The Colour Purple Chapter 160: Hell on Earth, 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

It is a FAILSAFE. A kill-switch afforded only to human beings.

"Everyday you dream, and what do you see?" Dr. Cohen scribbled the numbers on his clipboard, punctuating it with date and time. "Is it wonderful to dream everyday? How different is it from us? Are you dreaming of US?"

In 1990.

…

DON'T COME HERE! Because.

You may not be able to leave.

You may never be able to LEAVE this ROOM.

The door of the prim and peaceful house closed the final time in front of Mature and the Second Childrens. The disjointed monster snickering in hearty laughter as it looked back.

…

And now Heidern stood over looking down at an empty wooden bench, placed at the center of a vast void of emptiness. Oh. It manifests itself, differently, for different people, but the concept, and more importantly, the [place] remains the same. Except Sandra was not here.

THIS, is where it all started, but why must I come back here time and time again?

"Please. Make it STOP." Heidern pleaded, grasping his hollow right eye socket with both palms. His hollow right eye socket that erupted with a molten magma of blood.

"There is only one way to make it stop." GOD replied. "You have to DIE… or."

…

An identical mechanical sliding door whirred open, and with a crash when the gears dislodged from their axes, stopped half ajar, at the very far opposite side of the ROOM, the crevices around it sparking when the electronics wailed in defiance as they failed.

The light flooded the room when a tall vertical bright beam entered from the outside, cleaving apart the dark, cold room like a blade.

Through the crack, a boot stamped on the ground, walking forward, up his ankles, his baggy pants, thighs, up his waist, a blue, puffy vest draped over his chest, across his muscular arms – round and round the camera of the world launched up, then down at his navy blue hat, then down and forward to his dark shades as the blonde haired man entered the darkness within.

…and like a tank turret, Clark's face ratcheted mechanically towards Mature, and Mature, could do nothing but stare back as both looked blindly into the void – unable to see each other but yet still feel an invisible thread connect themselves with each other in silent lucidity.

Do you recall? What were you doing…? In 1977? At different axes of the Earth.

WE MADE OUR CHOICES on that day! And NOW, WE ARE CONNECTED!

Mature's throat dropped hard into the bottom of her stomach. A cold and petrifying feeling. Yet, this was a familiar sensation. When you are unable to hold two congruent thoughts at once, when you suddenly realize and understand the meaning of cognitive dissonance.

…

I am the ONE you've been looking for.

"Who? Who are YOU?!" Mature shouted.

"You know," The Second Childrens replied flatly. "You know who I am!"

…

A cold mist, I could see now, breathed out a silver cloud out of Clark's lips. As if decades of regret – once invisible - compounded over and over - made itself visible for everyone to witness, clearly, and plainly. Over and over. Until the madness was too much to bear.

WE WERE CREATED TO FIGHT EVERYTHING.

Clark forced his body to acclimate to the cold, to the dark; He took two then three steps and stopped as well. Initially looking downwards, his expression changed as if he had heard a loud noise, startling him when his last step took to the ground. He rotated his shoulders back, slowly tilted his gaze up and like a slow turret swiveled his vision to the left.

BECAUSE OTHERWISE; Everything WE had endured – our pain and all our suffering.

Mature looked at Clark. And Clark back at Mature.

IF we do not FIGHT EACH OTHER. Then, our lives would have been MEANINGLESS.

…and as if to reply to some challenge presented by destiny, even though neither he nor Ralf could see in the void, Clark looked back at the darkness, instinctively at Mature's direction.

He clenched both fists with great fervour and ferocity, even though he did not know why.

After all we've been though. You and I.

"I see…"

We both believed WE had treaded a path noble and just. Yet, now, here we are. Perhaps one day, one day, may we find out which one of us was right.

Mature dragged Rugal through the gate, and as she did the mechanical sliding doors slowly began to close automatically, and through the cracks as it closed its last inch, Clark stared at her and her master as she escaped.

{I see… Is THAT man special to you, too?} Mature continued to stare backwards.

If so, then… PLEASE… save him… then… meet me at the end of all of [this].

…at the end of all this sadness… at the end of all of this madness.

"…we meet at the opposite sides of this [story]." Mature sighed, if we are indeed CONNECTED by destiny.

…

GRAVITY binds us to the Earth. Unable to move forward without an invisible chain.

"You know… who… You know," The Second Childrens grinned.

Magnetic polarity, positive and negative both, opposing forces drive the world to rotate.

"…You know who I am." Clark's lips mouthed the end of the statement.

People like YOU and I, we cannot continue, we cannot exist without an enemy.

…and THIS is why GOD brought us together.

…

I am happy, for, we, at least met with such good company here – and in due time we shall see if both our arcs, despite our contradictions, one day will tilt towards the same fate.

"I see you." Clark uttered unconsciously.

The steel gates slammed shut behind Mature and Rugal, leaving Clark all alone in that room.

…

At least once in our lives, we entertained this thought. That maybe, even if it had to betray all the things we once thought sacred – we would give it up, and pleaded – for even an EVIL man to save us.

{Am I evil?}

Clark tilted his head upwards into the vast and wide, open darkness.

IF – THAT is what it takes to carry me here… then let it be.

I WILL MAKE EVERYONE MY ENEMY! If I can save my friend from the Devil.

…okay…

"Hey. Com'mon. Let's do this." Clark whispered, smiling, to face a fate we had feared so much.

The BEAST – part 20.

…

Every time you step into a DARK ROOM, you step onto a stage – and what separates YOU from every other human being is that you have a PLAN. Have a plan whenever you step into the DARKNESS. You have to rehearse that plan over and over in your mind, even before you take that first step. "This is all a GAME don't you know."

Plan each step.

…

Jung tapped his keyboard, once, then twice… then three more times in rapid succession. A frigid shock overwhelmed him as the warm red haze slowly overwhelmed the small window on his laptop computer. When a large red dot grew larger from one corner of the room, slowly devouring the blue haze around it.

Wait… what was…

The red colours slowly pulled back to the far side of the room…

"Clark… Clark Ajussi…?" Jung spoke into the microphone connected to his earpiece. "Ajussi…?"

The large white dot, signifying Clark Steel on Jung's screen moved away from the wall, but the red haze… The video feedback was a reflection of the thermal range of everything in the room. The room was once completely blue from the cold, but instead of following Clark as he walked in, the red blobs seemed to peel away from Clark's marker.

"Clark Ajussi? Can you hear me?" Jung asked again into the microphone. The reply was a soft, shrill static into his ear.

…

Once again, breathing deep, Clark Steel FORCED his mind to reset. Rewinding, restructuring, splitting sentences, cutting up pictures until the one moment, when, at the end of it – was a dark SQUARE.

Painful static scratched the inner part of Clark's ear in chaotic pulses loud and soft as if someone was talking to him, but to Clark, it was just random noise.

Life is a GAME, boy.

Focus on what you have to DO. Fight your ENEMY. "Clark. Do you understand me?" Heidern's voice echoed once again in Clark's brain. "After that first step into that room, you will have to FIGHT."

Clark forced his body to acclimate to the cold, to the dark; He took two then three steps and stopped as well. His mind reset. A cool, cold air seeped through Clark's nostrils when he once again stepped into the room. He looked outwards but realized soon enough that he could see nothing but a pitch black, forcing, begging his body to acclimate to the darkness.

PLIP.

A slight sound, Clark felt his left foot fall forward and through his boot, though Clark's rubber soled boot he had this uncanny ability to SEE through it… From the edges of his toes, Clark felt the stamp of liquid under his shoe. "One inch? No?" Clark spoke out loud.

Pulling his boot up Clark was somehow able to feel the viscosity, the glue like fashion of the liquid he stepped on. It was not an inch deep, it was more half an inch or even less… but it didn't feel like water. Was the dark room Clark stepped into flooded with a third of an inch of water? The sound that echoed in his ears seemed to elude as much but Clark was apprehensive at first. Why is this room flooded with water? Is it sewage? What is going on?

Clark took a cautious step forward with another step from his right foot. WAIT.

…

The red aura that once surrounded the large dot that signified Clark glowed, sparked outwards in a strange fashion, then, all of a sudden – seeped outwards.

"AJUSSI! CLARK AJUSSI!" Jung shouted, slowly realizing something was not right.

Apart from the small red and orange halo around Clark, the screen turned black and blue except for ANOTHER large red star from the corner of the room that exploded – absorbing the colour of red all at once. That star – it was as if… it devoured all the COLOUR in the room.

…

"SHHHHRRRRGHHH…" The static continuously hummed in Clark's ear, so much he had fully acclimated to it and began to ignore the noise.

Despite his better judgment, Clark bent his knees and slumped downwards, carefully squatting as to keep his pants from touching the gruesome, wet floor. Ugh. Against his better judgment, he reached outwards, Clark outstretched his left hand out and downwards into the ground.

He heard it. Just before he tilted forward a gurgling sound. {Is that? A drain?} That was a familiar sound of a floor drain about 10 feet away from him. The sound was familiar but somewhat strange. {The water is draining away… there?} Still something did not sound right. Instead of a smooth slush, there was a gurgling sound…. Like it was a clogged drain?

There is a strange thing that happens in the darkness. When you can't see anything, your other 4 senses are heightened to their extremes.

IF THE FLOOR DRAIN IS OVER [THERE], THEN WHY?

Instead, the sound from that floor drain gurgled and burped, groaning like an animal. The atmosphere around him did not smell as he expected… a mixture of heavy stank of soil and iron.

Clark dipped his fingertips into the liquid under him, and, SUDDENLY, he realized.

{it's moving… the liquid is moving…} Clark thought silently. Is the liquid moving AWAY from the drain that was clearly in front of him.

The liquid pulled backwards through and behind Clark's body. To his right and BEHIND him. The familiar feeling, the familiar feeling of its viscosity was undeniable. Clark realized then and there he had not tipped his fingers into 'water'.

…

The dot that was Clark turned blue, as if the monitors in the large room suddenly could no longer detect the heat from Clark's body. "Clark… LOOK OUT, MR. CLARK!" Jung shouted again in his microphone.

The small isolated window on Jung's now outdated Windows 95 driven monitor flashed as it refreshed, then, the ENTIRE screen turned RED. IT FLASHED AGAIN. Now about a dozen red dots immediately surrounded Clark.

"Clark… LOOK OUT, MR. CLARK!" Jung screamed. "It's Hei…"

The response to his valiant plea, static.

…

A familiar smell of pain, and regret.

THIS ISN'T WATER.

You are going to have FIGHT now, Clark! Wake up… WAKE UP!

WAKE UP!

A thick sludge ever so familiar dripped from the tips of Clark's fingers when he pulled it up from the ground up to his nose. IT'S.

IT'S BLOOD!

"Shhr Hgh! ClarSH! Clark Ajussi!" Clark finally heard Jung's voice come through the noise. "Sggghhhhrkkk! ClSHH. Clark Ajussi! Look out! It's HEIDERN!"

12 red dots surrounded Clark and as his mind, in a frantic panic – all he could hear was the soft hum and the blinding snow of static when he withdrew his hand. The shock and dread painted across his face when he SUDDENLY realized…

MOVE! MOVE NOW! CLARK AJUSSI!

"Heidern is ATTACKING you!" Jung shouted at the top of his lungs!

…

Heidern is alive.

…and he is attacking you!

…

"There is only one way to make [it] stop." GOD replied. "You have to DIE… or."

OR… …You have to DESTROY the entire world, right here, and right now.

If you sit and listen, you hear voices. The question is, is that the voice of God or the voice of madness?

Are you dreaming of us, Herr Heidern? Are we, those who think we are alive, we who wake up every day and live an existence of boring routine, being dreamt by you?

"Agh." Dr. Cohen exclaimed as he tilted his wrist to his face, he almost forgot the schedule. Dr. Michael Cohen pressed the large yellow button on the control panel. As Dr. Cohen scribbled his notes, one could not help but notice the top right of that piece of paper – and on it said:

'FOR YOUR EYES ONLY: Project: MK-ULTRA (final) 1976.'

The story had suddenly changed…

"Chairman?"

{Is there a meaning to all of this?}

"…" Scratching and screeching, garbled white and black snow filled the television screen, just like it did at 2:01 am. Something…

Whirring… low pitched BOOMS repeating in steady fashion as the pressure DROVE the dust, dirt and garbage away on that concrete rooftop that midnight. One by one… WHUMP… WHUMMP! WHUMKOPPH! Clearing the way, not for a hero...

Someone called out for help. Within a silent darkness – a man pleaded to be saved…

"Chairman." The voice, muffled by slight static on the radio earpiece said again.

{Even if I apologized… Even if I did, would HE even consider my apology?}

"MADAM CHAIRMAN! Can you hear me!?"

The pain in her knees and lower back was certainly there, but for a slight moment, the small statured lady was too engrossed with her thoughts that these sensations did not even rank as relevant. Because her BODY was BRED for GREATNESS, and her MIND was tuned for noble VIRTUE.

{If others have to be unhappy, in order for me to be happy…}

Something… modern children probably did not have the succinct agony of seeing, but it was something common in the early 90s. When the television and cassette videotapes reached its end.

From her prostrated position, she began to rise slowly, pushing with her hands, then extending her legs to rise up.

{A zero sum game. In order for me to be happy… Someone else has to feel misery.}

Chapter 160: Hell on Earth.

Heidern sat on a wooden chair, and looked outwards into the sunset. In a peculiar time, and an equally strange place.

…

"Don't bother landing the helicopter!" Mature yelled into her earpiece as she looked upwards, Rugal's arm over her wailing shoulder. "We have to get out NOW! Just lower the ladder. NOW!" Mature, Rugal and Vice had already reached the rooftop.

Amidst the deafening sound of the Blackhawk helicopter's blades, two men pushed the aluminum runged ladder off the edge as it unfurled in front of Rugal and Mature who waited at the edge of the helipad.

"Master Rugal… Just…" Mature stopped immediately mid speech. A single drop of water clinked, echoing in the darkness. She stopped and grew silent when she felt a strange sensation in the back of her stomach.

Mature turned around behind her, Rugal still slumped over her shoulders. Mature could not help, but acknowledge this strange and peculiar sensation – only to face a small and silent woman from the other side upon the top of the building she stood on.

A slender, pale skinned middle aged woman by Mature's standards – 25 to 35 years old stood 21 yards in front of her now.

That woman dressed in olive drab green fatigues, similar, near identical to Heidern's uniform stood up straight and without a spec of distress in her visage reflected the stern and snarling look on Mature's face. And that was Mature staring solidly on the woman on the other side of the rooftop.

"Guten abend." The crimson haired brunette soldier greeted in front of Mature.

"Who are you?!" Mature responded.

Someone called out for help. Within a silent darkness – a man pleaded to be saved…

[I am here, to help a friend. That is all – nothing more – nothing less.]

In the end…?

'Director W?! Are you OK? Please state your condition?' The static in her ear said.

…in the end, what else can we do, isn't this all we were placed in this world for?

"I'm OK, Carl." W. responded.

She took three steps forward – one foot in front of the past.

"The first lesson…" Heidern once said. "To think two or three steps ahead…" Wilhelm extended one finger then, slowly…

"You hurt my friend, and now I am going to PUNISH all of you." Director W. said in a droning voice without fanfare. "Rugal Bernstein."