The Colour Purple Chapter 121: the Seventh Day, 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]

Whenever the pain and madness becomes too unbearable, I sometimes wonder to myself, if I am not real; if I am, insidiously, trapped in some other time instead.

Even if you know you're going to lose. Eventhough you KNOW that you are NO match for me? Why do you continue to try SO HARD?! Five fingers curled inwards into her palm.

We were just fighting for absolutely no reason at all.

April 4, 1984. A bloody fist. Again and again. The question repeats in my mind, again.

You said it yourself, in truth, humans are built with two hands, two elbows, a pair of feet and knees, and a head. At least in striking, there are only a limited number of moves a normally built human being can perform. If you can break down each section and have a prompt and effective reply to each, there is conceivably nothing you cannot counter.

"So THEREFORE," Robert simply reasoned irrationally. "I simply have to come at you from an IMPOSSIBLE angle of attack." Robert wheezed, trying to stay with them for just a little bit longer. Trying to stay to the very end of their affair. "If you can do it... [i] can do it too." Robert teased with a smile.

King cussed under her breath, yet under that rancid veil, she told herself softly, just so no one else but HER and IT could hear – "I once knew another boy, who said the same thing." A rag doll faced, fang toothed, visage reflected on her own face now.

…

Once upon a time, there existed a cluster of rich kingdoms. And in these kingdoms, ruled by men – as were all kingdoms ruled by selfish mortals – they were filled with decadence, chaos and oppression. Ruled by the strength of the arrogant, built upon the subjugation of the weak. Until one day…

…a Dragon appeared.

It was a mighty dragon. And, for once in their lives the people of these kingdoms stopped fighting amongst themselves, and instead focused their attention to a one common enemy. Alas, despite their noble and virtuous efforts, this dragon was far too powerful - devoured many a soldier and laid waste to armies easily tens of hundreds strong.

Oh, have we sinned? The men wailed. As we LIVE in EVIL, did GOD bring upon this beast unto us – to PUNISH us for our transgressions? That, they asked and they pleaded. So, instead of fighting further they surrendered to the dragon – and for many years - offered it food and gold for it to lay upon like a soft mattress within its large eternally spanning cavern. In doing so, the kingdom claimed decades of peace – doing away with its wicked ways, they worshiped the dragon as God and continued on in an existence of calm and indifference.

But oh, man is such a fickle and foolish creature. Unsatisfied with a life of ordinary, they soon began to stray from the noble ways that had guaranteed them two generations of peace.

With a king's decree… A single warrior was all that remained from an army that travelled 3 days to reach the dragons lair, and without a hint of fear, challenged it!

And for six days and six nights they fought, man and beast.

…and at the very end, the great warrior leaned upon his broken sword and tilted his head up at the dragon that was about to devour him. His face was disfigured, eyes gouged, and his body mutilated.

Growing callous and bored, the dragon curled head to tail on top of its mound of gold – to sleep, indifferent to the warrior who was to eventually die.

The warrior said…

"My grandfather fought you. And you killed him." The warrior said, leaning upon his oddly shaped sword that had already been this way 9 days prior. "When they found his tattered body, all that he held in his hand was this broken sword. A sword to slay a dragon, that HIS father spent his entire lifetime forging for THAT day."

My own father died an old man, but, for 41 years he spent every day reforging and fortifying this hungry sword I hold in my hand, from the remnants of the weapon you once destroyed. Unto a broken sword he folded metal again and again – and though THIS sword may not look as towering and grand as it once was when you first destroyed it three generations ago. Know, that a good man spent his entire life to craft a weapon – his ONLY purpose in life was to make this sword. That, I have to make you understand.

…and for that reason alone, I have to FIGHT you.

"Is that all?" The dragon hissed, visibly annoyed, unable to return to its slumber.

That is all. That is the reason we have to fight.

But, just as the dragon was about to turn away, the young man looked outwards, absolutely unafraid.

We continue to fight, Dragon – and you may one day die in the loneliest of ways; you may die of natural causes. But despite all this – as our kingdom continues to offer you tithings, they had forgotten, and had returned to a life of sin.

JUST as MY purpose is now lost – YOUR purpose was in vain too. For in their arrogance, they had sent ME. To defy the will of God. Does that not absolutely dissatisfy you?

…

What if? What if instead? We can STOP this war?

HOW can we stop this war?

What if…? The dragon hissed.

You have a choice great dragon. You have remained in this cave for decades, laying on piles of gold until the day you die. Are you so powerful that you've grown bored with life as these scums offer you gold?

Must we continue to fight each other, and after us, your spawn and my sons long after.

Have you been asleep for so long? Waiting to die. Tell me, has it been SO LONG since you've fought someone – who was willing to DIE to KILL you?

"A SLEEPING dragon is useless! Perhaps, you have never faced anyone who is unwilling to run away. Someone, who is willing to FIGHT you even at the expense of their own life." Ah…

…Will you set me FREE? Oh, oh… Dragon?

…

"Oh noble King Oh, Noble King!" The castle's squire rushed into the royal throne room, pushing aside the armoured knights that tried to block his path.

"What is it?" The Old King looked down at his servant with cold lethargic eyes.

"My King, my King! The warrior has returned!" The squire proclaimed.

"Oh?" The King replied. "Is he dead?"

"No, my King."

"Then, could it be," The King chuckled in bewilderment, "Tell me not, did he bring the dragon's head? Are we free now from the whims and ways of [God's curse?]"

"Y...Yes… My King…"

"THAT IS EXCELLENT!" The king pushed aside the concubine that laid across his lap and raised both arms as he stood in glee. "He has brought the dragon! We are free!"

FREE FROM GOD!

"My lord…" The squire shrieked. "The warrior has brought the dragon. But…"

A large ball of flame punched through the one lone gate at the front of the city's walls, just the same as a deluge of water forced through small holes, the mounting pressure exploded as the fire erupted into a nuclear explosion at the other side of the concrete wall, incinerating everyone who dared stay to defend it. Just before the fire subsided, a large beast plowed through the wall, sending chunks of stone and concrete every which way. On its shoulders sat a man, a picture of seething rapture on his lacerated, disfigured face, in his hand was a broken sword.

1984 to. Instantly.

To 1977.

..and… so, let us finally END all WAR, now.

Chapter 121: the Seventh Day.

…

A sleeping dragon is useless – and even if people were to pacify themselves and worship it as a God, in the end they would return to their life of sin after Sunday. In order to abolish all sin, you must be a VENGEFUL God. A relentless, MERCILESS God who will stop at nothing to destroy everyone, until nothing, absolutely nothing remains.

For a sleeping dragon is useless, a God whose power is so absolute he had become indifferent to the ways of the world. Until you feel pain, until you feel FEAR, you will never awaken to your destiny.

And [I], will be the [sword] that shall anger you - that shall make you fear for your life. Only then will a dragon be freed from the chains of apathy.

…

Drops of water streamed down her face. In this familiar place, in this room – a large and dark room so much larger than all of the 'other rooms' in this world. Back in a time when we were young, and we thought that we would die at any given moment.

Did I not give you what you wanted?

Had I not given you want you needed?

I tried hard, so very hard, and, as a result, I became a MONSTER. An inhuman beast that could devour all things and everything… but… despite all that…

My father rushed past when I stood over Clark who was now unconscious on the floor in front of me. Much like the short moments after a loud bang, the sounds in my ears were garbled and it felt like I was underwater. The Knight fell to his knees and took hold of Clark's shoulders, gripping hard - it took all of his fortitude to not shake the boy for he knew doing so had the possibility of worsening Clark's condition.

Even if I had sacrificed so much, and I would be lying to myself if I told myself I did not care. I would be lying to myself if I didn't want you to SEE how much I have exchanged for my SUFFERING.

My father stood up, threw me aside and pushed on the small plastic button on the intercom at the opposite side of the room to call my mother.

Was I not a good son? Not a good enough son?

Sitting in a black swamp, the viscous liquid came up to King's ankles as she sat in fetal position against an invisible wall just at the edge of her sanity.

Even after all of this… was I…

{Was I not good enough to make you happy?} King's stone cold face, just when she was absolutely sure that in the dark abyss, no one would be watching her visage cracked and her iron clad expression crumbled, her lips trembled into crooked lines. Even then she drove her face down into her knees and let her voice be muffled. {I made myself strong, just for you…}

"But is that not enough?"

King immediately looked up in response to the familiar voice, wiped her eyes on the back of her forearm, and in retracting that arm, ran her knuckles across the bottom of her nose to wipe away the collecting, disgusting mucus. Her eyes were cold and stoic again, staring upwards with a stern HARD, scowling expression.

"You've destroyed yourself," IT chuckled. "And from those ruins, came a beast." The voice of her only friend said, standing casually 10 feet in front of her.

King did not reply, because she understood plainly, that IT was right.

Have you ever considered…?

"Have you ever considered…" IT said, "That just not HIM," The blonde haired CHILDREN, with bloody slashed eyes and a triangular fang toothed clown's grin pointed out into the darkness.

I simply stood there, not completely understanding why my father was so upset. Why was he so flustered and scared? This scene was not so unfamiliar to us. There was Clark, unconscious on the ground and he could probably be dead, yet my father never really cared before when it was ME who had lain there instead. So I could not really understand why this was any different.

Do you remember what it means to be 'right'? Maybe… Have you…?

"Have you ever considered," IT continued. Its teeth chattered as the blonde, straw-like haired rag doll boy spoke in fervous pace, its fangs clicking against each other as they unlocked and interlocked. "That. It's not enough." It's not enough. "It's not enough to be STRONG."

In order to give itself voice, did you forget to consider that those triangular teeth had to lock and interface in place at that exact same geometric time and same place each and every time it splayed its lips? In doing so, as IT had to carefully measure its words, did you not consider the fact that your friend could not afford to misspeak? As IT spoke to you.

TO prove you were right.

Two pupils floated in space and slowly she began to understand. It is the sensation one feels, speechless, the gasping rapture – your heart stopping like a girl in love. It was the exact moment.

When perhaps you realize that all you've done – all you've fought for – all you have sacrificed – may have been in vain. That moment, everyone has experienced at least once in their lives.

It is when truth teeters fragilely between doubt on one side and the other, when a glass rod breaks at the precipice of an epiphany.

It's not enough to be strong.

The blonde haired CHILDREN put all five fingers of his right hand into his mechanical trapjaw mouth and gnashed down in glee. Could it be? "What if…"

What if I told you…

…

Stay alive. Be strong. Sacrifice everything.

With you by my side; this feeling was not COURAGE, it was not BRAVERY, it was not VIRTUE. This indifferent regard to FEAR I feel was none of these things. I simply no longer cared about the consequences – as I became a fighting machine.

"You were my only dear friend. You were the only thing that kept me ALIVE all this time."

Without your comfort, without your STRENGTH, without your PITY. I would have died a long time ago. After all this time, Can I still deny your existence?

I wonder… What would happen, if instead… would our WAR stop, would our PAIN end? What if… We were wrong all this time?

If I begin to DOUBT your righteousness, the divinity of your infallible gift, then would YOU, my friend, disappear?

But.

What would happen if.

"We destroyed EVERYONE!? King?" The first CHILDREN wondered out loud?

…

How exactly does an [imaginary being] reproduce? Perhaps it plants its seed into the mind of another human, for it to seek nourishment, thrive, strengthen and continue to hunger – and if two of those beings one day find each other – and fight – then the stronger ideal would be ensured survival. Then, only then, can an [Ultimate Truth] become [Real].

…

"Is that your son, Heidern?"

Heidern couldn't help but instinctively look to his side, and almost pretended like he was surprised the boy was standing next to him silently. As a polite gesture, he laughed once. Ha. "No he is not, he's just a dog I found and gave a home to." Heidern said matter of factly.

And now, just, exactly, when did it happen? Fighting was no longer a means to determine what was [right]. Fighting just became a means to exist.

In a bout of silence Clark held his place in mid bow, tilting his head to the side and unable to stand up straight as he was perplexed by the curious person that hid silently behind his host.

Heidern put the back of his open palm over Clark's collarbone and guided his soldier to stand up straight. "I am sorry. Is that your child, Knight?" Heidern asked.

"Ah, yes, this is King." Knight put his hand behind King and invited his child forward.

We were just fighting for absolutely no reason at all.

Clark took a deep breath in and closed his eyes, relaxing his body before it sunk down into a dark sea.

…

"Hey. You need someone to teach you how to use scissors?" Clark jeered.

With her right hand, King grasped a pair of splayed scissors like a knife, paying no care eventhough the one bare blade dug into the insides of her four wrapped fingers. King's left wrist had been cut and her blood streamed down her left hand.

Do you know? He said to me. Do you know what will happen if you lay on the ground when three bloody thugs gang up on you? He berated me eventhough I was the victim, and [i] was on the ground.

"He won't kill you, you know that."

AUUUUGGGHHH! That was what she wanted to scream but her throat was now dry and calloused. The steel blade stabbed hilt deep into her thigh, her tongue curled and rolled back into her throat – again it stabbed into her bicep, one by one, taking turns to mutilate her, when three beasts pinned the girl down keeping her alive through the pain. King looked up and out into the sky, trapped in a glass jar helpless to the events that unfolded with each second. She took a deep breath that filled her lungs, grit her teeth down but could not stop her lips from trembling and her eyes erupt into rivers of tears. She inhaled rabidly sucking precious air through the spaces in between her teeth. Understanding in its finality, what THIS place was, when she sobbed paralyzed as her extremities were gutted, yet she was not allowed to die. WHY? The off white ceiling transformed slowly, fading into a black - devoid of light.

Won't you let me die?

If you crucify my arms and legs. If I can no longer FIGHT, then what is left for me?

…

The Seventh Day. December 25, 1977.

The space between Heidern's shoulders LOCKED into knots, just as a sledgehammer slammed into the back of his skull. DONN! Barbed razor wire curled around his heart – squeezing tight. The blood had nowhere to go but rise up his throat. Knight felt it too – a cold frigid sensation that slowly filled the spaces in his lungs with flowing concrete that hardened immediately as it filled his arteries.

A small body silently stood behind the two men, by the door of the dojo separated from the main house. With loose polyester jogging pants and a matching loose fitting white high neck tracksuit, King cleaved the entire room that Christmas morning.

"I am NOT going to lose to a FUCKING girl." Clark snarled.

Heidern turned his face to Clark, but, utterly stunned, then swiveled to Knight, who, was absolutely frozen and petrified. The world had become a large concrete block and had come down all at once to crush him neck down. And even if he desperately pleaded it so – no sound came out his mouth.

Animals eat each other, simply for the luxury of being able to suffer just another day longer. We have become so tired of this life. Fate assured these chance meetings… and destiny brought us together. So then, prove to me… just how far…

Curling two fists into hard balls, so hard that her fingertips dug deep into her flesh without any concern to pain. {Ah… I see. There you are.} The shadows under her feet slowly came to life, a demonic miasma that ran up her ankles, up to her knees, flared into a backdrop of slowly emolliating black flame

A dark shadow, slowly giving itself form from a black mist into a fleshy shape of a small body stepped back and to the right side behind King. With slit eyes, dark pinpoint pupils in a sea of white. "Clarkie…"

Clark looked up slightly from his downcast gaze in a nonchalant response.

Like a mental illness if transformed into physical shape, the Prince jolted his head up and down, his face side to side in fast forward and fast rewind. Convulsing – seizures. Frames removed from the animation. Rewind, then pause, then forward.

"A. Yes. You can FINALLY see me, CLEARLY, Clarkie?" The pierrot faced small boy swung both arms wide in a makeshift cross, pumping its chest forward, then let his fists drift into relaxed positions by opposite sides of his thighs. The 1st CHILDREN cocked his head almost completely 90 degrees to the right; It tilted its face, in fast forward and fast rewind – all the time frames convulsing, omitted from the animated video – static – erratic - spastic at Clark perpendicularly on its dislocated neck. "TELL ME, do you enjoy fighting, Clarkie?"

"Ahhh…" Clark grunted in the affirmative. Clark put both palms on his knees now. Finally. Maybe the world we hid in when we were sad, and lonely, had in fact, had enough room for two. Clark smiled wildly – because his world was at long last, finally going to END.

I SEE you [CLEARLY] NOW. So very clearly, more than EVER before.

The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 35.

t h e . childrens . o f . t h e . seventh . d a y

…

Frozen in place, Heidern and Knight's movements began to stutter, stall and atrophy in slow motion until the exact moment when their bodies became frozen in place. Heidern's face calm and stoic, hands crossed, and Knight, while his face was still twisted in disbelief, was unable to move.

{A. Thank you.} Clark thought instinctively in gratitude, turning his gaze back at King. To ask, with a sigh – "Do you really want to die?" Is that really your answer to me?

The world had become cold, their voices reverberating together in a pitch-black room like speaking out loud into an empty glass. "This is the ONLY way we can END war."

"No… I don't think so…" Clark replied, shaking his head, the voice bouncing back and forth in that echo chamber.

"It's all MEANINGLESS, your life and mine." King sighed. "No one cares about us, no one ever, ever, loved us. Even when we FOUGHT so HARD."

Clark gnashed his teeth hard against each other, but for once, for once in his very putrid, despicable and worthless life – despite all that – the expression that flashed across his face was not of anger – but instead, it was glee. Grinding his teeth against each other until the rapture erupted for all to see. An ULTIMATE TRUTH – giving itself, an imaginary being BIRTH. "You're WRONG, you know." Clark snickered in between syllables beaming wildly – teetering between tears and absolute, and uncontrollable elation.

A carnal response that made King grind her teeth against each other, but even as much as her brain fired reflexive signals to protect herself, the synapses could not make it past the bloated feeling of her shoulders and her arms remained limp and unmoving on the armrests of her wheelchair - eventhough her mind wanted to will them to grip hard to seethe the pain in her head. Trapped in this dream state, rendered a pitiful quadriplegic, she could no longer move her arms and legs.

King, bitterly scowling, sucked two breaths, filling her lungs over the limits.

The problem with you, a sleeping dragon – is that no one was STRONG enough, no one ever FOUGHT you hard enough, no one HATED you hard enough, and you've become indifferent to a meaningless life – but… here I am. I am going to PROVE to you that you are WRONG. AND THE ONLY WAY, is through the FIGHTING you HATE so much.

The entire world was frozen and as they did the last 6 days and 6 nights, they were trapped in a place only the two of them could understand. A place separate from the flow of time where only THEY could enter, no one else, here and here only the both of us could exist.

We hear each other and only WE could UNDERSTAND each other.

"DON'T YOU SEE, WE DON'T HAVE TO DIE. WE HAVE TO DESTROY EVERYONE ELSE!" To render [fighting meaningless].

Only then, can we END all WAR.

…and let's do it TOGETHER.

The flow of time resumes…

At first it was darkness, then the lightning flashed behind him, the Knight's face bleached in pure white.

Promise me.

To follow, Clark hunched backwards, the radiating spark barely illuminated the stark look in his eyes. Clark's pale sky blue eyes met Knight's and locked them in.

Trust in me… There is something I have to do. For as long as there are stars in the sky. As long as I LIVE, Sir Knight, I will have only ONE request of you.

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

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

"Boy…" Knight…

You've brought this upon yourselves – and now, you may NOT meddle in the way of DESTINY.

"Let's make a deal." Clark suggested softly, the boy's lips curled carefully and purposely with each passing syllable, ignoring the Knight and paced side to side in front of his one TRUE enemy. "I will fight you, with EVERYTHING I've got." Clark, charmingly close eyed, bobbed his head aloofly up and down side to side, sneering.

"You will never beat me." King replied flatly.

"Then let's decide which one of US is RIGHT." Clark curled both fists on his side into hard petrified balls.

…

What if I can KILL you? Could the possibility of that CONCEPT frighten you?

A sleeping dragon is useless, a God whose power is so absolute he had become indifferent to the ways of the world. Until you feel REAL pain, until you feel true FEAR, you will never awaken to your destiny. "You will never understand your GIFT, until you face the rational possibility, that it could be taken away from you." …and that is why I am HERE.

THIS is the meaning of FIGHTING. THIS is the meaning of the WORLD. Though you may endure torture – there is an exact moment, when your PURPOSE becomes clear!

Her body, with one twist of her waist suddenly disappeared with wisps of light, in its stead were remnants of fairy dust – her body, only to reappear a foot forward from where she once stood.

Clark stood with both fists clenched on his sides. Across at the other side of the room the Knight, caught in a freeze frame unfolded his arms in fright. His chin tilted up, with his vision following closely behind when it broke itself from the ground. Only the two remained. In the silence, Clark looked outwards at nothing.

What would you do? If I said WE – both YOU and I - could end all SUFFERING? For all the boys and girls like us who've endured meaninglessly, so very much. What if we can set them free?

YES.

There, in that darkness …where there is wailing and great gnashing of teeth.

"Yes," the boy nodded in confident response. "IF you continued to FIGHT. If you could PROVE to the entire WORLD that there could be NO ONE better than YOU. IF you, and with your Godly gift fought and DESTROYED everyone in the world who wanted to fight…"

No one HUNGRIER, no one ANGRIER than you.

If you proved to them, that there is no one better, no one stronger, NO ONE greater than you.

If one by one, through careful and calculated action, if you destroyed, not just their body, but their spirit... If you were to become the GREATEST! Maybe the entire world would realize that, ironically, FIGHTING is useless. Because no matter how much they tried – YOU could defeat them effortlessly. With your Godly might. Each and every one of them.

Just like a nuclear deterrent… perhaps, together, we could end all war this way?

AT THAT MOMENT, I THINK I FINALLY REALIZED…

King breathed in, bit by bit digesting the string of murmurs that started with sounds, compressing into words, chaining together into sentences then, erupting into grandiose ideals, then, to a simple, easy to understand, zeal.

IF you made an enemy of the entire world. If you DESTROYED each and EVERY one of THEM… We can hold in our hands, peace. Then, despite your suffering, we could justify every ounce of pain WE tasted, only if we could render WAR useless.

"TO end… all war." She whispered. All you had to do – was to become the greatest.

And in your wake, simply in exchange, YOU would have to rule as a fascist over them, you would have to walk over a pile of crippled bodies. There may be some who will adore you, but most will despise you… Are you willing to do that? For your FREEDOM!?

…

If only YOU did not EXIST! If only – Yuri's gums bled when her teeth gnashed.

My natural enemy.

3:42 A.M. (103) in 1993

"You… you fucking…" Yuri Sakazaki screamed…

"CAN YOU SEE [HIM]? OR CAN YOU NOT!?" Clark roared. "ANSWER. ME!"

ANSWER ME! YOU FUCKING BITCH!

"What… the fuck… the fuck are you talking about?!" Yuri spat back, her mind rattled uncontrollably.

{If you cannot see him… Then…}

"You lose." Clark sneered. In the dark morning a flash of lightning punctuated Clark's proclamation, the light reflecting off the dark shades that hung over Clark's eyes, and the man's evil grin from the shadowy abyss; for a few moments the world was silent, but in tow a LOUD thunderclap rocked the world.

"…and therefore – your way is WRONG!" Clark's open hands floated in space with minds of their own at shoulder height.

A…. "I thought out loud again." Clark said, then chuckled once again to himself as he tilted his face up in amusement. Teetering in a dream he could not completely understand – if he was in the future longing nostalgically to the past, or was he in the past wanting to escape. Gazing longingly outwards into the dark night sky that was much too far away from dawn, Clark remembered that he too was enslaved to it all. The FUTURE and the PAST met, in confusion, here in this distinct place. But… a girl set him [free], once upon a time.

This is the promise we made, silently, without many words – 16 years ago. I will NEVER abandon you. Because I have vindicated myself from my evil ways. I will never, NEVER leave you behind, KING of KINGS. Even if the world… THE WORLD…

…

There is no end to sadness.

The same force that rotates the world in space. A magnetic attraction and repulsion simultaneously exists between certain people. Conflict is the root of all existence.

What is this strange sensation, I feel in my heart? Do you understand me?

What purpose does a ball have when it rolls down the road? Only to one day become trash. What greater meaning does rain have when it falls from the sky, to give life to nature, as beasts procreate then eat each other – clinging so desperately if only to prolong their suffering in God's lethargic, cynical, cyclical plan?

They say, that in this world, there is someone for everyone. United by fate – brought together by destiny… Humans were born flawed and incomplete, though mayhaps there would come a time wherein we may have been once lost, if two ultimate truths would meet – and a true divine purpose could become reality.

But, I do not believe in that. Because, this life is SHIT, filled with torment, and then we die.

Even if I accept that as truth – I would like to think that there has to be a reason we were brought together. Here. Perhaps this chance meeting… this chance meeting on Christmas day, would be an amusing distraction from the horror, and the apathy as we waited to die.

A man's purpose is to endure torture for as long as possible. That, I believe.

…and anything that strays from this philosophy is but merely a fool's folly.

What is this sensation I feel?

As I desperately question myself, I do not understand why I can't remove you from my mind. Even if I deny it, in the waning hours of the dark night, thoughts of you constantly encapsulate me.

Love and Hate always start at different origins, but they end up in the same destination.

…

December 25, 1977. The seventh day.

"You will never beat me… Clark." King replied flatly.

You are NOT a GOD.

"If you can do it... [i] can do [it] too… King." Clark teased with a smile.

King cussed under her breath, yet under that rancid veil, she told herself softly, just so no one else but HER and IT could hear – A doll faced, fang toothed, visage reflected on her face now. As the Children possessed her mind and body.

…Even if my mouth could no longer breathe…

Even if my mouth could no longer breathe, even if my arms could no longer move, and even if my eyes could no longer see, I will continue to FIGHT you, with my ENTIRE HEART, I will still remain by your side. Forever. SO that… you don't have to…

As people, isn't that all we desire?

…have to suffer in silence, alone.

Tell me, as the last remnants of light illuminates my world, is that devotion not the true definition of the sensation that teeters between LOVE and HATRED?

Even IF you made an enemy of the entire world. If you DESTROYED each and EVERY one of THEM… We can hold in our hands, peace. Then, despite your suffering, we could justify every ounce of pain WE tasted, only if we could render WAR useless.

"TO end… all war." She whispered. All you had to do – was to become the greatest.

We are ALL, KINGS. And even if the entire world becomes your enemy.

Then, the sound stopped. King's lips separated, and a single syllable dribbled out her mouth. "…"

So you've chosen.

He said.

And you've chosen wisely.

It would still be a lazy Sunday afternoon. In 1992.

"Oh. I see… Ofcourse." King sighed. "Then… Let's finish this." King closed her eyes, leaned back into the wooden chair, put her open palms down, that imaginary time, on her skirt, pushing it forward and pulled her face from the water up, up into the clear blue sky.

Let's DESTROY everyone, then.

EACH.

And.

EVERY.

one of them.

…

"…"

Yes.

"YES!"

Just you and I… old friend.

Oh Hail Ye. The King of Kings.

"COME!" the boy exploded with all the rage he could muster. "Come and FUCKING TAKE IT!" his lower jaw trembled; a wild BEAST, sharp fangs ready to tear his enemy apart with no reservation and without any fear of consequence. KILL YOU. His hands were cocked in mid stride, gnashing his fangs with seething rancor - running feverishly at [it] – if you beat a boy for 6 days non stop – destroy his body, his mind – his spirit – until there was nothing left but a quivering thing that clung desperately at shreds - remnants of pride left for death… did you not think… did you not even consider… time had stopped for us. Now. In a wistful romance.

Kakkate, kakkatte KOI YA!

Can you really stop [war]?

"CLARK!"

Knight said, lifting his body from the chair where he sat.

…did you not even CONSIDER the possibility…

"THAT I would BE ABLE TO DO [IT] TOO!?"

Time would stop for us. In an invisible, slow romance. Between a boy and… a girl. Even for a moment, when God was not looking, the world would stop revolving and leave us in a place – all to our lonesome devices – in a moment of our own choosing. IN THIS ROOM.

"I see…" she sighed. Then I will meet you half way, also.

If so – then PROVE IT!

King hunched forward, launching with both shoulders leading – and when she took a step, her ENTIRE body disappeared into a hurricane that dissipated into nothingness just at the exact moment when the toes of her right foot touched the ground…

"King." Heidern choked under his breath as the small girl instantaneously vanished.

…

Even if my mouth could no longer breathe, even if my arms could no longer move, and even if my eyes could no longer see, I will continue to FIGHT you, I will still remain by your side. Forever. SO that…

…so that you won't have to see the end all alone, my friend.

"A. I'll meet you half way too…"

…

Reflecting her action Clark heaved his upper torso, mimicking the image that flashed in front of his face then disappeared. "Did you not consider the possibility…"

"BOY." Knight stutt…

At the exact moment Clark's right foot hit the ground in front of him… With a loud sonic boom, chain linked silvery steel blades pulled taut just before they loosened, wrapped themselves, a tornado around the boy, cutting with its sharp edges into the clear picture of what once was into a hundred, thousand, million small pieces… until these small pieces became insignificant, indiscernible pieces…

…and Clark disappeared too.

December 25, 1977. The End of the Bizarre Love Pentagon.

Love and Hate always start at different origins, but they always end up in the same destination.