The Colour Purple Chapter 133: the Third Children, 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]

You take a mortal man – and put him in control. Watch him become a God. -Megadeth (1992)

…Watch him become a GOD.

…

Sociopathy. Dysmorphia. Multiple personality disorder. Hallucinogenic Grandiosity. Schitzophrenia. Posttraumatic stress disorder. All these things add colour to a somewhat boring and bland world. But to ME, at what point does it become fake and when does it become reasonable?

IF a single man tells you he sees aliens in a forest clearing, even if he gives you clear, precise descriptions of these beings - from the frailty of their arms to the detail of their large bloated heads – certainly, you would consider him insane. However, consider, what if you had a half dozen men stand in the same clearing and prevented them from speaking to each other – if they all, if each and every one of them gave you the exact same description of these monsters to the exact same minute detail. Without corroboration, if they gave you the EXACT same account… could you in truly intellectual honesty think… are they ALL insane in synchronicity?

In not so many words – THIS – is the reasoning behind the simple concept of [the CHILDREN].

At this PRECISE point, is drawn the line between mental illness, and, gifted divinity.

…

At the exact, precise moment when you gain the stark clarity of what is it you desire the MOST from the world, and when you LOSE the fear of death; when these two conditions are FULFILLED, then [HE] will allow himself to be seen by you.

The PRINCE of the WORLD, whomever you consider him to be, reveals himself. To you.

…and how wonderful it is, when the celestial lucidity finally touches you!

And behind that third stuffed toy, was a pile of cotton filled bodies stacked nearly 3 feet high.

When my mother asked me 'Who was I talking to?', it was something that was difficult to explain. So the ADULTS called it hallucination, they pitied you because they simply regarded you as INSANE, because you did not confirm to the normalcy commonly accepted by society. So at least one time in our short pitiful lives, we smiled silently and allowed the adults to call [IT] our IMAGINARY FRIEND. Left me alone to wallow in my own private world, like a fool lying happily in GARBAGE. BUT, it is NOT because they did NOT care – but BECAUSE, they did not fully UNDERSTAND. …its stark clarity.

…

However, if you can allow yourself to MOMENTARILY suspend reality, and accept that there is such a thing as an "imaginary friend", then what does [IT] desire the MOST in the world?

…

But… tell me, even if you do NOT completely believe… humour me this once…

How exactly does an [imaginary being] reproduce? Perhaps it plants its seed of knowledge into the mind of another human, for it to seek nourishment, thrive, strengthen and continue to hunger – waiting… patiently, as it may one day bear fruit. And if two of those beings, after a long journey, one day find, and come face to face with each other – and fight – then the stronger ideal would be ensured survival. Then, only then, can an [Ultimate Truth] become [Real].

The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 47.

"The third…" Clark uttered, though now, from a concrete stoic expression, he cracked a wide, warm, orgasmic smile... {I… I am… not insane…} His once low voice was now stammering and cracked in a high pitched whimper. HE smiled so brightly – like the rapture, liberated from a LIFETIME of PAIN!

…

Clark rotated his left arm, then curling his right, gripped Robert's right hook, tossing it upwards and aside. Again and again as he had practiced it until it became second nature Clark's left palm slapped the left hook outwards easily.

1964. 1977. 1984. Each distinct time frame came together – three circles of a very familiar Venn diagram, all the colours began to mix into a gray sludge - to give BIRTH to IT.

…

"Eiji," Kaori said, she locked her knees to pull up the only man she had ever loved over her shoulders as she desperately dragged themselves from the outskirts of the now burning Kusanagi Palace. (94)

"Keep…" One by one the stars striped the dawn that had suddenly reverted to a black of night. Every falling star was a wish – Eiji refused to look up because he knew that if he did, he would weaken and his resolve would waver. "Kaori, please, keep on walking." Eiji stumbled, eyes closed, eventhough he tried his best to carry his own weight.

His legs had already given away. Eiji Kisaragi's left leg drug on the ground like a plow and only his right foot functioned to carry his entire weight. "Darling, please… Do not look back. I… I…" Eiji's voice steadily began to grow weak when the numbing sensation slowly enveloped his body and bit by bit he lost sensation in his appendages. "Do NOT… DO not look… back…"

DON'T LOOK BACK BEHIND YOU.

…

1993. Clark gazed forward, in utter glee. But not at Robert's face, that much Robert understood. Robert followed Clark's gaze, over Robert's right shoulder and behind him. Through and in between his rapid attacks, Robert could not help but succumb to his hunger and look over his shoulder only to see IT with wide eyes – one he had so long forgotten by the tasks of time.

…

I HAD FORGOTTEN YOU. I am sorry, MY OLD FRIEND.

…

A small boy barely looking 10 years old. Its long black hair was tied in a ponytail, but, instantly exploded into dark tentacles 13 strand spanning out wide in ravenous hunger, turning the circle of gray into BLACK, his face stark and pitch black into a vortex, yet pasted over it was chalk sketched perfectly circular eyes, and a chalk scratched crescent moon smile, drawn succinctly on the blackboard, that glowed from the darkness. That small boy – in the dark – at the very INSTANT walked forward from the door he meekly hid behind… and.

…

Do you remember how the heavy metal music sounded in the 1990s?

The children nowadays would think it irrelevant and lame.

Would they still use the term 'lame'?

BUT I care not for your opinions. Your TRUTH is simply that, opinions. And you are MEANINGLESS TO ME. Leave me be in this dark, dark world to be alone.

…

WHAT.

WHO ARE YOU!?

Two small circles and underneath, a crescent moon that glowed so brightly white in the ash blackface darkness. When I knew what I really wanted and cared nothing for what everyone else said… and when I lost the fear of death – that was when IT revealed itself to me. And no one else could understand…

…

"Only this time, let's do it together," the 6-year-old Robert said, tenderly, to that short haired blonde baby girl, the front of her hair cropped erratically, in a butchered way, ugly and scorned – but despite that, his hand outstretched lovingly. (46) When we were that age, our profession of LOVE was sincere, never to be muddled by adult consequences.

…because, at that time – our hearts were tempered only with our limited experiences. That is why, children, can leap higher, glow brighter, take risks without fear, are ignorant to the concept of apprehension, and forgive eagerly without a second thought.

…

"But…" Robert interjected. "If you want to come with me, he said sincerely, innocently, "You have to leave [HIM] behind." He said while pointing behind King.

Don't worry, "I actually like it [here], in THIS [room]." I guess, he let his gaze wander, "I guess [she] no longer needs me with you at her side." But it's okay, he spat out. "I belong here, Robbie! But.." I don't think I will be sad IF you leave me [here].

But…

"ONE DAY, Robbie." The prince, the evil monster said, "Don't worry – one day – when you need me – I'll come to you," the monster said with a draped shadow over his face now, that, but, couldn't completely conceal the white glow of his slit eyes and shining, fanged shark tooth grin. "One day, when you need me the most… I will return to you - When you are at your WEAKEST, I will COME for you – destroy this door – when you are left broken – and take away – THAT which you most treasure."

…

"PRINCE!" Robert screamed. YOU!?

What are you doing here, now? The prince of the world.

Robert's eyes tracked from behind, to over his right shoulder, and now in front of him. A small ponytailed boy no more than 10 years old, his face pitch black but his white globular eyes and crescent moon smile glowed brightly ran feverishly, WITH HIS ENTIRE MIGHT, by him and now floated up in the air, its feet bicycling up in the air, its silhouette in a chaotic sketch.

I GROW TIRED OF THIS FUCKING STORY!

The CHILDREN launched up driving a flying superman punch down at Clark Steel, only to be met with a firm and hard defiance. Clark rotated his left hand up again over his temple barely deflecting the small monster's right hook. WITHOUT FEAR AND WITHOUT DOUBT, Clark stared back at the monster in slow motion. Then his right hand then left again, swirling round and round in a figure eight. Barely deflecting this mad devil's attacks that seemed to hit all at once in rapid succession. Four punches all at once.

All this while, Robert tracked this strange animal that attacked his enemy with wild fervour on its own. I REMEMBER YOU.

With both arms up, keeping up with the pace, Clark Steel grit his teeth down, the rabid chuckling sound escaping the spaces in between his teeth – only to start slow then finally building up to an insane cackle. Clark broke into a stark white deafening laughter. HA.

HA… HA.

YAHAHA… HA HAHAH HA!

You can see IT! YOU CAN SEE it TOO!

And…

…and if you can see it, Clark sneered, just as the Children's fourth punch pushed Clark back on the ground. From the constant and hard hitting barrage from Robert's newly found ally, Clark began to pinwheel and his legs stumbled back when he felt the concrete under him become soft and he could hardly keep himself upright when the earth behind him, like the opposite of placidness of doubt could hardly keep him stable.

One then two… just as Clark gave up, Clark curled his lower lip inwards and bit down HARD just to draw blood. Shuffling backwards rapidly, Clark's heel WILLED the black liquid to SOLID in rapid succession to keep him upright desperately.

"IF you can see it…" He spoke out loud distinctly, Clark swatting and swerving his upper torso to one side then firmly to the opposite side to steady himself, even when the rest of THEM would regard it an illness… "IF."

IF… IF YOU CAN DO IT…

OMAE DEKIRU NARA, [ORE] MO, TASHIKANI [DEKIRU'N] DA YO!

If you can do it, if you can see it – then, [certainly], I CAN DO IT TOO.

…

The sound only the two of them could hear, the crickle crack and pop of a hot pan filled with cooking oil. One arm, as if giving birth to ITSELF, ripped up, unearthing itself from the vagina of the ground, from a black hole as thorny sinews clung tightly around its forearm.

"RRRAGGH!" Breaking the fourth wall, pressing all three buttons A + B + C all at once even when the move was 5 years before its destined time, Clark splayed both arms wide and SCREAMED OUT LOUD silently, his mouth wide begging for the night to end. An invisible fist wrapped itself around a glowing ball with its four fingers with the same rage as it would crushing a small woodland creature that shrieked for mercy.

HHHHGGggghheeghhyyyy….. finally IT spoke with a high pitched gurgling voice from the sewage ridden gutter. Now IT hunched wildly BACKWARDS from its dislocated waist.

The dark silhouette of a boy looked directly at Robert, and all of a sudden, the long haired, black faced THIRD CHILDREN was puzzled. HE smiled. A rag doll boy, HIS lips splayed wide eventhough catgut stitches served to keep it shut. Those strings cross-crossed diagonally over his Frankenstein mouth – flashing out a makeshift cats cradle triangles of its own version of a fang toothed smile. The SECOND stared at the THIRD. GOD had a plan for us – he brought us together.

You take a mortal man – and put him in control. Watch him become a God.

Dance for me… DANCE LIKE MARIONETTES.

{I HAVE A [CHILDREN] TOO, don't you see?} Clark smiled.

The THIRD CHILDREN drove itself down, like a comet, its right fist came down targeting Clark's face from its left side with the unbridled intensity and fearless resolve of a nuclear missile to splay his face in half.

Five fingers wrapped itself around the devastating punch. Slowly. Carefully, and with distinct certainty, five small fingers wrapped themselves around that punch that stopped just millimeters from Clark's nose.

GIVING BIRTH TO ITSELF.

A third celestial being did not really understand why it's final attack stopped short, and in front of it was another specter – its diagonally slit eyes were sewn shut with ragged thread, as was it's crescent shaped smile. The silhouette of IT was like burnt black oil rising from a hole from the ground in front of Clark Steel.

The SECOND CHILDREN grabbed ahold of the THIRD'S wrist with its opposite hand and pulled IT hungrily inwards up until the last moment when both their small indistinguishable noses touched each other.

What does a PUPPET desire the most? Cynics might, and for good reason, insidiously think that a puppet longs for nothing more than to become the puppeteer. But in truth this conflicts with stories of wiser men have told in the past. Instead, a puppet's greatest dream is to attain self awareness, to make its own decisions and take control of its own destiny. The simplest story. And just as a ghost lusts for UNCONDITIONAL REINCARNATION, a PUPPET's greatest desire is to become a REAL BOY.

The SECOND Children pulled the edges of his smile far and wide, stretching its face until black blood seeped from the pinholes of the thread that sewed its mouth closed, and – after all these years – once again, it felt elation and joy – it's mouth once permanently sewn shut tore itself open into ragged tatters of leathery flesh when it projected it's wide elation of happiness when its smile beamed brightly in the darkness. Now, the tattered flesh, and the strings that criss crossed like a cats cradle mimicking a fang toothed grin.

The words that gurgled out its mouth was so sinister and rancid, the words seemed to coagulate into separate letters, only to ooze like quagmire out its mouth and down the sides of his torn lips.

"Did you miss me? Robeeeeee!?" The Second Children sneered.

Chapter 133: the Third Children

The SECOND CHILDREN launched forward, and in ever in such slow motion tilted its head upwards and forwards to have its nose touch Robert's in that distinct moment.

"Did you miss me? Robeeeeee?" The Second Children sneered.

In the darkness.

In the sadness.

Amidst the MADNESS.

The SECOND CHILDREN launched forward, and in ever in such slow motion tilted its face upwards and forwards to have its nose just touch Robert's in that distinct moment when the sounds of existence immediately halted. The Second Children smiled warmly.

You will NEVER be alone.