The Colour Purple Chapter 146: Ave Maria, 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.

ORIGINALLY CHAPTER 43 - The Berserker Phenomenon.

Heidern looked over his shoulder, turned around and walked slowly to a blonde haired woman who sat at the wooden bench behind and away from the main thorough way. While most would consider it strange and perhaps socially inept, he stood over the woman who looked down at her notebook, drilling, concentrating with stern ferocity, seemingly uninterested. But, and however… her tense shoulders and awkward mannerisms betrayed her as a tall, strange man simply loomed over and watched silently as the woman, shoulders curled forward, seemed to perfectly ignore him, even as he continued to watch her quietly. Buses, taxis and plain looking cars passed by after picking up their passengers.

Heidern chuckled, apprehensively.

I think I still remember it… slightly, and I don't think it's my mind filling in the blank spaces in between in order to keep my sanity intact. THIS was indeed the first time I met you.

The woman shyly looked up, slowly, carefully, rolling her eyes so she could barely, just barely see his face from under the tops of her eyelids. Believing somehow that if she did not see his face, she would somehow be protected. But, in the end she did break a nervous smile and grin.

Heidern reflected a slight sour scowl, but as she continued to smile and giggle a bit more, mayhaps a bit frustrated, even the stoic Heidern could not defeat such a powerful onslaught.

…and so he did smile in return.

The memory was erratic, hazy, and likely inaccurate – as most men seem to do. But for the most part, I still remember the feeling in my heart, quite vividly. That is something even the tragedy of time could not erase. And, to this day, it still haunts me.

How I wish that I had not found you; Had I known what would happen to us, I would have walked away, instead.

The sunlight disappeared instantly at the flick of a switch, the lights turned off.

And now Heidern stood over looking down at an empty wooden bench, placed at the center of a vast void of emptiness. Oh. It manifests itself, differently, for different people, but the concept, and more importantly, the [place] remains the same.

Oh.

"So… this… this is this the place you talked about, my friend." Heidern said sighing weakly wheezing a death's knell.

The ROOM – where all souls come to DIE.

…

"Director W?" Clark said, a bit confused holding an old tattered notebook in his hand.

"If you know what this means, then do it."

Clark locked his feet together, and with a scowl in his face put his right hand over his forehead in a firm salute, "Understood!" He curled the notebook in his left hand, and slowly his stoic scowl curled into a slight smile. "All debts MUST be repaid."

…

The world around him had ground down to a halt, and the once loud sounds began to slowly muffle into a quiet silence. Nothing else left but the sound of a calm breeze, Heidern looked up to the overcast sky.

He took a deep breath, and held it. For some reason his body was unable to exhale as his stomach painfully began to cramp and tighten, his muscles convulsing chaotically, spasming in a paralyzing pain. Heidern sucked in again… "Haaaggghh…"

Unwilling to, or perhaps simply unable to scream in pain, he just closed his eyes and bit down hard, grimacing at the terrible ripping hurt that began to radiate across the far reaches of his body. The man curled both hands in fists and cocked his head up.

He finally exhaled.

When he opened his eyes he found himself in a neat, lovely, familiar house, sitting on the corner, his back on the wall and his one leg folded. A cold clammy sensation on his hands, he put his palm on the side of his neck and began to breathe normally.

Oftentimes, when I least expect it, I find myself…

"I'm…"

I'm [here], again, aren't I?

Unable to be free… why do I return to this place, to this prison? Even if I am able to say 'I'm sorry', for involving you… I won't play the victim, nor will I pass the blame. I was cruel and I was selfish, …and I hurt another person who I truly loved, because I was weak.

I sometimes find myself walking down the street, sitting at my desk, or even when someone is speaking to me, the world suddenly disappears and I find myself here again, for long spans of time, paralyzed. But it is especially worse, during times of SILENCE and CALM.

Slave to their desire for a normal life, men crave a semblance of a glamourous life. I will not pass blame, I won't try to rationalize, and I won't say that I can make reparations, because I cannot. I will simply say that I was wrong, and I realize now… that when I first saw you, when I first saw you… Heidern clawed both knees and doubled over, looking at the soiled carpet under him.

How I wish that I had not found you. How I wished that you didn't understand my loneliness. How I wish that I didn't see your pain. Then I wouldn't be reminded, that I had longed for someone, to hate me, yet love me, when I was alone...

…and didn't understand anything.

"If given the chance. And if I met you again… Sandra." Heidern whispered.

I was wrong, and if I were able to turn back time, that cold afternoon on that airport bench – I want to have the resolve to turn away, pretend I did not see you. I would not smile, and instead turn and walk away. So none of this would ever have to happen.

And now, as penance, I have to visit this ensnaring PRISON from time to time. But I visit this [place] conscientiously, with neither regret nor apprehension.

Teetering on the glass break balance between sorrow and rage.

Growing tired of all this, Heidern sighed and looked to the side, his shoulders slumped and spine curled flaccidly in defeat, out at the window, where red and blue, flashing lights tinted the glass with a peculiar pattern of colours, as the sirens were abruptly cut short with a digital beep. When the realization of the truth, slowly came to rob him of his sanity once and for all.

Blood dripped down from his fingertips, drop by drop, one by one, falling down to become one, into the damp and dank carpet now soiled thoroughly with crimson.

Can you tell me, what were you doing? On 10:03 PM, April 22, 1987?

In 1987, something TERRIBLE happened.

I am so sad, so very horribly sad… but at the same time… at the same time, in order to mask the bitter taste in my mouth and to ignore the stabbing pain in my stomach… I get… so… so, very, very…

The BEAST – part 6.

…

I GET SO… SO, VERY, ANGRY!

1990. Johannesburg, South Africa.

"GUUUUWAAAGHHHHHH!" A booming guttural roar echoed through the long hallway, making the men wince and recoil, like nails on a chalkboard, from a carnal instinct that made their stomachs curl.

"NO. TIME!"

"Mr. Jones, wait for a moment!"

Ralf buckled the second horizontal metal clasp on his belt and LAUNCHED into a sprint.

"Hello..." A mechanical female voice said, from soft them slowly to loud, matching the boot up hum of the computer. "Main systems, turn on. Please standby…"

Ralf shrugged away thoughts of his knees buckling in pain as he began to build up speed – as best as he could with a hundred pound metal generator strapped to his back.

Ralf Jones was not even three feet forward when the motorized orb slid down the rails of the metal wall on his left side, and at the end of its path – like a monstrous beholder's eye it swiveled on its axis and exposed a penny sized red dot in its center.

Ralf turned to his left, both his arms like pistons swinging wide in the belief that he could somehow make himself run FASTER – yet despite all his best intentions that hundred pound metal box, with its annoying voice chained him to reality.

Then the world degenerated into a quagmire's slow motion. That red dot grew brighter and brighter. "GGHHKK!" So soon into his journey, Ralf could do nothing in mid stride but bite his lip and instinctively steel his gut.

'WHIIIRRRRR… BUUU.' The eye stopped moving and fired a blinding laser beam.

Ralf closed both eyes and grit his teeth, bracing for impact – the red laser beam ran down the ground, tearing up the side of Ralf's left leg, ripping up the side of his chest, his cheek then finally an inch under his eye.

"Shields are on… Have a nice day."

'WWVVOMMM!' A slight blue hue glowed, leaving in its wake a wavy stream of translucent light not unsimilar to how a low flying plane would part the surface of the sea.

Ralf, unhurt from the attack turned forward with the same determination, trying his best to outrun a pack of lions. "AAGGHH! GADDAMIT! OLD MAN!"

"You have, fifteen seconds, remaining." The disembodied computer voice said.

GOD DAMN IT. What next, are you going to tell me I got mail?

…

"20…" No, twenty…

Minutes seemed to span in slow motion… Seconds, then tenths, hundredths of a second more… each moment experienced with absolute vivid, conscious clarity. Flowing and passing as if it was hours.

"20…" No, twenty… four feet, wide. He lowered himself to one knee and put his hand on the cold metal wall. Fif… teen feet high. "How long is the hallway, Jung?"

"Mr. Steel?" The Korean mercenary turned his face away from the laptop computer in front of him. "Agh…" He stammered, "A… 50, no… 80…?"

"HOW LONG, JUNG!?" Clark said, firmly and LOUDLY.

"A… 100 meters, Mr. Clark." Jung finally blurted out.

"Aggghhhh…." He groaned. Why is it, why do all the final hallways to evil laboratories have to be so god damn long?!

Clark reached around Jung's back and pulled out a half full AR-15 rifle magazine from his rear dump pouch and clipped it between his fingers as he heroed to a stand. Clark slung his right hand, magazine in firm grip behind his shoulders as far as it would go, and tilted his center of gravity back.

"Mr… Cla…" Jung…

"Quiet." Clark said flatly.

Destiny is a cruel Goddess, and how arrogant you must be to think she pities you solely, for She does not have the luxury to weep for you alone. As you suffer in silence, don't delude yourself. You are NOT the only person who can visit THIS room, my friend…

Clark heaved his entire body forward and threw the aluminum magazine in a torpedoing baseball pitch that sent it twirling over and under like a spinning knife to the back of Ralf head.

But, rather unceremoniously, the magazine stopped in mid air behind Ralf's skull, easily deflected by the portable shield generator and clattered on the floor.

The clattering sound of the aluminum as it hit the concrete floor.

Rattling to a silent skid.

Clark's lips mouthed silent words, pacing himself, then click…

The magazine slowly skidded on the ground.

Clark puckered his lips, then grit his teeth slowly as he mouthed the word.

Clark clicked his tongue over the top of the palette of his mouth.

He puckered his lips again, pushing it outwards, mouthing another word.

Not daring to speak, Jung turned away from Clark and looked at the half full AR-15 magazine that slid on the on the floor back at him.

Then finally, Clark's grinning mouth exposed all his teeth like a gleaming Cheshire cat – the edges of his lips curling wide and upwards as he said…

Three laser beams slashed across the hallway instantly subdividing the magazine and its contents into multiple triangular pieces in an instant.

"UGH!" Jung gasped, instinctively jumping back at the fear the lasers would come for him too like a poisonous snake.

"So… Simple. So, so, simple…" He chuckled.

"Mr…!" Jung was not sure if he should break his silence just yet, but could not help but say out loud…

It's been a decade since I've done this, and I don't know if I can still do IT. Cracking his knuckles as he curled them into a hard fist, the blonde haired man took a deep breath. I wonder… IF this tired, old body can still do IT? Clark rolled his stiff and weathered shoulders.

"MR. CLARK!"

Kore ga… Kami-sama no kiseki da.

"Mr. Kim." Clark said with a smile. "Do you want to see, a gift from GOD?"

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… facing down a hallway of red eyes ready to judge him at an instant. Clark Steel hunched his upper torso until his spine was perfectly parallel to the floor.

Naraba, misete ageru zo.

"Witness."

…

In 1988, the Summer Olympic Games was held in Seoul, Korea. The athlete Carl Lewis of the United States of America set a new world record for the 100 meter dash at 9.92 seconds.

"AGH. GOD DAMN IT." He kept on running.

"You have… ten… seconds… remaining."

"Dad… You have to stop this… It's time to go home…"

Ralf could not even hear the crunching sound of the tendons and sinews of his knees wail in screaming pain.

A seasoned, adult male athlete can complete the event with an average time of 12 to 15 seconds for the Olympic event, the 100 meter dash.

BREATHE IN.

HOLD.

BREATHE OUT.

FFFVVVUOOM! Another vertical red beam ran up the blue protective shield that protected Ralf at the last moment. Despite all that the man couldn't help but wince, thinking, at the slight possibility that the bitch machine would fail at the last moment.

An out of shape man averages 20 seconds at the same event.

"You have… three… seconds… remaining."

Buckling at the immense pressure. Ralf's tendons began to rip and tear – suffering in silence. But come to consider – if you had committed to jump over a wide chasm, the least of your concerns is a gnawing crippling PAIN.

"GG… God." Ralf snarled in his raspy voice. "God damn you. Why…"

Ten bodies long, 60 feet away was the door. 18.29 meters. 20 yards.

Even if a mildly seasoned athlete can complete the 100 meter dash in 15 seconds, the problem is, that, Ralf had a hundred pound metal box on his back.

"Three… seconds…"

"Heiiid…" Ralf reached out with his right hand.

…

AGH!

A memory of his younger self, Ralf curled both palms on the ground, grasping clumps of dirt in both his hands while grunting on al fours, his vision shaky, the small boy looked up.

YOU.

Ralf hissed as he tilted his gaze upwards, from the darkness, and when exposed to the light, it had become blinding.

Most boys are satisfied by food to eat and a warm bed in which to sleep.

Ralf swang his left hook into HIS face but it was easily blocked by a right angled arm at the elbow.

But YOU, are different, boy.

Again, Ralf launched to a stand, threw a straight right cross – only – to be stopped by the back of his open chop to his neck. Gurgling as the mixture of blood and saliva filled his throat to the brim, Ralf, the teenage boy stumbled back.

Are you BORED? DO you think you're really so GREAT?

…

But truly, in order to separate himself from apathy, a man craves the dignity of work.

…and may even be able to find solace in a strange, peaceful, boring life.

Ralf's left leg gave way, a hard sweep to the back of the ankles toppled him instantly.

"Stay with me, boy, and I will promise you, I will find you a suitable enemy." I remember the old man saying.

DO YOU KNOW, WHO RALF JONES IS, OLD MAN? DO YOU?

LET ME TELL YOU – HE IS THE STRONGEST MAN ALIVE!

…

With one slashing glance, Rugal Bernstein's left hand painted a centrifugal starburst pattern of black blood on the floor, to be punctuated by Rugal's severed right eyeball bouncing on the ground… A DEAFEANING ROAR, a dying knell.

…

"Two… seconds…" She reminded droning nonchalantly. "Initiating shutdown…"

If I see you all over again, I promise I will look the other way, and pretend I did not see you.

Not so I can be free, but so I can just wither away in this dark room in peace, without you.

…

Hatred alone, cannot hope to fuel our bodies.

"Every man, cannot live without the DIGNITY of work, and without a clear and succinct PURPOSE in life." Heidern said when he put his index finger and thumb under the boy, Ralf's chin as he tilted it up to face him head on.

AND. I PROMISE YOU. If you stay with me… [I] WILL MAKE YOU EVEN STRONGER.

So strong, that, if you believe in me… Me. And. Only I. I shall make you STRONG, so STRONG, that I will make inconsequential, make you forget all those who have wronged you in the past; and I will give you [purpose]. A REASON.

So much so that no one, nothing can touch us – not even the fear of DEATH.

…for IT would seem so frivolous, amidst our high perches, Ralf Jones.

…

To be alive. To give your life, purpose. This is why people submit themselves to an invisible, higher power they cannot completely understand.

…

I can make it.

Ralf reached out with his right hand,

About seven and a half tall bodies laid head to toe, 15 yards left.

Whirring and clacking of gears and pistons, 4 globular metal orbs raced on their tracks at head height, all 4 of them poised, rotating, then with a shuttering halt, all locked themselves onto Ralf's head.

…

"Will you join me, Ralf Jones?

Apprehensively grunting, the boy slapped the old man's hand aside, before standing.

Omoshiroi.

"It's interesting." Ralf growled wiping his lip. "Let's see…"

…

"One… second."

Ralf's eye was clouded with a wide, enveloping sheen of red – now as a red line traced a vertical line over the side of his face.

Chapter 146: Ave Maria

"Excuse me." Heidern said to the lady, quickly and before abruptly turning away.

…

Plip!

A soft sound of a drop of water echoed through the large black box, down into a pool of black water an inch high that spanned outwards into infinity. As you ran through with all your might, what felt like an eternity, short sequences of memories passed by…

"Those two angry boys make a good combo, my friend." He said. "Take care of them – they may one day save your life… or… at the very least, they can bring you a cup of water, when you are too old, frail, and lonely."

Plip.

…

The miracle of GOD.

"Don't move."

"What!" Ralf hissed with his raspy voice, focusing his entire attention to the voice over his right shoulder.

"Hello." Clark Steel sneered in mid stride next to Ralf Jones as the world froze in slow motion.

…