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
pointblankassassin . com
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 2016]
ORIGINAL CHAPTER. (Previously Chapter 36, rewritten from Omae No Tame Ni)
1992 – Whitney Houston's single "I will always Love you" was number one, 5 weeks at the top of the charts December of this year, and there it remained number one for another 9 weeks after the new year, spending a total of 14 weeks at the top of the music Billboard charts between two consecutive years. It has since become one of the best selling singles of all time.
Whitney Houston would die on February 11, 2012.
Chapter 76: How Did You Become so Far away?
The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 12 –
These two words, are both four-letter words; A story for couples who've become trapped in the past.
Every waking moment, I find myself helplessly, constantly, thinking of you; and Before my knowing, I had found my entire existence captivated by my longing for you. My dreams are haunted by your face, and I cannot bring myself to be apart from your body. You and only you, keep me warm during cold nights – and with every breath I take, YOU give my life purpose.
A four-letter word; Imprisoned within a dark room, surrounded by four walls and a fear of regret for the future. This, is a story, for people who are trapped in the past.
…
3 am, in that 1993.
Did you have to wait until we were just about to crumble and fall apart before you would come to save us?
What.
"What." Clark whispered. For sixteen, long, painful, lonely years, I've waited, all this time, to SEE you again. "What took you so long… my friend?" Clark had, for some perplexing reason, had walked unconsciously up the flight of steps, following some instinct similar to what would make mortal men walk in their sleep, and was now at the top of La Bijoux. The night sky above the dimly glowing rooftops were like small satellites that speckled the black world – like bright twinkling stars in heaven. When Clark ended his sad monologue, his gaze gained life and fell towards a young girl that stood in front of him silently with a stern look, a gaze of a wild beast, talons trembling, that was about to mercilessly devour its prey.
"Oh." Clark said. "It's you." He said to Yuri, a hint of surprise laced the taste in his voice now. Granted the fine luxury the Earth presented a dark and silent stage only for these two people to call their own – and here, in this lonely sleepless rooftop, Yuri wanted to END IT ALL.
An instant hallucination. Clark blinked his eyes now but the vision had gone.
A storm was brewing, the wind picked up its pace and began to whistle as it dexterously swirled in and out of the steel pipes and boxes, the crevices and narrow spaces of the mechanical contraptions that littered their stage above La Bijoux. A growling echo they heard – it was the Earth's anger, and it mimicked the rancid, bitter rancor within Yuri Sakazaki.
...
Who loves the Bizarre Love Pentagon?
I do.
The realization hurts.
But I know more about my true feelings.
It's Bizarre.
Love.
Damn.
Try making a heart shape out of a pentagon... It's impossible.
...
Clark slowly walked over to Yuri and reached for her wrist. Yuri snapped her arm and slapped Clark's away, without even lifting her slumped, brooding head.
"Don't you touch me, you scum." Yuri snarled.
3:08:01 am, paradox shift…
"Why are you forcing yourself on King damn it, are you just.. just..." SSHHRZZZXXX.
…and the flow of time's story changes.
Clark opened his mouth but this time around, he said nothing.
"Can't you see she doesn't love you. She's just too dumb to say it out loud. Don't you care if she really loves you or not?" Yuri said now calming down. "Will you be happy, will SHE be happy if you force this on her."
"I… do... not... CARE." Clark spelled it out slowly. "If not me, is there someone else?"
Yuri kept silent and thought of him, no one else but him... "FUCK YOU! Robert is a million times better than you. He's kind, he's sincere, he's a gentleman, not like the scum you are!" Yuri shouted at the top her lungs. She put up her fist that was trembling with rage. "If you talk badly about him … I swear... I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
It's late.
"It's late. Are you high?" Clark forced a moan, "Did you have trouble falling asleep?" He sighed, indifferent and totally aloof, Clark did not care about anything.
The gears locked in place and the train had become derailed, screeching violently from its original path. Now, from the story two decades ago.
Yuri dug her hands into the inner pocket of her brown leather bomber jacket and pulled a hard brick that was hidden in the cowls of dark shadows. "You." Yuri's voice trembled in anger. "Tonight. TONIGHT," Yuri screamed a the top of her lungs not caring even if King or another 2 dozen neighbours lay restful in their warm beds; "Tonight, you, will pack your bags and you will leave La Bijoux, and you will MAKE SURE that I NEVER, EVER, see you again, you asshole… or else…"
Clark tilted his grinning face to the side arrogantly and laughed. "What? Or else what?"
…
Did you have trouble sleeping tonight? Tonight when you should be laying in your bed, and now it is 3 am in the painfully cold morning. A light drop and then two a drizzling pitter-patter of rain slowly hit Yuri's contorted, sour face. It was her time now, and in due fashion the world had responded to her building fury. Instead, a cold obsession kept your heart beating, an unending, roaring desire devoured your mind, kept you awake with a painful pang in your heart that, like sharp fangs, dug deep and would not let go?
What was this feeling? A constant, raging warmth that made you stutter in your speech and disoriented you when you thought of that one man. HE captivated your thoughts and drove you to the edge of sanity. Those two words, those two four letter words started at different origins, yet, they ended up HERE. HERE. In the same destination. Those two, four letter words brought us here in this cold, lightless morning, here, in this lonely rooftop.
…and it drives us – it consumes us – it throws us to the precipice of insanity – yet, it satisfies us. For we as PEOPLE are driven mercilessly by the conflict of these two, four letter words. IT makes us WHOLE. You give my life purpose.
You give my life true meaning.
For I _ _ _ _ you, and, I know now, that I _ _ _ _ you.
…and without you, my natural enemy… you complete me. An ultimate truth. Without this festering romance, without this paradox of fighting…
"And, without you…"
My life would have no meaning.
…
and Without you… my life would have, no meaning.
…
"What? Or else what?"
Clack.
Interrupting Clark's train of thought, the sound of flimsy folded steel and plastic in the shape of a brick rattled and scratched as it flew along the concrete ground, when it ended up in front of his toes. After two minutes of arrogantly calm an ebbing quiet, staring at Yuri, and Yuri, to him, Clark bent at the knees and slapped his palm down in front of him, repeatedly patting left and right, feeling in the darkness with confusion and a hint of curiosity, until his fingers wrapped around a cold brick.
Clark lifted up his hand in front of his face as he stood up straight – in second nature his thumb pressed down on a wide button by the machine's side and a familiar mechanical whirr of gears broke the stalemate of their silence.
The Olympus Pearlcorder L100. It was a Microcasette tape recorder that retailed for $129.40 US dollars in the 1990s. An esoteric and somewhat frivolous luxury at its time that would have cost $236.70 US dollars now by 2016 standards after the cost of inflation.
WHIRRRRRR… Click. A soft soothing static hum.
"Tu que passas e ergues para mim o teu braço,
Antes que me faças mal. Olha me bem.
Eu sou o calor do the…teu lar naa… nas noite…"
The playback of the tape recorder in Clark's hands filled his ears with Yuri's voice.
"What's this?" Clark said confused, "Your homework…?" Clark sneered, up until when a sharp blade cut through with a menacing sensation in between the back of his skull and neck threatening to end his life when it gingerly wedged itself between the gummy spaces between his vertebrae. All throughout Clark could feel the cold steel invade his body at the next instant…
You that pass and raise your arm to me,
Before you hurt me, look at me well…
That cold steel and the cold quiet that drowned out even the thunderclap of the storm that was brewing, in between it, it raped his body – the flash of lightning, muffled, reflected over the dark shades that hung on his face, when he felt in fear the blade wedge between his vertebrae – into – into him when he could not escape…
Yuri 's eyes looked deathly evil now that she tipped her head up slightly. Her face caught the moonlight and the chill wind whistled through the maze of pipes that whizzed so loudly across the roof.
WHRRRRRR… click.
In the next instant the damp cold pressure of the storm around them hummed into nothing when it disappeared and the air that filled Clark's and Yuri's lungs became thin and easy to breathe. The storm had passed, and it was now peaceful.
"Do you really, love, King?" The small tape recorder repeated in low resolution.
Is. Destroying our lives worth it? – do you really believe all your actions are justified?
WHIRRRR…
"No."
SHHHHWHHHHRRRR…
"No?" Yuri's voice repeated on that tape.
"I don't love King."
A cancer. A fucking… killing… CANCER
Then once again Clark's voice floated through the airwaves… "If you get in my way…"
I had forgotten that THING. It was lost and forgotten in a memory – it was imprisoned by fear, and it was content, yet now... Does not the abyss… You are a devil, but now, you have set free a MONSTER that was locked deep inside me too.
Clark's voice – in that tape recorder repeated… That small box, made of cheap steel and plastic mocked him, "If you get in my way, I will kill you, Yuri Sakazaki. I will kill you, and all of your friends who made King this way." WHRRRRR… Then click, and then silence of static.
…
That dark gray tape recorder hit the ground in a clitter-clack. The void had… Clark, mouth agape looked upwards, had no words to say to free himself from the viscous, strangling, and drowning quagmire. That pool of hate now came back as clawed talons collapsing his lungs.
And those four walls, those four, familiar, reassuring, and peaceful walls from that room, that imprisoned US, came down without warning.
…
WHIRRRR… click. SHHHHWHHHHRRRR… click. Shhhhhh… click. As it has always been, our lives were a sequence of stories recorded but so easily forgotten. When this storm passes, will you forget about me too?
…
"You are a cancer. A fucking… killing… CANCER."
Click.
…