The Colour Purple... The King of Fighters '95
Based on the Characters of The King of Fighters '95 Copyright 1995(C) SNK
Original Fan Fiction Copyright (C) 1995 [ENGEL] Design Room 1995
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
"Is Carl Lewis even your real name?" He buckled his seatbelt around his waist.
"No…" The pilot replied somewhat stunned at the preposterous question, "No! No its NOT my real name." he scoffed and chuckled, shaking his head, jeering...
"Then, why does Director W. call you that?" his co-pilot strapped the double vertical belts over his shoulders non-chalantly.
A bit annoyed, 'Carl' curled his lips bitterly, when his co-pilot didn't even care to ask him for his real name. "Because, if in 1990, if there's an Olympic sport for helicopter slalom, I'd be a silver medalist! For sure!" He replied sternly, cocking his 'thumbs up' salute proudly to his nose.
"Silver? That's… it…? That doesn't make sense."
With a flip of the switch the lights one by one turned on. The front end of the helicopter, like the globular bug eyes of a fly swiveled and rotated every which opposite way independently of each other when the operating system calibrated itself. The rotary blades spun slowly...
"Don't worry, my friend. I was flying helicopters before I could crawl. I can fly this thing better than I can pick my nose." He said. "You are flying with the GENIUS of helicopters."
Slowly… then suddenly, the four blades spun into immediate action whirling in a violent vortex – BURSTING into eight blades so quick the optical illusion deceived you.
"Carl..." His co-pilot cocked his eyebrows every which way then put his helmet on with a lethargic sigh. "That doesn't make any sense!"
The attack helicopter started to float up, freeing itself from the chains of the Earth, separating itself from the rest of God's petty creations.
"You are weak, you are afraid, but, you are simply lost – without purpose." She remembered HIM say, once upon a time. If you are so ready to angrily waste away in this castle, then just JUMP, and get it over with. But before you do, lass uns einen Deal machen… Muchiko.
{By your original design, certainly, Women were not meant to fly. This surely wasn't in your grand plan.} She gripped the handle of her whip behind her back rig to ensure that it was securely fastened under the flap behind her blouse and hidden from sight. {With these tools, we defy you.} Did you even predict that we would go THIS far? To create WEAPONS in order to FIGHT YOU?!
Wait for ME, Wilhelm Heidern.
"Madam," His co-pilot said, "Received word from Korea. Mario and Luigi are ready to breach the basement of the dungeon. Requesting air cover at the roof helipad in case we are mistaken and King Koopa extracts the princess topside."
As we defied YOU for centuries. Even when generations past had made mistakes…
"Director." Carl said into the mouthpiece connected to his headset. "Director. Are you sure you don't want to sit in the cargo bay, Madam?"
"No Carl." Whip replied flatly. "I'm fine here."
The Union Building, Pretoria, South Africa. 30 minutes before midnight. In 1990.
Mankind and society, constantly in conflict – are doomed to repeat the same mistakes just as the universe collapses into itself in sequenced fashion, irrelevant to their best laid intervention.
WHUMP! BOOM! The AH-64 Apache leapt into mid air, levitating, tilting then flying.
Underneath its landing gear, Muchiko gripped the cross brace with her hand, her body strapped securely by the criss-crossing straps of her full body harness, all connected to the mechanical crane and hoist.
The Apache was designed only for two people after all. And besides…
…
So many years ago… Heidern opened the window from high above in that castle, and with silent words looked back at the teenage girl, mouthing words only she remembered with a smile.
Back then it seemed like a fight for survival, but now it was a nostalgic memory.
…
"As you wish, Madam!" Carl pulled up on the joystick of his machine with his left hand, he slammed his right fist HARD over his heart. "Hail! To Victory."
Next to him, mimicking the motion, "Hail to VICTORY!" His co-pilot stretched out his arm. You cannot deny, that even EVIL men loved their CHILDREN too. Even if THEY once made mistakes, perhaps deep inside they wanted to be saved too.
He put his fist, his curled thumb over his left pectoral.
The Apache was designed only for two people after all. And besides…
Opening her eyes slowly, Muchiko's fist was already over her left breast. "The VIEW is so much more wonderful down here." Muchiko gripped hard when the Apache flew in the air so far away. Allowing Whip's hair and the flaps of her uniform to violently flail in mid air.
The BEAST – part 23.
…
1987, in South Africa. 12:56 am.
He breathed out. In his hand was a blued steel colt 1911 pistol.
Pointing directly the gun to his temple, nuzzling the cold steel on his flesh. Clark's heartbeat was calm and flat, his expression stoic without anything indicating that something was amiss. Simply said, he just pointed the muzzle of a gun into his head and there was nothing wrong with it. He just stared blankly into the darkness – a room he was deeply familiar with.
The more I think about it, the clearer it becomes. I now understand your original and true purpose.
Only a fool would believe that it was done out of a sense of altruism, or even for a hollow expression of virtue. I know, that you did not survive this long merely for validation and for history to forgive you. It was more than likely a perversion of the act of penance, borne by a heavy guilt caused by your crimes – and yet being the only one of your peers who survived.
But none of those things are correct. And as I slowly come to this realization, it makes me shake in horror. At the IRONY and at the TRAGEDY of it all.
You collected, raised wayward children as your own. With painstaking care, of particular choosing – so much it seemed like there was a slight sense of SADISM in it. You, Heidern, purposely sought out, found those who were STRONG, those who were HUNGRY and yes, those who were LONELY as well. In some way, as you fed them, nurtured them, and even developed deep tangible bonds with strangers… for one purpose, and ONE purpose alone…
I have come to discover why you did all these things; And it is HORRIFIC.
Yet I am powerless to change the inevitable course of destiny.
Such realizations would destroy a weaker man, but not you, Wilhelm Heidern.
…
Every step of the way, you planned for this suicide, and waited 45 years, didn't you Wilhelm?
1990. 12:05. The basement. Secret Laboratory, Johannesburg, South Africa.
A thick sludge ever so familiar slowly 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 on the computer monitor, 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!
Clark immediately lunged to the forward right, swiveled around and launched his body to the back, then laterally to the side – all in one panicked, but precise sequence of movements. Three vectors in confident, rapid z-shaped succession, goading multiple angles of attack.
{Heidern hasn't attacked.} Clark thought. Calculating, recalculating, crunching numbers at a feverish pace. As he was used to this GAME. To predict… what you think. I think, that you are thinking, of what I think you will do… Then counter, or attack. A complex, clockwork relationship of trust and dare.
It's dark, completely dark except for blinking diodes of different primary colours, and now the fading glow of far away broken computer monitors are beginning to fade away. If Heidern were to attack NOW, it would certainly be to his advantage as Ralf would still be blind and not acclimated to his night vision.
Surely, these are optimum conditions for you, Clark grinned.
"If we don't reach Heidern in time," Clark remembered Whip say. "If we are too late, you are going to have to FIGHT Heidern. And if you hesitate, even for a MOMENT, Heidern will KILL you, Clark."
"Yeah…" Yeah… I know… Clark sighed downcast as he naturally juggled multiple thoughts in his mind while floating in mid air.
But… I don't mind fighting him. What… What is… the saddest thing…
…
'Dogs who bite their master's hand… have no place in my family. You chose wisely, Mr. Clark,' Heidern said with arm extended. I see pretty things too, but not nearly so many. 'Thank you… my friend.' For my dogs of war, are those who are pure.
Heidern put his hand over Clark's shoulder. His shoulders only 8 years old had to shoulder all this weight. Heidern said nothing and only gazed in awe at the graveyard on front of them.
'Is that your son, Heidern?'
'No he is not, he's just a dog I found and gave a home to.' Heidern said matter of factly.
…
The saddest thing, was Heidern had planned for this… from the beginning.
That was probably why… why he sent me to the Knight, because he knew – that THAT was the only way…
{HEIDERN!} Clark exploded into life, cocking his arms inwards and putting both fists in front of his chin. You, of all people should know. A room completely dark where you can attack from any surprise angle would have been suitable for anyone else. BUT. You know THIS won't work on "ME!" Clark shouted, throwing his arms out with both open palms wide.
A slight ripple on the blood that had pooled on the floor, like a single pebble had been thrown into a pond and a circular ripple grew outwards from that single point. Silent and quick it rushed out disfiguring the equilibrium of the air around them.
You should know this will NOT work on me.
Then… plink, the sound of a teardrop. A single spark of light appeared 18 feet to Clark's northwest. Clark's head turned slowly like a tank turret and with a grin, {I've found you!} Clark lunged towards the sound with both fists up.
This darkness is my old friend, after all.
"Wait! Clark Ajussi!" Jung shouted into his earpiece as he looked on the wide view of the monitor screen. "Wait! Heidern knows you can use that!"
{What?!} The wires in Clark's brain crossed for a split second but he had already committed to a sprint. Then, doubt, a poison seeped into the small cracks in his mind.
Between friends, it was all a game of balancing trust and managing attrition after all.
The circular ripple of water continued to span outwards to the far reaches of the room, but now as it raced, one, two, three, six, twelve… like tear drops falling from the sky, twelve drops fell at multiple random locations in the dark room.
{What… the fuck…}
Two, four, eight, twelve pairs of red glowing eyes looked back at Clark. This place, a familiar darkness he was accustomed to, had suddenly become a dark abyss of dread where predators would devour you from every which way, from multiple angles simultaneously.
"There's more than one of him!" Jung shouted, gripping his earpiece so hard it was about to break. "He knows you can see!"
"…and now he's blinded me." Damn you old man, I don't know this technique. Clark snarled as he tried to defy inertia and skid to a halt. What the hell did you do?!
Heidern is alive.
…and he is attacking you!
A! A pair of red eyes opened behind Clark, the beast's right hand shaped like a spear floated above Clark's shoulder.
A! Clark twisted around 180 degrees and lunged backwards in a defensive plea to put distance between him and Heidern. It was too close, the fraction of a second Clark may have bought himself was not enough, and now Heidern, a disfigured ghoul 10 feet tall propelled itself to attack with his right and that was about to plow a large hole into Clark's chest.
A demon, a BEAST 10 feel tall with such savage spiritual terror, it was not the first time Clark felt this immense fear. It was the same as back then. Was this what Marcus felt when he foolishly faced Heidern, before he was cut into a hundred small, bite-sized pieces?
As Clark stumbled backwards, he calmly gripped his fist tight. Feverishly, trembling that his fingers made his palms bleed and the cold blood seeped out from the small crevices in between his fingers. {Just go ahead. Go ahead and TRY IT.}
Clark pulled his fist back. There's one way I can use THIS, I haven't tried yet…
"Hello… my old friend…" Clark flashed a wide fang toothed, Cheshire cat smile that spanned ear to ear. Sixteen talons spiraled into a singular point materializing from the blood below. How many times have I used this today? One? Two? There should barely be enough for a THIRD.
The BLACK water coagulated and began to form behind Clark as he fell backwards, dark tendrils reaching out to the sides of his face and around his appendages. The moment you attack, at the precise moment, I am going to unleash THIS!
{And I am going to break you into a hundred thousand million pieces old man!}
From around the outer borders of the white sclera of Clark's eyes, as if alive – black liquid began to flow and replace the white with black. COME AND TAKE IT!
THE OUTER DARKNESS!
"UGGHK!" Clark coughed out, expelling the black quagmire from his mouth. Instead of attacking, Heidern had simply put his left palm flat over Clark's stomach. {What.}
Like breaking glass, Clark's body fell through the black water behind him. Immediately the darkness had shattered into a million droplets and disappeared into the bloody floor.
Impossible. Does he…
Heidern stared back with slit demonic eyes, towering over Clark. Four fingers on his right hand ready to send Clark to hell with the next strike.
How did he know the secret too?
"CLARK AJUSSI!" Jung's voice had now grown hoarse from the frantic screaming. "Someone! We have to go in NOW!"
"FUCK."
Clark fell flat on his back into the disgusting blood after the darkness had rejected his body and abandoned him to this world. With his arms and legs splayed helplessly on the ground, he had not predicted this outcome and as much as he wanted to deny, he understood that, he had lost. Now he was going to die.
{I am going to die.} Clark thought. {and this sucks.}
A single footstep echoed with a splash from the far distance.
…
"Are you afiard Clark?" A small disfigured boy pointed a gun shaped hand into his temple with a smile that had been sewn shut by grotesque string.
Tihs is prat of Heidern's gerat paln, atfer all.
…
GO TO HELL! Heidern propelled his right hand into Clark's stomach.
Once more. A single footstep echoed with a splash from the far distance.
"You are not alnoe. You wree neevr alnoe. Clarkie."
INTERGALACTIC. PLANETARY.
Heidern turned to the side, and waiting for him was a devilish smile that emerged from the darkness.
Galactica…
"GALACTICA PHANTOM!"
A fiery hard fist embedded itself into the left side of Heidern's jaw, immediately freezing the flow of time.
"Ralf!" Clark stammered in disbelief.
"Now, we're even! You ASSHOLE!" Ralf snarled.
Heidern's face transformed into a photonegative reverse of black and white, the bones on the side of his skull slowly cracked and fractured from the impact.
How does it feel? The punch from the strongest man in the world!
DO-KYA!
…launching Heidern's body wide into the air with merciless, thundering violence.
Chapter 163: Fatherless families