The Colour Purple Chapter 134: I saved this for you, 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]

"Let's make a deal." Do you believe YOUR way is RIGHT? What if, I say, IT is NOT?

What if I can KILL you? Could the possibility of that CONCEPT frighten you? (121)

{WHAT – DID - YOU - DO, to KING?!} Clark SCREAMED SO LOUD, so loud that the voice had turned the world into a blinding white – so much, that everything had come full circle and reverted into silence.

…and Robert stared back, the colour from his face bled down his neck, down his chest, waist, seeping outwards from the edges of his feet - until the world had become black and white.

When a zealot, a bigot, someone who was so certain of their convictions that it seemed that nothing could ever convince them otherwise comes face to face with a pernicious event – when the possibility of a conflicting argument could break their armor and erode the foundation of their entire purpose… When this happens, a true zealot cannot accept the possibility of considering a conflicting truth. To do so would simply nullify everything they had endured up to this point. The senseless pain, the agonizing suffering, all would have been futile and in vain. If everything was indeed WRONG, then what purpose was it to live?

To conflict their SOLE purpose in life would be like saying that the sky is not blue, and that a square does not have four sides. It is just that elementary. To accept such, would mean they would immediately CEASE to exist.

…and that, a celestial being would NEVER allow.

And so, like a single celled organism, as a mental defense mechanism to prevent itself from disappearing – instead, a CHILDREN will subdivide, will reproduce asexually. To plant its seed into another human being, and force each conflicting TRUTH to fight each other, in order to determine which one is right. And the stronger ideal would be deemed as true, and only one could be ensured survival in this very, very cruel world.

…

"CLARK!" Knight said, lifting his body from the chair where he sat. Just as Clark disappeared from sight on 7:33 AM, December 25, 1977 – the Knight pushed both hands on his knees to stand, but halfway he had frozen in time at the same time as Heidern's hands relaxed their grip from his biceps in disbelief.

A dark phantom flew by Knight and Heidern and hit like a comet, crashing into three folding chairs behind the Knight and Heidern. HER mouth gawking wide to mimic her eyes – it betrayed her once stoic expression, leaving HER in utter shock when the viscous goo erupted outwards into the air.

"A." Knight was first to awake from his momentary gaze. Just as he was suddenly awakened from a century of frozen sleep, he did not understand why he felt something had happened, yet he had not been privileged to witness it in real time. Heidern next to his friend blinked – realizing at the same time that the world had continued to turn without even asking if he was aware of it all.

I CAN, FINALLY, [SEE] YOU!

…

The world came back to Robert Garcia. He felt the blood pump again in his veins eventhough he did not know why, {What was that?} Robert's bland, blank face asked itself; he shook his face side to side to push away the sudden hallucination.

So, we are all connected. Clark grinned. "That." He groaned – pulling his grin sidewards, taut, the same fashion as a thick gumband. {Can your CHILDREN see [it] too?}

The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 48.

…

"AGHH! FUCK YOU!" Robert screamed in a mad fright, he swatted his hand over his face. He did not understand what was happening – what was unfolding in front of his eyes.

Robert punched through the spectre in front of him, his ally that came to his aid and his attack hit the monster that stood in front of him, and separated him from Clark. Just at the precise moment Robert's four knuckles impacted and embedded themselves deep into the Second's face, the Children's body disintegrated into a dark swarm of ash – and Robert found his fist firmly over Clark's left wrist, when the sudden rush of images immediately slowed into another singular - freeze frame.

{IF YOU CAN SEE IT.} Clark reminded himself. Clark launched forward two steps, at the same time swatting Robert's attack with his hand with great fervour. {If you can see the second CHILDREN… King is my reason for being, and YOU are what justifies my EXISTENCE!} Therefore, for me to LIVE, YOU have to be the EVIL one!

I will remember your name… ROBERT GARCIA!

Just as the piano concerto came to a slow and silent end, for a slight moment, both boys once 10 and 13 years old once upon a time – they wondered if they could live forever in their independent confusion. Momentarily lost in amongst each other; in what was once was, and what was once, could be – logic PULLS them back into the real world.

Just for a moment in time, we were taken away, BUT now, we are back here.

…and the music returned to its fast, fevered pace.

SWAY TO THE SYMPHONY… OF DESTRUCTION!

…

Clark put his right arm forward to meet the attack head on. Robert was FAST. That was undeniable, but what was much more perplexing, was how his punches… his jabs and crosses could have so much devastating impact that each swing was enough to make Clark stumble even if he was able to successfully block each and every one of them.

Yes. YES! COME and TAKE IT if you CAN!

Clark crossed both arms over his face in an X and swung them outwards, barely tossing Robert's overhead haymaker punch up and away.

…

Tell me… how does an imaginary being REPRODUCE?

…and how does COGNITIVE DISSONANCE come about?

In order to prove yourself RIGHT, you simply have to prove your enemy WRONG. THAT, That is what WE believed. That is the truth that saved us from the clutches of insanity! SO, that is how I subdivide the sequences of logic that is happening in front of me now.

IF.

"I do not know what you DID to KING." Clark whispered under his breath. I do not know how far you've gone. BUT. But if one thing is true, if all of us are still ALIVE now, and we had not taken our lives – then it must follow. I saw her bloody wrist and many times even I had entertained the notion of suicide. If we are BOTH still alive, then the ULTIMATE TRUTH has not yet been determined!

THEN.

…

It tastes so sweet… it hurts a little.

…

Pressing A+B+C at the same time Robert felt his inner core explode on command just before rotating that joystick a quarter circle then a half circle the opposite way, as he SLAMMED two buttons in unison. "RYUUKO RANBOOO!" Robert screamed to welcome the violence with an overhead punch poised directly over and into Clark's nose. The ultimate Super Desperation Move. How many times had he summoned it now – even in such a short span of time in between? When the small nuclear explosion rocked Robert's body, he felt a hungry hole in his stomach – just as he always did. When Kyokugen collected what was willfully given.

A free and conscious exchange of goods and services. The sound began to build – as if a jet engine turning and building up to a point as it broke the constant of equilibrium – the THIRD CHILDREN cocked both arms back with a loud snarl up until the point when IT could take no more… Now TWO rules met and decided they would exist together – the rule of Kyokugen and the rule of Childrens… The revolver's hammer locked back with a resounding CLICK; Swirling about his forearms with mounting, swirling fiery pressure, up ITS biceps and even when the Children hunched forward, IT could not keep the ATTACK completely enslaved with simple logic alone.

Because, when the sequence of circular commands are - entered, cannot be DEFIED.

Because I HATE you.

THEN. THEREFORE.

What happens next is a bit hard to describe. When the silent lucidity slowly, and carefully becomes easier and easier to understand when explained in plain terms… Maybe it is not so difficult at all.

…

What were you doing, do you recall, what were you doing on February 14, 1991? I'm silent next to you… in silent lucidity.

"Pops?" Clark said, walking towards the British Knight just as he had leapt off his truck.

"Boy." Knight said.

"Pops?"

"I have to talk to you." He said. "I need you to find King."

…

AND. THIS IS WHAT I FOUND.

What happens next is hard to describe unless you subdivide it into small, easily digestible pieces. {Don't you realize, that if you do THAT 'callously', [I] can hear a slight, soft sound just before you perform your SDM?} The figure eight defense, rotating as its namesake in front of Clark; forging an impenetrable wall.

Tell me, have you ever tried to pat your head with your right hand, and at the same time rubbed your belly in a circular motion simultaneously? At first it is hard to do… but with practice you can separate your mind into two distinct consciousnesses, and exist that way.

It is something like that.

Like two DOUBLE HELIXES. The figure 8 defense creates a wall of delusion in front of you, but what if you can independently - Clark's shoulders suddenly at its tips decided all at once and in this instant, that it would not be subject to its rules… What if – just as your wrists floated in a random erratic pattern to DEFEND, what if the axis that skewered each of your shoulders, rotated on its own independent axes like separate gyroscopes – a separate pair of DOUBLE HELIXES but this time offset just by TWO inches by each other…

Robert's right punch, with easy and in sequential manner pierced an array of invisible glass sheets, one by one came closer to Clark's face…

Clark's arms were crossed over each other in an X, Robert's fist passed over its arch. However, it was just not ONE figure it had to contend with, what if a man suddenly realized that he could tilt and weave his upper torso independently of his hands instead of standing still.

A double helix, offset laterally by just a few inches. Robert's punch swerved past the edge of Clark's right ear. It may be easy to punch a target that is standing still – it may be more challenging to hit a target while you are moving - but what if the target is moving and you are staying still… and what if your target is moving, and you are moving too?

THEN, THEREFORE.

What if you are moving, AND, your target is moving at the same time, BUT, HOWEVER, at the same time, in three different planes, and four unsynchronized motions?

Clark tilted his face back in the same motion.

…

There was no more time. There was just no more time. Amidst all the chaos, Robert still understood that Yuri, likely clinging to life was at the very edge – and ever moment Robert spent fighting, his friend was slowly slipping away.

So, you leave me no choice.

…

{All this is inconceivable, it is almost as if – as if he's just like HER.} Clark snarled silently. All of it happened so fast that Clark's mind no longer had the luxury of parsing colours, and all he could see were flashes of light in a pitch black dark room. An elementary right hook blocked by his left hand, yet Clark could still feel the impact forcefully drive itself into his temples. {His punches…} Clark whispered to himself. {It's SO fast,} and even when he wanted to deny it, {they hurt!}

But…

Those eyes, that allowed him to truly SEE. Perhaps for just this once, amidst the dark room, betrayed him. Protected by the dark Rayban Wayferer shades so popular in the 1990s, the light seeped through, into Clark's pupils that could see, just that moment, at the exact moment past the 60th second.

…

1986. March 14 – Microsoft Corporation holds its initial public offering of stock shares.

"Master…" Yuri said, slowly at first, choosing her words carefully when she tried to make sense of the confusing thoughts in her head.

…

"Robert!" Yuri called out. She had just spent the last 3 minutes trying to open the man's apartment door with her bicep on account of both her hands completely preoccupied with a tray of lasagna. "ROBERT!"

The time was 1986.

"Ah Yuri!" Robert smiled.

"We had some leftover from a party and Master told me to give this to you."

"Oh, OK. Thank you," Robert replied. "Just set it over there."

It was really strange, Master.

Yuri placed the Pyrex tray on Robert's counter, it was a different time, a time I had almost forgotten. The girl, now 9 years old, at a time when it was still commonplace for a young girl to patrol the neighbourhood all alone on her bicycle. Yuri, now 9 years old leaned back on the kitchen counter.

Robert Garcia was 21 years old. It was a simpler time. Just TWO years since after 'the incident'.

"FFFF…" Yuri breathed out, hemmed and hawed through her puckered lips. The girl pinched her shirt and pulled it in and out absolutely disagreeing with the heat, and perhaps, silently screaming, as to why Robert had not offered her a drink.

"Oh I'm sorry… Here." Robert swerved his right foot up and over the kitchen sink, and in one swift motion turned the tap to the right, past the separation between the red and blue icon on the handle. Cool water filled the cup – and in the next motion Yuri felt the icy cold mug on her chest.

Yuri stumbled back with both her hands over the mug. In it was a half dozen ice cubes and fresh water filled to the rim. Just as she stared at the cool release from pain, she also realized something else. Quite astute for a young girl her age. There was ice in the cup.

Robert's right foot pushed down on the long lever of the kitchen faucet just as he returned to what he was doing, all the while balancing on one leg.

{Did he just…} Yuri thought, looking at the ice cubes that began to slightly crack as its temperature met equilibrium with the surrounding air. {Ugh.}

{GROSS!} SO GROSS!

No matter what, Yuri REFUSED to drink from that cup.

"Thanks for the food Yuri." Robert said with a smile.

Holding the cold cup in her hand, Yuri did all she could to keep it near and find some sort of reason to drag it all on and not drink. She looked left and right, in that dark apartment building, with the shades drawn shut, all around… Had it already been almost 2 long years since THEN? Around her were peculiar items. Spoons and forks with long handles, their handles curled over into a large oblong shape. Similarly the cups around that apartment had large rings six inches in diameter for handles.

"Agh.. Gah." Robert wheezed!

Then, Yuri bit her lower lip, staring intently at the man in a manner she could not yet completely understand.

Robert, while still balancing on one foot, with his right leg curled it in an impossible manner, begun to scratch the back of his lower left armpit with the toes of his right foot.

{Robert…} Yuri sighed silently.

Like a monkey, Robert was able to command his leg, after almost 2 years, contort self in an impossible manner to reach his left side.

Perhaps it was pity. Or mayhaps it was remorse. While so young, Yuri Sakazaki did not completely understand the miasma of feelings that overcame her.

JUST WHAT DID YOU HAVE TO SACRIFICE? AND WHAT, WHAT DID I DO TO YOU? BECAUSE. OF MY WEAKNESS?

…

"It's been this way for two years now." Takuma said to his daughter.

Yuri wrapped her hands around that tall glass, the half dozen cubes of ice slowly cracked out loud as they met equilibrium when they met the hot air outside.

"Master," she said, her voice betraying her with a downcast sigh. "His arm."

The answer – was so plain, and easy to understand, yet we refused to accept it.

Just what did ROBERT have to sacrifice for – this… for…

…

Robert put his right foot back in his slipper.

For two long years now, the man's arm was trapped in a plaster cast, fortified with a metallic exoskeleton. There are so many things we take for granted, and this was one of them… yet despite all of that, Robert still smiled widely, beaming with a sense of warm happiness, because in this dark place… even then… There were things more important than all of this PAIN.

Yuri, in Robert's apartment, leaned back and took a sip from that cup and without a thought in her mind let the cool sensation overcome her. While she still did not understand it completely, the feeling was one that she would carry on her shoulders for many years to come.

…

"Robert can't use his right arm for two years now, Yuri." Takuma said. "I hear he can even wipe his ass with his feet!" The old man chucked into a hearty bawling laugh.

Yuri let out a deep haw. Again she breathed out in disgust, poking her tongue out.

"GROSS!" Yuri screamed.

…

1993. Clark lifted his left forearm up, just blocking Robert's hook in time, yet even as he had done so, he still felt a full force of the punch – just like HER.

Left, right, down, up driving each punch with rapid succession. The split times between each attack – Clark could feel was almost as fast as the quick rapid succession of 0.45 seconds between gunshots. Driving him to the edge of his ability even with the assistance of the SECOND CHILDREN, Clark still…

WAIT.

Robert's right hook slammed HARD into Clark's left block, yet despite that – the grown man had to grit his teeth at the savage impact. When one by one a rapid succession of punches kept him on the defense,

WAIT. He is… amidst the darkness, Clark once thought he understood, but it all became clear now.

Clark lifted his left forearm up, just blocking Robert's roundhouse kick in time, yet even as he had done so, he still felt a full force of the kick – just like HER.

LIKE HER.

What was so unbelievable was Clark's final understanding that Robert was NOT punching. He was KICKING. Amidst the darkness he could not see. All these attacks that came in with wild rapid succession was not PUNCHES, it was KICKS. Just like KING who could propel her body with monstrous effect – Clark realized amidst the darkness where he could no longer trust his eyes – Robert's was kicking left and right so quickly – it was not punches…

Robert was attacking Clark with an insane beat with both his feet instead!

While Clark was in disbelief about the speed, strength and accuracy of Robert's blows. His kicks were at an impossible cadence as easily as anyone else would have thrown a cross and jab. What was more perplexing was how Clark could keep up with such quick attacks… his mind could not keep up instead, his hands seemed to move on its own... because it was as if he had crossed a familiar sword with this man, hundreds upon thousands of times before.

While he had never seen Robert fight before, his fighting was intimate and comforting, and it was as if they had danced this way thousands and millions of times, a century ago.

My mind cannot keep up with your kicks like punches, but my hands moved on their own. The emotion wanted to roll out of his lips eventhough Clark's mind was still in denial.

Every action every attack so familiar, so tender and warming to the heart. It came as natural as walking and laughing – and had the comfort of a warm embrace.

I see, so, the Prince has chosen [you] too. Clark cracked a pure, sincere smile – now devoid of deceit nor malice indeed. In order to DETERMINE what is RIGHT. To fight me. "The PRINCE has chosen YOU."

So, you leave me no choice.

"I wanted so save this, for King." Robert mumbled to himself – but – I guess – I have to do it to YOU. Clark Steel!

Chapter 134: I saved this for you.

Ten piano keys played one by one in sudden sequence. Ten piano keys played again and again, each time – faster and faster and faster… until.

The ultimate force of his kicks. Speed and tempo. The distance that could be spanned by his legs. And… the reaction time compared to the split times of his successive attacks. INDEED. You really do NOT understand how this game is played DO YOU, boy?

I saved this final attack for KING, but, I suppose I have to give it to YOU instead!

HE IS KICKING – AT THE SPEED OF PUNCHES. JUST, like her.

Clark lifted his left hand up, meeting Robert's high roundhouse kick, letting it sway back to absorb the blow, but it was not enough, the full force impact into his head despite Clark's best efforts. BUT.

A 6 inch nail drove itself into Clark's head, pinning his hand info his temple and Clark, could not understand why, his left and right ankle felt light – a wide sweeping mo…tio…n… that… before… could… act… reaction, was… A!

Robert placed both palms on the ground sweeping his leg behind his enemy's feet, and for a split second Clark tilted back and was suspended in mid air when TWO separate attacks – a high kick and a full low sweep seemed to occur simultaneously. SIMULTANEOUSLY. [Simultaneously.]

"A!" Clark stammered out loud. His voice was punctuated with a HARD push kick into his stomach.