Post by Shadowlove on Mar 6, 2018 15:03:23 GMT -5
[ A high definition video taken from a 12MP wide-angle and telephoto camera with OIS on an Apple iPhone X Plus (product placement) comes to life showing a digitally remastered old grainy black and white video image of . . .]
North East Okayama Prefecture On The Border Of Hyogo Prefecture, Japan, circa, towards the end of 1996 and the beginning of 1997, around the midnight hour. . .
Sometime during the the end of the epic feud between her husband, The Hollywood Blonde, and his arch-rival, Jesus Spearhead, and sometime after the swan song of their final bloody brilliant encounter inside the Tokyo Dome back in the day. . .
A stark white stretch limousine, with a 10” lift and 38” rims and the toughest, most versatile off-road tires ever made, 38.5X14.50X15C Interco Super Swamper TSL/SX Bias-Ply tires with Vantablack mud flaps with a 3 1/2" by 2 1/4" chrome sexy cowgirl insignia and personalized license plate “Hariuddoburondo”, intertwines its way through an unknown wet soaked street in the quaint little village of Miyamoto in Mimasaka surrounded by dense wooden cherry blossom trees and traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses.
Inside the stark white stretch limousine, the amazing wife of The Hollywood Blonde, and mother of your future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, and family matriarch, Akasha, stares at herself with a fixed, almost vacant expression reflecting from the dark smoke tinted window of the limousine.
Her sleek bob of salt and pepper sheared pointed ends slicked back behind her ears and a deep middle part with gelled back fringe showing off her white-hot, fiery red-hot, brilliantly passionate grey eyes of the devil hidden behind a pair of iconic Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses. Her very slim, classic supermodel-like figure was encased in a stark white “First Lady" style business dress and jacket with stark white stilettos designed by Versace.
The father of your soon to be future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator and family patriarch, The Hollywood Blonde, watches their young son sleeping peacefully on a traditional tatami mat made of rice straw and bound together with a finer, softer, rush of straw on the floor of the limousine.
He, meaning the Father and not their son, was stripped to the waist, with his ribs and right shoulder wrapped in stark white medical tape, while wearing bright fluorescent unmellow yellow Karate pants spotted with crimson red colored blood with matching bright fluorescent unmellow yellow Karate boots.
His mass of long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail showing off a stark white medical bandage along the width of his forehead, ice cold blue eyes, and his world-famous lip snarl on his perfectly tanned chiseled face.
His injuries were sustained earlier that night at the hands of his arch-rival Jesus Spearhead and his shadow, not his son, but his own shadow, has cast a silhouette outline in the image of a 19th century Samurai warrior around his young son, in full regalia armor with a face mask that has been decorated with ugly features to terrify his son’s innermost and outermost personal and impersonal demons.
She senses a very powerful and very knowledgeable presence nearby as if there is a great disturbance in the space-time continuum. Her strong, ethereally supple, combination of sheer vulnerability and powerful voice in Japanese:
“ Yameru!. . .”
The stark white stretch limousine, with a 10” lift and 38” rims and the toughest, most versatile off-road tires ever made, 38.5X14.50X15C Interco Super Swamper TSL/SX Bias-Ply tires with Vantablack mud flaps with a 3 1/2" by 2 1/4" chrome sexy cowgirl insignia and personalized license plate “Hariuddoburondo”, comes to a stop down a deserted narrow, muddy street.
A Japanese chauffeur, black chauffeur hat, jet-black crew-cut hair, sunglasses, custom-made black Giorgio Armani business suit, opens the rear passenger door and she exits out the back of the limousine surrounded by no fanfare.
She walks down a cobblestone walkway surrounded by wooden cherry blossom trees towards one of the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses and removes her stark white stilettos one by one. And as if on cue, a shōji screen opens as she enters the main entryway and immediately closes behind her leaving her still stark white stilettos neatly and very elegantly lined up side by side outside of the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses front porch by the sliding shōji screen door.
Upon entering the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style house, she can hear somebody crying and gasping for breath as she is met by a very startled, somewhat panicky Japanese woman nervously pacing back and forth inside the almost barren and desolate living room.
She waits very patiently for the very alarmed and apprehensive Japanese woman to find her bearings and calm down long enough to reluctantly discuss the dilemma that she found herself in and finally has no choice but to confront her problem head on. She puts her hand down to her sides and properly and traditionally bows in Akasha’s direction.
It seems that the very frightened Japanese woman came from very humble beginnings, she was raised in a family of hard working farmers when she met her very rich and respected husband. Her parents-in-law treated their son’s “bride” as if she was a very menial second class citizen even after giving birth to their granddaughter. In their eyes, it would seem that the sins of the daughter outweighs the sins of the mother when it comes to the public perception of the family's standing within the community. Her husband under this public scrutiny began displaying violent behavior privately behind closed doors by becoming both mentally and physically abusive from all the drinking and debt incurred from his gambling. He has threatened to sell their young daughter into child slavery in order to get out from under all the debt that he occurred while gambling under Chinese Triad House Rules. She was at her wits end and had nowhere else to turn with her and her daughter's situation becoming more and more intense every waking hour, every waking minute, and every waking second when trying to find the right solution to remedy her and her young daughter's situation.
The alarmed and apprehensive Japanese woman started to feel more and more at ease by the mere presence of Akasha and that made her feel like the happiest and luckiest person the face of the Earth.
Akasha took this opportunity to take the Japanese woman into a very warm and caring embrace after hearing her story and quietly whispers into her ear, very calmly and very reassuringly in Japanese, “ Watashi wa dare mo kore made dōri ni naru koto o yakusoku shi, hoshō shimasen. Anata to anata no musume ni mōichido te o oite kudasai. . .”
Upon hearing the words, “ I promise and guarantee that no one will ever, and I mean never ever, lay one hand on you and your daughter ever again.” spoken by Akasha in Japanese, those two salty looking Japanese dudes, both sporting jet-black crew-cut hair, sunglasses, custom-made black Giorgio Armani business suits, appear out of nowhere and stand in an on guard, very protective, ever vigilant attack formation around Akasha and the very frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman.
With her body language speaking more volume than her words to the two salty looking Japanese dudes, they exit the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style house to make the very frightened and very apprehensive Japanese woman’s problems simply disappear as an act of reciprocity on the code of jingi, justice and duty, and the code of giri, burden of obligation, by placing any and all of her burdens of debt related to any retaliation by the Chinese Triad solely on the doorstep of none other than The Hariuddoburondo Conglomerate.
A shōji screen opens revealing a very young and little Japanese girl as she enters the almost barren and desolate living room and immediately closes behind her. She was dressed in, ironically, only a faded and torn oversized psychedelic The Hollywood Blonde and Akasha tee shirt worn like an impromptu frock that was just long enough to resemble a traditional mini dress. Her sleek raven black hair was parted in the middle showing off her angelic face with her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes. Her not quite yet luscious and alluring lips had that right to remain silent scowl look to them. Her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes remained focused on her mother as she walked with quiet determination to her mother's side, hiding partially behind her as she turned her focus towards Akasha.
Akasha was mesmerised and hypnotized by the very young little Japanese girl’s very captivating beauty that she quietly thought to herself that she could transform this young little Japanese girl into a very lethal femme fatale temptress.
In response to the act of reciprocity for the code of jingi, justice and duty, and the code of giri, burden of obligation, of this very, very interesting business arrangement with Akasha and The Hariuddoburondo Conglomerate, the young little Japanese girl’s mother agrees to let Akasha train her young daughter in international business etiquette and diplomatic protocol by transforming her young daughter into a very mysterious and seductive woman whose allure and charm will ensnare both men and women, often leading them into very compromising, very dangerous, and very deadly situations.
Akasha crouches down and meets the young little Japanese girl face to face. She lowers her Ray-Ban sunglasses showing the young little Japanese girl her white-hot, fiery red-hot, brilliantly passionate grey eyes of the devil. The little Japanese girl’s intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes met her occidental grey eyes in a way that showed a fondness for causing trouble in a very playful way.
“ Anata no namae wa nanidesu ka?. . .”
The young little Japanese girl comes out from hiding behind her mother with quiet confidence and removes Akasha’s iconic Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses and places them on her angelic looking face hiding her intoxicatingly incandescent almond shaped green eyes and runs her fingers along Akasha’s chin, her not yet luscious and alluring lips barely touching the older woman’s cheek and reaches her ear and whispers her name. The young little Japanese girl’s name is. . .
Meanwhile, back in the stark white stretch limousine. . .
Your soon to be future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove, begins to stir from his peaceful sleep as if waking up from a very nightmarish dream.
He rolls over on the traditional tatami mat made of rice straw and bound together with a finer, softer, rush of straw, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He runs his fingers through his not yet classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair, and raises his head showing off his chiseled babyface with an ice cold stare which radiants from his very sparkling blue eyes.
His very sparkling blue eyes focusing on the silhouette outline in the image of a 19th century Samurai warrior around him, in full regalia armor with a face mask that has been decorated with ugly features to terrify his innermost and outermost personal and impersonal demons.
His not yet patented malevolent, tight wolfish cub, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a “My shadowy senses are tingling sensing a very powerful and very knowledgeable presence of a lean, graceful, sensuous, and simply ravishing femme fatale temptress of a 21st century female Samurai warrior gracing my presence in the very near future with a sweet as honey, harmoniously hypnotizing, smooth as silk, smoky voice radiating through her very luscious and alluring lips, and together, we will make blood flow as we storm a kingdom’s castle with pitchforks in hand raising hell in the seventh veil” shit-eating grin. His not yet low dusky voice rings out fully, with all the charm and charisma that one can muster, mister:
“ Fuck, me. . .”
[The High Definition Video Ends]
North East Okayama Prefecture On The Border Of Hyogo Prefecture, Japan, circa, towards the end of 1996 and the beginning of 1997, around the midnight hour. . .
Sometime during the the end of the epic feud between her husband, The Hollywood Blonde, and his arch-rival, Jesus Spearhead, and sometime after the swan song of their final bloody brilliant encounter inside the Tokyo Dome back in the day. . .
A stark white stretch limousine, with a 10” lift and 38” rims and the toughest, most versatile off-road tires ever made, 38.5X14.50X15C Interco Super Swamper TSL/SX Bias-Ply tires with Vantablack mud flaps with a 3 1/2" by 2 1/4" chrome sexy cowgirl insignia and personalized license plate “Hariuddoburondo”, intertwines its way through an unknown wet soaked street in the quaint little village of Miyamoto in Mimasaka surrounded by dense wooden cherry blossom trees and traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses.
Inside the stark white stretch limousine, the amazing wife of The Hollywood Blonde, and mother of your future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, and family matriarch, Akasha, stares at herself with a fixed, almost vacant expression reflecting from the dark smoke tinted window of the limousine.
Her sleek bob of salt and pepper sheared pointed ends slicked back behind her ears and a deep middle part with gelled back fringe showing off her white-hot, fiery red-hot, brilliantly passionate grey eyes of the devil hidden behind a pair of iconic Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses. Her very slim, classic supermodel-like figure was encased in a stark white “First Lady" style business dress and jacket with stark white stilettos designed by Versace.
The father of your soon to be future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator and family patriarch, The Hollywood Blonde, watches their young son sleeping peacefully on a traditional tatami mat made of rice straw and bound together with a finer, softer, rush of straw on the floor of the limousine.
He, meaning the Father and not their son, was stripped to the waist, with his ribs and right shoulder wrapped in stark white medical tape, while wearing bright fluorescent unmellow yellow Karate pants spotted with crimson red colored blood with matching bright fluorescent unmellow yellow Karate boots.
His mass of long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail showing off a stark white medical bandage along the width of his forehead, ice cold blue eyes, and his world-famous lip snarl on his perfectly tanned chiseled face.
His injuries were sustained earlier that night at the hands of his arch-rival Jesus Spearhead and his shadow, not his son, but his own shadow, has cast a silhouette outline in the image of a 19th century Samurai warrior around his young son, in full regalia armor with a face mask that has been decorated with ugly features to terrify his son’s innermost and outermost personal and impersonal demons.
She senses a very powerful and very knowledgeable presence nearby as if there is a great disturbance in the space-time continuum. Her strong, ethereally supple, combination of sheer vulnerability and powerful voice in Japanese:
“ Yameru!. . .”
The stark white stretch limousine, with a 10” lift and 38” rims and the toughest, most versatile off-road tires ever made, 38.5X14.50X15C Interco Super Swamper TSL/SX Bias-Ply tires with Vantablack mud flaps with a 3 1/2" by 2 1/4" chrome sexy cowgirl insignia and personalized license plate “Hariuddoburondo”, comes to a stop down a deserted narrow, muddy street.
A Japanese chauffeur, black chauffeur hat, jet-black crew-cut hair, sunglasses, custom-made black Giorgio Armani business suit, opens the rear passenger door and she exits out the back of the limousine surrounded by no fanfare.
She walks down a cobblestone walkway surrounded by wooden cherry blossom trees towards one of the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses and removes her stark white stilettos one by one. And as if on cue, a shōji screen opens as she enters the main entryway and immediately closes behind her leaving her still stark white stilettos neatly and very elegantly lined up side by side outside of the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style houses front porch by the sliding shōji screen door.
Upon entering the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style house, she can hear somebody crying and gasping for breath as she is met by a very startled, somewhat panicky Japanese woman nervously pacing back and forth inside the almost barren and desolate living room.
She waits very patiently for the very alarmed and apprehensive Japanese woman to find her bearings and calm down long enough to reluctantly discuss the dilemma that she found herself in and finally has no choice but to confront her problem head on. She puts her hand down to her sides and properly and traditionally bows in Akasha’s direction.
It seems that the very frightened Japanese woman came from very humble beginnings, she was raised in a family of hard working farmers when she met her very rich and respected husband. Her parents-in-law treated their son’s “bride” as if she was a very menial second class citizen even after giving birth to their granddaughter. In their eyes, it would seem that the sins of the daughter outweighs the sins of the mother when it comes to the public perception of the family's standing within the community. Her husband under this public scrutiny began displaying violent behavior privately behind closed doors by becoming both mentally and physically abusive from all the drinking and debt incurred from his gambling. He has threatened to sell their young daughter into child slavery in order to get out from under all the debt that he occurred while gambling under Chinese Triad House Rules. She was at her wits end and had nowhere else to turn with her and her daughter's situation becoming more and more intense every waking hour, every waking minute, and every waking second when trying to find the right solution to remedy her and her young daughter's situation.
The alarmed and apprehensive Japanese woman started to feel more and more at ease by the mere presence of Akasha and that made her feel like the happiest and luckiest person the face of the Earth.
Akasha took this opportunity to take the Japanese woman into a very warm and caring embrace after hearing her story and quietly whispers into her ear, very calmly and very reassuringly in Japanese, “ Watashi wa dare mo kore made dōri ni naru koto o yakusoku shi, hoshō shimasen. Anata to anata no musume ni mōichido te o oite kudasai. . .”
Upon hearing the words, “ I promise and guarantee that no one will ever, and I mean never ever, lay one hand on you and your daughter ever again.” spoken by Akasha in Japanese, those two salty looking Japanese dudes, both sporting jet-black crew-cut hair, sunglasses, custom-made black Giorgio Armani business suits, appear out of nowhere and stand in an on guard, very protective, ever vigilant attack formation around Akasha and the very frightened and apprehensive Japanese woman.
With her body language speaking more volume than her words to the two salty looking Japanese dudes, they exit the traditional Japanese Sukiya-zukuri-style house to make the very frightened and very apprehensive Japanese woman’s problems simply disappear as an act of reciprocity on the code of jingi, justice and duty, and the code of giri, burden of obligation, by placing any and all of her burdens of debt related to any retaliation by the Chinese Triad solely on the doorstep of none other than The Hariuddoburondo Conglomerate.
A shōji screen opens revealing a very young and little Japanese girl as she enters the almost barren and desolate living room and immediately closes behind her. She was dressed in, ironically, only a faded and torn oversized psychedelic The Hollywood Blonde and Akasha tee shirt worn like an impromptu frock that was just long enough to resemble a traditional mini dress. Her sleek raven black hair was parted in the middle showing off her angelic face with her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes. Her not quite yet luscious and alluring lips had that right to remain silent scowl look to them. Her intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes remained focused on her mother as she walked with quiet determination to her mother's side, hiding partially behind her as she turned her focus towards Akasha.
Akasha was mesmerised and hypnotized by the very young little Japanese girl’s very captivating beauty that she quietly thought to herself that she could transform this young little Japanese girl into a very lethal femme fatale temptress.
In response to the act of reciprocity for the code of jingi, justice and duty, and the code of giri, burden of obligation, of this very, very interesting business arrangement with Akasha and The Hariuddoburondo Conglomerate, the young little Japanese girl’s mother agrees to let Akasha train her young daughter in international business etiquette and diplomatic protocol by transforming her young daughter into a very mysterious and seductive woman whose allure and charm will ensnare both men and women, often leading them into very compromising, very dangerous, and very deadly situations.
Akasha crouches down and meets the young little Japanese girl face to face. She lowers her Ray-Ban sunglasses showing the young little Japanese girl her white-hot, fiery red-hot, brilliantly passionate grey eyes of the devil. The little Japanese girl’s intoxicatingly, incandescent almond shaped green eyes met her occidental grey eyes in a way that showed a fondness for causing trouble in a very playful way.
“ Anata no namae wa nanidesu ka?. . .”
The young little Japanese girl comes out from hiding behind her mother with quiet confidence and removes Akasha’s iconic Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses and places them on her angelic looking face hiding her intoxicatingly incandescent almond shaped green eyes and runs her fingers along Akasha’s chin, her not yet luscious and alluring lips barely touching the older woman’s cheek and reaches her ear and whispers her name. The young little Japanese girl’s name is. . .
Meanwhile, back in the stark white stretch limousine. . .
Your soon to be future favorite and most polarizing modern day charismatic and charming, egotistical, narcissistic, politically incorrect, felicitating, self-righteous, second-generation megalomaniac and apex predator, “The Handsome Half-breed” Shadowlove, begins to stir from his peaceful sleep as if waking up from a very nightmarish dream.
He rolls over on the traditional tatami mat made of rice straw and bound together with a finer, softer, rush of straw, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He runs his fingers through his not yet classic masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair, and raises his head showing off his chiseled babyface with an ice cold stare which radiants from his very sparkling blue eyes.
His very sparkling blue eyes focusing on the silhouette outline in the image of a 19th century Samurai warrior around him, in full regalia armor with a face mask that has been decorated with ugly features to terrify his innermost and outermost personal and impersonal demons.
His not yet patented malevolent, tight wolfish cub, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth in a “My shadowy senses are tingling sensing a very powerful and very knowledgeable presence of a lean, graceful, sensuous, and simply ravishing femme fatale temptress of a 21st century female Samurai warrior gracing my presence in the very near future with a sweet as honey, harmoniously hypnotizing, smooth as silk, smoky voice radiating through her very luscious and alluring lips, and together, we will make blood flow as we storm a kingdom’s castle with pitchforks in hand raising hell in the seventh veil” shit-eating grin. His not yet low dusky voice rings out fully, with all the charm and charisma that one can muster, mister:
“ Fuck, me. . .”
[The High Definition Video Ends]