The Colour Purple Chapter 171: The Midnight Parade, 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

Wilhelm, your mind is TRAPPED HERE, living perpetually. In PAIN and rotting with REGRET. I have my fair share of that too. There is not a day that passes that I did not wish that I could take back everything I did wrong, and perhaps things would have turned out differently.

How would the course of history have changed – if you – and if I – had never met?

Perhaps nothing would have changed.

…and if we crossed each other on the street in Poland, many years before or many years after and looked at each other, we would not have known that in a different life, our chance meeting would have resulted in a very great significance. I am sorry for what I have done.

I am sorry for what I now, have to do.

…

His wife turned around and put her hands under the faucet of the kitchen sink to wash her hands. (154).

1987. "Are you with Wilhelm? How is he!?"

"Pops… The commander… he…"

Knight suddenly fell into silence, a peculiar, a rare trait that even his wife noticed almost immediately, and perhaps something he had learned from her by osmosis, as her husband nodded quietly in front of the telephone.

She twisted the cross shaped knob on the kitchen sink faucet, and while she tried to keep it to herself, she could not help but revert to a state of quiet when she devoted all her might to listen to the breaks of silence.

SHE, she put her left hand over right bicep, almost unconsciously – feeling for something, something that was no longer there. A phantom remnant from 43 years ago.

"Pops, you have to help me. I have to FIGHT this man." Clark pleaded. "I have to save Heidern and I need your help.

"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'."

I DO NOT WANT MY SON TO FIGHT MY FRIEND.

…

"Are you okay, Honey? His wife asked, drying her hands on her apron. She turned around just as the Knight hung up the telephone. "Honey?" She said again.

Knight put his elbows on his knees and doubled over on the couch and stared silently at the empty space in between his feet.

"Honey?"

"I am fine, Dear." The Knight was quick to reply.

"And Clark? Is the boy okay? Where is he?"

"Clark is in South Africa. He's ok."

She knew him well enough, the downcast stare, the slumped shoulders and strange sense of uncertainty was definitely uncharacteristic for him. But she knew better. She turned to the side and walked towards the refrigerator. "I can make you something to eat."

The Knight was already lying down on the sofa, head turned away and into the backrest.

"I'm not hungry." He said. Already he felt a slight pressure in his head, the beating, battering sensation clouding his mind where the only escape was sleep. Pulling him in with a great ferocity that he could not escape, the darkness calling to him making his eyelids slowly grow heavy despite his best efforts to stay awake. "Wilhelm." He mumbled unconsciously.

It was 8 AM, NHK time. "Honey, are you going to go to sleep again?"

Knight mumbled to himself into the pillow, his words totally undecipherable.

"What did you say? Honey?"

"Wilhelm… he's is… is all alone… I have to…" He murmured, his words slowly breaking into a drunken stupor. The man dug deep into the soft couch underneath him.

"Hon…y, wa… if… …ou…" The darkness took that away too as it devoured the voices, as it did the colour of the real world until the Knight was in a familiar place.

I'm sorry. (41). The hungry pangs of sleep slowly devoured the man until he was unable to resist.

"Sorry… sorry, but..." Knight mumbled as he snuggled and buried his face into the dark cushion that welcomed him eagerly. "Sorry, but – there's someone who needs my help right now." Knight waved his hand playfully to say goodbye, then it floated down and was soon beyond sight, his hand sank and was hidden by his turned body. The only thing that was left to his wife was his backside as he faded again into the clutches of a darkness that touched all, and offered no spite nor criticism.

There's someone very important who needs my help right now.

Wait for me, my friend. I told you once before. I told you.

This thing, can be called transcendence. To go beyond the limits of human experience. Or. Maybe IT is the thing all human beings wish and long for desperately so desperately deep down inside. To DEFY [destiny]. To reverse the curse of [regret]. One more time.

That you won't be fighting this war alone.

…and then, the Darkness…

…

"He is gonig to fghit you, you konw." The second Children said. A smile gleaming wide from lips sewn shut.

…

Every time I slowly fade into the clutches of sleep, I always wish that when I wake up, it would be 1980 all over again. And. None of these REGRETS would plague me in my waking hours.

"It was not the best of circumstances, when I first met Wilhelm." Knight said, leaning back on his lawn chair looking out at the horizon.

Next to him was Clark, sitting up right, tense, stern and stoic as he always was, hiding behind his Ray-Ban shades he was gifted, and had been inseparable from since a year ago. Clark said nothing and only listened.

"…and in times of extreme stress, I think I find myself thinking of THAT time over and over again." Knight paused a bit, waiting for a response, however as per our usual arrangement all that waited for him was an awkward silence. Clark only stared outwards hidden behind his sunglasses absolutely devoid of empathy.

"Hey, son." Knight said, raising his bottle, "You sure you don't want a beer?"

"I am still a minor." Clark answered flatly.

Knight turned and chuckled to himself, then eventually burst into a hearty laugh.

"I won't tell the police. YoU knOW." Weird emphasis on the wrong syllable.

Clark had no reaction, but Knight did not need it, this awkward humour was enough for him - these lazy afternoons they spent together.

"You know, you can respond to me, even if its nonsense." Knight said. "It's part of a healthy social interaction."

"Yes." Clark said.

"Huhn!" Knight huffed and took another sip. "Hey Clark. You know…"

"…"

"Promise, ME, this." Knight said, measuring his words carefully and breathing deeply. "If one day I can't fight anymore. Please. Please, take care of Wilhelm."

Don't let him go back to THAT place, alone.

IF [ONE] DAY.

"Yes sir."

"Clark. You're going to have to have to fight Wilhelm one day."

Totally unfazed, Clark could only say, "What was it like, fighting the Commander, Pops?"

The middle-aged blonde British man took another sip, took in a deep breath, measuring his words and laid out his thoughts. "I saw the END OF THE WORLD, once. Back then, 36 years ago, I can still remember it clearly, lucidly. Every moment."

…

April 1, 1944. Pforzheim, a town in Southwestern Germany.

There's someone very important who needs my help right now.

It may be impossible to change fate once an action is completed. When a gun is fired or when an ill word is spoken. So, it is presented here, the greatest desire of all human beings and why they continue to pray to God. His greatest desire is to absolve himself of REGRET.

Wait for me, my friend. I told you once before. I told you.

The British boy put both open palms on the ground in front of him, doubling over when the rancid, grotesque sensation overcame his body. 13 years old. He could not help but dry heave, repeatedly, going through the motions of vomiting. As if he had ran 100 miles in the span of 5 minutes. The boy, who one day would be called The Knight barely kept himself focused as he doubled over in all fours. As if he had been underwater for half a century and just now reached air, the young lad breathed in and out desperately, as the black water, with the consistency of tar dripped down from the tips of his blonde hair.

The boy breathed in an out desperately, his entire body trembling to a point that even his… STOP! WAKE UP! "Ugh…" The boy ran the back of his right hand over the side of his lips. Now, two small pools of black water collected on the ground in front of where his hands once laid.

A. Yes.

"Yes." He said. It was 1944, in Pforzheim Germany. This was a familiar place.

I REMEMBER. There are only TWO things here. The heat. And the Regret.

A blond haired British boy looked up from his crumpled position. He was no older than 13 years old, yet forced to fight for the vanity of adults.

Across from him a battlefield smoldering from fires and carnage. At the other side of that divide was a pile of 98 bodies. All Childrens, British and German boys alike. On top of the carnage, a pile of bodies laid on top of each other was a German boy of similar age hunched over, his clawed hands swinging in front of his shins. Wilhelm Heidern, the greatest of the Deutsches Jungvolk stared back at him.

It was unfortunate that we had to find each other HERE, under these circumstances. Fighting each other to the death. For a war adults waged simply for their vanity.

But, if we FIGHT, maybe we can END this war. (154) Again!

Despite what you may want to believe, some scholars thought it was not the atomic bomb that ended the war… The END was simply brought about by how we were so easily able to convince fathers and mothers to willingly and proudly send their Childrens into harms way.

Politicians may demagogue adults and delude them to bend to a higher will, however, the moment you sacrifice their children for your grandeur dreams, you may find yourself at the wrong end of a murderous conflict that will devour you whole.

This was the END of the WORLD I saw. And HE saw.

The British boy took one, two, then three steps forward fearlessly, arms outstretched.

I know, and I realize distinctly, that I can't change the past. Yet I will willingly and eagerly continue to re-experience this memory again, again and again. Even if I know it won't change, just to linger in our time together.

April 1, 1944. The world was thrust in the throes of the Second World War. And, two boys had to FIGHT each other as the fate of the world teetered in the balance.

CONFLICT was the force that made the world revolve on its axis.

Wilhelm, your mind is TRAPPED HERE, living perpetually. Maybe you think, that if things had been different, if IT could somehow change, that if you could succeed in conquering the world in 1944 for the Axis Powers, then you would not have to see your wife and daughter die – is that it? "YOU want to make YESTERDAY and TODAY, one and the same, don't you, Wilhelm? For revenge for what they made you do?" But if I have to fight you AGAIN, I will eagerly do it.

I did not allow you to end the world in 1944, and I will not allow you to end the world in 1990. Because you are my friend.

"It is…" It is… the boy, the BOY that would one day be called The Knight greeted – his face grimaced in a strangely peculiar mixture of bitterness and of sweet memory. "It's good to see you again. HERE. Mein freund."

…

The wild German boy, driven insane by red hot bloodlust was momentarily caught aback, confused by the strange greeting.

"I've come for you." The blonde haired boy said. A strange out-of-place artifact. A somewhat historical anachronism. "You're not going to fight this alone."

WELCOME BACK TO HELL, MY FRIEND! This is a horrible place. He smiled.

And a tear ran down his cheek, as a bit of nostalgia, because some higher power allowed HIM… A very special and unique privilege. To see this PAIN one more time!

…

The Knight shuffled on the sofa and he was gone, devoured whole by the sleep as his wife was only left helpless to watch.

"Let's fgiht teogtehr. The Khgint."

"Yes." The blond haired boy replied to the Second Childrens.

This divinely strange phenomenon can also be called 'The Transcendence'.

…

"This body, and moreso, this mind has become too weak, son. I don't think I can fight Wilhelm anymore." Knight sighed. "But, if you stay with me, if you stay with me and see this to the end, you may be able to…" The Knight was about to take another sip but held back, instead withdrawing his hand and looking upwards and outwards. "Maybe you can help me fulfill my promise to my friend."

When you see IT.

"When you see it."

"…" Clark weaved eight fingers into each other.

THAT.

That?

"You will know the moment it happens." When it does, you will know deep down that you will have no choice but to fight a madman – a madman who no longer feels pain, no longer senses fear, and no longer understands the weight of the consequences of his own actions.

A trail of destruction for mankind.

"The Midnight Parade." Knight simply said, without much fanfare.

"The midnight…"

I will never forget IT. BLOOD flowed BACKWARDS, up the pile of 98 bodies.

An inhuman guttural wail. And. We were left to our own devices at that very moment when Wilhelm and I came to a tacit agreement - that the ENTIRE WORLD did not matter anymore.

I think Wilhelm wanted to be free, and all I wanted was to END this war.

The only thing that mattered was that we had to FIGHT each other. That was the only way we could see our dreams come true. And. I understand that this is a heavy burden, and unreasonable request…

"I understand this is a heavy burden…"

Life is a GAME, boy. A simple and easy to understand game. The sooner you realize this, the easier it becomes.

But, let an old man be. SO I ask you. I hope you can one day fulfill my promise when I am no longer able to fight.

"I once saw the end of the world, Clark." Knight whispered silently. "But… all I wanted to do, was to go home." We ALL saw the end of the world, and in the end, we just wanted to go home.

When you see IT. Clark Steel. You have to be prepared to UNLEASH all and EVERYTHING!

THE MIDNIGHT PARADE.

The blood, suddenly stopped in place. How?

The BEAST – part 31.

After that first step into that room, you will have to FIGHT. (160)

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

1990, 12:30 AM, Johannesburg. Underground facility. Brahms secret laboratory.

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 place Clark stepped into, a flooded room 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.

Clark let go of Heidern's collar and his commander's limp body fell to the ground, hunching back to the wall. Soiling the NOTEBOOK pages once white now the paper seeped with a crimson red. But it did not matter.

It was over now, and in order to move forward, Clark had to accept that all those hand written notes, the lines put on paper – all that had come before was now meaningless. As the slate was wiped clean.

…

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.

THAT SOUND. THAT SOUND was the sound of, not water, but BLOOD gurgling up, flowing backwards from the floor drains, defying gravity. The BLOOD was going back into Heidern's body.

"The Midnight Parade." Clark sighed, his voice cracking in a slight fear.

This is…

"Clark! SCCHHRRRHHZZGH…. Clark Ajussi…" Jung's voice finally once again penetrated through the static and whispered into Clark's earpiece. "CLARK! Heidern is…!"

The small isolated window on Jung's now outdated Microsoft Windows driven monitor flashed as it refreshed, then, the ENTIRE screen turned RED. IT FLASHED AGAIN. NOW, once again, TWO dozen red dots immediately surrounded Clark.

The response to his valiant plea, static.

Clark pressed the button on his earpiece. "I know, Jung." Clark answered with a sigh.

…

DAS

The liquid on the ground stopped flowing, as if it had gradually, then immediately, froze in place.

A bright red orb glowed in the deep recesses of the hollow cavity of Heidern's right eye socket – sucking in blood, and from his sitting position leaning on the wall Heidern's body began to animate once again, this time even his good left eye glowed a bright crimson.

Silver streaks lined the floor underneath him. Lifting his head up, the BEAST snarled.

A mixture of heavy stank of soil and iron. A familiar smell of pain, and regret.

Chapter 171: The Midnight Parade.

"Suche und zerstöre!" Muchiko, the Whip commanded! SEEK!

The battered computer screens and the flickering lights slowly began to fade, and even the twinkling blue, red and green diodes that littered the already dark room slowly and surely turned into gray until the entire world was covered in darkness. A BLACK and fearsome void totally devoid of light that was an even deeper, PURE DARKNESS.

With that darkness came fear. The hairs on the back of Ralf's neck all stood at end when he slowly realized that under normal circumstances, the human eye, as its pupils dilated, could somehow acclimate to the dark given enough time. However this concept only applied if there was at least SOME faint ambient light.

This time, as if a black bag was placed over Ralf's head, a veil of terror robbed Ralf completely of sight.

"Heidern." Clark sneered. Yes, you have it too don't you? But. However, your PURE DARKNESS is just cheap and inferior facsimile of [IT].

"Clark…" Ralf cracked, the fear tinting his voice. "Claaark… CLARK! I can't!"

"Shut up." Clark replied. "Stay where you are. Stay THERE!" Clark splayed both arms wide on both sides of his body, all fingers outstretched. "Heidern…"

Suche und zerstöre.

SEEK.

You, of all people, Heidern. YOU should know, that, THIS will NOT work on ME.

SEEK AND DESTROY!

"A!"

As the camera of the world rotated round and round only to stop and zoom into his face, now contorted Clark began to succinctly understand the gravity of his situation.

…

The trail of destruction for mankind.

"The Midnight Parade." Knight simply said, without much fanfare.

…

"The…" Oswald rubbed his chin snobbishly just because he could. I think I have heard of Wilhelm say this before. "This must have been what Wilhelm meant. The Ultimate Final Solution."

"Oswald." W. replied, confused though not letting on as best she could.

"HE had predicted this back then. And, this was his response. That boy, was all he could do to prevent the end of the world."

…

"The Midnight… Parade…" Clark said slowly with measured words.

The blood, against the will of gravity began to flow BACKWARDS, gurgling up from the floor drain in front of the blonde haired man. Up the slope of the floor, unnaturally, defying the normal physics of the world. Pooling around their feet, flowing up their legs, running up their torsos and absorbed into their ears, mouths and eyes - by all the crevices on their bodies.

24 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 it all became so very clear. The clear understanding painted across his face when he SUDDENLY realized…

John 5:21 - For as the Father raiseth up the dead, and quickeneth them; even so the Son quickeneth whom he will.

By the Devil's command – the multiple dead bodies scattered around the room had reanimated and were now at his command - their once dead bodies stood upright in differing states of contorted disrepair.

{You Goddamned son of a bitch.}

DAS MITTERNACHTS PARADE!

…

HnnnnHgNNHnnnHehHEghHggghhhhnn… The small boy chuckled. Yes. An invisible Childrens laughed to itself. IT had seen this before, and IT reveled in it. YES. Because indeed, this was one more step towards its goal of unconditional reincarnation.

…

Perhaps it was not simple petty revenge that Rugal was after. Was THIS Rugal Bernstein's original goal?

"Was this what you were after, all this time, Rugal Bernstein?"

The mangled and tattered bodies of 24 dead Jewish scientists slowly came back to life, just as the great book had threatened once before. As if RED strings made of blood dropped from the heavens to manipulate a horde of puppets to do its bidding. Ready to destroy everything in their paths.

[THE FOURTH GIFT.] REINCARNATION and RESSURECTION.

Surrendering to his will, Heidern had brought all the dead bodies back to life.

Clark clenched both fists, breathing heavily – the pressure in his blood boiling, building – overcoming fear and carefully, systematically, plucking each piece of anxiety and apprehension, replacing it with anger and rage.

I will never believe that you touched my hand, that you saved me, just for this. A small part of me still believes that there was a deeper meaning in what you did. AND, if I have to overcome all this…

Was this the reason you saved me? Heidern? Heidern's crumpled body was gone and in front of Clark was nothing. The blonde haired man hunched his shoulders back and, shuffling his feet carefully, Clark turned around slowly.

"Clark Ajussi, something's wrong with… Heidern… He looks…"

"I know, Jung." Clark pressed the button on his earpiece to reply with his left hand and clenched his right fist tightly.

A+B+C. The energy, a building sensation slowly replacing the cold sensation in Clark's heart with a liberating embrace that could keep him warm at night. Up until a golden ball filled his center.

24 animated bodies surrounded Clark and directly in front of him was Wilhelm Heidern, but now he looked different, younger, what was once an almost 60 year old man was grasping closer to Clark's age. The weathered creases on his face had disappeared and he looked like he was 40 years old now.

Removing doubt and apprehension – as if taking away a brick one after another from an old and weathered wall. A great burden now finally fading away, presenting him a second golden ball that filled the emptiness deep down inside.

The BEAST'S third and final form, and we can no longer argue that we now reasonably finally find ourselves in this story's biblical conclusion.

The notebook, completely saturated in crimson had now sunk under the pool of blood. As all debts have been repaid, we now find ourselves on equal footing – no longer held back by the chains of obligations – we find ourselves, once again, at the BEGINNING of this TRAGEDY. Once upon a time a man wanted to make his strength ULTIMATE. It was no surprise that he found himself in the center of the TROUBLES.

I no longer have to FIGHT, because of a duty of slavery. What is ever so wonderful is that I FIGHT YOU. Because…

A silent bargain and a tacit understanding between two people, two men just stood across each other silently, not interfering – as we did on the 3rd round in front of that large arcade cabinet when we were teenagers, FIGHTING. We ignored the real word, because it did not matter, FIGHTING as if our very lives depended on it that short 99 seconds. A BEAST that had reversed time and a boy, now a man who was no longer chained to 1972. Heidern had given life once again to 24 dead men, and a third golden ball materialized at the back of Clark's throat – as now his POW was at MAXIMUM.

{Welcome back…} The boy who would one day be called The Knight, said.

"WELCOME BACK TO HELL, MY FRIEND."

This is a horrible place. Clark smiled.