The Colour Purple Chapter 158: Open Sesame, a king of fighters fanfic

The Colour Purple... The King of Fighters '95

This (chapter) fanfiction was originally written circa: [XX.96] (Thank you)

"Which Character are you?"

Note to self: Legacy chapter numbering (32- - -), does not match.

ORIGINAL CHAPTER

"Pops, please, you have to help me. I have to FIGHT this man." Clark pleaded into the telephone handset – pulling tightly on the cord; Telephones back in those days were still firmly attached to the wall. "I have to save Heidern and I need your help. Back in those days, the communication was still attached to the Earth. In the 1980s, decades before you thought the world started turning.

"Son, listen to me… if you want to [fight] this man, Rugal – he may not be the only man you have to fight…" Knight warned. "You have to listen to what I have to say… Rugal is insane! He and The 4th Syndicate want to recreate what happened 'back then'."

And to do this they had to control one of two things, me, OR Heidern. {Listen to me Clark, if I understand all this madness correctly…} It may not be just Rugal you have to FIGHT, Clark… If this goes very wrong, you may have to fight WILHELM too.

"What do you mean, Pops?" Clark asked, absolutely confused.

In 1987.

"Son, what Rugal Bernstein wants is to recreate [the Happening]."

"The, 'happening'?"

"Do you know how I met Heidern, Clark? You don't, do you?" Knight asked.

"…" Silent, Clark had no response.

"I was no older than YOU were, that time I first met you, I was 13 years old when I first faced Heidern. I met Heidern in 1944 in a small German town." I've never told anyone what I saw.

…

Standing over a small hill of piled up dead bodies, a grotesque, thin limbed beast let out a grim growl. Like an animal, its eyes were red glowing orbs in a sea of black and its face, twisted and disfigured by some maddening RAGE, had lost all semblance of humanity. In 1944.

"You can see… [It.]" They MADE you – no, they FORCED you to see [it]. Too…

Despite it being a sunny afternoon, Heidern, 13 years old, hunched over as the beast he was, swayed his hands, penduluming left and right over his knees in a slow, steady, monotonous drone. The sky slowly became overcast, blocking the light and instantly the world became a late evening, then to night as the sunlight was sapped from the world. But the British boy knew well, that this sudden change of season was not a force of nature… as daylight became night in a split second, the Caucasian teen understood INSTANTLY. The world had completely surrendered to the powerful veil of DARKNESS. Amongst the presence of BEASTS.

In this little German town, of Pforzheim.

Then… it still scares me to this day. I never told anyone about it. But the BLOOD.

The BLOOD. The blood of near a hundred teenage boys, both German and British caught in war, collected in a large cesspool under him. But for some reason, it did not flow AWAY from the pile… instead… the BLOOD!

…and that SCREAM.

"NNNGGOOUUGGGHHHH!" A hollow sounding, carnal sound that came out of his lips when he reached out with both clawed hands – a monster who did not seem to care that in order to reach its goal, it stood above a pile of children in order to reach the heights it now stood above.

…

I asked myself, then and there, 'to what lengths would adults go', and how would they rationalize in their hearts, how would they justify turning their children into MONSTERS.

In the same, way, if Heidern had disfigured his outward appearance to become a savage creature, if I was the only one left that could fight him – was I not the same deep down inside?

For no other reason. "I met your Commander Heidern in World War 2, and we were there simply to KILL each other." Knight said solemnly. For a crusade each side thought noble. "Clark. Whatever you do, you have to reach Wilhelm before you hear that scream." Because whatever humanity is left in him, it will ALL disappear if they FORCE him to SEE [it] again.

…

11:58 PM, Johannesburg. Underground facility. Brahms secret laboratory.

Rugal?

"Master Rugal?" She said… her voice sounded dull and distant when the man pried his eyelids open. In front of him was a blurry image, and something he did not fully comprehend at first. "Stay with me, Master Rugal." She said again. Ah yes. Did I make the right choice?

A spectre of an angel feverishly wrapped bandages over and around Rugal's chest.

This story… is…

Rugal put his hand on Mature's wrist and gripped tight. "Mature." He said, holding her hand firm. You should… "You should take care of your OWN wounds, first, before Rugal's."

Mature's hands floated above her master's chest as he laid flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Not knowing what this sensation really was, her fingertips curled tightly as she continued to tie the bandages over Rugal's chest and diagonally a crossed his shoulders in tight knots. "Master," Mature coughed sharply. The lady put her left hand over her diaphragm instinctively, yet despite the pain, the expression on her face refused to change.

Mature drew both hands in opposite directions, tying the bandages taut before pushing back sitting on her bottom, gasping. Mature took a foil wrapped package of QuikClot, a blood clotting combat gauze, ripped it with her teeth and exposed a powdery, soaked bandage and put it on her stomach – with her opposite hand grabbed a clump of loose bandages and began to wrap it around her midsection.

"Don't… don't worry. I…" Mature…

"Mature," Rugal put her open palm on Mature's knee, sucking a cool breath of air in.

The warm, salty, bubbling feeling – though fleeing, and in a moment would tantamount to nothing more, Mature placed her hand over the back of Rugal's own and took in a deep wheeze of air. Carefully measuring each breath… bit by bit… just so she would not cry.

This story… holds value for everyone.

DID I MAKE THE CORRECT CHOICE?

"A!" Mature's thoughts were interrupted and she stared up and outwards, the expression on her face became twisted, contorted – a bitter taste revealing itself, as if she had come to a stark and succinct realization of something she should not have. "No, no that's not right…"

"Mature?" Rugal asked, confused slightly.

"That's not right. We were NOT responsible for that." Mature looked to the right side. "That did NOT happen because of us."

"Who are you talking to, Mature?"

"We have to go, Master Rugal." Mature said with great urgency now in her voice to lift Rugal upright.

…

Let's save our friend, together!

"Clark Ajussi." Jung said with a trembling tone, tears streaming down his face. "Are you… Are you okay?" He said. "Are you and Ralf Ajussi unhurt?"

Clark touched the button on his earpiece. "Jung." He said again.

"Yes, Clark?"

"Can you just tell me what do I have to do?" Clark responded dryly, flatly, absolutely.

"EH?" Jung uttered, taken aback at Clark's bland tone after he had taken the time to ask about his friend's well being.

"Just tell me what to do next, Jung."

"Ah! Yes." Jung stammered. "Yes, Clark Ajussi."

I do not have time for BULLSHIT.

…

Jung grasped his earpiece with both hands and responded slowly and clearly as he was brought back to urgency. "I am sorry, Clark Ajussi… your right pocket."

Clark reached down with his right hand to the cargo pocket on his right thigh and pulled out a medium sized metal box.

"There should be a cable and a telephone jack plug…" Jung continued, "It's a transparent square plug, like a telephone…"

"I see it." Clark replied.

"Okay. There should also be a square plate behind you. The steel wall should be clean, but about shoulder height, there should be four or six screws… those screws." Jung instructed, "Look for some screws, and look at it – you have a Phillips and a Flathead screwdriver in your LEFT pocket…"

WHAM!

"Clark Ajuss…"

WHAM! WHAMWHAMWHAMWHAMWHAM!

"Clark Ajussi… what are you doing?"

WHACK! Then Clark jammed the tip of the screwdriver under the bent steel plate wedging back and forth.

With a loud clack, the steel plate from the wall hit the ground after Clark forcefully pried the piece of piece easily from the sleek wall over his shoulder, brute force method with the flathead screwdriver in his left hand.

"Okay, the plate is off... what next Jung?"

Jung puckered his lips, looking across the hallway, a rectangular piece of metal was on the floor, leaving a mess of exposed wires and sparking circuit boards from the junction box it once covered.

Jung sighed, fidgeting with his earpiece to lodge it tightly back. "Put the plug into the female socket – it should be white in colour, you should see it under that plate inside the wires."

Clark leaned over his shoulder, he pulled the telephone plug from the device from his pocket, tugged on the wire with his opposite hand and put it into the receptacle with a click. "Done." Clark said into the earpiece.

"Okay. Thank you, Clark Ajussi. Please wait a moment." Jung said from across the hallway. Jung pushed the button on his laptop and the screen that greeted him said WINDOWS 3.0.

Clark's lungs heaved deep to suck in a deep breath of air into his lungs through the spaces of his teeth. In between cool breaths he said, "Jung… please hurry!"

"Yes sir."

Jung's finger clacked feverishly in rapid pace on the keyboard in front of him, just quick as anyone could given the technology of the time. An elite hacker. Before the term held any true meaning to the wider population. Just as his fingertips tapped feverishly as fast as he could – those sounds, those passing moments while once soft and silent to his ears made his extremities numb, the Korean, as each tap – taking too long – sounded like a now LOUD tick tock of a clock, like a bladed pendulum swinging back and forth over his neck.

"Jung…" Clark whispered again into his earpiece. "Please…"

"Clark, I can do this… I can."

What if you can't? What if…

What if you take just a second too long, and HEIDERN dies, because of us...

"Jung." Because of you…

"Clark Ajussi," the immense pressure slammed like a hammer behind Jung's skull, blow by blow, every moment that passed, he knew, that just because of HIM, he, him and [he] alone, his commander's life hung in the balance.

"Clark. STOP!" Ralf said sternly.

"JUNG KIM!" Clark shouted!

…and he alone, we once upon a time had to face the reality that DESTINY relied upon US. No one else, but US alone… and how you performed at that ONE moment in time, would determine your standing as a man, forever!

"FUCK!" Jung pushed the ENTER key forcefully, then a new window opened on his heavy laptop computer. A black window outlined with a gray border – then a rush of white text appeared in rapid succession splaying random nonsense words, pushing the previous lines of text upwards.

If you FUCK this up, everything will go to shit.

NO! I will NOT FUCK this up!

…

Not for him.

…

Immediately, three new windows appeared on Jung's screen and slowly from low pixels, slowly, at a slow pace that we would consider nowadays, Jurassic, the computer downloaded high resolution videos in each window by his command.

"FUCK YOU, MISTER BILL GATES!" Jung whacked the ENTER key once again with his right hand. "OPEN! FOR ME!" Jung pointed his right index finger forward at the steel gate in front of them.

As an immediate response, the sliding door CLASHED together before slowly, tooth by tooth, the gears that once kept the metal gates shut begun to reverse and open at a snail's pace – BUT NOW – it had begun to open.

"Elite HACKER!" Jung roared!

"Elite… hacker…" Clark smiled brightly.

The once smooth metal plate behind Clark that kept him away now suddenly broke free and begun to break apart. As the same – when Aladdin did it – OPEN SESAME. A group of vengeful thieves looked upon a great power and rendered the wall of stone boulders useless. Clark sneered with a wide gleam, at his side was Ralf who cussed and snarled under his breath.

Clark hunched forward, took a single step back then turned around to gaze forward at heaven's gates that kept its slaves, once powerless, at bay, but now look at you. You are POWERLESS to US! 50 lost boys strong, now men, came to these gates demanding what rightfully belongs to them – because ALL debts have to be repaid; and woe be you, YOU, arrogant, the camera of the world revolved around its center – Clark pointed his index finger forward PIERCING the space between heaven and earth – to split, and pry it apart. Woe be YOU, who thought that your crimes to destiny would not be met with great, divine, justice!

{Wait for me.} Clark breathed in deep. {Wait for us, please, Heidern…}

I do not know what crimes you have committed to humanity. I do not know how much suffering you had to endure in order to continue living; and frankly, I do not care. Just know, that 50 boys have come here now, to see you through this night. Mayhaps, this will be enough solace for everything that transpired before this day… and enough to keep you alive.

Heidern.

"OPEN!" Clark roared, arms splayed wide, his roaring face filled the entire picture. "OPEN says a ME!"

Witness. Witness! The.

…

Whirrrrr….. CLACK.

"What?!" Ralf said.

The door stopped its motion just as the crack was only 6 inches wide, not even barely enough for any adult to squeeze through.

"WHAT! JUNG!" WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?

"Clark Ajussi." Jung touched his earpiece. "I have clear video."

"Open this door JUNG!" Clark shouted. Again. "OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

"Wait," Ralf said into his own earpiece. "What do you see, Jung?"

"Ralf Ajussi," Jung responded, stammering in a panic. "It's dark, wait a moment please… I am changing to thermal vision, wait a…"

"Jung?"

Clark held his tongue and grit his teeth.

"I see two…. No, three warm bodies." Jung began to say.

Is it?

Predicting the next question, Jung cut in, "One body walking ahead, towards a door on the opposite side of the room. Another body carrying a larger body over…" The body was less warm than the other. "A man over her shoulder. Two female and one male?"

"Rugal!" Clark hissed. "Rugal Bernssssstteinnnn."

"Wait, let me zoom out and…" …and…

"Jung?" Ralf interjected when a few seconds of silence spanned through his earpiece. "Jung?"

"What the… hell?"

"Jung?" Ralf said again.

Blue and purple haloes silhouetting over lifeless bodies, spanned across the room, a horror beholden to see for him, multiple windows that did not lie.

"JUNG!?"

"Ralf Ajussi…" Jung gulped, not knowing how to move forward after the facts in front of him clearly placed clear logic for him to absorb. "Ten…?"

Ten bodies. No.

The clock clicked, from 11:59 to 12:00 midnight.

Twenty, no, thirty… Forty? Jung said one after the other when he forced the thermal vision camera to zoom backwards in a snail's pace as it could in 1990.

1990, 12:00 AM, Johannesburg. Underground facility. Brahms secret laboratory

"NNNGGOOUUGGGHHHH!" A hollow sounding, carnal sound pushed the stale rancid air through the 6 inch crack in front of Clark, forcing the man to turn his face away. That howl, that rageful roar.

"What?"

"There's 30… no, 50 dead bodies in there."

NO.

"NO!" Clark slammed his right palm over the edge of the partially open gate.

Tapping a few keys and then swerving the small red pointing stick in the center of his laptop keyboard, Jung forced the camera to tilt back to the gate in front of Clark. "Wait."

"There's a warm body in front of the gate in front of Clark Ajussi!"

…

"Clark. Whatever you do, you have to reach Wilhelm before you hear that scream."

…

"CLARK! FUCK THIS SHIT!" Ralf roared at the top of his lungs. "CLAARK!"

Then… there was silence. A quiet moment when a swirling miasma of darkness filled the room bit by bit – overcoming every bit left of existence. As the wheels of destiny turned…

His right palm slapped the smooth steel gate. It happened in a split second instant, 50 boys, now men did not immediately feel the sharp blow that resonated in the back of their heads – it was a strange, carnal sensation we did not understand – why we rescind when we hear claw marks on a blackboard. Then another – Clark's left hand drove itself forward, his fingers curled into and over the crevice in between.

You did well. Heidern swung his right hand over Clark's shoulder with his entire weight.

"Dogs who bite their master's hand… have no place in my family."

There are only TWO volumes in my life… Quiet… and…

-When fighting MONSTERS, one must beware-

Mature, with Rugal over her shoulder turned her head behind – and facing back at her in that void of darkness was [IT]. IF YOU STARE INTO THE [DARKNESS]… DOES NOT THE ABYSS STARE [BACK], unto you too?

The camera ran over Mature's shoulder and back at lightning speed to two eyes, sewn shut, a wide beaming smile prying the surgical threads that once forcefully closed its mouth.

{If you did such a reprehensible crime, did you not think? Did you not think ANOTHER monster would arise from the abyss to face you?}

"Master Rugal!" Mature said, immediately increasing the pace of her steps.

The SECOND Childrens splayed both his arms wide open.

…

Then… there was silence. A quiet moment – before the atomic bomb exploded.

August 6, 1945. I have only two volumes I hear… quiet… and…

AND LOUD!

"CLARK! FUCK THIS SHIT!" Ralf roared at the top of his lungs. "CLAARK!"

"RRRAGGGGHHHHHHHHHAGHHH!" Clark jammed his fingers into the 6 inch gap in front of him and with his entire might, the muscles on the back of his neck tensed and pulsed taught in an insane rage. Black liquid now slowly seeped into his eyes, black veins creeping from the edges of Clark's eyes - every bit of his being, like a poison, infecting the white with black.

"There's a body, it's yellow… no… wait… It's turning a different colour…"

"You chose wisely, boy, for Dogs who bite their master's hand… have no place in my family."

'The LORD tests the righteous and the wicked, and the one who loves VIOLENCE His soul hates.' -Psalm 11:5

HEEEIDEEEERN!

Wait. Jung put his face closer to the monitor. "It's turning… wait." It's turning RED.

It's turning COMPLETELY red.

AN ATOMIC BLAST! A hard crack resonated through and back into the hallway when the metal gears the door once rode on were dislodged and perhaps forcefully destroyed at a split instant.

The BEAST – part 18.

…

When I fought him. "I tried to STOP it. The spiral of war. This eternal, cyclical spiral of unending, illogical revenge and reparation, son." Amidst a heavy burden, Heidern dedicated the rest of his life to atone for his sins. Even when we both watched the bombs drop… I knew that I had made the CORRECT choice.

My name is Clark Steel. When I was 5 years old, my parents, missionaries, went to South Africa to spread the word of God. As reward for their efforts, their son was kidnapped, taken away from them – and I was forced to fight a mercenary's war as a child soldier.

Clark jammed 8 fingers into the small 6 inch crack in front of him and with his entire strength pulled outwards.

"The Nazis turned a 13 year old boy into a monster. And now, does Bernstein and his people want some twisted revenge for his Jewish legacy? Because he can't let go of the past?"

In 1972, I was 8 years old. Killing for no reason. Until I met an [evil] man.

Every muscle straining in his shoulder and back, ligaments about to tear at a microscopic level.

…and this EVIL man told me, what I had to do in order to liberate myself from slavery, and [LIVE] free.

"Clark, you have to reach Wilhelm before you hear that scream." Because whatever humanity is left in Wilhelm, it will ALL disappear if they FORCE him to SEE it again.

I met many boys throughout the years, and wondered to myself – who was right and who was wrong? Did I serve one devil – only to fall prey to another demon?

Millimeter by millimeter the door likely 200 pounds each began to creak and strain, moving slowly on its gears and along its rails. Like a steel behemoth that slowly stumbled backwards in fear when faced with the RAGE that exuded from every fiber of Clark's being.

God or Devil, I had made my choice, we ALL made our choices, and that was all that mattered NOW. I am free now, and I have to repay that evil man who made it so.

And in order to do so – I have - TO SEPARATE heaven and EARTH.

…

Chapter 158: Open Sesame.

"What is wrong? Mature?" Rugal wheezed in between labored breaths.

Mature refused to look back over her shoulder, because she knew that if she did, there would be a small blonde haired THING that would stare back at her, and she could not look away, amidst all that guilt that she held in her heart now.

However, even if you look away, even if you pretend that a MONSTER does not exist, something laid in wait, wait… waiting to devour you.

Two steel gates, each easily 200 pounds creaked slowly, and steadily opening…

Even when Mature refused to look over her shoulder she felt it staring back at her.

An EVIL man, two bright orbs that lay silently in the far reaches of the darkness. Cool mists condensing as its warm breath, seething through the spaces through its teeth, to met to the equilibrium of the cold room.

In between the small sliver of two large steel gates two white circular eyes stared back – FROM THE ABYSS. With a low, hiss and monstrous growl. This MONSTER's name, was JUDGEMENT.