The Colour Purple Chapter 140: the Broken Sword, 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 2020]

The fingertips of King's right hand dug deep into the ground, believing that she could pierce the dark water in front of her and somehow, with her claws, be able to penetrate the hard onyx floor beneath, could somehow continue on dragging her body through the cold, shallow liquid. Because, isn't it a fact that this kingdom was hers and hers alone – that – she believed.

Though every time she tried to plant her left foot on the ground, despite her defiance, her ankle folded on itself, her body collapsed and she found herself slamming face first into the black sludge. I wish you could FEEL what I FEEL now. Helpless – now, like a worm, on all fours, supported only by her weakened knees and both hands dragging herself on the ground.

Clark Steel… I wish you could UNDERSTAND. Or is it already much too late, and do you, already?

The piercing pain ran up my leg and exploded at the base of my spine, but, that was not the reason I wanted to SCREAM. A stabbing, gutting unbearable pain – but that was not the reason I wanted to SCREAM. Here, suffering alone in silence – just the way I wanted it to be.

…

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?

…

In this place, here teetering on the precipice – this was the place I hid so no one could see me – so no one could hear me. The paralyzing PAIN was not the reason. I wanted to SCREAM SO LOUD!

…

"It's okay," a very small voice said. "You can scream all you want here." Because NOW you understand.

…

Once upon a time. In a romantic kingdom so far far away. (121)

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.

My own father died as a tired 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 my grandfather first wielded it against you, when you first destroyed it two generations ago. Know, that a good father 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 if only for that reason alone, I have to FIGHT you." The Warrior said to the Dragon.

"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 though you may one day die in the loneliest of ways; As a curse unto you, 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 THE PEOPLE, in their humanly arrogance, after years of blustering in conceit they had FORGOTTEN - so they had sent ME. To defy the will of God, because THEY have become corrupt. Tell me, Dragon. Does that not absolutely dissatisfy you?

…

…and the Dragon was confused… for many generations, it had devoured multiple armies without a second thought. It had heard many a warrior challenge and insult it – and every each and every single time, the sound of their crunching bones, and the remnants of their shrieking wails rendered their courage only in vain. But however, for some reason, this time… Not steel, but plain words seemed to make the Dragon recoil back slightly in a peculiar manner. A shuddering gnarling angst that was more horrible than any such physical, mortal pain.

The Dragon could not comprehend why it hurled the entire weight of its body head first, maw wide open to the half dead ant that wobbled in place and could barely keep himself upright with a now broken sword that was barely as useful as a ratty old man's cane.

The warrior curled all the fingers in his right hand around the handle of his weapon and heaved it back as far as it would go. By this time it was all so very useless now – was it not? He was going to die anyways. However…

A half dozen rows of razor sharp teeth exposed themselves, the dragon's mouth splayed out and was seconds from cleaving the boy in half and as it would devour his body, all the words he once uttered earlier, would become mute, irrelevant and of no consequence.

HOWEVER. He blared with every bit of the might that remained.

"DRAGON!" The warrior shouted! Pulling back his one arm as far as it would go, to launch a heavenly javelin. A weapon that stored within its steel, decades of pain, decades of resentment, and perhaps, even decades of regret. Within the confines of its edge, laid in wait all the moments where joy slipped from our grasp, because of ignorance, and because of vanity. But. Amidst all of that dissolution, mayhaps it could cleave a path to clarity. Pure Lucid Clarity.

…in the final moments, I wished, I wished, long and hard, that I could apologize to EVERYONE I had betrayed and wronged in my life – because I now realize, that I was a stupid man. I am sorry. I am sorry for what I've done to you – but now, I am going to fight GOD!

Clarity. For BOTH of us – man and beast alike.

BY MERE FACT YOU MEET ME HERE. IT MUST FOLLOW, THAT AN ULTIMATE TRUTH CAN GIVE BIRTH TO ITSELF. "OH DRAGON!"

The warrior stabbed down with all his remaining might. The broken sword imbedded itself hilt deep into the left side of the Dragon's neck. Just as its jaws clamped down to crush the young boy's body.

The painted colours of the world mixed indiscriminately with each other, until what was left was a vortex of indiscernible miasma of ugly shades, until it was nothing – and became the colour black. IN the Outer Darkness, it was created.

A small space, just barely 2 feet wide separated the warrior's eyes and the Dragon's. The monster's bear trap jaw clamped down with easily 400 pounds of force and the broken sword digging deep enough for its tip to wedge itself DEEP into the beast's spine. AND. Both their eyes locked at each other intently, refusing to look away. This is the space that a man can traverse, when he makes peace with his sins and when a beautiful beast realizes it is destined for something greater. This.

…is Clarity. For BOTH of us – man and beast alike.

…

…and then… once upon a time, an ant fought a God. And without them realizing it… the WORLD had suddenly stood still for a split second, and had, unbeknownst to those two, had derailed itself – only to barrel down a path, uncontrolled down another different vector.

Despite all our regrets… despite all the times we wanted to fight, but instead recoiled back in apprehension, instead – when we wanted to do something, but we did something else. This was REGRET. Instead of walking away, had we instead said "I love you." That four letter word so horrendous. We could no longer turn back time, so henceforth, there was only one thing we can do.

…

The Colours. From a drab gray, erratically, began to beam with life.

"Simply said…" Clark's voice repeated, echoing into an empty bottle.

…

1977. December 25, 1977 – Charlie Chaplin dies in Switzerland at age 88. The 7th day.

If an enemy attacks you with a SWORD while you are unarmed, your options are limited – you are unable to block for the blade would cut your arm. You are unable to parry because the slash would surely cut deep into your body if it is unable to move away. The only option, though ridiculous, was to CATCH the blade.

"AARRGGHHHAAGGHH!" FUCK YOU! CLARK SHRIEKED.

Clapping both hands together with enough equally opposing lateral force, at the exact precise moment, the blade's edge is unable to cut the palms that grasped onto the flats of its sides feverishly. THAT is the BUTTERFLY RETURN. A ridiculous fighting technique. However, only here, HERE, it can EXIST.

Two open palms swerved inwards with concentrically opposite arcs to meet at a single point. Two points converged from the origin to the destination - Clark trapped Kings fatal kick at the ankles, from 60 miles per hour to an immediate zero, the SWORD had stopped in mid air.

…

She could not believe, King was frozen in place.

…

GO CHO GAESU!

The roaring engines blared into a nuclear explosion, then ebbed into a soft silence. Clark's hands clapped inwards stopping King's attack in mid air. Without another second to pass them by, the boy launched up from his kneeling position. While the Earth's rotation of time was still perplexed, he pushed forward a body length forward, clearing his head under the attack. Clark's left foot skidded forward into the ground while keeping King's kick at bay. The stroboscopic lights flickering between OFF and ON, he skid down the straight line he laid on the ground with imaginary chalk.

Keeping his hands firmly planted on King's ankle he was somewhat uncertain at first, but as the seconds that spanned in between were continually subdivided into equal moments of 12, then 144, then 1,728ths of a second, the concept of catching a butterfly could become real.

Clark's right heel broke the limit of friction and dug into the ground, and, while the rules of the world decreed it so, Clark swung his left leg over King's own left leg and he spun like a corkscrew with every last remnant of his strength.

TO SNAP! Both of Clark's hands drove ten fingers deep down into her foot, unwilling to let go.

TO DESTROY HER LEG - LIKE INTO A CORKSCREW.

The END of La Bizarre Love Pentagon – part 54.

And now, I will make you understand, that there is something more HORRIBLE.

How TRULY HORRIBLE it is to be forgotten in the annals of time, King of Kings!

With Clark's entire bodyweight, the boy spun around King's left leg, twisting it in a horrendously disfigured shape. When King's main body remained trapped in centrifugal perpetual motion, at the same time a large mass twists around her foot – the immediate logical conclusion was that the weakest link, the joint would be unable to withstand the rules of inertia, her ankle would shatter with a shrieking CRACK.

"AUUURGGH!" The edges of King's teeth rattled in place in the darkness. She heard that sound, though eerily silent, resonate inside her skull when tendons ripped and tore into shreds. EVEN. Even if she refused to scream and wail in pain, it did not absolve her from the simple and clear fact that her foot wanted so desperately to separate itself from its ankle, and she would do anything if only to stop the pain from the losing bargain.

King's head cocked back, and she did her best to ignore the blood that oozed from her lips, down her neck just to forget it all.

IT'S OKAY TO SCREAM IN PAIN, YOU KNOW.

Spinning like a savage drill, Clark's left knee hit the ground, but that was not enough – he swerved his body clockwise and planted his left shoulder into the ground and even then, continued to spin. It was not enough…

IN fact, we had agreed that we would FIGHT each other HERE,… until we killed each other didn't we? Built with a foundation of regret, once I came to grips with what I needed to do to absolve myself from sin, the weak foundations of my memories became irrelevant. Without the chains of the past imprisoning me, all I can do is to look forward – and even the walls of apprehension will not be able to stop me.

From the dark bubbly depths, a ghostly specter of that ancient reptile – a CROCODILE LAUNCHED upwards, clamped down with a megaton force to trap its prey's leg… and what happens next was logical and inevitable, the BEAST began to instinctively spin with no shred of care and no remorse, to DESTROY the limb it had trapped and DISINTEGRATE every bit of the small animal's entire body in the process.

Clark felt both the space between his shoulder blades hit the ground, and he continued to spin, spin, like the death roll of a crocodile. As long as he felt resistance, he would continue to roll until there was NOTHING left and King's leg was separated at 3 joints. UNTIL YOU CANNOT EVEN FIGHT ANYMORE.

SCREAM! SCREAM SO LOUD! Show me what YOUR fighting tantamounts to in the end. Because you…

…A.

In slow motion, Clark turned round and round while still grasping at King's left ankle as if it was the one last branch that kept him alive as he teetered at the edge of a wide spanning canyon.

The entire world skidded, like a scratched up, skipping LP record, multiple images ran erratically in indistinct fashion from left to right seemingly incongruent from each other. But.

What am I doing here? s/He asked.

Where did I go astray?

WHY am I fighting? And just WHERE did I go wrong?

Oh yes. I just wanted to reach HIGHER. S/he replied. FREE myself from regret.

There was once upon a time when I was WEAK, and I wanted to turn back time, but now, it's just different. I no longer want to reverse time. I wanted to reach further, reach greater… I wanted to reach HIGHER. Forget about the past, and take a step into the future, because it's a waste of time to look behind me.

Both sequences of thoughts, clear linear vectors though once independent, crossed each other and in harmonious synchronicity - planted itself deep into both of their minds at the same time, the Boy and the Girl alike now, finally, congruently.

{That.}

{That is why I fight you.}

With every last ounce of my might.

{With, ALL my strength!}

…because, you JUSTIFY my existence. And, I can only hope – that, when all the irrelevant, simple minded distractions that flutter across your consciousness eventually fades away into the void, you would feel the same way about me too.

YOU, The King of Kings.

…

Children, sexually abused from a young age, have a propensity of becoming sexual criminals in adulthood. So, does it not follow that children exposed and justified to the notion of violence, in turn, have the high probability of the same criminal outcome later in life?

So tell me, truthfully, what separates valor and bravery – from a mental illness?

…

"Maybe, one day, when this all ends…" Instead of impugning motives to each other, maybe eventually we, both of us, can be honest with ourselves, and each other.

"A!" Clark uttered in between the tick-tock of seconds.

Both palms slapped the ground with a distinct and clear determination now.

Chapter 140: the Broken Sword

KING, in the silence that spanned the spaces in between – slapped both palms into the ground. She slammed both palms into the ground as she immediately commanded her body to spin in the same rotational direction as Clark. Then, she pushed up.

The girl twisted her body in the same direction amidst the same axis of origin – her left leg. In exact, absolute control of her entire body. This was something only the King of KINGS could do.

Clark's rotation stopped when his right shoulder hit the ground – then he froze in place. With a hard SLAM, King's left leg stomped on his right bicep, crucifying it into the ground. All he could do was look to the left side, only to find that King was now, somehow perfectly upright. Eventhough he still grasped her left leg, King loomed over Clark, both hands, all ten fingers outstretched, floating up to balance herself.

King's right foot cocked back high, as far as it would go.

…

Defrosted from his slumber, Heidern blinked once then twice, looking out only to find waiting for him the scene of utter horror. "Wai.." He sai…

He gripped his knees with both hands and felt the phantom sensation at the base of his spine. Knight grit his teeth instinctively, at the same exact moment he was freed from the momentary prison of time and realized what was going to happen next.

…

Clark knew what was going to happen next.

How was this possible? At the same time I trapped her leg and twisted, she was able to commit to twist her body with the same, no, even faster momentum, then push up and now she was upright.

Committing every bit of her body in a split second. Did she know I would do this? Or is it? That even a weak thing like her can…

{NO. This wasn't a magical ability. I just simply am a better fighter than you.}

King leaned forward, her left outstretched palm floated to balance her in mid flight.

Down + Down Right + Right + C.

Even if a person has a GODLY magical ability, just as long as we exist amongst mortal coils, it would be ignorant to assume that one day – maybe not today, or maybe tomorrow, or even the day after, that one day there would emerge a boy, who could see through all that.

THE.

So in my mind, there always laid that contingency – and that was what kept me warm at night. AND THAT – was what kept me alive!

…

Defrosted from his slumber, Heidern blinked once then twice, looking out only to find waiting for him the scene of utter horror. "Wai.." He sai…

For an instant, the same twinkling as it began, Heidern's mind began to fade away. He was not fully aware of it at first, but for some strange reason he was transported somewhere else. Just as the frigid SHELLSHOCK of the inevitable result became clear to him. A hundred thousand thoughts rushed across Heidern's brain. But. All lines somehow came back to that one intersecting point.

THE SEVENTH DAY, FOR A MOMENT, STOPS!

The strange aluminum button was designed with a pivot at the far end instead of a plunger directly underneath it, and for some peculiar reason there was no tactile resistance. The boy hit PAUSE on the Betamax player.

…

THE.

So in my mind, there always laid that contingency – and that was what kept me warm at night. AND THAT – was what kept me alive!

"THE VENOM STRIKE!"

King's right foot hurled itself into the left side of Clark's chin. An x-ray picture clear to see in back and white, his neck vertebrae twisting in angles so hard to watch, and the bones of his skull cracking even more.