The Colour Purple Chapter 174: Missing, 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

Heidern, if you will not surrender to REASON.

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

Clark grinned slyly and put his hand into his thigh high cargo pocket to ruffle though its contents. However. It wasn't there. What? What was it? As the seconds passed, the mounting pressure made it feel like minutes upon hours. All this had been pre-planned before but for some reason something had changed, as if the expected sequence of events had suddenly changed the rules without letting him know.

The STORY had changed. Just like you and I had changed. Nothing was the same anymore. As the building torment of regret piled upon us throughout our lives, you and I have become different people in our old age, and for some reason the real world reflected that to us as an insult.

Clark's mind collapsed into itself like a dying star, he slowly felt as if he was gradually forgetting… what… he was supposed to do…

It was supposed to be a Deux Ex Machina, a weapon to end the story. {What was Jung asking me to find in my pocket?} Clark frantically asked himself as he rummaged through his mind – like a near death experience trying to sort through his mind for a solution to save his life.

"Clark Ajussi!" Jung shouted again, "The tra…." Then Jung stopped mid sentence. "He was confused and did not even realize that he had, mid stride, had forgotten what he was supposed to say. "…Ah…" His voice stammered through Clark's earpiece.

The smile on Clark 's face was immediately replaced with a slow, building sense of dread. As he had walked up face to face with a great monster and suddenly realized that he did not have his sword. Clark looked up at Heidern, his expression a mixture of dread and resentment. {Did you do this? Heidern?} Teetering with a sense of confusion, but certain he had somehow forgotten something very important. {What was I supposed to remember?}

…

Did YOU do this?

{Oh yes. I just wanted to reach HIGHER.} He replied. {FREE myself from regret.}

Is [this] a Heavenly Gift as well? Or?

Is this, is WHAT is happening now, a CURSE?

…

Heidern, his body had now regressed back into a 13 year old boy, with savage red eyes blazing in its sockets, so feverish and burning that the crimson mist began to envelope the entire room like a cancerous miasma.

The story had changed.

While Heidern's body was small, a towering giant, a black shadow, the silhouette of the demon of pure hatred loomed over his shoulders. That was what Clark felt deep inside. Heidern's small body was of ill consequence, Clark looked upwards to gaze at an invisible giant 8 foot high that was ready to destroy everything in the world like it did in 1944.

There is a MONSTER in you. This is the EVIL that the world feared 46 years ago. And to that BEAST, Clark Steel was simply no more than an ant to it.

There was supposed to be something I was going to do, but I can't remember. The story had changed again. When Clark pulled his hand out of his pocket all he had was a screwdriver.

Clark looked at his hand in order to fully take in what was happening then looked back up at his enemy that was now going to devour him whole like a wolf would devour a small woodland creature.

"You conant. Tihs is the reuls." You already did it 3 times, IT said. Clark knew this much. He knew well enough that the OUTER DARKNESS would no longer open itself to him.

Clark gripped the screwdriver in his hand. He slowed his breath and tried to calm his thoughts so he would not panic, so he would not lose control.

{Old friend, I need your help.} Clark pleaded silently.

{This power corrupts men, and relying on it will only make you weaker.}

…

1977.

Because of the building pressure in her brain the sound of the exhaust fan in the bathroom slowly became deafening. King held a pair of sharp scissors splayed open in her hand. The girl was so entranced that she did not even feel any pain as the exposed blade cut into the inside joints of her fingers when she held the scissors in her one hand like a knife, trembling, putting its edge over her opposite wrist.

There is a natural human sense of preservation that makes people unable to easily commit suicide without external assistance. This is the reason distraught children are absolutely, physically unable to hold their breath until the moment of death.

Yet she found herself here, in this bathroom, teetering in mental disarray because she so desperately wanted to cut her wrists and die. The metal fan blade humming loudly in the background.

Then… King heard a voice. Strange, yet somehow intimately familiar.

{Old friend, I need your help.} The words echoed LOUDLY in her mind.

King exhaled, breaking the stalemate pressure and pulled the edge of the blade from her wrist and threw her shoulders back in a cold sweat.

Haaaugh…. HAGH! HAaaghh…. Her brain desperately thirsted for oxygen as invisible hands forcefully restrained her and pulled her back from taking her own life, again.

With a pitter-pat, the sound of droplets of red blood made circular watercolour art in between the spaces of her feet on the tile floor while her frozen arms trembled uncontrollably.

…

{This power corrupts men, and relying on it will only make you weaker, Clarkie.}

I know. But, I have no choice. However, if you think this life has PURPOSE, then why not humour me once again, so we can see how this story ends? Because if it ends now, YOU will NOT see it either, my friend. You won't see the end to the story you wanted too.

Do you not desire it?

Unconditional Reincarnation?

{Without ME, that is impossible.}

Clark stood up, slowly breathed in to clear his thoughts and raised his right hand, gripping the screwdriver tight in a reverse, tip down stabbing grip.

The Second Childrens laughed, splaying his mouth that was sewn shut and curling its edges up at opposite sides of his face. "His eye."

That was the only thing that remained human within Heidern. If I drive this into Heidern's one good eye, then this all ends. Clark bent his knees and hunched his shoulders low, coiling his body tightly so, at the slightest provocation, it would spring forward and respond at the next instant to his command.

COLOURS. Voices inside my heart.

ALL this ends, and if so, everything in the past will be validated, and there will be NOTHING else to REMAIN. If I am able to give you what you so desire in equal exchange like a prostration to a God… SO tell me, if that happens? Will the pain disappear?

Heidern. You plucked me from obscurity and despair, and in exchange I give you what you wanted. When this story ends, will both of us find peace? Even if we both understand that we are both EVIL men after all?

The BEAST – part 34.

In December of 1943. British battleship "Queen's Children".

"Mr. Rosenthal, do you need anything else?"

"No I am cool. Thank you." The man, Joe Rosenthal replied, in an American west coast accent that absolutely stood out in this vessel.

"Cool?" The British soldier repeated, a bit confused.

"Cool. 'Cool.' I am fine, sir." Rosenthal waved everyone closer to each other in order to get everyone inside the picture so none of them would be left out. As we always did, we took these PHOTOGRAPHS at the time, not knowing that one day we would cherish them as we longed for times past. Though at the time then, we simply took everything for granted.

Men did not realize it at the time, but this auspicious thing they created… Photographs were essential to prevent the CURSE from unfairly changing destiny.

THE first time [it] was used was in the 1940s. Some seem to say it was around 1943. Before then, and even during that time, the concept seems strange and perplexing.

"Say Cheese!"

FLASH!

Captured in a black and white photograph. The heavy and unwieldy Speed Graphic camera was what he used to capture images of British troops about to invade Pforzheim Germany, in service for their country, in the pursuit of the virtuous war, in that fateful day in March. About 6 high ranking officers stood at the back and in front of them were an array of 50 child soldiers between the ages of 12 and 16. Some of them standing, and the taller ones instructed to genuflect on one knee in front to balance the composition of the picture.

Unbeknownst to Joe Rosenthal he had found himself in a place that held such a heavy importance, but like many moments in history, this would be conveniently erased because of the inconvenient truth that implicated its true horror.

Flanked in the margins, 20 scientists stood in their white lab coats 10 on each side of the children. Captured and immortalized in perpetuity were 20 scientists, 6 officers and 50 children. Though all of them would eventually be forgotten by the cruel tasks of time. Including one boy.

On the left side, two rows from the top and 3 boys in was a blonde haired boy. He did not seem any more distinct that any of his peers as he stood up straight with a blank stare and expression on his face.

The details were sparse and hazy, and the Knight now could barely recall how the weather was like and moreso he had completely forgotten what he was thinking that day, despite the clear realization that the world was in utter chaos and it could have ended in any moment without his choosing.

The Knight put the framed photograph back on the mantle of his fireplace and walked back into the kitchen.

On the left side, two rows from the top and 3 boys in was a blonde haired boy. He did not seem any more distinct than any of his peers as he stood up straight with a blank stare and expression on his face.

YOU. You existed all this time, and were these orchestrated SEQUENCES of WORLD WARS your doing after all? Even if it was NOT. Did you simply watch idly, silently, smiling, doing NOTHING, as your creations thrust themselves into clear and inevitable destruction? As they KILLED each other, even going so far as to send their children to die? For some far contrived noble journey and purpose?

YOU. Were MEN simply dolls created in your image? To do as you please?

For some odd and unknown reason there was a small child, looking no more than 5 to 8 years old standing next to the blonde haired boy – that BOY that would one day be called the KNIGHT. Clearly out of place, no one in the photograph even noticed and wondered why a 5-year-old toddler stood among them, with a strange expression on his face. As was the custom of the time, since it was a world thrust into war, everyone had a nonchalant blank stare on their face, no one smiled in photographs back then, but this one child, had a wide beaming Cheshire cat grin that spanned ear to ear as was uncustomary at the time.

A SMILE that BEAMED ear to ear. As it watched! Intently. Lovingly. Cherishing.

With a pitter-pat the drop of blood fell to the cold tile floor.

Like a girl. SUDDENLY. Falling in love, again.

Joe Rosenthal was a famous photographer. He would one day be known as one of the most iconic photographers of the Second World War in America, maybe even the world. But. Today he only said…

"Say cheese!"

…but only ONE very strange Childrens smiled in that photograph.

1990. 12:55 AM. Underground Laboratory. Johannesburg, South Africa.

Heidern threw his right hand out to the side, splaying his fingers wide and the flaying BLOOD formed 5 crimson claws that crystallized into a single phantom sword.

Clark relaxed the tension in his lower back and stood up straight. Let's DO THIS.

…

By today's standards the video camera that projected images on Jung's 'laptop computer' was crude at best. The images refreshed at a snails pace and he could hardly keep track of what was going on.

"Shoot him!"

"I can't even fucking see ANYTHING you ASSHOLE!" The boy prone on the ground behind his rifle screamed. None of them dared to step in the room because of the immediate threat of Heidern and whatever monsters he had laid in wait. There was not even enough ambient light to operate his first generation night vision scope. In front of his low power optic there was nothing but absolute DARKNESS.

But for some reason…

"Can you see him Jung?"

"I… I can… but." For some strange reason the electronic cameras Jung 'hacked' into still operated, though barely he could still see vague remnants of motion.

1990, 12:58 AM, Johannesburg. Underground facility. Brahms secret laboratory.

On the monitor on his open window. 12 hours : 58 minutes : 42 seconds.

…

Heidern, without another thought immediately dropped his center of mass low and LAUNCHED FORWARD – his upper body almost horizontal, the BEAST did not even wait for Clark to initiate the attack and he chose to end this all himself instantly.

Clark put his right thumb hovering a few inches below and in front of his cheek in a fighting stance preparing himself for what he had to do. {If you have a plan for all of this…}

Heidern faded in and out, disappearing and reappearing through the red mist that clouded the entire room – with one purpose, targeting Clark Steel with the clear savage intent to drive his claws through Clark and tear his body apart.

{After all that you've done, if you have MEANING, if you have PURPOSE…}

The sounds of groans and wails of lamentation penetrated his ears.

It did not take much time for Clark to realize that an undead zombie, without his realization until now had crawled across the ground and grabbed onto his left leg with both arms.

"FUCK!" What? Clark looked down at the gruesome monstrosity that grabbed his leg and imprisoned his ankle in place, suddenly disorienting the equation in Clark's mind. Clark was now TRAPPED!

Heidern pulled his right claw back, the coil spring turning in his bicep, storing enough potential energy to cut THE entire world COMPLETELY IN HALF in an instant, Heidern lunged hungrily.

Calm down. Calm the fuck…

AHHHH... Clark exhaled. The entire world had, in this one instant had become a slowly, unfurling, MURDEROUS whirlwind of INSANITY! …as he looked up and forward, to what he had to do, and what had to be done.

Clark pulled his shoulders back, breathed out and tilted his head up. The man splayed both arms out wide, breaking his fighting stance as his enemy rushed towards him. NO DEFENSE. Exposing his bare torso to Heidern, Clark stretched both of his arms wide. The left hand, and, the right hand, he prostrated himself to fate. He had given up.

…

"Why did you do that?" Heidern asked.

"I don't know. I just did."

…

Or maybe. This was an offering. An exercise of trust.

What will you do if? Presented with this?

Heidern, for a split second did not understand why he felt a bitter, disgusted sensation in his gut mid stride. When his right foot touched the pool of blood in front of him and ran forward with all his strength. In mid rush he couldn't help it as it caught his attention if, IF only for a split second instant. At the very edges of the corners of his eye, he saw a glint of a shadow.

A blonde haired child, no more than 5 to 8 years old stood in his path as Heidern ran through and around him without a care.

…

1977. A thought, and a notion that spanned 13 years. As is only a GIFT can provide.

You changed my life in so many ways. So much so, the days are no longer so mundane.

"Save him." King commanded. Pulling the scissors from her wrists for this one moment.

In 1964, the [First Childrens] appeared once again; it was a beautiful mind's desperate plea, a defense mechanism - and its sole purpose… Was to prevent God from committing suicide.

As if both sequences of time locked hands. If one party were to evoke a GIFT, then it would not be unfair if the other does the same!

"Help my friend…" She said.

I COMMAND YOU!

…

As Heidern rushed past this Childrens, IT had its right arm stretched outwards, its hand contorted in a strange configuration. Its index and middle finger, touching each other pointed straight up, touching together. Pointing straight up at HEAVEN.

…

Clearly out of place, no one in the photograph even noticed and wondered why a 5-year-old toddler stood among them, with a strange expression on his face. As was the custom of the time, since it was a world thrust into war, everyone had a nonchalant blank stare on their face, no one smiled in photographs back then, but this one child, had a wide beaming Cheshire cat grin that spanned ear to ear as was uncustomary at the time.

…

As Heidern rushed past this Childrens, the camera of the world focused into Heidern's face before thrusting itself to the sky, then, diving down like a bird turning and rotating revolving around a small child's face. The First Childrens – blonde hair and maniacal smile. IT had its right arm stretched outwards, its hand contorted in a strange configuration. Its index and middle finger, touching each other pointed straight up, touching together. Pointing straight up at HEAVEN.

{Please. I need you to help me, one more time. Lend me your GIFT one more time.} Clark beamed a wide maniacal Cheshire Cat grin that spanned ear to ear. One. More. Time.

SUDDENLY!

As the stars fall from the sky, how many people died with their wishes unsung? As many stars as there are in the galaxy, how many men died with their dreams unfulfilled?

A great irony that men live to defy, and for this reason alone, I appear before you!

BE GRATEFUL!

"Be grateful. AND. Be joyful!" The child proclaimed! "For your FRIEND BE TRUE!"

…

I grant you this GIFT.

The FIRST CHILDRENS appeared as per her command and split its index and middle finger exactly 25.4 mm apart in a V shape.

"The."

THE HEAVENLY SEQUENCE!

The boy smiled, and behind him rushed the Beast headed straight for Clark Steel.

…

Heidern swung his sword forward at Clark, Clark with his arms splayed wide simply did not care. The tip of that sword swung in a wide arc with the full intent to separate Clark's head from his shoulders… but instead.

…

"Just shoot him!"

"I can't see ANYTHING, YOU ASSHOLE!"

"Jung!"

"I," Jung said.

12:59:58

"I…can't…"

12:59:59

"Heidern is…"

Heidern leapt forward and swung his right arm forward and Jung could not say anything and only watched silently.

12:59:60

Heidern attacked and his bloody blade arced forward cleaving Clark's head off his shoulders.

Chapter 174: Missing.

…

The FIRST CHILDRENS appeared as per her command and split its index and middle finger exactly 25.4 mm apart in a V shape.

…

12:59:61

Heidern's attack swung wide and the glancing blow completely missed Clark for some strange and peculiar reason. The tip of his sword swung IN FRONT of Clark's jugular, missed its intended target completely as Heidern stumbled forward.

AHHH…. The cold air visualized as frost in front of Clark's mouth, emanating in a cloudy fog. Ah. AH. A boy made an offering, and he was given a reward of equal exchange.

Heidern's attack swung by harmlessly like fading stardust.

"The." Clark said.

The Heavenly Sequence!

↓↙←↙↓↘→+A/HOLD+↓↘→↓↘→+A

It would still be a lazy Sunday afternoon. In 1992.

"Oh. I see… Ofcourse." King sighed. "Then… Let's finish this." King closed her eyes, leaned back into the wooden chair, put her open palms down, that imaginary time, on her skirt, pushing it forward and pulled her face from the water up, up into the clear blue sky.

Let's DESTROY everyone, then.

EACH.

And.

EVERY.

one of them.

…

Heidern's left eye socket glowed bright with a blazing crimson, an empty husk after Rugal had completely removed it from his head. What remained was a bright glow – the DEMON OF HATRED.

"His otehr eye." The Second Childrens said.

Clark pulled his right hand up, the screwdriver in reverse stabbing grip, and with his left hand Clark splayed it in front of Heidern's face to steady himself.

At Heidern's one good eye, his left that shimmered in a faded red sheen. Waiting.

If you DESTROY his one good eye, then you END it.

…

YES.

…

End it.

Heidern threw his right hand across Clark's face missing it completely. Clark Steel slapped his left hand over Heidern's elbow and threw the attack wide, and now Heidern was totally unable to retaliate as Clark kept his palm on Heidern's elbow guiding it and LOCKING it at its final extension.

"Boy." A somber, and sad, familiar voice said nostalgically. "Please."

"Heidern." Clark replied pulling his right hand back as far as it would go.

…

The First Childrens closed his fingers from that V shape and made his index and middle fingers touch again.

12:59:61

A! Jung did not even notice it as the clock on his computer reverted back.

01:00:00

Heidern stumbled forward, his attack completely missing.

The Beast looked up from his stupor, but there was no one in front of him. There was nothing… except…

DARKNESS.

…

"NO."

…

"Not today. Old man."

The First Childrens smiled a grin from ear to ear.

01:00:01 AM. Underground Laboratory.

Clark had reappeared on Heidern's right side as he shuffled and stumbled forward.

Clark placed his left hand on Heidern's elbow, pushed and rotated his arm up and over, locking it in place.

In his right hand, Clark Steel twirled the screwdriver and pointed it up, then locked his thumb.

And RAMMED the steel shaft cleanly impaling through the upper bicep just above Heidern's elbow – painting the world in a sea of painful red blood!