The Colour Purple Chapter 135: on December 25, 1977, 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]

When human society is at war – people are driven to believe that there is indeed, something MORE VALUABLE than life.

…

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. A sensation that could not be bound, even by the ruthless chains of time… …those sweet things, teetering between [regret] and [insanity].

Now TWO rules met and decided they would exist together – the rule of Kyokugen and the rule of Childrens. The earliest memory I could summon and recall with any vividness is of myself saying "I am three years old." I am not sure why, but it seemed so distinct – eventhough I cannot clearly recall the question originally asked of me.

In the Catholic faith – the 'age of reason' is typically 7 years old, but it has been also been acknowledged as early as 3 years of age. The age of reason is when a child can conceivably first comprehend, not so much the distinctive concept of - but the easy to understand difference between RIGHT and what is WRONG.

…

A 6 inch nail drove itself into Clark's head, pinning his hand into 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!

{The spaces in between, had…} Disappeared.

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.

While Clark's brain immediately registered both sensations at what felt like the same instant, perplexing the mind like being exposed to hot and cold at the same time - he had not yet caught up to understand why Robert was now standing upright and propelled a HARD push kick into Clark's midsection just at the precise moment as Clark floated in mid air – launching his enemy backwards.

"I SAVED this for YOU!" Robert's foot embedded itself deep into Clark's diaphragm with such determination it wanted to explode out his backside.

…

A calm dark sheen of liquid like thick oil shimmered, and perplexing as it was, light reflected on its surface silently where there was no source to be even found. "GgguHHAGGH!" Robert launched upwards from the top of the sludge with his mouth wide open to desperately gasp for air. "GGGRRGaaaGHCK!" He forcefully expunged the sewage from his lungs, feverishly gasping for air.

Treading in deep water, Robert Garcia was trapped in the center of an ocean of darkness.

…

Flying backwards with feet in the air and body almost horizontal, his hands and feet at 3 and 9 O'clock, the impact hurled Clark ten feet backwards into the metal once again with a hard slam, just as the evening continued and threatened to never end.

"UGH!" his back hit the box, stopping Clark's flight abruptly and he fell hard when gravity reminded him that he was not above those rules.

{Two attacks… Then the third.} It seemed to happen all at once. While I defended the first he was already sweeping me behind my ankles – then the spinning push kick. {Oh. Ofcourse… ofcourse!} Clark thought silently when he squirmed on the ground, pulling his knees and elbows close, deep into his knotted body.

He had done it! HE DID IT! Robert had defeated this figure 8 defense. {SERVES YOU… RIGHT! …ASSHOLE!} Robert shouted in his mind in triumph. He grinned weakly just as he was visibly out of breath, desperately hyperventilating, shaking, with what felt like he had been drowning underwater for 5 minutes, near death for any regular human being, eventhough it felt like only 0.5 seconds had elapsed.

"Uugghh." Clark groaned continuously, reaching out and swerving his body on the ground in an erratic pattern.

It was over. Had to be! Robert maintained his ready position, right hand cocked relaxed under his chin and his left hand waist high and about 12 inches in front of his belt buckle, heaving deep and regulated deep breaths to fill his blood with oxygen lest he pass out first. Clark continued to groan, before stopping – he slapped on the ground and stay still for a moment.

Robert's joyful expression was immediately replaced, with a rancid gnashing of teeth.

"Ugh!" Clark clawed his right hand and pushed himself up with his left to support. "Ugggghhh…" At this point Clark puckered his lips aloofly – fully conscious and in control of himself all this time - and all of those numerous grunts was just a strange combination of indignation, frustration and apathy.

Clark leaned back onto the steel cabinet and looked outwards with a blank look on his lethargic face. It felt like déjà vu, here he was again – certainly this metallic cabinet had taken its fill of abuse, but it still felt comfortable to Clark as the slouched back. Sucking a light breeze into his mouth he cracked a sweet smile. Clark's thoughts absolutely mysterious to Robert who snarled in rage – Clark was left in a private world all of his own choosing – as he always had been.

"Dece… bherrr….hhh..aagh…" Clark hawed, woobling and weebling, left and right.

Clark hawed a wide mouthed sigh – as if it was such a bore. All of it was useless. "Is that… it…?" Clark murmured, scratching his belly, annoyed, that didn't hurt at all, looking at his open hand. Clark pulled away from his slight fascination of his open palm and tilted his head up to face Robert with a slowly beaming smile, his dark Ray-Ban shades leading the way. It would be hypocritical if I thought YOU couldn't DO [IT] too. Since The CHILDREN had chosen you too, in fact. "…how long?" IN the darkness… "In the…" Just how LONG in the darkness can you stay? Clark's thoughts mumbled between silent and out loud. I hate to tell you this, but… Clark reminisced to himself. "Hate to tell you…" But that is, you can't beat… Clark's upper body teetered, bobbed up and down, mumbling to himself as if he was battling an instantaneous attack of mental illness. "…defeat King with just that." It doesn't… "Doesn't hurt at all, Robert." Clark shook his head condescendingly.

But to us, what could be viewed as insanity, for others – is a CLARITY for US. SO the question becomes, what is 'reasonable'? It truly depends which eyes you gaze upon the world with.

A! A! vision came to both men instantly, simultaneously, like A divine providence.

…

OMEE GA, MACHIGATTEIRUN'DA.

You are mistaken.

A Godly voice echoed, bathing the world in white lights, then fading into a darkness.

…

{I spoke out loud again.} Clark shook his head side to side before puckering his lips and looked back upwards to his enemy. "That did NOT hurt at all, Robert Garcia." Clark grinned brightly, the cadence of his voice now slowed to a more reasonable pace.

"God. DAMN IT." It was just a night that would never end, and felt like 20 long years.

Clark begun to chuckle awkwardly in sparse, widely spaced single syllables... "Huhm.. huhn… ha… ha.." that it even made Robert uncomfortable. Then, the socially inept, strange man stopped abruptly. {You've GOT to be kidding me.} "If that's the best you got, then there's NO WAY you're even a remote match for KING." Clark whispered to himself. Truly… YOU are like an ANT fighting GOD.

The rightward bias of your actions, eye dominance, length of reach, speed, power of attacks, footwork, even reaction time. Your unconscious instinctive ticks… Your easy to understand predictability. I know them ALL now. Yet, yet you still don't know, do you Robert Garcia…

"What. I can… dooo." Clark said, tilting his head, then pecking forward, puckering his lips slowly, stretching out the last syllable.

"What." Robert exclaimed the sides of his nose twisting and curling absolutely perplexed as to what was happening. Absolutely deprived the luxury of listening in to the full conversation the madman had with himself.

And as the tiger fearlessly ran forward, the crocodile retreated back into the bog until just the very tips of his eyes were visible in the black tar that surrounded it as the cold blooded reptile cowered back in fear.

"I'LL K…" Robert stopped in his tracks, feeling a familiar sensation, indeed – like an infinite loop, this scene replayed.

The tiger's right paw made contact with the dark water. Robert's spine suddenly froze, his entire body began to cramp and his muscles twisted against his will when multiple conflicting commands overcame his body, each instruction vying for dominance. However, Robert instinctively leapt backwards 4 feet, and put both his fists in front of his face.

Déjà vu. Robert was confused – as to why he recalled these sequences – as they replayed themselves over and over, as though he had seen it before multiple times.

The crocodile's head was out of the water now, but it stopped, before slinking back into the pool with a low, bubbling growl. Clark leaned with his upper torso forward, his left hand braced behind him coiled spring tight on the steel sheet metal and, pulling his index finger back, his right hand in a claw relaxed in front of his face.

Clark grinned slightly. The crocodile snarled, the low groan escaping from the spaces at the rearmost part of its jaw, in pace with the mounting tension in Clark's right hand.

STOP. SILENCE…

Robert Garcia, Clark extended his left index finger out to Robert's face. On December 25…

"Do you remember what you were doing on December 25, 1977. Sunday. At 7:30 AM?"

"What?"

…

That is the line… Clark lowered his hand and traced a line on the concrete with his index finger horizontally from left to right. Parting the dirt and grime on the floor like the red sea like long, long ago. What happened on December 25, 1977 is, "…is what separates you and I."

{What's wrong?} Clark said to himself… {Oh, can you hear it?}

Clark teetered on his butt, slowly curling his legs across the ground and nonchalantly placed both his heels leisurely under and behind him.

As you were too busy with your infantile ignorance, even when coddled by the lap of luxury, and as you wallowed in your insignificant, irrelevant pre-pubescent angst. As you wasted your youth, you despicable human being. Let me tell you what happened on December 25, 1977 at 7:30 AM.

Clark leaned forward, and with his right hand, fingers splayed then clawed inwards like a spider, he lowered it toward the ground. As the fingertips touched down… The world – once filled with colour had now been turned into a bland monochrome mixture of grays. Then. When Clark's fingertips touched the ground, the entire Earth's existence instantaneously transformed into a wide spanning room where the floor was filled with a viscous black tar and sludge – Rippling circles expanded outward concentrically from five distinct, independent points.

Then a sound of a tinkerbell punctuating the SILENCE.

Robert was unsure of what was happening, but he instinctively knew that he had to look straight forward, straight at Clark who bobbed backwards and forward, and though Clark's butt was still firmly planted onto the ground, if Robert dared to look away, even if… moment, and if he blinked even… and ultimately, he would… know what would happen?

This, is the Outer Darkness. The woes and worries of the real world had immediately been stripped away and all that remained HERE, in the Outer Darkness, this place we treasured so much, was what was most important. Just you and just me. Clark, still crouched on the ground, lifted his right fist slowly up into the air, tightening his grip menacingly – so much, his joints wanted to break and tear his bones through his skin.

I was TOUCHED by the HAND OF GOD. She revealed the truth to me. AND SHE chose ME!

"Eh?!"

Robert was sure he did not blink… but… {Can he do it while sitting down? Like.. King!?} The realization came too late to Robert, and…

Clark was gone.

A ratty clump of newspaper flew across his vision, and…

The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 49.

…

"I am talking to HIM, mama." The little :y8irl said, strafing her index finger sidewards, pointing to the empty space next to the blue duck, and in front of the empty void no one but she could see, was a third plastic teacup.

Do you know… He tells me that, there are GREAT things.

…

Clark was gone. The MADMAN had disappeared!

{Like a dream, one that mocks you – like one that never ends.}

One of us had to be right, and for that to HAPPEN, the other has to be WRONG.

This is simply an easy to understand, an elementary rule.

Frames taken out of sequence. Every action was comprised of separate distinct pictures – pictures sewed together, the human eye can follow and comprehend. But. If. Rearranged, disjointed then glued together slowly at a random pattern, then all of a sudden. And if you remove the spaces in between, you will not be able to.

back + forward + A "GOD TILLING!"

Robert lifted his left forearm over his LEFT temple as fast as he could! TO DEFEND!

WRONG!

Chapter 135: on December 25, 1977

When human society is at war – people are driven to believe that there is something MORE VALUABLE than life, however, the moment [the fighting] stops, humans tend to cling to the notion that nothing is more valuable than life…

In many ways this CONTRADICTION is what allows civilization to continue to exist.

But you are different. You are SAD and PITIFUL indeed; for you show no desire to live, yet you want to die for all the wrong reasons...

Perhaps… DESTINY realizes this, and the way it thrusts misery unto you, it is doing so to PROTECT itself from YOU. …that, I believe deep down inside. DESTINY FEARS YOU.

…

Robert lifted his left forearm over his LEFT temple as fast as he could! TO DEFEND!

WRONG!

The camera of the world was once blurry, when it looked up to the clear blue sky – then, it pulled back, twisting and turning chaotically when it was dropped from an aeroplane dropped from up on high from heaven… recording random frames – at first fast, then at the last bit of its journey as it reached TERMINAL VELOCITY from light, and then to dark – as it turned, the camera captured, amidst the silence, Clark's grinning face, his Ray-Ban shades reflecting the light where there was no clear origin – slowly at first, and then SUDDENLY, clearly. Then it turned suddenly, its clear lens bisecting a lone teardrop in half at Robert Garcia's expression. Trapped in silence, trapped in irrevocable denial.

Instead, Clark's left hand – the savagery of a wrecking ball SLAMMED into the RIGHT side of Robert's head,

WHAM!

a wild haymaker swing embedded itself deep into Robert's skull. Four knuckles. An X-ray view of his head, fracturing his spirit into small jigsaw pieces and scrambling his brain into mush all in a fraction of a second.

Just as he disappeared then reappeared magically. The crocodile launched up from the murky waters faster than any land mammal can react to in that suitable environment. From zero to sixty Clark spanned fifteen feet in a split second disappearing then reappearing upright in front of Robert Garcia.

Robert had so many questions, but all that seemed so petty and irrelevant now when the last bit of light left his mind and the abyss swallowed him whole when he flew backwards, when he was hit FULL FORCE by four knuckles that had the devastating power of an out of control sixteen wheeler truck going at full breakneck speed.

…

{What were you doing…} He asked. On December 25, 1977. At 7:30 AM?

"I was with you…" King replied, a warm and glorious gleeful smile on her lips, finally. "I was with you." Fifty ghostly hands pulled King back into her soft bedsheets. And only you.

"Yes." Clark replied.

Despite all you may deny, there is something, something distinct, soft and reassuring, when a MAN hears the voice of a woman. Telling him it was alright. It was all alright – God cursed MEN with such a weakness, THAT is something no one can deny. No matter how they tried.

King smiled. "Yes." She sighed. THAT – you can't take away from me.

With a hearty sigh, I knew that nothing, NOTHING else mattered… HERE.

Only you and only I existed HERE. When GOD revealed to us, our true purpose. OUR one and true purpose. SO thank you…

Thank you for being my friend… even, when everyone else had forsaken me.

…

On December 25, 1977, at 7:33 AM… Something HORRIBLE happened… in the [ROOM].

…

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. (121)

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.

"A. I'll meet you half way too…" A warm smile as if to MOCK destiny.

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

Genesis 2:3: Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.

…

"A." King's face flashed an expression of utter shock. Then as the world had calmed down to a point when the maddening screams had slowed to a halt, King let out a breath. She took a deep breath – then – grit her teeth clamping down as HARD as she could. From the surrounding black darkness, the WORLD washed into a blinding white light as the camera rushed into her face like an oncoming tractor trailer, ready and willing to devour everything in its wild path.

"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. King's 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.

From across the hall, Clark stood frozen – his left fist outstretched, while his right remained tucked firmly by his hip. His knuckles curling, the picture perfect moment rose from his frozen left array of knuckles – up his forearm, up his bicep – over his shoulder , his neck, his GRIN then to those same eyes that gazed outwards longingly. Clark Steel gnashed his teeth hard, interlocking into each other.

Clark's left fist floated up high SPANNING THROUGH TIME.

Don't you realize it by now? If destiny indeed fears you, IT should take heed, and FEAR me more. Can a BOY create a THING that God fears? Can the possibility exist? Or are we simply playing an asinine game?

I CAN, FINALLY, [SEE] YOU! KING OF KINGS.