The Colour Purple Chapter 69: Telephone, 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 2015]

"I'm sorry, but," she said plainly, "but I have no interest in people who do not interest me."

"Will you help me? Let us END all war."

Chapter 69: Telephone

{I see what you've done.} Yuri gnashed her teeth without her knowing. {You are, without, even a shred of doubt, you are an EVIL man.}

…

Another day, another time…

"Hurry. Please, PLEASE HURRY, Robert!" a girl's voice whimpered behind the other side of the phone. Her voice, once meek and timid was now feverish and raspid. Her sobs had rendered her speech almost indiscernible, and her hands could barely keep the handset up on her face when she trembled.

You have to save us, only you can save us.

"Please Robert, please…" The digitized voice muttered from the earpiece of the telephone handset that now pendelummed over a wooden table. There was no one left on the other side in that dark apartment. At the other end of an outstretched uncoiled cable the telephone swung back and forth. There was no one who would answer, even the front door of that apartment that swung open had no words to ease her pleas.

The only sound that could ease her woes was the roar of a 3.4-liter V8 engine. Left hand on the steering wheel and right hand on the shifter Robert threw his lead foot down into the gas pedal until it hit the bottom of its chassis and could penetrate no further. His Ferrari's rear wheels spun in place with a harsh screech before friction took hold and launched his car out into the street with a hard crash, fishtailing chaotically left and right as it launched. Two black skid marks in its wake, the car leapt up the curb into the sidewalk across that way, nearly ramming into a nearby streetlight before it regained control.

Instinctively Robert pulled his hand back and locked the shifter low and to the left into second gear, his left foot actuating the clutch releasing at the same instant his right foot again mercilessly begging his loyal friend to fly. To FLY – and to free us all. I BEG YOU.

"Please, save us…" We are so all alone.

Robert's teeth locked into each other and while his mouth opened wide in a dry, hoarse roar, no sound came out. The only inhuman, bestial sound was the savage high-octane engine ripping the asphalt behind it. Faster… faster… FASTER. PLEASE. Robert begged, he commanded as he felt the steel under his right foot buckle and bend.

…

A sequence of another uneventful mornings…

Nana curled her shoulders inwards and even with all her miniscule boy weight behind her she was unable to move the black couch that had constantly defied her for so long. Mousse had a broom and dustpan in hand waiting but even with Nana trying her utter best she could barely move the couch forward, and even when she did the scratchy sound of the four casters underneath cutting into the ground made her pull back. Last thing she needed was to spend an hour polishing out deep scratches on the floor underneath.

Perhaps they were reminded every Wednesday afternoon, that was reserved for painstaking cleaning, that having a house filled with only women had its disadvantages.

"Hey. Hey, I'll take care of this." Clark said, gently placing his hand over Nana's shoulder.

Before Nana could object, Clark had eased Nana back and in one smooth and easy motion had tucked the toes of his left boot under the black leather couch. Clark wrapped his right hand over the one armrest and with one quick kick, tilted the immensely heavy piece of furniture break grip from inertia and flew clockwise. "HuuUrgggghhhh!" Clark snarled veins on his neck were about to pop but that did not stop the man from shifting back with all his might. In the next instant the couch was resting perfectly vertical on Clark's right shoulder with his left hand at the support.

Nana simply stood there gawking wide eyed at the spectacle of Clark balancing what could well have been a hundred pounds on his one shoulder with only the slightest bit of teetering. In response Clark looked over his shoulder at Nana. While any other chauvinist would have grinned and sneered arrogantly, his eyes that were still hidden behind the darkness revealed nothing. He just remained silent until he turned again to Mousse and said, "It's safe, I've got it. You can sweep now." Clark instructed.

"Y… Ye.. YES Clark!" Mousse stepped forward without a fear and swept up the large clumps of dust that had collected for months now.

"Wow." That was the only words that escaped Nana's lips.

While utter awe and soft, eager, fluttering amazement glimmered from Nana's eyes, what was shown from Yuri's face was something similar but very so very different. Yuri took a step back and could not stop her mind from swirling into chaos. {100 pounds.} Near a hundred pounds of weight that sofa was. She knew that lifting a 100 pound weight STRAIGHT up over ones shoulders was a task enough – sure – surely firemen do practice lifting twice that weight everyday… still. While math was not Yuri's strong suit – she instinctively knew enough that tilting and lifting a cantilevered 10 foot object over ones shoulders was no easy feat. Even, and she, for a moment, doubted that even her monstrous older brother, Ryosuke could accomplish such a feat as easily.

"Thank you. I'm done, Mr. Clark." Mousse grinned, stepping back, putting the broom over the dustpan to keep the dirt and grime from flying outwards.

Clark exhaled and as instantly and softly as he had lifted it up, the heavy couch touched the ground without a sound with Clark walking away without breaking so much as a sweat, effortlessly. Clark didn't slow his pace and pointing outwards instructed the rest of the crew to polish the bar in front of them.

…

"Yuri," Clark pointed. "Go to the kitchen. They need more hands."

She did not even respond – Yuri turned round and marched away not even looking back at Clark as she huffed, mentally undoing the disgusting knot in her stomach. Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar face by the sink in the kitchen.

"King." Yuri said.

"Hello, Yuri," King replied.

A surprising sight, King was awake way before schedule and she was wiping down the countertops with a wet rag. "Good… Good afternoon, King." Yuri greeted cautiously.

"Good afternoon." King said flatly seemingly making the exchange cold and awkward.

Yuri held her tracks and looked outwards, trying her best to somehow cut through the viscous air around them. She took a step but stopped just before her lips parted. Her left hand outstretched, Yuri pulled is back and placed it by her hip. King's back faced her, not even making a motion to stop her chore. In a moment, that knot in Yuri's belly came back and proved to further jumble her thoughts. She wanted to say something, say [it] but one, two and three times as she was about to speak she stopped herself.

However, without her knowing, and without her permission she could no longer keep her head underwater when she felt her lungs about to explode from the painful, mounting pressure.

"King…" Yuri said, "Clark. Clark is…"

"What?"

Yuri bit her lip and held her tracks once again. "What… What about Robert?" Yuri asked – and even then Yuri was not sure if she was addressing the question to King, or to herself.

"What?" King did not even lift her head up.

"I know." Yuri said. "Do you…" The building, mounting pressure – it was a pain that dragged her down into a dark quagmire – a suffocating pressure that rendered us blind to everything. This was a sensation Yuri had long forgotten, it was a feeling of fear lodged in her throat and something she buried in the dark recesses in her mind 10 years ago. In that room.

Gasping for air, Yuri could not hold it back any longer and the fierce fire burned her back and she said, "Do you love Clark? Do…" DO you? "Do you love Clark, King!?"

Finally, her pitiful, sobbing plea was answered when King's shoulders hunched and finally drooped down lethargically. A sigh left her lips, yet she refused to turn around. King stretched out her left hand and put that dirty rag to one side.

King's right hand reached for a wine glass and her left crept under the counter and pulled up a clean cloth. As she did so many times, on instinct she did not even have to think about it – before she knew it, an unconscious habit, King wrapped that fresh new rag over the rim of that wine glass that she imprisoned in her right hand. She had no intention to let it free, for as long as she lived.

"I am." She said… {I am the STRONGEST. I am the KING of fighters.} and… in order to END war, I simply have to exist.

…

…and… if you feel yourself about to fall into INSANITY, surely a story will be able to push you to the EDGE. Until her fingers bled she continued to rotate that wine glass and wrap that cloth over the glass until one day, maybe one day – it can shine so bright as a diamond gold.

…

"I do. I love, Clark." King said flatly and plainly.

"But." The tame and boring afternoon had suddenly erupted into flames, cutting King's thoughts Yuri said, "What about Robert?"

"What about him?" King replied coldly.

This was NOT right. This was not RIGHT. The whole world was about to unravel at its seams and the 10 pound bag would erupt and the soil it held within was about to explode and sully the ground.

"WAIT." Yuri called. "This isn't right. Don't you understand? King?" Yuri pleaded.

In so doing, she thought. I am not. I am not the BAD guy. I am not destroying our lives.

Once again, Yuri said, "After everything Robert's done for you? Why?!" Her hands clawed at empty air. "Don't you understand?! Don't you understand Robert l…"

"Shut up! You don't understand." King finally turned around. Yuri's eyes fooled her – she stood perplexed when she looked at Kings hands, for some reason she saw that her soft, smooth hands were now different, they were now dry, calloused and haggard. At its fingertips Yuri imagined a red crimson blood dripping down from what seemed like a decade, a century of polishing that wine glass.

Yet no matter what she did, it could no longer shine brightly as she once imagined in her mind. Oh, how… Oh, how a decade passed us by without our knowing, and once again children entertained thoughts of death. Because it was better than being trapped in darkness.

You do not understand. You will NEVER understand what it means. King cracked a fragile smile and said, "I love Clark." She said with eyes closed brimming a tearful smile.

In an instant, Yuri felt the shockwave of a shadowy dark wor(l)d penetrate her body. No. 10 years of waiting. 10 years together, in this one instant, would our universe crumble.

Eventhough I gave my, weak, defenseless, naked heart to HIM. Eventhough my life would have been in vain had it not for my brother and him. Does it not upset you? King? Does it not disgust you? Eventhough I loved [him] so much, so very much, he only had feelings for YOU. Even if I was blind, I too could understand this, and are you SO blind. ARE YOU SO FUCKING IGNORANT? It would have made me the most, very much so the happiest woman in the word had HE, had Robert said 'yes' to me? This.

This is disgusting, god damned, PORNOGRAPHY!

YET… Yet you?

What did you DO? Exactly, just what did you say, and what did you DO, to make him drink poison, and subserve himself this way? What did you DO to captivate his heart this way – and Yet, this is how you REPAY him?!

Does it not DISGUST YOU?

Even if he gave his LIFE to you. You could tell me, this, stone faced and cold you could say this to me unwavering. Before she could say anything else, Yuri put her hand on her mouth when she felt the bitter miasma overcome her. She was about to vomit. It was a horrid disgusting feeling that made her knees buckle.

I wanted to be with him. If only he said "yes" I would be so happy and die. Yet. YET YOU. ARE YOU BLIND?

Yuri took a step back and turned round. She grit her eyelids and ran out the kitchen begging her body to hold out longer as the erupting feeling was about to launch out. I am… I am about to vomit. The feeling in my gut is SO HORRIBLE. This is a horrible story. I want to DIE. I want to just expel everything in my stomach, and even if I vomit blood I would not regret. …and then, as a silent spectator, a blonde haired, jigsaw toothed boy simply leaned by the far wall and grinned. I have come to you. When you are weakest, and you will rue the day.

HE, the young Prince said. You will regret,

"You will rue the day you locked me in this dark room." Imprisoned and apart from the gleaming stars in the sky. Insanity is my gift – and it will touch you all… He said.

…

…without prejudice.

The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 5 -

…

"HURRRGHHHH!" Yuri's diaphragm hurled in a dry heave. TO expel the evil toxins in her stomach she hunched her upper torso over the toilet bowl, yet nothing came out. It was a familiar sight, was this what Robert felt? The starlit night creeping through that small window, this was all that Yuri, a small girl could do to try valiantly to expel the horrible pain in her gut.

"Ah yes." He said. "Let it all out." For. The blond haired spectre watched as Yuri pleaded for all this pain to stop. "For this is what we feel… as…" As.

He snickered… As we step into insanity. As we succumb to POISON.

…

Just before you fall over that cliff and be engulfed into a realm of insanity, THIS is what we all experience. Are we obligated to live an insidiously cruel life of youth. Children should experience a horrible past – in order to welcome the future.

…

"Please, Robert. Please." The girl's voice pleaded at the other side of the telephone.

Another place, and, another time.

"Damn it. GOD DAMN YOU!" Robert banged the back of his right hand into the hard horn in the middle of his steering wheel. Yet, despite his screams, his rage was drowned out with a dozen other cars around him that, in similar fashion beat on their horns to defy, vainly, the traffic in front of them.

"Hey... HEY ASSHOLE. What are you doing?

At the edge of his wits, Robert tore the key from his sports car and vaulted, the same way he imagined it 10 years ago, over the door of his car and began to run.

Horns behind him beat loudly, but Robert did not care. Robert abandoned his Ferrari in the busy intersection frozen with gridlock and took to foot. Left and right he did not care and ran down the sidewalks and the tattered asphalt streets in painful hopes to reach his destination.

At this point, it did not matter to Robert. He had left his beloved car in that busy intersection petrified and unable to defend from the world around it.

The cold fog clouded in front of his heaving, puffing mouth. He continued to run. TO RUN. Streetlight, glowing bulbs that were blurry, as if viewed from teary eyeballs, Robert kept on RUNNING. Leaping over streetside tables and tripping over boxes and crates – he just kept on running.

His right foot slipped when he sprinted through the wet gutter and he found himself face fist in that putrid sludge, yet without a thought, Robert heaved himself up with both arms and continued running.

"Fuck. Fuck this." The miasmic traffic would not let up. …and above, it shone, brightly lit billboards plastered up high was the face of an androgynous blonde haired boy. Under it was bold thick font, BENNIMARU. BENNIMARU – the FINAL CONCERT. Now on sale.

In time.

In time, it heals all wounds.

FUCK this, and FUCK you!

"Let me make it in time," Robert begged. "I DO NOT release you from your promise," Robert gnashed his teeth as he felt himself trapped in a prison he thought he had left behind 10 years ago. "Let me make it in time, mister star." If you indeed, in that grassy hill – were true.

Let me be selfish and ask you one last favour. In 1991. Or was it 1992? IT became indiscriminate and blurry.

The door of that apartment building laid open by its hinges as the girl's sobbing voice swing by the edge of that table. She begged.

The stars in the sky were connected by that telephone.

I will not release you from your obligation just yet. …and if you fail me – I will hunt you, and I will haunt you until the end of time.

Mister star.

…and he ran. His heart burst from his chest.

…and he ran.

…