The Colour Purple Chapter 117: Remuneration, 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 written 2016]

1964.

January 11, 1964. United States Surgeon General Luther Terry reports that smoking may be hazardous to one's health; The first such statement from the US government.

Dressed in a light blue scrub, she looked to the side, holding her breath when a brunette haired nurse entered her hospital room, with a tiny bundle in her hands.

"How are you ma'am?" she asked in a familiar nasal accent. A British tone and manner.

Ignoring the question, she instead turned her attention to the Caucasian nurse who brought an innocent baby wrapped in satin to her. "Is my son healthy?" the Oriental mother asked, in concern, in a worried, tense manner.

"Ma'am… I'm so sorry… but…" the nurse replied in a comforting tone.

This was the reward, from that cruel, senseless, merciless God.

"Please," she begged, "Don't tell my husband yet…"

Do you believe in your heart of hearts, did God serve to punish us purposely? Did he want to TEST us? TRY us? Or, did he have a greater purpose?

…

1977.

"I am going to give up [fighting], Sir Knight." Clark, finally, liberated from all thoughts of shame, said matter of factly. By saying those sad words, somehow he felt that he could let go of the weight on his shoulders that chained him to the regrets of yesterday. "I am NOT going to fight, ever again."

Clark's thoughts were immediately interrupted when two strong arms wrapped themselves over his shoulders, suddenly taking him off balance and pulled him tight. The young boy's arms were still hanging limp by his sides and he could not understand what was going on. The Knight curled his arms around Clark and held him there.

Ten fingers wrapped themselves around that wooden bannister above. Gripping it, crushing it – unbelievable as it may sound, the hard wood began to buckle into soft mush within small sections under his fingertips.

Clark was too afraid to move and only when Knight eased his grip did Clark take half a step back. The boy was about to look back but he stumbled and stammered. Pretending to scratch an itch on his left temple, he lowered his face to his feet awkwardly. Clark took another half step back. Stepping back into a darkness where he hoped no one else could see.

…and just as he was ready to throw himself backwards into the dark abyss off a cliff behind him, the middle aged British man put both hands on his shoulders fearlessly and pulled the boy's gaze at him firmly, proudly, up until the moment when Clark could do nothing else but look back up.

Clark did not know anymore if he was talking out loud or if the voice he was hearing was just the screaming that was echoing within his own mind. He did not know if he wanted an answer or just wallow in self-pity. Suffering in silence.

"Clark." Knight said yet again.

Though silence crept upon the empty spaces in between them, the old man just grinned a bit. …and Clark was unsure if he had kept his thoughts to himself or maybe perhaps he had accidentally talked out loud again.

"You know, Heidern and I have known each other for a very long time, boy… so I know. If you really want to quit…"

I cannot guarantee that I will not judge you…

33 years go - We fought each other – we had every intention to combat each other to the DEATH – because… because it was better than wasting away in an existence of apathy and indifference.

"Sir?" Clark asked confused.

"I've known him for a long time…"

Though, even if I cannot promise that I will not cause you suffering…

…in 1944, the world was at war, and every single one of us, devoid of television, neighbourhood soirees, or whatever else, you know – if we, from decades ago, were instead born in THIS day and age, we would have thought – that we had died and gone to heaven, if we were given the lives you and King lived. Youth is indeed wasted on the young.

"I think you know, Heidern keeps a [book]…" Knight reminded. "For every boy that [fights] for him, he keeps a book that takes precise and careful note of everything that they do…"

Even if I do you wrong – I will support you. That much, I can promise.

"Uhn." Clark nodded. "Every boy in the Commander's army starts with an equal debt…" Just as the lord's creatures - we may not be born the same, but from the start, HEIDERN regarded us as EQUAL.

We, each and every one of us, had pages in that book. Everything we ate, every day we slept in comfort, and in exchange for that debt he kept careful track of what we gave back. From petty chores, cleaning cars or cooking food – was an appropriate… and equal… exchange for what he 'gave' unto us… So.

"So if you put in your work, you could one day earn your FREEDOM." Knight punctuated the young boy's thoughts.

"If I work hard enough, maybe I could become free of this prison I've grown to hate… of FIGHTING." Clark said. The boy stood up with slumped shoulders. He took a deep breath in… "Maybe I could repay the Commander in RESTITUTION. For everything he had done for me."

A weak lethargic grin, a lukewarm smile that barely penetrated the surface, but that feeling he just let it be and coddle him in an inadequate embrace he had silently longed for – since THAT day… that day when he first LOST it all. The boy, Clark, could not bear to look up to the man who had given him shelter – no – more than that – for the past 6 days…

…it had been something else.

Knight…

"Thank you, sir." Clark murmured… "but…"

With his visage turned downcast, Clark did not truly understand why the story had become so ridiculously melodramatic – and all he could see was the Knight's knees because his had and loomed down once again as he was too ashamed to look up.

Why am I…? AFTER ALL THIS SHIT!? AFTER ALL I'VE GONE THROUGH!, WHY?! Even when I caused you so much SUFFERING for what you did for a piece of SHIT like me?

Clark's thoughts were immediately interrupted when two strong arms wrapped themselves once again over his shoulders. They took him off balance and pulled him tight. Clark's arms were still hanging limp by his sides and he could not understand what was going on. Lost in an endless loop of events that were repeating and repeating, in an endless cycle of suffering – when the utter shame, and horror was too MUCH Clark clenched both of his trembling fists and the tension reflected on his gnashing, gritting teeth. The boy shut his eyes with such agony, it felt like he was squeezing blood out his ears.

Can I give back to Heidern, in restitution…?

In a world of pre-determined rules… formed with a sense of logic. Sometimes, when no one is looking… We may be able to free ourselves from the rules that bound us.

Just let it go. Let it all go. Knight scoffed a bit. "Huhgn." At first it was an embarrassingly bitter taste that choked him – though shortly after, it had slowly changed. "Boy…"

Back then, did you not think we could communicate, even when… we remained silent?

Do you know what the difference [is] between the words RESTITUTION and REMUNERATION, boy? Silently and softly words need not be said.

"Restitution is compensation for having caused another SUFFERING. But remuneration – is to REWARD another for the GIFTS he had bestowed upon you." And from you, I have known your commander for a great many years, from you - I believe, my friend received, instead of suffering, he received great joy. That – I truly believe.

Be strong. Be HARD. Be great. Those words had forged a generation before Clark, and those things were what it meant to be a man. That was what kept the will of the world afloat amidst a constant flow of deceit, war, conflict and chaos. However, there were times, some times that remained locked in a place within the darkness of silence… when we were in a place we were certain no one else could see us…

I believe, my friend received, instead of suffering, he received great joy. That – I truly believe.

"Because, that is what I believe myself, right here and right now, son." Knight forced a hard chuckle but he could not help but smile brightly, pulling Clark into his chest. Strange and peculiar from a hard and cruel man – Knight did not understand what was happening, but let it be. He simply ignored the bitter taste that welled up in his mouth – for it was,…

Just this once… When no one is watching. Clark grit his teeth but he reminded himself over and over and over again. The boy clenched both fists by his side as they floated by his sides, he told himself he SHOULD not move, he WOULD not move. Biting down HARD because it was the last thing a man should do. A man must NOT surrender, he must not. Just this once, a voice pleaded, just this one it begged. PLEASE, end my life before I lose my SANITY!

…

Ten fingers trembled in place, its joints were about to bust – gushing blood in all directions when it wrapped themselves into that wooden 2nd story bannister – wanting to tear it into very small splinters. A dark evil thing, it gnashed its molars down, grinding against each other and tearing the thin flesh that dared get in its way from the sides of his mouth and lips.

From his shoulders, fiery and rageful pistons drove his arms downwards. Crimson streams of blood seeped from the sides of his mouth – from almost a decade and a half of pure pent up anger. The sides of his neck with pulsing arteries wanting to burst and explode from the unbearable pressure. TO SCREAM out. Gnashing teeth keeping his teetering sanity at a knife's edge.

It was an anger that wanted to DESTROY the world. And this anger… it was uncertain if it was aligned for good or for evil. But indeed, it did not really matter.

A blonde haired boy, with dry, straw like tattered yellow hair stood behind [him]. With his arms hanging limp by his sides he stared back at its master, perplexed and confused as to what was happening. It just did what it always did – it pulled his mouth taught side to side, and grinned a bright triangular fanged smile, watching as the world turned t the will of destiny.

"We're going to destroy the world? Aren't we? My friend?" IT asked, with a sneeringly wide, gleaming pierrot like smile. Gleaming amidst the darkness where they had hidden themselves from the world.

…

"Listen son." Knight said. "Just do your time. Though I hear some of the older boys have already paid their remuneration many times over, yet they foolishly still stay with Heidern. But when you decide to go… just call me." Knight smiled warmly. "You will always have a house to stay in, here, until you figure out where you want to go. Okay?"

"Sir Knight."

"Boy, Clark…" Knight shook his head in place to wave away the last of the sour feeling from his mind. "Please, why don't you just call me Pops… okay?"

"What?"

"Pops." Knight sneered.

…

A red drop fell to the shallow pool of dark water under its feet. With the thundering echo of a metal gong when it met the surface.

TEN FINGERS! Drove themselves simultaneously into the wood, the MONSTER stabbed its fingertips FIERCELY downwards - like ten steel stakes hammered with a single sledgehammer blow into wood at the exact same time. Longitudinal cracks ran along side the bannister splintering the wood in multiple locations along its grain.

The BEAST leaned forward, menacing canines glared around the margin of its mouth that splayed open beyond its limits just as the flesh at the sides of its maw was about to tear - its jaw about to dislocate – IN WILD, EXPLOSIVE, UNCONTROLLABLE, RAGE – and though no sound came out from its lips, the voiceless pressure tore into the ears of the entire world.

Flooding it, silencing it, when it gradually turned the darkness into a duotone gray static from a television screen at 2 am in the morning.

…

The boy breathed in deeply. Clark was about to put his hands over Knight's wrists but stopped hand way and put them by his waist. "Thank… thank…"

A sharp feeling pierced Clark's chest, as if a 5 foot sharpened piece of rebar erupted up from the ground and pierced his heart from behind. Clark's stomach curled up in knots, petrifying him, rendering him unable to breathe. Perplexed and completely stunned. The boy did not know why he had suddenly lost the ability to exhale.

"Clark?" Knight said confused.

Clark's face was confused. His hands were floating by his sides as he tried to pull himself away from the Knight and he could not help… as if drowning in a vast sea of black water, his vision tilted over the Knight's head to the balcony above him. Desperately trying to clear his lungs that refused to obey him.

A heavy and dark vortex swirled above the two men, but even as Clark looked upwards he could not see anything – what waited for him was am empty balcony that left a slight and uneasy bitter taste that seeped between the spaces in between his teeth.

…

1995.

Billy sat with his back to the wall. He clutched his side, just under his left chest.

"Boy." Eiji said.

"Ha… Augh!" Billy's laugh was cut short by the piercing pain that radiated over his body, leaving on his face, a horrendously rancid expression. He wheezed. "Ol..ld man." Billy sneered forcefully. "It's the END of the fucking world. Isn't it?"

Eiji let out a soft breath, hiding his expression under his mask when he looked at the sight under Billy's trembling hand. "Boy…" Eiji responded. "I once saw the END of the world, once…" The concept of CHOICE was irrelevant.

…and there was only one thing I could do…

The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 31.

…

"Ah!" She said a bit embarrassed. "Sorry." She apologized after losing control of the door and startling the two men. "If you boys want snacks with your beer…"

"Thank you mama." Knight replied, picking up his beer once again.

"Thank you, ma'am." Clark said at almost the same instant, mixing both their voices – somewhat slightly offset, into a momentarily indistinguishable garble. Clark bowed his bandaged head slightly.

"We'll be inside soon." Knight said, waving her away. Knight looked out to his wife with his tell tale scowl… though… he choked a bit, and as strange as it looked, Clark could have sworn the crotchety old man grinned for a moment.

"Okay. You boys don't spoil your appetite." She called out sweetly and bowed low in return, turning around and went back into the house, leaving them once again alone to their own devices as a heavy cloud loomed over their shoulders.

…

"I hope you boys are hungry!" Knight's wife grinned. With both mittened hands, she placed a large and heavy platter of prime rib on the table.

"Wow." Clark's smile slowly brimmed widely.

"Merry Christmas, gentlemen!" She gleefully cheered.

"Wow," Clark repeated, the boy was at a total loss of words when the sweet aroma wafted through his nostrils and filled his entire body with an absolutely uncontrollable rapture he had never felt before. "Thank you, ma'a…"

Clark was interrupted when a hard palm slammed onto the table.

Taken completely by surprise, Knight's wife took a step back.

"Sir knight?" Clark looked over to his side.

Knight clawed his right hand onto his forehead, propping his head into his hand as he stared at the empty seat in front of him. "God damn it… Where the hell is King…" Knight took the napkin from him lap and began to fold it in his hands. But before he could throw it down onto the floor, Clark was already on his feet and put his hand over Knight's shoulder.

"Kni… Pops… Pops!" Clark said. "Just… Just hold on, I'll get him."

"Papa." She…

"Hold on, wait I'll get him…" Clark picked up his napkin from the ground and placed it on his seat. Without another word, he made his way to the staircase, and before Knight could object he was already up half way the first flight.

Knight kept his clawed right hand floating in front of his face, and despite his best intensions just took a deep, seething breath through his teeth and leaned back into his chair.

"Papa…"

…

GOD DAMN IT.

GOD DAMN IT ALL. King!

Clark ran up the stairs and walking feverishly at a quick pace down the hall and looked to the left and then to the right. He peeked into King's room but found nothing.

Where are you… "Where the hell are you, you asshole?" Clark cussed under his breath.

…

Aghhhh…. Billy sucked in the cool air through the spaces of his teeth. Despite the air feeling cold to his tongue, there was a warm ball that collected at the bottom of his lungs.

It's the END of the world isn't it? Is there a PURPOSE to it all? Even when I wanted to give up. I give up… old man…

…

"I want to give up fighting." Clark said. "I want to be free." All of this is meaningless.

…

HOLD ON… just for a little bit. You're NOT going to DIE. NOT YET.

"I was there." Eiji reassured Billy. "I was at the end of the world once…"

…

The pictures that rushed across the television screen switched from left to right, from 1995 to 1977 at the same instant…

Clark leaned forward, trapping himself with a self imposed prison. Absolutely frustrated. Even at the expense of tearing his insides raw in anger, he just could not find King. "AUGHHH! Where the FUCK are YOU!?" Clark clawed his scalp raw with both hands – so lost in insanity even his ten toes curled the carpet under his feet in symphony with his fingers. "KING!"

…

In 1995, do you remember what you were doing that lazy Sunday afternoon? When we were young?

You cannot stop it. Defying IT is useless, boy. Just. Just as you think and wonder to yourself, and ask… what exactly is the difference between FATE and DESTINY. Two words that pulled at you and burned opposite ends of the candle at the same time.

The world was about to END, yet no one else realized it.

WHAT.

LOVE and HATE.

What is the difference between DESTINY and FATE?

…

No matter what you do. You are powerless. IF that is the case? Then tell me… Is there a PURPOSE for living?

…

Clark looked upwards when the slight sound of snowy, gray static filled his ears. It pulled his face to the far end of the second story hallway. A familiar sound that pulled him out of the ravaging chaos in his mind – a picture in his brain that looked like black string over and over repeatedly tied up in clumps of knots. A constant pitter-patter – and a beat of water piercing a porcelain tub.

Chapter 117: Remuneration

…

Clark's right foot in front of him, he wrapped his right hand over the brass bathroom knob in front of him. The familiar sound of running water pebbled the white porcelain tub in a familiar sound.

"God DAMN it, KING."

Do you remember.

What you were doing.

During the END of days?

Clark's right foot in front of him, he wrapped his right hand over the brass bathroom doorknob in front of him. The familiar sound of running water pebbled the white porcelain tub in a familiar sound.

Clark twisted his wrist, filling the silent spaces in the world with a slight sound of a click.