Part 1: No Longer a Hero/The Death of Hyper Misao
Steps echo through a darkened corridor, a deliberate cadence that causes a sense of foreboding. Everything is dimly lit to the point that visibility is impossible beyond a few meters. The walls are of dark brick that hasn’t been cleaned in some time. What little light there is is provided by sporadically placed torches crackling in the otherwise complete darkness. A small breeze flows through the corridor, causing the torches to flicker ever so slightly. At its end the hallway opens up into a room which is much better lit, and oddly by electricity rather than torches.
Inside is an enigmatic collection of furnishings, part training facility, part museum. A full wrestling ring with black velvet aprons sits to the left side. There are various exercise machines near the back of the room behind the ring. All are in immaculate condition. Behind all of these is golden scrollwork lettering which reads beauté, pouvoir, domination. To the right there are a few things displayed in various pristine glass cases. A pair of pink championship belts is on display on the wall. Other things catch the eye as well - a wide brimmed black hat with a feathered plume on the right hand side. A single red rose preserved in a case upon a stand reminiscent of Beauty and the Beast. But the woman in this basement? These things are not what she is focused on.
No, she has eyes only for a black and green mask displayed on a styrofoam head - the sort that one might use for styling a wig. The woman’s long black hair cascades over her shoulders as she leans forward to observe the mask. At its center is a stylized green M. Her gaze is intense and stoic as she contemplates the mask. What it means. What it reduced her to. Subtitles appear as she narrates her contemplation of it.
A defender of Love and Peace? As if that ever made anything better for anyone. It seemed like such an honest, innocent thing to show the world. Something for people to believe in and inspire them to great things. But what did it cost? Years of grinding away for the entertainment of thousands wearing… this.
The woman’s gloved hand reaches up and touches the mask, her index finger tracing its contours. We see a flash of memory - an overly cheerful woman with short reddish brown hair wearing garish green and black ring gear with that mask. She stands atop the turnbuckle and proclaims to the world I AM A HERO! Next we see brief moments of her warring with various other women, some larger, some smaller. Laughter fills the air as the woman performs increasingly ridiculous moves; these include running someone over with a souped up bicycle, pushing her opponent through a door and locking them out and other shenanigans. The laughter grows louder and louder still as the memories fade. We return to the woman in the present, finger at the center of the heroic mask.
All being a ‘hero’ inspired was laughter and derision. It doesn’t matter how hard a girl works or how much she believes if she becomes the recipient of such reactions. All it showed was how desperate she was for adoration. How foolish she became in the face of that desperation. All she was was a mere clown for the unwashed mob to gape and laugh at. It was nothing short of embarrassing and ugly. Years of work leading to nothing but mockery and lack of respect from the entire world.
Again the perspective changes to the past, the heroic visage of Hyper Misao smiling and bowing for a crowd. The laughter echoes deafeningly as this image fades into the hero backstage by herself. Her smile disappears as other, more successful women parade by with championship gold on their shoulders or around their waists. Each one’s passing increases the tenor and intensity of the laughter. It becomes so unbearable that Hyper Misao pulls her legs up to her chest and buries her face in her knees. She covers her ears with her hands as she tries desperately to block out the derisive sounds.
Hyper Misao brought nothing but laughter. No amount of blood, sweat or tears would free her from being the laughing stock of women’s wrestling. You want a classic match? Go watch Miyu Yamashita, Yuka Sakazaki or Shoko Nakajima. You want someone to laugh at? Go watch Hyper Misao. A career’s worth of work boiled down to being the biggest joke in the world. No proud woman would stand for such an ignoble fate.
Hyper Misao curls up into even more of a ball. The lights in the locker room grow dark as the laughter reaches its epoch. Then a black gloved hand reaches out to her, offering her compassion. Slowly the hero looks up and she takes the offered hand to pull herself up. Suddenly we’re back in the present, Misao still touching her old mask with a scowl on her face.
There was only one fate for Hyper Misao: death. Death so that the real Misao could live again. The Queen of Roses returned. And no one will dare laugh at her again.
The footsteps are back and over Misao’s shoulder another woman appears. Bedecked in a handsome butler’s uniform, the silver-haired woman smiles and bows.
Konami: <”Misao-dono, your guests have arrived.”>
Misao looks up from the object which has transfixed her and returns to the present. So the guests have arrived as expected. Whatever else one might say about WLCW, they have an unparalleled media apparatus. An entire network to their own which conveniently needs programming since it was just launching. It’s a simple matter for one to, say, arrange for a special program of one’s own. This is how the world shall become reacquainted with the real Misao. This is how they will be made to forget about the idiotic clown who’d worn that mask. She spins around dramatically, hair flowing over her shoulder as she grabs her rose cane and motions for Konami to lead the way. To her new beginning.
Just a day before Vengeance, the viewers are treated to a new program on WWN. It opens with shots of a palace that has a fantastical quality to it. Accompanying the introduction is J.J. Mouret’s regal Rondeau. Golden lettering presents the title of the show: Noblesse Oblige. The scene moves inside where we find Misao sitting upon a fancy couch; Konami stands behind it bearing a covered silver platter. As the music fades, Misao speaks.
Misao: “Greetings, and welcome to my royal palace. Those of you who are familiar with me know what my intentions are. Those who aren’t? Allow your superior to explain in a language that you can easily understand. We’re in a new world of wrestling now, a new.. era, you might say. Everything about the world is in chaos, and this has made the sport ugly and embarrassing. Such a disgrace.”
She rolls her eyes at the thought.
Misao: “All of the other women WLCW has signed are big children. They are inept. They need someone to lead them and give structure to this new world. They, and you, need a queen. That’s why this will be the era of the Rose Queen. Though it will be painful for most, your liege will rip out all the ugliness that these changes have brought. Like weeds from a garden, one by one they will be ripped out and tossed in the rubbish where they belong. Only when they’ve all rotted away will true flowers be able to grow. And there’s a lot of weeding to do before such beauty blooms.”
Misao taps on her rose cane as she continues.
Misao: “I will bring those changes about, because I cannot stand how hideous this place has already become. Even before its first show this place is a bigger joke than a super hero riding a bicycle to run over her foes. WLCW needs the Rose Queen to dominate the weak and crush them under her regal boot. That is exactly what she plans to do to any peasants reaching beyond their station. After all, big children have many lessons to learn.. and they only learn them the hard way.”
She motions dramatically to the platter in Konami’s hand.
Misao: “But there’s always a chance that I may find another rose that is choked by the weeds around it. Yearning to be touched by sunlight but denied the chance to grow. The Rose Queen has space at her side for such beauty. And she has this to offer them.”
Konami lifts the lid to reveal a single red rose. Misao smiles at the WWN crew and then waves off Konami.
Misao: “All the other useless parasites will be exterminated so those flowers can grow. The Rose Queen Era has begun.. and it will be gorgeous. Au revoir!”
