The Colour Purple... The King of Fighters '95

Based on the Characters of The King of Fighters '95 Copyright 1995(C) SNK

Original Fan Fiction Copyright (C) 1995 [ENGEL] Design Room 1995

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


The blood, suddenly stopped in place. How?

If we could somehow go back… go back in time… my friend.

Would we, BOTH OF US, have enough conviction to make a different decision? I am sorry. I am sorry for what I did to YOU back then. But if apologies were all that easy, then war would not have to exist, and our petty lives would be relegated to a dull and boring peace.

How different would life have been? Had I not looked back at you that day?

Sandra.

Did we fall in love? Do you hate me now? Had I not looked back at you that [lazy afternoon]? Now. Likely, all those memories are merely droplets, collected, but now lost in a pool of indifference.

KNIGHT!


I understand now… "So… this… this is, this is the place you talked about, my friend." Heidern wheezed pitifully sighing weakly wheezing a death's knell.

The one step behind MADNESS. The one step that overcame REASON.

The one step behind the INSANITY.


April 22, 1987. Sandra and Clara Smyth were discovered brutally murdered in their home. Wilhelm Heidern who was present at the scene is taken in for physical and psychiatric evaluation. Time of deaths estimated to be 10:03 pm.

1990, 12:00 AM, Johannesburg. Underground facility. Brahms secret laboratory

Even at her best condition, she was just a 20 year old woman and physically unable to carry a much larger man, a man easily 180 pounds, continuously. Even with her magical powers that she could summon only in short sustained bursts.

"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 under his arm.

Was that what remained, when EVERYTHING seemed gone, and lost?

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.

Even as Mature, with every last bit of her strength dragged Rugal through the far reaches of the room, Vice walked calmly 20 feet away from them, without a care in the world – totally oblivious and indifferent.

"Vice!" Mature yelled out in between labored breaths. "Rugal needs HELP here… I." A sudden throbbing pain overcame Mature and sudden hot flashes ran through her mind, clouding her vision when an immense PAIN hammered her head.

These children, without guidance… They will either DIE, or they will survive, and if they are so unfortunate to do so, they will only wander aimlessly until they destroy the politics of the world. They will plunge the Earth into chaos, as we continue to live, watching, too old, and too decrepit to do anything. Don't you know that, Heidern? Knight looked back at his friend, that lazy afternoon.

I can't let you die. After all you've done, we, we have to… we…

"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 open room towards the exit, with Vice aloofly leading the way. We have to… Mature put her free hand over her forehead, as if that action would be enough to calm the wild sensation in her mind. Though she heard nothing, it felt as if the entire world was screaming imparting immense pressure into her.

Mature concluded, she thought she was slowly succumbing to her wounds. The loss of blood, concussions perhaps, or was she going into shock? Something was happening, happening to Mature's body and her mind. "V…vi… Sthp, yhvae to… Vic… See…" Mature's speech became disjointed and garbled as if her brain had suddenly lost connection to her mouth.

Visibly annoyed, Vice looked over her shoulder, scowled – and wordlessly said nothing continuing to walk. As she walked away, the world slowly bled out, the colours leaving it a gray scale picture – and it was all a blur.

"We all cmoe hree, we are all cnneotecd." A small voice hissed.

When ONE person sees visions, they are called insane.

19XX.

"Don't move." A gruff, deshelved soldier grabbed the small girl's arm and injected a syringe into her arm. "I said don't move you witch!"

Despite her mother's pleas, the girl wailed in pain, grabbing her mother's arm in fright. In front of a backdrop of burning houses a woman screamed at the top of her lungs. Please. "Please! I do not want to die!" She begged and cried as two robed clergymen dragged her towards the center of the town. Within the town square were over a dozen metal cabinets, able to fit 4 to 6 people, with a menacing mechanical contraption above it.

Huddled together in a large mass, women and children held in other in fear and dread as a ring of soldiers armed with rifles stood at the ready to gun down any who would dissent from the group.

"When you've given them all the medicine, just lead them to the boxes, and maybe they will be forgiven." An older octogenarian, similarly clothed in religious garb stood at the podium at the far end of the square, talking to an officer, this one better dressed than the rest.

"Will the serum work?" He asked. "Will it stop their magic?"

The old man clapped both hands repeatedly and called out loudly, "Enough, take them all away." Maybe. Or perhaps if THEY believe it will, then that should be enough.

A loud shriek pierced his ears – one woman broke from the crowd and ran into a feverish sprint away to escape. Alas the only thing she heard next was single gunshot as she fell face first down into the ground.

A sudden eruption of bedlam ensued as the crowd scattered in all directions – women and children now caring for nothing more but to escape.

"DON'T LET ANYONE ESCAPE!" The old man roared. "SHOOT THEM! DON'T LET THEM…" He stopped mid sentence, looking outwards, all the villagers had stopped in their tracks, as if by his magical command he had frozen them in place. A bit of confusion overcame the old man for a moment. He did not understand why all these people, these people who had at first lost their minds at the proposition of certain death, but now they stood in place looking right at him. Even the old man was confused.

However, it was not only the villagers who were frozen in place, even his soldiers and clergymen stopped what they were doing, some even letting go of their struggling prisoners, and even the prisoners did not flee. Instead they all looked at him.

The small girl stopped crying and put her hand on her arm. On her upper arm was a familiar band with a cross and strange runic and circular symbols. The girl looked right at the old man. "It's…"

"This is where we part ways." A man's deep voice said.

"Eh?" The old man turned around, to see a large, muscular, shirtless man towering over him and the officer next to him. With tattered silvery white hair, circular tattoos all over his body the imposing figure just stared blankly at his enemy.

"It's happening." The girl whispered.

"WHO…"

With a snap of his fingers five silver sickles flashed in mid air in a twinkling. Before the old man could utter another word, his head exploded into multiple pieces, drenching the officer next to him in warm crimson.

The small girl's mind was now completely blank, her pupils were small pinholes staring outwardly a thousand miles far away.

"Mature. Hey, Mature."

Mature sat with her back on a tree trunk staring blankly out into the distance.

"Mature, break will be done soon, don't you want to play with the other girls?"

1977. St. Mary's Orphanage for Girls.

"No." Mature responded flatly, not taking her eyes from the horizon.

Sister Mary-Grace turned around, utterly confused at what the girl was looking at. Momentarily sensing that she had been the victim of a joke she turned around with a mad scowl to look back at Mature, but the little girl was still in a stunned gaze, the back of head resting weakly on the wooden trunk behind her. "What are you looking at?!" The sister demanded.

"Just watching. I'm just watching."

As if doped on large amounts of medication, Mature tilted her head and her eyes, small pupils frozen in place in a blank thousand-yard stare toward NOTHING.

I see, you are SPECIAL. We can see the same things. You cannot look away.

"We can see the smae tinhgs, Mutrae." Mature saw a small boy look out at the same horizon from the edges of Sister Mary-Grace's silhouette. Because when the ULTIMATE TRUTH presents itself to us – we are unable look away.

"Ugh!" Mature grabbed her forehead again when another shock ran through her brain. "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, Vice aloofly leading the way. We have to…

1990, 12:01 AM, Johannesburg. Underground facility. Brahms secret laboratory

Agh... no... don't…

We are all connected. During moments of great stress, exposed to the true possibility of certain death, or, even during the cold moments when we lose the will to live - and thoughts of suicide race through our minds.

We begin to see VISIONS.

BOOM! A dark room. Eight blackboards each roughly 3 stories high trapped him within an octagonal prison. Random letters and numbers, symbols he did not clearly understand – lines and arrows intersected, even criss-crossed one way and the other. Greek letters, convoluted lines connecting them, and even archaic indiscernible symbols.

All laid out in white chalk. Here.

A NATURAL ENEMY REVEALED ITSELF AMIDST THE [IRONY].

{Don't look behind you, no matter what you do… don't look back… It's HAPPENING.}


Again.


When ONE person sees horrible things, they call them insane. A mental illness.

However, as with UFO sightings, appearances of the Virgin Mary, and other paranormal phenomena, when MULTIPLE people see the same thing, how can it be called divine apparitions? Concentric hallucinations.

[Mass Psychosis.]

When a WILL is so strong, so POWERFUL, it drags you into the [room] with [it].

"You did this to Heidern, you know… His family is dead. Wife and lover."

"A!" Mature's thoughts were interrupted and she stared up and outwards, the expression on her face became twisted, contorted – a bitter taste revealing itself, as if she had come to a stark and succinct realization of something she should not have. "No, no that's not right…"

{VICE!} Mature pleaded voicelessly as she continued to walk and drag Rugal forward. {VICE! Wait, stop… It… Helppp… me…} Mature's vision slowly became cloudy, staring with fervent determination to that last thing, focusing on the black armband wrapped over her sister's bicep.

"His family is dead because of you. You know. Daughter and child."

"I just heard word from Korea. Mario and Luigi made it to the drawbridge safely, Chairman." He said into his headset microphone.

"And the Princess?"

"We don't know where the princess is, Chairman." He replied. "King Koopa is likely heading to the roof right now, his helicopter is waiting."

"Hold position, Carl Lewis." She instructed.

"A." He stammered.

His companion next to him laughed.

"That's not right. We were NOT responsible for that." Mature looked to the right side. "That did NOT happen because of us. We! We did not kill his family!"

DO YOU HEAR ME!? Mature screamed. WE DID NOT…

1990, 12:01 AM, Johannesburg. The clock stopped.

I did not kill your wife and child, Heidern.

The sound of a calm, reassuring and cool wind. Mature turned to face the voice and found herself in a neat house, all alone, in a quiet peaceful town just as the sun began to set, the light clean breeze of air drifting though the windows. A prim and pristine white picket fence surrounding it, with cheerful neighbours saying hello. She put her hands over her stomach, and her wounds were gone – the pain had ceased. She looked to her left and to her right, Rugal was gone, she was no longer in… where? Where was it? Mature had momentarily lost focus and when she came to, now did not know what she was doing [here].

I love this town. I hate this town.

1987.

In response to her anger, she had been tricked – Mature turned around. Reaching towards the sun, black shadowy hands reached for Mature's ankles. It was too late to counter. Now, Mature, immediately realized that she had become susceptible to a MASSIVE ATTACK.

Hello; and welcome to the!

Chapter 159: True Suffering.

April 22, 1987.

If you do not. If you do not move, this man will kill my family! Don't you realize that?

Please… Don't let him…

Rugal drove his hand forward, gripped his right hand over Sandra's neck and pushed her head backwards.

"SANDRA! SANDRA! RUGAL! RUGAL!" Heidern screamed on all fours.

Sandra's feet shuffled in place as she desperately fought for her life. Her heels slipped in place – she tried to pull back, get away, somehow escape, but now Rugal's other hand clamped down on her neck to strangle her slowly, mercilessly, as Rugal grinned, gingerly applying pressure bit by bit in sadistic nature when his prey desperately pleaded.

Agh! Please. Please God. Even after all I've done wrong, after all I've tried to do – please. Please don't let his happen. I'll give you ANYTHING. ANY THING. EVERY THING. Heidern squirmed on the ground, his body was completely broken and paralyzed.

{NO! DON'T DO IT!} Mature begged, unable to look away.

With a loud, deafening crack of bone, Sandra's hands released their grip on Rugal's wrist and slithered down her body only to fall limp on her sides on the couch.

"SANDRAAAA!"

{No. This isn't true.} Mature walked backwards in fright. {Heidern. Don't…}

A… Agh. Heidern wheezed in desperation when the last bit of breath was forcefully expunged from his body when an invisible foot crushed him like an insect. That. He was merely an insignificant insect in this great plan.

{Hegghhh…} The small blonde haired boy snarled, hunching forward and turning over his shoulder to face the woman. {Yes. You.} The boy's head creaked slowly turning around 180 degrees in an impossible manner.

The sound once again. IT was a sound so clear and booming Heidern would never forget it – Rugal stood up and walked around the couch that was now Sandra's grave.

No. No.

No, wait.

No wait…. Anything… anything…

I'm sorry. "I'm sorry." Heidern pleaded. Please, tell me what you want, please don't do it. "RUGAL!" Heidern only able to move his shoulders forcefully slithered his body on the floor pitifully. "Rugal." His speech spasming and slurred as his face dragged on the floor. "Please…" Heidern sobbed.

{HEIDERN!} Mature screamed, yet no sound came out of her lips. Trapped and powerless, the attack was so fearsome she was unable to flee. {Don't.}

Completely deaf to Heidern's pleas, Rugal walked up to Clara. Heidern's daughter, petrified in fear bit her lip and hugged her stuffed bear with both hands, pulled it close to her chest and closed her eyes.

{Please… Nnn..no…} the grown man now pleaded, sobbed, prostrating himself.

Rugal placed his left hand over Clara's shoulder and ran his right hand over the top of her head.

RUGAL… Please… God. If you can.

{Stop. STOP! Don't DO IT Heidern!}

If you can hear me – please, I will do anything.

"Clara… Clara, run. RUN! CLARA!" Heidern slithered on the ground but could go no further as an invisible wall blocked his advance and unseen talons dragged him backwards by his ankles.

Just watch, and see… What you did… to him. Knuckles dragged on the floor.


Many scholars have asked this question.

If your God is truly a [benevolent] god, then… why, WHY, does he sit idly, and why, does he allow his children to suffer?


{NO!} Mature wailed. She turned around and made for the front door. Breaths heaving as she ran, the woman grabbed the doorknob and ran to escape. However, as she crossed the doorframe she once again found herself back in the same room.

{Mturae.} The monster snarled. Don't go away, this is the best part. The beast sneered through its lips sewn shut.

{NO! STOP! HEIDERN!} Mature WAILED! PLEASE DON'T DO IT!

"Papa?" Clara whimpered.

A quick snap, Rugal twisted the girl's neck, and a plush animal fell to the ground.

And that sound…

THE BLOOD. SUDDENLY STOPPED FLOWING AND LAID frozen IN PLACE.

Heidern's voice wheezed into a hoarse pitiful silence. Both trembling fists curling in front of his mouth.

The sound continued to echo, like a knife pierced deep in his heart, and would not stop from inflicting constant pain in all the hours of day and all the lingering moments of night.

IF salvation cannot give me peace, then it must follow – when all choices are taken away from him – there is only one recourse a man can take. When GOD was deaf to his wishes, even as his child offered EVERYTHING to him. Every thing.

STOP! NO! Clark jammed 8 fingers into the small 6 inch crack in front of him and with his entire strength pulled outwards. "AAAGH! HEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIDEEEEEERRRNN!""

DON'T COME HERE! Because.

You may not be able to leave.

"Hhhgggeehhhh…." Heidern wheezed in a weak pitiful whimper as he crumpled onto the ground, the saliva oozing down the sides of his mouth. Agh. So that was it. Even if I prayed hard, so very hard, I can't turn back time anymore, can I? With his face on the ground, the sides of Heidern's mouth curled up sucking in the filth and grime of the ground as lunacy overcame his face. "RRRRRrruuuuuu…." Heidern roared into the floor. "RruugHHAAaallll!"

In your great and noble journey. "You did NOT find GOD, RUGAL BERNSTEIN!"

With Clara, Heidern's daughter in his hands – Rugal took a deep breath. The tears slowly flowing, clouding his vision, Heidern felt a soft sensation – walking forward, a slight solemn sensation. In his hands, Rugal held Clara's dead body, then, to respond to a soft whisper Rugal turned to his right side towards a tall mirror screwed firmly to the wall. Rugal's vision slowly turned blurry from the tears.

I BEGGED YOU. GOD. But even when I offered you EVERYTHING, why didn't you SAVE her?! If you did NOTHING and only watched me suffer, then I will just have to kill YOU and ALL of your CREATIONS as REVENGE!

No. No… No no NO!

THIS was where I made a DECISION. A decision, when I prostrated myself to God, yet, he refused to hear me. HERE. I decided to make even HIM, make EVERYONE… my ENEMY.

Here. In this room. HERE. Where we all come to DIE.

"Papa?" Clara whimpered.

His daughter's voice rang in his ears, momentarily breaking the spell…

Heidern's vision grew cloudy, blurry from his flowing tears. Heidern saw himself – his fingers stained with blood holding his dead child, her neck limp and broken in his arms. "Agh…"

"HEIDERN! STOP!" Clark shouted.

{Heidern…} Mature cried, putting her hand over her mouth.

When he looked in the mirror, the reflection looked back at him. Heidern's hands were over his daughter's neck.

Moving millimeters at a time, the steel doors wedging open. With his entire might Clark pried that gate open with his ENTIRE STRENGTH. Red blood seeping from the edges of his mouth – and the white colours of his eyes slowly turning BLACK.

{WAIT. WHAT?} Heidern's mind trembled – his consciousness shook as LOUD noises ravaged his mind. {WAIT.} Wilhelm Heidern could not understand why he held his daughter's dead body in his hands. Momentarily broken from the deceptive spell. In slight moments when the world was silent and calm, and plain – we wondered to ourselves. Just where… Jus where did we…

In that cold, dark place.

A SUDDEN sensation. The precise moment when we realized that we had done wrong – and what now, the exact moment where we realized we had crossed a line that we can no longer pull back from. Unlike games, trapped in life, there is no way to turn back time. Reveling in constant AGONY and REGRET, wheezing in despair. THIS IS NOT RIGHT. PLEASE. Dwelling in such AGONY – please, somehow – we deluded ourselves. There is no reset, there is no save we can go back to. As we wheezed – we just WANTED TO DIE. Because if we died, if we DIED. IF I KILL MYSELF NOW.

I JUST… I JUST WANT TO DIE.

Maybe if I KILLED MYSELF, it would reset – AND NONE OF THIS – would ever have to HAPPEN?!

A least one time in our lives, we thought this. I WANT TO DIE!

SUICIDE. All human beings, I firmly believe, at least once in our lives we entertained this thought – or else, this word could have no meaning. Please, I just want to DIE so I can END this pain.

Mature put her face in her hands.

GOD. How can you let his happen?

Heidern turned his head to his right side and looked into the mirror. There he was, Heidern, with his daughter, Clara's dead body in his hands. Looking straight at his own reflection.

HAAAGHHH.. HAGH.. HAAGH..! HAGH…! Awoken from a dream, teardrops of sweat ran down her temples.

"Rugal…" Mature stammered, her voice breaking, "No, you didn't kill Heidern's family…" We did something even more… more HORRIBLE.

1990, 12:01 AM, Johannesburg. Underground facility. Brahms secret laboratory.

The blood stopped flowing, as if it had gradually, then immediately, froze in place.

A bright red orb glowed in the deep recesses of the hollow cavity of Heidern's right eye socket, and from his sitting position deeply embedded in the wall Heidern's body began to animate once again, this time even his good left eye glowed a bright crimson.

Silver streaks lined the floor underneath him. Lifting his head up, the BEAST snarled.

The BEAST – part 19.

From the darkness – from the room, two glowing red eyes stared outwards. At the end of a lonely boy's journey, his reward was true and complete suffering. All of God's creation must now be destroyed.

DESTROY all of the EVERYTHING!

"The Berserker Phenomenon." Dr. Brahms said… "It is…"