The Colour Purple Chapter 101: a Beautiful Beast, 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 2016]

When their gym teacher turned his gaze up from the ground and up to the boy, he was immediately taken aback. His entire external anal sphincter muscle contracted on its own the same time he felt his gut twist like a corkscrew…

His once aloof and cocky attitude betrayed him when that THING looked back at him. It was a blonde haired boy he expected, but instead of a plain looking face, a pale faced pierrot mask gazed menacingly – slit eyes cut with knives spaced far apart – its sclera was pitch black instead of the usual white, its irises pearl white, and under it was a wide smile that spanned ear to ear, with triangular fangs blaring back at him. The man's heart dropped to the bottom of his gut as he stumbled back. A feeling that all of us felt at least once in our lives and would never forget.

WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. THAT!?

…

No more. I can't… I can't take any more.

The small boy wrapped both his arms across and around his chest, clawing at opposite biceps. He rocked his body back and forth with his back against the wall, at the very edge of mental breakdown… again… here.

His right hand was now draped over his face, engulfing it – but it did nothing to sate the trembling sour expression in his face. In this dark closet when he was sure no one was watching, his contorted face sobbed with an absolutely silent bawling, voiceless screaming. His mind and heart was now a quagmire of mixed rage, desperation, sadness and agony.

NO! NO MORE!

…

"I really think that competition is detrimental to child development." Dr. Richard Chan said, now capping the black felt tip pen in his hand. "I really do. The honours system, the term valedictorian, it really is 'unhealthy' for children." He continued. "Here we have long term lasting effects of children growing into adults with severe inferiority complexes, those, that do make it and do not commit suicide…"

"I see your point doctor, but," Chan's colleague replied, "But, if you continue this train of thought, removing the concept of a scholastic and competitive ranking system – that everyone is the same – aren't you not simply promoting mediocrity?"

"No sir," Dr. Richard Chan interjected quickly, as if expecting the question. "What I am doing is entertaining the idea that we can make more adults happy, for our future… That is all."

There can absolutely be no ill result from this theory. You'll see…

Let us take the concept of 'consolation prize' even a step further, by totally abolishing it. For our children. For our future.

…

"Did you honestly believe, my friend, after what you have accomplished – that GOD would simply sit idle… and do NOTHING?"

…

In this dark closet when he was sure no one was watching, his contorted face sobbed absolutely silent bawling, voiceless screaming. His mind and heart was now a quagmire of mixed rage, desperation, sadness and agony.

NO! NO MORE!

The boy raised his face from his folded knees that pressed up his chest when he sensed another THING in that dark closet. The closet that had begun to expand vast and wide in the nothingness.

The grinning face of a Cheshire Cat looked back at him. It looked back at him tilting his head curiously as he shivered in the cold, in his tear drenched shirt.

"When you are afraid…" IT looked down at King who sat in fetal position at the very corner of the darkness. IT took one step, two then three… "When you feel FEAR – when you feel despair about to engulf you. Call to me… As long as you allow it…" IT said…

I will protect you.

…

Wednesday. But it was a lazy Sunday afternoon. It always was.

February 15, 1978, Wednesday – Rhodesia, one of only two remaining white ruled African nations announces that it will accept multiracial democracy within 2 years.

Knight put down his teacup on the fine white China saucer on the table in front of him. He scratched the back of his neck with his right hand and put his left thumb over his forehead massaging both temples in tune with his right hand sliding down his right cheek.

"Tell me old friend, was I wrong?" The old Brit groaned. "I taught my son how to FIGHT – so that he would fear nothing; Nothing at all; so he could live a life of peace and never HAVE to fight. However, it seems that despite my best well-intended efforts, I have accomplished the exact opposite."

Eversince that [one instant], King had set forth a sequence of events to which there is no escape. What has resulted, is a never-ending, spiraling vortex of perpetual violence.

Heidern leaned forward from across the table. He put his teacup on the table on its saucer where it belonged and put two more cubes of sugar in it, stirring it calmly with his small teaspoon.

Knight tilted his head up and to the side, "You know – you will die if you keep that up… What is it? Is that 5 lumps now?" In such a small cup too…

Heidern grinned stirring his tea with the cup in his left hand. "We ALL have to die eventually, my friend." He chuckled. Taking a sip, "…and we both know that no one can kill either of us… so, so I have to do the job!" Heidern flashed a full-toothed grin with a hearty laugh.

"Indeed." Knight answered automatically before he took a sip. "Tell me, Heidern…" he droned on. "Are you telling the truth? Does that really help you?"

"There is an additive in sugar," Heidern said, "I believe there is something here…"

"That keeps you from getting very angry?!" Knight finished his friend's sentence with the same old skeptic look.

"Yes. Yes." Heidern smiled with puckered lips. "There is a certain additive in sugar that helps me from getting very, VERY angry… and that… that calms me."

"I see…" After that, the Knight grew silent and his face loomed in mid air before turning down menacingly to his knees, exhaling hard.

"But, Knight." Heidern was quick to cut in. "It seems that you seem so troubled, even if you try so hard to change the subject." Heidern stared hard at his friend with both eyes.

"Why, are you TALKING that way, Hiedern?" Knight twisted his lips measuring the inflection of his words up and down purposely. "Are you taking the piss out of me?"

"Do not you British always talk this way?" Heidern swirled his right gloved hand round and round in mid air, casting a mock magic spell.

"No, I do. Not!"

Heidern smiled so wide, the skin around his eyes began to fold over each other.

"Heidern…" Knight said. Forgetting everything. "Was I wrong?"

"You said it yourself, old friend. What it means to be WRONG, and, to be RIGHT." He sighed. "I so love tea time," Heidern smiled yet again. "And I love how you British put cream in your tea."

The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 15 –

…

197X.

THAT EVENT.

"Can you repeat again what you just told me? Bobby?" The special agent said to the constable who sat across the table from him. In that dark room.

"Please, call this old Bobby, Eagle…"

"Eagle…?" The Caucasian man weaved his finger over each other and looked back at the British Policeman. Perplexed, cocking one eyebrow above the other and tilting his head overtly; it was confusing – was he being humble or arrogant?

"Like I told you… The boy ran into traffic on his own, and that car hit him, bang to rights. I tell you. Eagle eye saw it plain as a packstaff. I swear to you! Nothing escapes old Eagle Eye!"

…

Old friend, are you so eager to change the subject, even after you've brought me in so far?

"Are we having this conversation again, Knight?" Heidern sighed.

"Hey! Com-mon!"

Heidern cocked up his right eyebrow, grinning as he took a sip. "You know… you're saying that wrongly right?"

"What."

"A Brit talking like a dirty American. It's Come… ON….!"

"Commooonn…"

"You're inflecting it wrongly," Heidern laughed.

"HEY!"

"You are a horrible liar, old friend." Heidern cut in.

"…"

"You said it yourself, old friend. What it means to be WRONG, and, to be RIGHT." He sighed. "Who is wrong? That is only for destiny to decide. Do you remember what William Shakespeare said? Some are born great, others achieve greatness, yet, there are those who...

Heidern sipped the last of his milk tea and put his cup down in front of him.

"…"

"Did you give birth and nurture the ultimate fighting machine, and think ignorantly that GOD would simply stand aside, watch, and idly allow such a beautiful beast be forgotten in the annals of obscurity?"

…my friend…

…

…yet, there are those who have greatness THRUST UPON THEM!

His name was Wei-Yan. However in about 10 seconds the young man's name would become inconsequential. Wei-Yan's left arm perfectly executed a hard block over his left temple, however, it was perplexing as to why is right temple was caved in. In the shape of a foot, a large, hard indent was left on the right side of his skull from a sudden impact just seconds ago. The 19 year old man's neck teetered in place and cocked slightly to the left when his neck could no longer support his brain.

…

1993.

"My father adored that boy… he loved him so much…" King said. "…and now, he's come back for me… TO make true…"

One, two, six, nine, thirteen then twenty six hands rose up from her sheets, grabbing her biceps, thighs, neck and pulled her forehead back; and she was unable to move – much like atonic seizure, King was fully aware, but could only watch wide eyed as she was pulled down into the soft folds of the white darkness.

Clark. Did I not promise you…?

…That I would destroy everything? For our dream!

"WWWRRRYYYYRGYYAAHHHHH!" IT wailed a high pitched scream.

…

Nurturing that suffering, in order to behold his greatest creation.

"In this instance, GOD will NOT sit idly, and does not simply watch…"

…

The 19 year old Wei-Yan could not understand why King stood in front of him, but from his peripheral vision, amidst the stillness, at the instant between seconds, he could see flashes, still frames taken out of context, see another THING run full speed at him – like an animated flip book – except only, with pages missing in between. Arms cocking up and down and knees rushing so hard and fast it seemed like its tendons would break apart. Fangs littering that face, like a predator. SHREIKING A HIGH PITCHED, SAVAGE UNAPOLOGETIC WAIL!

A black leather briefcase hit the ground. The sudden flash darted to the right, to the young man's left side. Then, a sudden cloud of dust exploded underneath their toes. "A." Wei-Yan put his left block up perfectly. "A."

A hurricane exploded in front of him. Kings right leg thrust back, then flipped forward.

A 'switch kick'.

…

Tell me why – his left block was perfect – yet… The Chinese man's body hardened like rigor mortis and toppled down to the ground. A fatal concussion on his right side, one he could not even predict.

A younger boy, hardly 14 years old turned around and walked, pulling down and straightened his crumpled, twisted shirt.

"What's going on here!"

"Coach!" A female voice called out.

"Hey! What's going on here?!" a middle aged man pointed his left arm out while he slung a wooden sword over his right shoulder. "Hey, YOU, stop!"

A blonde haired boy, taken apart from time, he was dressed in a dark navy blue boy's blazer and pinstripe grey pants curled down to pick up his leather book bag.

"You STOP! Right there." The middle aged man shouted again as the marched forward, the tip of that wooden sword leading the way.

Eyes reflecting the same as a dead fish. The 14 year old boy stood up with his bag in his hand and looked over his shoulder to his teacher. Over his shoulder, those cold, dead eyes reflected such a meaningless world back at those senseless adults. Those eyes, so dead, reflecting nothing.

"AGHH, it's you again!"

"Coach!" One of the two girls stepped up and said, "King… King didn't start it! It was that other guy!"

"It was that college guy – he kept on hitting King first, he wouldn't stop." The other girl was quick to say, tugging on her coach's arm.

"EH?"

The blonde haired boy stood up and began to walk away, he absolutely did not care.

1979.

…

1977, Christmas eve.

At first it was darkness, then the lightning flashed behind him, the Knight's face flashed in pure white. The tears peppering his face with water.

Promise me.

To follow, Clark hunched down, the radiating spark of lightning barely illuminated the stark look in his eyes – and milliseconds after the boom of thunder made his existence real.

Clark's pale sky blue eyes met Knight's and locked them in.

Trust in me… There is something I have to do.

"Promise me, Sir Knight… that you will NOT interfere, even if I kill your son…"

AND DO NOT INTERFERE – even if King tries to kill, me.

…

The gym teacher looked down at the 19 year old college student who began to erupt into seizure under him. "What, the hell…"

King hunched over awkwardly, walked away looking down at the ground, shuffling his face left and right refusing to make eye contact with anyone – just like that awkward kid who was bullied in high school.

"You go STRAIGHT home, King. You hear me!" The coach shouted. "You go straight home, and I want to see you at my office tomorrow at 8 O'clock… YOU HEAR ME!"

King stood in his tracks, wrapped his arms around his belly and shuffled in place, unsure of what to do next, trembling in fear.

"You understand me?!"

King finally took a breath in – a last dying gasp. Then he straightened his shoulders, tilting his head back over his shoulders in an impossible contortion. Haaaaaghhhhhhh…

A beast who walks on two legs. King breathed out again, now his body had stopped shaking and slowly turned around. His pupils were a pearl globular white, floating in the black quagmire.

WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. THAT!?

Haaaaghhhhhhhh…. Kings pupils tilted to the very left of his eyes as he turned completely around over his shoulder, head cocked in an impossible contortion.

A silent understanding when King's eyes and his gym teacher's eyes locked gazes.

…

The coach's breath begun to slowly normalize, and finally he remembered what was happening. "Girls…" He asked, "Where did King hit him?"

"Coach?"

He remembered now, this college boy, he was the eldest son from that school... the.. Golden Dragon Martial Arts School.. or.. something? And he fought a 14 year old kid.

"What did King do?" He now observed the young man shake violently then fall limp on the ground.

"Coach, he…" one of the girls said. "King kicked him… he just kicked him once."

Chapter 101: a Beautiful Beast

"Girls… I want you to go to the admin office. And I want you to call '999', and I want you to tell emergency…"

That we need an ambulance here, RIGHT now.