The Colour Purple Chapter 36: The room - and the Stars in the Sky, a king of fighters fanfic

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

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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 written 2013]

Many a time, I trapped myself in a dark closet, because, that was where I belonged. I cried to myself because I didn't want anyone else to see me. I never once thought that being miserable, wearing tattered dark clothes was some badge of honour. Shame still had meaning, and I wanted to end it all, because the unbearable pressure was too much.

…

The steel shafts hit each other reliably, then twisting themselves, the teeth locked. Gears turning like a welcome machine. The fire imploded into itself and willed itself to create mass. A MASSIVE ATTACK.

"Ryugeki…" Robert invited the fireball in his hand – what was once a hope, a wish, and a vision, had become a reality.

Chapter 36: The room - and the Stars in the Sky

{Robert – NO!} For some unknown reason he didn't know why he heard that voice. Robert had summoned up all his courage and ran full speed towards that cliff that only pure white birds dared cross. He was sure he could make it. If he summoned all his energy and all his courage he was sure he could make it across, but at that last moment he opened his eyes and began to skid. Turning his heels to the side at that last moment just before he was to make that leap of faith.

Loose soil and rocks rolled away from the balls of his feet, those feet that valiantly tried to decelerate his body, rolling over the edge of that bottomless cliff in front of Robert. The young boy's heart beat feverishly, he cursed under his breath for having second thoughts the last moment. Just as he steeled his resolve, his body suddenly refused to take the last step. "NO, Robert!" It was Takuma's voice. Not yet.

Robert's upper body tilted slightly forward, still unable to fully defy the inertia that made his body teeter forward over the edge. Robert's eyes widened when he fully understood his enemy. Beneath him was a grand canyon ready to swallow him whole. Second guessing himself in a panic he threw both arms back in a last effort to pendulum his body backwards onto solid ground. Robert titled his head back along with his body.

Flinging the entire weight of his upper body forcefully behind him… the boy…

His eyes could not help but gaze upwards to the sky.

The sky looked back at him – his face was in clear view, then heaven's view grew broader – it could see Robert's shoulders, his body eventually became a pinpoint, then the canyon, the forest around him, soon the picture from heaven was of that country splattered with grey, brown and green, then, all we could see, was the entire world.

I could see the Earth, standing still in the blackness of space – as the stars studded this simple galaxy. A dark night sky – in space.

…and ONCE you realized that every character was important – that every character in the world has a tie for each of us. Your life is NOT insignificant. Pretty or ugly; happy or sad; godly or manly; every seemingly meaningless moment we lived was a foundation for tomorrow. Then, the GRAVITY pulled you down.

Will you join me once again? Back in the world underfoot?

"Which character are [you]?"

As quickly as the world was in plain view, the picture began to divebomb back as if the camera was captured backwards by gravity. The blue Earth, then the country, the concrete jungle of melding grey was what we could see – then as the rooftops of skyscrapers came into a distinguishable clear view, the ceilings beneath crumbled and blew wide open, exposing its slaves inside. The sky's view was driven into that dark abysmal building, tiny creatures the size of ants slowly but surely grew in size... Those pinpoints became people, it became Robert, all of 19 years old, it was 1984, the fire in Robert's shoulders, zooming painfully at his wide dilated pupils.

Then that evil God's viewpoint shifted twisted and turned until we could see the world again from Robert's point of view.

Robert pulled his open hand back and sucked that fiery energy back into his body, stopping himself from unleashing that fireball. Instead, he tensed his right hand into a fist and for good measure doubled up and wrapped his left hand around his right wrist and instinctively put it by his temple in a two handed defense.

…an explosion.

…

A full force, left roundhouse kick thundered into his T-block. The impact, while effectively halved in energy still drove that block into his head and rattled him forcefully. Robert's head tilted to the left, but thankfully he was still standing. He knew now that, had he unleashed his Ryugeki Ken it would have been too slow, and that kick would have flattened his brain while he stood.

Robert caught his swinging head with his left hand, and blindly threw his right backfist wildly to the side. Prince simply swiveled his head out of its slow path, he retracted the sledgehammer left kick back onto the ground instantly, balancing it by the toes. Like the hammer of a revolver he pulled it back with his thumb, held it there for hardly a second, tensing his calves. He pulled the trigger and the hammer released, heading home. His enemy was as grand as that canyon – two kicks from the same side of his body flew almost instantaneously faster than he could attack once. First high then the second hit squarely into his armpit. Robert's mouth gawked open, cold and confounded spittle floated outwards.

…

It seemed that no matter what Robert did, his enemy was quicker. For every attack he threw Prince was ready to reply with two or three. His mind was now cloudy and out of focus. His breathing was erratic, and Robert could only think one or maybe two steps ahead. He limply jabbed with his left hand, to which Prince weaved under and returned with a left hook to Robert's chin. Robert pulled back, barely cowering behind his right arm.

At his wits end, he could only go back to fundamentals. Basic attacks. He made himself forget the prince – the picture in front of him he twisted and stirred until the colours melded together in a cup. Then he reversed the motion counterclockwise and in due time he instead imagined his master, Takuma Sakazaki in front of him. The old man jabbing left, then right – Robert kept his head moving and mimicked the move... left jab then a quick right cross. Takuma swatted the hits to the side; the boy's attacks hardly coming close to his master's face.

{That face.} Robert thought, I have to somehow hit that face. Again quick left jabs and a quick hook about jaw height was all he could do – it was quick but weak attacks yet it kept that image of Takuma away from him. Robert's thoughts stopped – a quick push kick darted like a rocket into his midsection and felt as if it made a bulge on his back penetrating through him. Robert opened his mouth in a dry heave – he was crying but no words came out, and he simply retracted his cross block high to cover his own face in utter fear. One by one the blows came in rhythmic fashion – jab, cross, a quick right kick and then a slow kick from the opposite direction beating and slowly chipping at his high cross defense.

Oh, how pathetic, Robert mused, tears running down the side of his cheeks, partly from pain, but more so from a feeling of helplessness. Despite all his bravado, despite his courage and once concrete determination for what he had set himself out to do, he was left motionless hiding behind that wall cowering in helplessness. Was that all that remained?

Was that all that remained? Was he going to hide behind that old tattered building as his enemy slowly beat down the brick walls that barely protected him. That door in front of him let in a mere sliver of light from the open crack, a mere hairline crack, but the boy was too afraid to step out. He locked himself in that room in that old decrepit building. Even when the walls started to fracture and crumble at its foundation, Robert curled into a ball not wanting to let go of his shins and tucked his knees tight into his body.

Once upon a time – boys existed in an era much unlike today.

In the 1970s, it was an era where the term 'consolation prize' was a fairly untested and somewhat preposterous concept. It was a time before people stopped keeping score in soccer games. Before children were congratulated for losing. Children did not hunger to be awarded 'achievements' for accomplishing mundane, asinine tasks of nothing.

Many a time, I trapped myself in a dark closet, because, that was where I belonged. I cried to myself because I didn't want anyone else to see. I didn't think that being miserable, wearing tattered dark clothes was some badge of honour. Shame still had meaning, and I wanted to end it all, because the pressure was too much.

I never dared to think that the world owed me anything, but…

I was too weak spirited to prey on others. I was too afraid to talk back, or stand up for myself. Foremost, I was too ignorant to realize, that the REASON that the [ADULTS] pushed me, was to lash out and atone for the failures they experienced in their own childhood.

But, I was too afraid to close my eyes forever.

It was no longer "fighting", their one-sided love affair had now devolved into a calm, rhythmic sequence of destruction wherein there could only be one climax.

The wrecking ball came knocking again. His blocking arms began to fatigue and grow weak. One two.. one two three four. Again. One two.. one two three four. Sometimes high and low, the hits kept his spirit in check. A low body blow would rock his core, but as he tried to shift his defense into an offense, a quick attack made his hands retreat to protect his head once again.

This much Robert knew - if he did nothing, soon those walls would crumble and he would be buried under the heavy walls of pain. The question soon became – would he regret opening that door and doing something, only to be destroyed by that savage wrecking ball, or would he regret more, doing nothing, and being crushed beneath fallen rubble in the darkness.

What would you regret more? A simple question, where some boys spent a lifetime trying to answer. If the world were to end?

One two – two quick blows.. then one two three four.. four slow heavy hits.

If the world were to end, what would keep you warm inside.

One two – the frightened child knew he was going to die so he slowly lifted the trembling palms that covered his ears. He closed his eyes, squinted hard so he could hear in that stillness. Keeping you warm inside, he squeezed the last of the light from his eyeballs, until he could drown out his breathing – he could ignore his rapidly beating heart – the heart like a young girl falling in love – he made the voices of doubt silence for a little longer. One two – quick blows.. one, two.. then three slow hits.

Once upon a time, a young boy locked himself in a dark room.

A wise man once said – every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

…one, two.. then three slow hits…

…

Prince pulled his right foot back. Just as he was about to throw the fourth kick, he noticed from the corner of his eye, Robert's right hand twitch weakly in his cross block. Was that it? Was that the last chain that held him up. It had to be – and so Prince kept his right foot there for a second longer, twisted his hips back even further to increase the arc, and to increase the destructive power of his final kick what would destroy his enemy at long last.

Four.

The pinstripe pants that covered his steeled shin followed the flow of his thighs that swung purposely like a sledgehammer. The wrecking ball stopped for a second, but instead of finishing the small decrepit building that housed that small boy, it swung over the roof and made another circular spin around, the chain clinked taut and it doubled its momentum as if it was a bolo twirling continuously three stories high, doubling its apocalyptic message down at that house.

Then.. FOUR. The wrecking ball came down one final time.

From under the brim of his Mafioso hat, Prince locked his gaze into that arm, that last shivering wall that he would destroy. That wall that protected the fear and darkness. With his eyes he locked his vision at those arms that shivered and hung limply. He burned every crease, each slight mannerism into his mind. The prince dared not look away, and committed to memory, every sway, crack, every bit of flesh and bone that defied him to this last moment. Every crack… I respect you – if you can last [here].

…but, however, from that pit of darkness Robert's eyes looked back defiantly.

The door slowly opened.

…

The prince's kick didn't make it halfway through its arc when Robert's arm broke from his cross block. He tilted his right shoulder back and let it drop as he punched his upper body into that door and forced it wide open.

Robert shifted his body wide to the side, canting at the waist; he heaved his entire mass backwards and to the side. His knees trembled when he twisted back and cantilevered painfully to the side, until at the edge of his windup, his fist found itself barely within the prince's field of vision.

Prince had taken too long to wind up for his finishing roundhouse, and for all he was worth, Robert swung his entire body into motion. His shoulder turned clockwise at his waist, pulling his right fist back.

"Just once in this moment in my life – eventhough I know… eventhough I know – your stars," your stars that hung ever so arrogantly in the sky, were so far away from me.

Robert's shoulder pulled his right fist back, and when his spine was about to snap like a corkscrew, he reversed the flow of his energy, rotating the other direction from his inner stomach. His left foot was twisted 90 degrees, heel and toes pointed perfectly right to left, side to side. His ankles twisted it, molding the viscous air, and tearing friction that seemed like concrete embedding him in place. The cementitious friction fractured from underneath – his entire body seemed to hydroplane on the ground, making him glide forward. His foot began to spin, toes pointing forward, the energy transferring up his ankles then his thigh, up his leg and hips.

If you so much as dared hang those stars in front of me, then I will TAKE them. Watch me. I will leap bravely, bravely ever so high, and even if I FUCKING die in the process, I will JOIN you, up [there], keep you company in that dark, cold galaxy you had built around yourself, as a fortress, my prince. You need not be lonely, anymore.

As I sat pathetically in this dark room of hell, wishing that something, anything would happen. There you were in that dark heaven, up above, trapped all alone. Do not worry, do not be sad. I will leap so high, even God and the Devil could not ignore me. I will come running to you even if you push me away, keep you company, [there]. Then, when it all ends, I will bring you back to the Earth beneath our feet… my prince.

This. This is the reason we offer our simple, mortal bodies to the last strings of destruction. THIS, is the meaning of fighting.

"The art of fighting…" the old man preached incessantly, unyielding, repeatedly, so much, that his young children and Robert could predict when he would utter those words merely from his body language. When Takuma shifted his brows and shoulders this way and that, he would say [it]… "It is no different…"

"I WILL DO IT!" Robert answered. Watch me! I will TAKE your stars. Your face will be mine! If you challenge me, then, I will take it!

As the twisting moment climbed up his body it seemed to compound exponentially, finally reaching his right shoulder that couldn't bear any more – his right cross erupted into life – targeting Prince's face.

Arms outstretched, hands eagerly clawed wide in hunger.

I will leap so high, even God and the Devil would never dare ignore me. I will come to you even if you push me away, keep you company, [there]. I will TAKE your stars… because, I hate this dark and lonely place too. Your stars will illuminate the lonely darkness that imprisoned me by senseless adults, this darkness that I brought upon myself – even if the [adults] forgot, even if, it was my own, a world of my own choosing.

…

Only your stars will [illuminate] the darkness.

TEARS.

How DARE you?

Even if [they] forgot our pain. Even if [they] forgot our suffering. Fighting day after day, never reaching high enough. HOW DARE YOU FORGET WHAT YOU WENT THROUGH to become [free]?!

Even if the adults forgot – this sorrow – when they grew older, and seemingly free.

YOUR stars will illuminate the lonely darkness that imprisoned me by those senseless adults, this darkness that was a world of my own choosing.

Robert Garcia.

The Prince.

The room – and, the Stars in the Sky.