. His thump pointed behind him, towards the direction where the airport wasn’t located. In that moment, Serizawa questioned the man’s motivations. No doubt he had simply wanted to get out of the situation as quickly as possible, and by the time the little Japanese girl had found out she was lied to he’d be at home sponging in front of the television while his stupid children sponge out his wallet.
Serizawa wasn’t stupid, but this man surely was.
“Airport?” Serizawa repeated, zooming her left hand outwards like it was taking off. For added emphasis, she removed her right hand from his collar and slapped the ball of her left palm with her right fingers, shooting her left airplane palm outward quickly. She tossed in a wide eyed stare and higher pitched tone of confusion, staring directly towards the man in a cheap white button shirt and cream colored khaki’s that were probably on sale at Target.
“Yes, airport.” The man nodded, smiling his exasperated smile. His awkward, impatient chuckle following immediately after.
“Airport!” Serizawa nodded and returned the smile with one of her own. It was as genuine as the one given to her. “Airport where?” Serizawa could see the last fragment of the man’s patience running out from the look on his face. If this kept up, his emphasis on directions would devolve into him shouting.
“The AIRPORT is FIVE MILES…” for added emphasis he held his palm up as people do when counting to five on their fingers.
“Five…five…” Serizawa added, her accent cutting out the ‘ve’ sound, nodding her head in understanding.
“Five miles THAT WAY.” The man turned his head and his torso to the side, pointing his finger down the road. He turned back to a smiling Serizawa.
“Okay…five that way. Thank you,” Serizawa added in a polite bow of her head in addition to her understanding smile. The man nodded his head and mumbled a response that vaguely sounded like he was saying ‘you’re welcome’ but it was far from genuine. As soon as he stepped around Serizawa to continue his trek home, he shook his head and let out an audible sigh.
“Tourists…” the man spoke, just loud enough for Serizawa to hear him. She said nothing in response, but internally she was laughing at his sentiments. As if he wouldn’t be in her shoes had he come to Japan for some reason.
Serizawa rolled her eyes and, despite knowing the airport was not, in fact, ‘five miles that way’, began walking in the direction the man had given her.
She didn’t get very far.
<“Give it back, Serizawa.”>
Leaning against the brick wall of some eating establishment on the corner near where the delightful conversation had taken place was a woman wearing a navy blue two piece pant suit. The white shirt underneath the jacket was showing, its collar popped up slightly. In her right hand, nestled between her index and middle fingers, was a cigarette slowly burning away. Like Serizawa she was speaking in Japanese. Her gaze was forward, on the intersection, idly watching as cars drove past. From a distance, with how short her brown hair was, she could’ve passed for a male. Her husky tone of voice merely added to that potential illusion.
<“What are you talking about, Aki?”> Serizawa asked, standing next to the smoking woman, crossing her arms and adopting an innocent tone of voice.
<“Give it back.”> Aki repeated, taking a drag from her cigarette and blowing it away from Serizawa. <“He’s going to find out.” > Akira Kawase sighed as she took another drag from her cigarette. It was a full time job, babysitting Serizawa and being the responsible one of the pairing. There were only so many times she could go to bat for the impulsive ways of Serizawa, and she certainly wasn’t looking to do so here and now, in America. She doubted that Serizawa would get off with a slap on the wrist here, and even back home now that Serizawa was legally an adult it was doubtful the police would be so kind as to look the other way.
To say nothing of the image Serizawa now had to maintain. Serizawa wasn’t just representing herself, and Akira wasn’t just representing Serizawa. The last thing they needed was a criminal record. Well, an American one.
<“You’re no fun anymore, Aki.”> Serizawa sighed and reached into her pocket. The fatal mistake in the American man’s direction giving was taking his eyes off of Serizawa. In that instance she had won. The Academy Award had been hers, the masterful performance of the lost foreigner was so convincing to the uninformed masses. From her pocket she removed a brown leather wallet. <“If he wanted to keep it he should’ve not let it go.”>
<“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Give it back to him.”>
Serizawa opened the wallet and began searching through it. Credit cards. Store specific discount cards. A driver’s license. “Mitchell…Royce?” Serizawa wasn’t fluent in English, but she was learning, and what better way to learn names than by reading them straight from the driver’s license. <“Oi oi, Aki, look at this. Do you think this is his wife? She looks like your grandmother. Look at that dress, it looks like wallpaper!”> Serizawa was looking at what she assumed to be a family photo. Mitchell and his wife and a young child holding a basketball in his lap – Serizawa assumed that to be his son. The wife’s outfit, a normal sundress, was causing Serizawa no small amount of humor with its blue floral pattern.”
<“Give it back, Serizawa.”> Akira took another drag from her cigarette, flicking the finished stick to the sidewalk.
<“Why would I want to do that? After all the work I put in to steal the thing…”> Serizawa finally took her eyes away from the stolen wallet in order to speak with Aki. <“I’ve still got the charm to pull this off, too. Just like high school. Remember Kitase-sensei? She was looking for her wallet for MONTHS!”>
<“Because it’s illegal. That’s why you need to give it back.”> Akira stepped off of the wall, her tone of voice authoritative yet calm.
<“I know it’s illegal, that’s what makes it fun. That’s what makes it funny! Besides, I can’t give it back.”> Serizawa was laughing happily, resuming her search of Mitchell’s wallet.
<“What do you mean you can’t?”>
<“Use your brain, Aki, you were smart enough to be an O.L. but you’re not smart enough for this? Jeez, I thought you were the brains of the group.”> Serizawa spoke mockingly to an Akira who was far from amused. Serizawa sighed, rolled her eyes and spoke.
<“Okay, think of it like this. If I went up to him and told him about the wallet he would assume that I took it. Or if I told him he dropped it, he’d think I was lying. If he really cared enough about his wallet he would have come back by now and asked me if I saw it. He hasn’t even noticed yet and probably won’t until he’s already home. Even if he calls the police and assumes I stole it, he only knows my face and naturally he would assume I found my way to the airport and was on my way back to Japan. Are you with me so far?”>
Serizawa pausedfrom her rapid-fire delivery, gauging Aki for a response. Aki nodded, but only after a long sigh of incredulity.
< “Now what we could do is take it to a police station, but there’s so much paperwork involved in that. Giving back the wallet is the worst thing we could do, since now that I’ve taken it there’s really no way for him to press charges or anything. But here’s what we’re going to do…”>
Serizawa removed the cash money from the wallet, folding the American currency and placing it into her own pockets. Closing the wallet she turned around and threw it further down the sidewalk, quickly then turning back and running past Akira and around the corner to stand in front of the restaurant. It took Akira a moment but she followed after Serizawa, standing next to the thief while shaking her head.
<“There. Problem solved. Admit it, Aki. That was fun.”>
In response, Akira shook her head towards Serizawa. Even so, a smile did form on her lips. <“Sometimes I fear for the world if you ever used your twisted mind for anything other than personal glory.”>
<“Why the hell would I use it for anything else, Aki? Now come on, we’ve got work to do. But let’s get food first. Mitchell Royce is buying.”> Serizawa patted her stolen cash lined pockets before entering the restaurant proper. It took a heavy sigh and a look upwards towards the sky before Akira followed after her.
Akira would never admit it, but even these illegal activities were certainly more enjoyable than the alternative. So long as prison was out of the question, anyway.
‘SUKEBAN’ VIDEO ONE
Uploaded to the internet on 3/9/2014
[The video opens with a view of a woman decked out in a navy-blue pants suit. Her hands are in her pockets and her head is tilted slightly to the right. Brown hair slicked and fancy, there’s a smirk on her lips. Crouching to the woman’s side is a black haired woman dressed in what looks like a Japanese high school uniform but with a much longer skirt. The crouched woman wears a scowl as she stares towards the camera, but even with her scowling look the woman’s sharp features are on display. The setting appears to be a parking lot, though it’s an empty one. It is the suited woman that speaks. She speaks in English, fluently though the Japanese accent is present. Below her words are subtitles in kanji, just in case.]
Viewers of this video and fellow members of the Ladies All Star Wrestling promotion, my name is Akira Kawase – call me Aki – and things are about to change. Oh sure, you ladies are all recovering from that little tournament thing you just had, the changing hands of a championship, the crowning of a Queen, all exciting events to be sure. But in time those milestones will seem like nothing more than bad memories. In time no one will remember who was the Queen of the Ring or when what championship changed hands or anything of the sort. What will be remembered is the night the sukeban entered your lives.
You’re probably wondering just what a sukeban is. Maybe you’re not, because you’re just oh-so-worldly and intelligent. But I’ll educate you. I mean, I’m Japanese, our country churns out smarter citizens then America does, so educating you all is only natural. A sukeban in your parlance – that’s a fancy way of saying speech – is like… a thug. A sukeban doesn’t conform to your rules of what is and isn’t acceptable. A sukeban doesn’t care about your stupid laws because a sukeban is better than the laws. Above the laws. The only law a sukeban cares about is the law between fellow members of their gang, a law similar to a code of honor, and breaking that code is worse than breaking any pedestrian law. That, in essence, is a sukeban.
But why should you care about a sukeban entering your otherwise meaningless lives? Well if you’ve got a working pair of ears you’ll notice I didn’t say that a sukeban was coming, but rather that the sukeban was. Oh yes, while there may be several who consider themselves among the ranks, only one can claim to be the real boss lady, the one true Queen. And her name is Serizawa.
[Aki steps to the side to let the camera focus on the crouching woman, Serizawa. She looks straight into the camera, her scowl molding into an evil smirk. She lifts her chin, speaking silently to the camera with her attitude and gaze. After a few seconds of Serizawa’s intimidating mugging, Aki re-enters, her hands still planted firmly in the pockets of her dress slacks.]
I’ve known many who claim to be tough, who claim to not give a shit, but it wasn’t until I met Serizawa that I knew what a real boss was. Serizawa here used to start fights with bikers just because she was bored. And you know what? She never once lost to those pathetic bastards who hide behind metal and steel for compensation. Serizawa doesn’t care who or what she fights since ultimately it doesn’t matter. At the end of it all, only one real Queen remains. The one true boss of bosses. You might not believe me, after all who am I but just some woman educating your ignorant asses? Well fear not, because come September seventh, you’ll see that if anything I’m under exaggerating Serizawa’s ability.
Because, you see, Serizawa got to thinking. She said to me, “Aki, what if I could fight people, legally, and show the world who’s the boss for good?” and at first I thought she was crazy. Hell, I still think she’s crazy, but that’s the kind of crazy you want to place your faith in, the kind of crazy that you want to follow into hell because you know she can best the demons as well as the men and women of Earth.
And as luck would have it, Ladies All Star Wrestling, or LAW for short, welcomed her with open arms. Funny how they call themselves LAW when their new signing has nothing but contempt for the law, isn’t it. But of course, Serizawa has to make an impact because I can talk her up for aeons but it’ll amount to nothing if she doesn’t live up.
Fortunately I doubt Serizawa here will have any trouble making her presence felt in LAW as she faces off against the poor, poor victim named Jenny Tuck.
Tuck, Tuck, Tuck, all run out of luck, luck, luck.
Jenny Tuck, pretty little Jenny Tuck, strutting her stuff. The welcome wagon to LAW comes complete with Deadly Lust. Shame that the only lust that matters for Serizawa is a lust for violence, which she will happily mete out to you. A pity, Jenny. You’ve got such a pretty face and after the boss of bosses herself is done with it, done with the punching, the kicking, the slapping, the scratching, and of course a little application of the Menthol Warning, you just might have to take your pretty little body to the hospital for a bit of a nip, Tuck.
Sure, Serizawa might not be used to your stupid concepts like ‘rules’ when it comes to squaring off, but she’s the damn sukeban, rules matter as much as laws do. And besides, it’s only illegal if she gets caught, and Serizawa is the master of not getting caught. You may have experience, Jenny, I’ll give you that, but what you don’t have is the ferocity, the willingness to go all out against someone. But Serizawa does.
After the sukeban arrives, nothing in LAW will ever be the same. And it all starts with you, Jenny Tuck. You should be flattered, but I’m sure you’re used to that by now, being flattered. You should be flattered because you’ll have a spot in the history books. As a footnote.
All you LAW girls start taking notes, maybe you’ll actually learn something for when it’s time for you to face off against my boss.
Abayo.
[Aki’s goodbye in Japanese came with a noticeable hint of arrogance. Before the video ends, Serizawa stands and approaches the camera. She stares into it, giving one final smirk, before spitting a rush of green mist from her mouth. The camera is stained with the remains as the video ends on a shot of the liquid dripping down.]