Fuck You And The Horse You Rode In On

Several days had passed since the iconic AFW Friction ring had gone up in flames, a singular act of rebellion that had since been replayed over and over on TV, on the internet, and had left online forums buzzing. It had only taken the Friction staff one day to erase all traces of the incident, and they were immediately back to business as usual, but it didn't matter.

It wasn't just an act of vandalism, it was a statement. And now that the hooded girl was back out of jail, she had a lot more to say.

In her left hand, the tip trailing on the pavement behind her, was an aluminum baseball bat. It would do the talking for her tonight. She looked the same, gray hoodie, hood pulled up, black bandana mask, black open-fingered gloves, jeans, combat boots. The words GUNS RAZORS KNIVES were by now her calling card, to the extent that she was sometimes referred to on the AFW forums as "GRK". It didn't have much of a ring to it.

She strolled leisurely through the Friction valet parking lot, down the rows of expensive cars paid for with Friction blood-and-porn money, lit only by the street lights. She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure her friend with the camera was keeping up, and then pointed at a car several rows away. That was the one.

Trailing behind her was a girl wearing a hoodie of her own. She was walking at a leisurely pace, her black hair swished as she walked and she peered past her glasses and looked at tablet she held up. Turning her hips as she walked, she took a good look at the AFW employee parking lot.

The lot was as eclectic as the roster. Tiny cars and large cars. Brand new cars and junkers. Although in the big city of Tokyo, many of the girls walked or cabbed, there were some who drove. Those who could afford to and those who had brought their cars from wherever they came from.

As the hooded girl dragged her bat along, the bespectacled tablet girl stopped and paused. Wordlessly, she tapped on her compatriot's shoulder and pointed to one of the cars. A very fancy one for sure.

The hooded girl strolled around to stand in front of the massive, shiny black Cadillac Escalade. The Friction parking lot was probably the only place in Tokyo where it didn't look ridiculously out of place.

She wrinkled her nose at the glossy black and chrome monstrosity, jacked up on custom rims with the windows tinted black. It was the most obnoxiously American-douche thing she had ever seen, aside from the Gastin Redneckmobile. The big hissing viper airbrushed on the hood removed all doubt as to who it belonged to...

The girl ran a hand along the hood and glanced at the camera. Her eyes smiled, one of them blackened, and she leapt nimbly up onto the hood and raised the bat high. There was no hesitation as she went to work.

Crunch, crunch, crash!

The windshield went first, waking up the blaring car alarm, cracks spreading with each swing until the whole thing gave way. She hopped up onto the roof and took a swing down at the rear windshield, jumped down and snapped off the wiper, stuck the bat in a crack in the glass to yank off the whole thing and threw it on the ground.

She bashed in each long taillight and then worked her way around, smashing each side window and making a show of slicing off the side mirrors, as if she was a samurai with a katana. She picked up one mirror and hurled it deeper into the parking lot, and then bashed in the headlights and went to work on the grille.

Over and over she slammed it with overhead swings, breaking the plastic a little at a time until she grabbed it and began jerking at it to try to rip it off, but it remained stubbornly attached, barely. More furious swings for the bumper eventually knocked that loose, and some kicks and stomps got it the rest of the way off.

"Rrrrrraaagh!" She growled as the plastic clattered to the pavement. She was breathing hard and grinning from ear to ear. What an incredible rush! To finally just forget about everything else and do what she really wanted!

She glanced over at her camerawoman to see if she felt the same, and offered her the handle of the bat.

The black haired, bespectacled girl held her tablet up high and captured the destruction of the large American SUV. Walking around to get every angle as the car was mercilessly trashed. She followed the action with the ease of a professionally, giving no direction. None was needed. She didn't even wince when the alarms blared and, instead, just smiled.

Once the hooded girl had mangled the Escalade and offered the bat, the black haired girl nodded and passed off the tablet carefully. She took the bat and reached in and unlocked the door through the broken window. After that, with a quick opening of the door, she went to work on the inside, smashing the dash and all the fancy things that would now never light up again. She smashed the steering wheel until the airbag popped and then began to kick the door over and over until she managed to creak it out of place.

She did her part until she was panting and grinning and then traded back the bat for the tablet and shoved her thumb towards the entrance.

The camera work became significantly less stable when the hooded and masked girl took over. She had to remind herself to try to stay still enough to get anything in the video, and though she stayed quiet while her friend did some smashing, a few stifled giggles slipped out.

She looked off toward the entrance where her friend was pointing and saw a few curious figures in the distance, trying to see what the fuss was. Valet parking attendants, maybe AFW security. The video swung around and bounced chaotically as the girl started running, until she figured out how to turn it off.

Then the two girls just disappeared into the night, and left the AFW staffers to break the news to their champion about her recently deceased ride.