The Colour Purple Chapter 153: Sad Hakkesshu Girl, 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

What is it that you WANTED? What is it that you NEEDED?

…and in the end, what did you find; what you were looking for?

The BEAST – part 13.

Is EVERYDAY so HORRIBLE to you? Sitting in this corner…

198X in The BlackNoah.

"Do you enjoy fighting, Mature?"

"Not," Mature replied apprehensively. "Not necessarily, Master Rugal."

"Rugal agrees with you,.. Mature." Rugal replied immediately, though at the edge of his breath, said somewhat lethargically. "So why do people fight?"

"I do not know, Master Rugal."

"Sexual intercourse, fame or religion; hunger, to sleep, and even taking a shit. There is a fine line between a natural human action and an uncontrollable carnal human urge." There need not be a reason in our actions. It's fatalism. The belief that all events are predetermined, and thus beyond our control.

[We] are all connected, attracted to each other, and it is difficult to understand if this is just simply a natural urge or something else.

Solipsism. Everything exists for the self in a moral sense. Combining the two, does the question of morality seem so irrelevant?

"Rugal is so so very bored. Of all of this."

Mature.

"Yes Master, Rugal?" Mature said.

WAR is the natural state of humans. We fight because all of us are inexplicably DRAWN to each other with a POWERFUL attraction. So, if you SEE IT, do not be dissuaded.

"Just as we are slaves to our desires…"

…and now I am arguing philosophy with a madman.

These hundred candles wait to be lit – we are ALL connected, and certainly you may [SEE IT] too.

…

12:0X

"Master Rugal." Mature carried Rugal's arm over her shoulder and continued to drag her liege down the corridor in a perverse 3 legged race against destiny. Time was fleeting and she knew that they had all but about exhausted every bit of fortune given to them – and there was no further need to muse about as to whether their actions were noble or honourable. All she had to do was keep him alive. Because this was the most important thing of all – and nothing else mattered.

Even if she had to betray any other remnant of pride that remained.

Rugal mumbled, half conscious, his bodily functions had now become but simple commands, to place one foot in front of the other, with the large computer tower in his arm.

…and that voice… it echoed during times when the world was cold, and it was dark.

{Do you choose me?}

Was what remained when EVERYTHING seemed gone, and lost.

12:0X AM, Johannesburg. Underground facility. Brahms secret laboratory.

Mature gripped her left arm over Rugal's wrist and shuffled his torso over her shoulders to distribute the weight as she continued to hobble with his heavy body. She was unsure if those words, those familiar words came out of Rugal's mouth, in a daydream haze – or – if it was a phantom echo in her mind. A singular sweet taste among the memories of pain that persisted all these years?

Yet all the same Mature bit down on her lower lip, unable to keep it from trembling uncontrollably. Because. Sometimes, when it is dark, painful, silent, and lonely – all of us remember a certain, single time in the past – a memory so profound and so warm, it was able to keep us going even when we had initially thought that we had completely given up on the world.

"Ru…gal…" Mature held back the pressure in her chest but it was not enough, for in a slight sliver of weakness a single drop streamed down her left cheek. "There's no more time, we have to…" The tall steel gates opened with a mechanical whirr as both Rugal and Mature hobbled through the exit. We have to escape. NOW.

"Mature…" Rugal wheezed.

"Master."

"Can we defeat him?" Rugal said slowly, pushing away the pain in his midsection in a valiant effort to stay awake.

"Yes. Yes we can Master Rugal." Mature replied immediately, forcefully. "But not today. We have to go!"

"If…" If… If. Rugal mumbled on eyes half closed. "If you're with me, certainly…"

"Yes." Despite the excruciating pain she felt, all those emotions seemed to well up her legs, up her chest, into her body to continue forward. "We… us…"

{AUGH!} The tension in her body culminated with a sharp stab into her heart, and her eyes glared outwards, pupils now a pinpoint spot.

…

An identical mechanical sliding door whirred open, and with a crash when the gears dislodged from their axes, stopped half ajar, at the very far opposite side of the ROOM, the crevices around it sparking when the electronics wailed in defiance as they failed.

The light flooded the room when a tall horizontal bright beam entered from the outside, cleaving apart the dark, cold room like a blade.

Through the crack, a boot stamped on the ground, walking forward, up his ankles, his baggy pants, thighs, up his waist, a blue, puffy vest draped over his chest, across his muscular arms – round and round the camera of the world launched up, then down at his navy blue hat, then down and forward to his dark shades as the blonde haired man entered the darkness within.

…and like a tank turret, Clark's face ratcheted mechanically towards Mature, and Mature, could do nothing but stare back as both looked blindly into the void – unable to see each other but yet still feel an invisible thread connect themselves with each other in silent lucidity.

Do you recall? What were you doing…?

…

…in 1977. New England. Christmas day. (127) 7:15 PM

"Time to go, Clark." Heidern said flatly as he walked away back to the truck, leaving his dog soldier a few more moments to say his goodbyes. But, instead of sadness, there was something else painted on the young Boy's, Clark's face (13 years old). His forehead was completely wrapped in white bandages – bandages that spilled outwards and even covered his one eye.

On December 25, 1977?

…

…in 1977. St. Mary's Orphanage for Girls. Christmas day. 6:03 PM

"Girls." Sister Mary-Grace turned to the group of small girls behind her, "This…"

"Mister Rugal?" One small toddler exclaimed in excitement as he entered."

"Mister Rugal, Mister Rugal!" another girl leapt forward tugging at Rugal's pant leg.

"Mister Rugal, are you rich? Do you have a big house?"

"Girls! Please, stop." Sister Mary-Grace pleaded to the horde of little children that immediately swarmed the man just as he entered the room. "Please now."

"Do you have a wife, Mister Rugal? A mommy?"

A miasma of bitter emotions welled from the bottom of Rugal's stomach, only to bubble up his chest and throat.

"Mister Rugal…"

"GIRLS! Please!" The now exasperated nun tried to pull away the girls from swarming her guest completely. "Master Rugal, I am so sorry… GIRLS!" She looked at him then back at her children.

Rugal feigned a weak smile with his palm up pretending that none of this affected him. "Don't worry, Ruga…" he stopped. "I…"

"Do you have a family?!" One red headed girl made her presence known immediately! Clutching both fists over her chest.

"Choose me! Master Rugal." The black haired girl next to her peer shouted louder.

NO!

"No, choose me!"

"CHOOSE ME!" Another small girl sought to scream louder that the others.

"QUIET!" Sister Mary-Grace took up her wooden switch and slapped it FORCEFULLY at the wooden table next to her. "PLEASE! Girls, you have to…"

[All this is stupid! You all are stupid.]

Sister Mary-Grace did not understand it at first, but her throat had suddenly become hoarse, her esophagus twisted into a corkscrew and for some reason she was unable to speak. The air she breathed in had slowly and suddenly become cold and thin that her lungs had lost any ability to extract oxygen from it.

"Mis…ste…rr… Ru…g…gaaa…lllll…. Wiillllll.. youuuu… be myghhyyy…"

Rugal looked to his left side and there waiting was a blonde haired girl curled into a ball in the corner mumbling to herself.

Cleaving a way through the horde of little girls, Rugal walked forward and slightly eased the crowd away.

"Boo. Not her." A voice said in sheer disappointment.

And a bit more harshly, as small children are so plain, candid and so innocently vengeful as they were, even at such a young age, "She's no good. Don't choose her." The red headed girl said so frankly.

Regaining her bearings and control over her body, Sister Mary-Grace pinched the red headed girl's upper arm and from that clump of twisted flesh dragged her up and away in anger, filling the room with a shriek and frigid wail.

But all of that was of little consequence to Rugal, deaf to it all he made his way to the other side of the room and stood over the blonde haired girl curled in the corner. Partially out of curiosity, and mayhaps with a hint of natural sadism Rugal said nothing and continued to stare at the little girl crumpled pitifully in the corner.

"…"

Rugal was unable to hear the petty murmur and mumbling below him.

"…"

Yet she continued to mouth indecipherable sounds from well below him. Perhaps this is how [he] feels? How a 6 foot God surveys his kingdom as his peons' mouths moved but what they say is of little consequence.

Yet, despite all this, despite this entire taxing, tedious task, a slight light – a soft glow emanated from 'this one'. What was it about it? Rugal would muse. Just as a child is drawn to a small dying animal; Does the child pity the animal? Or is the child enamoured by her God-like posture over such a decrepit thing?

All the same, the same curiosity that a child has, so did Rugal, so he knelt down to put his face closer to the blonde girl's face.

"I'm no good…" She said. AH, now Rugal could hear her, although her words were broken, weak, unconfident – they were hardly a plea, naught a proposal. It was more as if Rugal's interest, though slight and fleeting served as torture to her, relentlessly.

…and so I ask you again, does a benevolent God pity a man? Or is this concept of compassion simply an inconvenient byproduct of his vanity?

"Are you no good for Rugal. Little girl." Rugal asked, no, more stated plainly.

The girl shook her face back and forth in her forearms, still unwilling to look up at the man.

When the girl made motions and whimpering sounds, Rugal noticed a black armband with strange white symbols on her upper arm. His curiosity piqued even further, Rugal hunched forward, pinched the cloth and examined the brand further. "What does this mean?"

"She is a Hassaku girl." One girl from the far end of the room quickly exclaimed, eager to be the first to bring that to his attention and peel Rugal away.

"The girl is Hakkeshu." Sister Mary-Grace said. Rugal was continuously intrigued by the brand and the heavy burden it seemed to place on the girl for some peculiar reason. So much so, the man did not even respond to the nun, and instead visibly followed the lines carefully, like tracing a maze. "She…" Mary-Grace continued, "She refuses to remove the band."

"You are no good?" Rugal cracked a smile. "What's your name 'miss no-good'?"

"I am no good. Go… aw… away." She said, though her boisterous command lost steam half way. She grabbed the band and pulled away from Rugal.

"Because of this tag?" Rugal chuckled. "Do you think you are ugly, little girl?"

She did not respond and further curled and retreated into a small, small ball.

"Rugal does not understand why – but how can such a small, stupid piece of cloth have so much power over you?" An astute and complex adult conversation this was, far from the comprehension of a 5 year old girl, in 1977.

In 1977 many things happened.

Ocean Park opened in Hong Kong. Small pox was eradicated. Atari released its video computer system. A boy met a girl. And a man came face to face with a most wretched girl.

"Let's play a game." Rugal invited. And I will show you that this thing has no control over you. "If you look up and face me, then Rugal will leave this place with you. But. If you refuse then I will simply walk away and choose another girl."

"…"

"Well girl, what will it..." Rugal paused mid sentence, and his scowl was replaced with a smirk of amusement. Mayhaps as would a God overlooking its creation. The girl finally broke and looked up at him.

"Do you…"

"Do not make Rugal repeat himself. What's your name?"

"Mature."

"Hello Mature." Rugal said.

"Do you choose me?"

"No, Mature." Rugal replied as he stood up and extended an open hand.

I think… It was you…

…

12:0X AM, Johannesburg. Underground facility. Brahms secret laboratory.

In 1990.

Mature's pupils infinitely small, her consciousness fell back into her body. Both ends of that long string that connected Clark and Mature came back to a point of understanding.

The moments in time, flowed synchronously at an instant. To a single point.

When everything, EVERYTHING changed. At a slight, sudden moment, when I thought to myself… Yes. It was wonderful, WONDERFUL to be ALIVE!

…

How dare you.

Mature's pupils infinitely small, her consciousness fell back into her body.

11:4X PM, Johannesburg. Underground facility. Brahms secret laboratory.

The fourth lesson. Brahms underground laboratory.

FOR WHAT REASON? THERE IS NO REASON!

YET, [THEY] FOOLED YOU TO SUBJUGATE YOURSELF.

The red orb floated in place within the black 2 dimensional plane. Despite its maddening wails, the Darkness did not respond to the Beast's commands. The dark swirling vortex exploded before fading away, leaving Heidern wide open and unable to escape, only left with a succinctly clear realization.

[THEY] MADE YOU WEAR THIS PIECE OF CLOTH, NOT TO PROTECT THE WORLD, BUT IT WAS IN ORDER FOR YOU TO WILLINGLY SUBVERT YOURSELF, YOUR KIND, AND EVEN TO OPENLY MARK YOUR CHILDREN.

Mature, both hands clamped down into Heidern's wrist with both hands, keeping all his four fingers embedded solidly in her body. THE FOURTH LESSON. Now I BIND you HERE! Mature's hands kept Heidern's body slave to the mortal coils of the Earth, unable to disappear. She tilted her head upwards, revealing two white orbs for her eyes a bright light seeping outwards.

BECAUSE, THEY ARE TRULY AFRAID OF YOUR POWER.

[…and what was WONDERFUL was not simply to survive another day.]

A fleeting thought, a slight memory that we recall as we continued our lonely path though this journey. Mature gnashed her teeth down hard, so hard she was sure her jaw would dislocate from the pressure.

"Who said you're no good? Does not the possibility that whomever said that to you – maybe they're wrong?"

A cry, a wail, a rage feverish that the voice so LOUD that is made the whole world deaf and unable to hear it. Humans are peculiar creatures – what would propel that once wretched girl – suddenly decide to offer their life for you?

How DARE you do this to us?!

If you are tired, and weary and disgusted by it all, why not replace all that emptiness and shame with something else? And if you do, then that brand, that piece of cloth, will no longer hold any power over you!

You do know that, that piece of cloth simply identifies to THEM, those who are subservient.

…and your loyalty will be rewarded, as God will only kill you last.

…

Do you choose me?

No. I think, it was YOU who chose me… Mature.

[…and what was WONDERFUL was not the pursuit of pleasure, as everyone around her sought so feverishly.]

…

Chapter 153: Sad Hakkesshu Girl.

In 1990. In a dark and very lonely room. We fought God.

From zero to sixty miles per hour in an instant the pinpoint spear pierced God. A light cleaving the darkness. Forcing the pendulum of fate to tilt back her way with a more vicious anger, Mature REFUSED to admit defeat.

How dare you.

Mature SLAMMED her right foot into the ground, cracking the floor under her, and in opposite reaction hurtling the concrete upwards in small shards, medium pieces separating itself from the rest of the smaller ones, until finally large chunks tilted in unison with its silhouette outlined a PERFECT CIRCLE enveloping Mature and Heidern.

How dare you hurt HIM! Unforgivable. A bright white light blared out of her eyes and mouth.

OUR WAY is RIGHT! And YOU, are WRONG.

↓↙←↙↓↘→ + Kick.

GO BACK. TO WHERE YOU BELONG! HEIDERN!

"HEAVEN'S GATE!"

[…and what was once WRETCHED was finally, at long last – to find the purpose in this pitiful, dark, rancid, lonely, yet, wonderful… life.]

A three hundred foot tall titan, a celestial being of pure light towered to a slow stand and with a precise careful motion hunched forward, cocking his arm back – slow and steady as it was, easy to see, easy to predict its path of attack, but with such a goliath it was certainly impossible even if you knew – for anyone to defend against such a force of nature as its fist hurled towards you and all you could do was simply watch.

[…and THIS THING, you gave to me, Rugal. When no one else would.]

The titan's fist. An 8 foot tall and 7 foot wide skull hurled itself with the same impact as a 16 wheeler trailer truck DIRECTLY into Heidern's face with a ferocity that sent the monster clear 10 feet backwards into the air.

RUGAL BERNSTEIN.

With a crushing sound the inevitable impact crushed Heidern's bones and inertia had little to say about the matter. The blow instantaneously turned the black world into WHITE when the light from Mature's body flashed and disintegrated the black curtains that once controlled this dark place.

Now the Earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep. And God said, "Let there be light." GENESIS 1:3

WAR is the natural state of humans. We fight because all of us are inexplicably DRAWN to each other with a POWERFUL attraction. So, if you SEE IT, do not be dissuaded.

…

…and there was light. A blinding light.

"Daddy, you're home." Clara not more than a few years old, ran to Heidern and hugged her father at the thighs, momentarily immobilizing him.

Heidern, taken aback wobbled and put his hands on his daughter's shoulders to steady himself so he would not fall from her feverish hug. This was a more innocent time. It was a more peaceful time.

Sandra laughed to herself heartily, she could not control herself from bursting out loud and innocently grasped her apron with both hands to cover her face as she enjoyed the spectacle a bit too much.

Heidern looked at his wife weakly, confused and absolutely powerless to defy his child. He sighed out loud and…

Heidern stopped, frozen momentarily in his tracks. The video tape was suddenly clouded with static and snow as the vertical holding error made the once clear picture jump and skip on the VCR player, running peculiarly upwards only to fall down to the bottom of the screen like a malfunctioning conveyour belt – this memory already long past was somehow interrupted when he tilted his head in confusion to the far corner of the room. And in that corner was a blonde haired stranger, a 20 year old woman in his house staring at him and his family. And on her face was an expression of conflicted confusion.

…

Cognitive dissonance.

Monsters, love their children too.

"Master Rugal… What…" Do you realize what you've done? Mature stared outwards and spoke softly, unconsciously out loud.

You've done something that can't be undone.

…

A soft groaning sound escaped Heidern's mouth. His body completely black from the evil force that enveloped him except for the solid red light that coloured his eyes. The beast's consciousness momentarily separated from his mortal body and he could see himself float in mid air. Unable to feel his body yet, instead became conscious of the entire world around him.

Heidern exhaled slightly, but did his body even need to function when his existence was now a celestial out of body experience where he understood everything, yet comprehended nothing?

Floating in mid air at his leisure, the entire world was a bright white light, a photo negative of outer space. It was not completely white however. For some peculiar reason dark spots littered the ground below him, scattered in exact orderly patterns – like reeds, thistles, or more like black, short tendrils much like those of sea anemone.

As he floated peacefully, a dark circle was projected under him, with a single thin line bisecting it. Profoundly aware of eternity – Heidern was deprived of conscious thought – perhaps because such things were irrelevant now. So he floated.

Where could he be? It wasn't heaven and it was not horrendous enough to be hell. For hell – he harboured memories that were much more, many shades closer to that wretched place than this calm, quiet purgatory. A place of pure white, yet had dark stubby extremities, arranged in order yet disfiguring it chaotically.

"Hello." A woman's voice interrupted the silence.

1992. Brahms underground laboratory.

Heidern's mind dove back into his body as he immediately opened his eyes. Face to face as he flew in mid air – just 2 inches away, a smiling brunette stared him menacingly without a shred of fear. Her beady bloodshot eyes a pinpoint in a pool of white, her disfigured smile was that of a familiar Cheshire cat spanning literally from ear to ear.

"RAUUUGH!" Defying the simple laws of inertia and friction the Beast twisted in mid air even when it was impossible for him to move in such a manner – because how are you able to propel an attack when falling from the sky? Heidern swung his left claw at his aggressor.

"HaGH!" The brunette met the attack head on with the same illogical impossibility – parrying the blow at the wrist and hurling Heidern's claw aside.

How amusing… how fun… how…

"TANOSHIIII NEEEEE!" The lady roared when she threw both arms up in a V shape and 10 tall dark talons materialized from her fingers.

"…!" Mature gasped from down below. Then. The camera launched up to the ceiling twisting rapidly upwards and outwards until the clear picture became plain – a wild woman fearlessly faced the beast in mid air. "Wait. Stop!" Mature pleaded in vain.

"TANOSHIIII NEEEEE!" The brunette lady roared as she floated in mid air above Heidern, when she threw both arms up in a V shape and 10 tall dark talons materialized from her fingers.

DESTROY ALL OF THE THINGS!

The opposite of the light, is the darkness, one cannot exist without the other – in such a way each existence justifies the other.

The war machine appears.