Say My Name

Written by vox shade

v/s: Gahh, sorry guys > ; RO distracted me once again. Soooo close to becoming an assassin. cough Anyway, sorry for the uberly late delay with chapter twelve. And I'm happy to say that the ending is in sight! A few more chapters, and then an epilogue, and this spectacular fic will come to an end. I have a few more ideas for more fics, and most probably SO3 fics so you'll be seeing more of me. Anyway, that's it. Sorry for the kinda short chappie.

Disclaimer: Star Ocean 3 belongs to Tri-Ace/Ubisoft/Square-Enix

Chapter Twelve

"Watch where you're poking, woman!"

"I thought Albel the Wicked wouldn't whine at just a few adjustments."

"It's damn tight."

"And so was your half shirt," Seraph retorted, giving the laces of his corset a last yank before tying them securely.

"Not half as tight as this contraption," Albel growled, struggling to get in a deep breath.

Nel tried not to wince too much at the tightness. This was not what she needed when she'd just woken up, but it couldn't be helped. They'd both slept in late until two in the afternoon, and had to rush with Seraph's help with their clothes. It'd been the latest she'd ever slept in, and the main reason was due to the fact that she'd stayed up most of the night trying to get Albel out of her mind. He had an annoying habit of popping up whenever she tried to sleep, especially when he popped up with only a small black towel slung around his waist, like he's just gotten out of the shower.

Nel glared at Albel's reflection in a nearby mirror. It may have been around six thirty in the morning before she'd gotten any rest at all. And even then he didn't leave her alone in her dreams. What he was doing, she wouldn't even try to remember – it left her sanity perfectly healthy that way.

Their behavior towards each other was as if last night had never happened. Calm discussion of tactics, occasionally helping the other out with their clothes or boots (curse the boots!) It both annoyed and elevated Nel's mood. Elevated because this prevented any potentially embarrassing recounts, annoyed because it probably had not affected him that much. So Nel contented herself with stabbing her lunch with her fork, picturing the steamed manju buns as his face in the dining room half an hour later.

"...Nel? Are you alright?" Soul asked tentatively.

"Never better," Nel replied tersely, not stopping nor taking her eyes off of the bun.

She could tell that the siblings and Albel exchanged looks. Sin coughed, "our performance is going to be around nine in the evening. After that, we'll be behind the stage with your weapons."

"We'll contact the teams set up around the bar for back up at that time as well, so that you can focus on Lockroi," Seraph said, starting to clear the table.

Nel pushed away the mashed manju bun and nodded. "The reinforcements from Acquaria should be bringing some equipment from Fayt. He said he'd ask Maria to help us a bit."

"Excellent," Soul said, taking her dish away and handing it to a maid. "Their technology should speed things up."

"How do you know them?" Albel asked.

"Oh, here and there," Soul said with a shrug. "You can have thirty minutes to yourself to do whatever needs to be done. Then meet in the entrance hall at three thirty, alright?"

Pockets? What Pockets?

"I can't take it anymore," Albel hissed, yanking off his maid hat.

"We still have hours to go Albel," Nel said patiently. "And we have to wait for an opportunity to get into the back rooms, still."

"I know that!" Albel growled, securing the doorknob of the broom closet they were in. "But I can't stand those lust driven worms out there!"

Nel scoffed, "it's only six right now Albel. You can't hide in here until nine." But she couldn't help smirking – she was used to groping drunkards, and had mastered how to dodge them easily on her heels. Albel however, was a bit slower on the uptake. Even though he had managed to learn how to balance a bit better, wandering hands still managed to find their unwilling target. After a few hours, it seemed as if Albel was becoming paranoid of men.

Albel glared. Then a slightly insane half smile darkened his features. "But I have this," Albel triumphantly withdrew the small pink vial from inside his corset.

"Albel... did you just get that out from your bra?" Nel asked incredulously.

He shrugged. "I have no pockets." Albel immediately proceeded to popping out the cork and tipping the contents back into his mouth before Nel could say a word of caution about the time limit. He made a face before tucking the vial back into his corset. "Too sweet."

Nel sighed. "Alright, this time let's not get into any fights with the customers, no screaming when someone grabs your ass, or breaking any more plates. If we get fired, we won't have easy access anymore."

Albel kept his silence, seeming to find no retort for this because Nel had effectively avoided doing both for the time they'd been on the shift.

Albel crept out of their hiding place (the broom closet) first, and Nel slipped out behind him. She'd just closed the door behind her when –

"X-Candy, Smexy, just what are you doing here?"

Nel nearly jumped and hastily pretended like she hadn't and faced the owner of the nasal command. Walrus was walked down the hall towards the two of them imperiously, huge mustache swaying with every step he took. His beady eyes swept across them as he drew to a stop a few paces away. "You are to present yourselves in the master's hall and complete your duty of cleaning it from top to bottom," he said without waiting for an excuse. "I don't want to see a speck of dust, understood? And if I find one more broken item, both of you are fired."

That said, he drew himself off like a huffy peacock and walked away, leaving the two spies to glare a fiery death at his back.

"Let's get going. The sooner we finish this, the sooner I can kill him." Albel scowled and set off on a fast pace and Nel hurried to keep up with him, their heels making a strange four-beat clicking against the tiles like a horse as they navigated through the employee halls to another door which led to Lockroi's VIP quarters.

Inside the luxurious corridor, they found cleaning equipment. With much arguing, debating, and stone-knife-parchment battles (rock paper scissors), Albel was forced to sweep and mop the floors while Nel cleaned the shelves and reordered the rooms. Time ticked by surprisingly fast under the Walrus's supervision, who had come an hour into their cleaning duty with suspicions of broken objects. The clock in the second to last room told them it was a quarter to eight – nearly time for Sin, Soul, and Seraph's performance. It seemed to be exciting Walrus as well, because he suddenly excused himself to see to another duty, leaving them alone.

What are a pair of undercover spies to do when alone in the evil mastermind's unprotected lair?

Tiptoe Through (cough) Aroundthe Fat Men.

"...and do not speak unless spoken to. Do I make myself clear?" Walrus demanded. Nel and Albel copied the rest of the waitresses and nodded once before arranging themselves into two equal lines flanking the door to the bar. The place was empty, since it was now closed early to the general public on this 'special occasion'. Nel and Albel, not knowing what it was, had scrambled outside of Lockroi's quarters as soon as they had copied down the list of names of the conspiracy group members which had been tactfully put up on the back of the door, decorated with that oh-so-inconspicuous gold fringe and gems on the plaque.

Distantly, they heard the sound of a dull rumbling. Nel turned her head and tried to see past the other three maids beside her to locate the source of the noise. In the far corner by the stage was a door she'd never noticed – a black, plain door. That in itself was strange enough in this wealthy bar, since most of the doors were somehow outrageously decorated with obscenely expensive themes.

"Smexy! Do not let me catch you day dreaming again!" Walrus snapped by the door, his beady eyes set on her.

Nel nodded a bit stiffly and forced a dazed apology through her lips. She refused to match Albel's gaze and instead looked slightly above the head of the maid across from her, resolutely refusing to look at the door anymore.

With all this commotion there had to be something big happening. It was only a few minutes before nine, and the atmosphere was tense. Perhaps Lockroi was coming with special guests. If they had any luck it would be the rest of the conspiracy group, Daddy's Little Rich Boys.

Suddenly, Walrus turned and yanked the door open and settled into a deep bow, "Sir, welcome back."

Lockroi entered with a charming smile which didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's good to be back. I trust everything is set?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well. We should commence as soon as we can."

With that, Lockroi lead a group of men through the aisle the two lines of waitresses made and straight to the luxurious chairs set up in front of the stage. Nel silently counted twenty one men, excluding Lockroi – exactly the amount of men in the conspiracy group. This could be no coincidence – today was the day and it would soon be close to the time they were to act.

As soon as the last man was cleared from the aisle, Walrus hissed at everyone to grab a pre-prepared small serving platter of drinks and snacks to their assigned person. Nel had number twenty-one, the man in the seat at the end of the second row (there were three rows – two seats in the front, ten in both middle and back). She noticed Lockroi sat in the front seat with another unidentifiable man as she politely served the overweight Mr. Twenty-One. The lights flashed onto the stage and the men stopped chatting and directed their attention to the parting curtains.

Seraph appeared on the stage, mystically beautiful as her long white hair floated around her, shining like a strange aura. Dressed in Aquaria's finest, she was a gem which apparently tempted many in the audience. She didn't speak, but immediately parted her lips and proceeded to sing the most beautiful song Nel had ever heard. If there was a ever a melody Apris would listen to, it's this…

Nel relaxed for a total of five minutes as Seraph sang, and was finally roused from her daze only when she finished. Enthusiastic applause followed Seraph as she curtsied gracefully and disappeared behind the stage curtains, but not before she had shot Nel a significant glance.

It was not long before the lights dimmed again and the stage curtains parted, this time revealing Sin and Soul standing, facing each other, both wearing strange garments Nel had never seen before. It was slightly like those she had seen Peppitta wear, both somewhat tight yet had flaps at the sleeves and the front and back of the shirt. Sin held a long, ornate silver double-edged sword while Soul held a wickedly sharp dagger in each hand, their blades at least a foot long, much like Nel's. Both didn't say a word either, but bowed to one another and commenced to battle on the stage. Both displayed perfect form – both were obviously adept in the art of blades. They could easily have become the next Captain of the Black Brigade and Crimson Blade. But, Nel noted with slight pride, Albel was slightly better than Sin with the sword.

Surprisingly, when they walked off the large stage, they had not left one scratch on either curtains or floor. The enthusiasm wasn't as great as when Seraph had sang, but Nel suspected that it was largely due to the men's jealousy and envy of two such fit young warriors. This wasn't surprising, but when she heard a few bad mouthing the two brothers she had a strong urge to grab the sausages in their meaty hands and strangle them with it.

Mr. Twenty-One patted her hand. "I'd like more of this stuff," he said gruffly, not even having the grace of looking much higher than her chest. "Of course, sir," Nel said with as much ditziness she could muster and turned on her heel and clicked her way to the bar.

"Nel," Albel whispered, catching up to her, holding serving plate with an empty plate and glass as well. "We should go. They should be waiting for us behind the stage. I heard that there are only a few more performances left."

Nel glanced around, noticing that the bartender was busy kissing up to one of the waitresses to even refill their trays. Walrus was by the front, standing vigilantly by Lockroi, and everyone else was busy watching three scantily-clad women dance a scandalous dance.

She caught Albel's eye and nodded. "We should go by the servant halls. There should be on leading to the stage room."

As quickly and silently as they could, both slipped into the shadows of the back of the room and through the wooden door of the servant halls. The lights had been dimmed, but they made their way steadily to the stage room, listening hard beyond the sound of the clicks of their high heels.

"Do you know which door is the stage door?" Nel asked suddenly, slowing her pace. Albel shot a glare at her, "I was following you because I thought you knew."

They stopped at a split in the hallway. It was hard to see, but sight didn't really help at the moment – none of the doors had any signs on it, which Nel hardly found intelligent. But then, she supposed it doubled as a security purpose against burglars. Spies, in this case. Nel sighed and opted to listen, since they weren't walking anymore it should be easier to hear any noises which may point them towards the stage room.

"You hear something?" Albel asked with a slight frown.

Nel nodded. "It's coming from that door," she pointed to the right door, identical to every other door they had passed. She quickly followed Albel down the short corridor and through the door quietly – only to be grabbed roughly by Albel and shoved back inside.

"What is it?" Nel whispered, knowing that Albel wouldn't intentionally harm her unless there was something wrong inside the room. Her arm was starting to hurt where he was gripping it however. He kept a steely silence and peered through the slight gap in the door, then shook his head. "This isn't the place. Let's go."

Nel frowned. If there was something causing a reaction like this in Lockroi's lair, then it had to be important. "No," Nel whispered stubbornly, "I want to check it out. It might help us later on."

Albel seemed to be measuring her up by the serious look in his crimson eyes. For a moment, she thought he might refuse, but he gave a curt nod. Moving slightly out of the way, he made room for Nel to move up to the door and peer through the gap. She gave an inaudible gasp.

Beyond the door was a red-painted hallway with many entrances without doors. Instead of doors, they had a lacy black curtain hanging at the front. The lights were dim, and she could smell incense and something spicy. Lewd paintings decorated the walls. But compared to these paintings, the young women being herded inside were far worse. Nel faintly guessed the youngest to be sixteen, the oldest around her early twenties, and none of them decently covered at all. It seemed as if their clothing had been torn from their bodies, leaving them in scraps of rags and their undergarments and shoeless. Their wrists were bound together with thick ropes in harsh knots, their feet tied together but with some length to allow them to walk but not enough length to run. There weren't three or four – rather, almost thirty being pushed and shoved by muscled, rough-looking men who were putting two in each room. Each of the women's faces were terrified, streaked with tears, and in some cases bruised.

Her eyes caught on a head of orange hair and her heart constricted as she recognized Tynave's bruised face. Her jaw clenched as she realized that she was being shoved into a room with Farleen. But her heart relaxed slightly as she noticed that neither seemed to have the crumpled, defeated look all the other women had. But that did not prevent her from fisting her hands in anger, so much so that her nails dug into her palms. Evidently, the women here were the dessert course after the main entertainment for Daddy's Little Rich Boys. These people were despicable, lower than scum. If only she had her daggers – no, in fact, she did not need her daggers. She could just go in now and punch all of them into pulp. That seemed like a good idea, what was more appealing was the thought to get into action now…

The door suddenly closed. Nel glared down at the hand which had pulled the door. "Open it," she said softly, but with a steely undertone.

"You can't go in there unarmed and in nine inch heels, woman. Forget it," Albel retorted.

"I'll be fine." Nel turned to glare at Albel, chin set at a stubborn angle. Albel glared hard into her eyes, "I know you aren't suicidal, Nel. So you aren't going in there."

"They have Tynave and Farleen!" Nel hissed, nails digging more into her palms.

"All the more reason to be careful with the plan," Albel said, his voice quiet compared to her near-yell.

Nel's anger spiked. Did he not understand? Two of her most loyal subordinates were taken by force to perform Apris only knew what for the scum in the bar. But it wasn't just her subordinates – all the women in there were experiencing terror perhaps only second to what they experienced during the war. And here Albel was, her partner, barring her from entering the room and saving them. It seemed like a twisted replay of when he had taken both Tynave and Farleen as hostages. He had prevented her from saving them then, and he was doing the same now.

"Get out of my way," Nel hissed, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

"No," Albel replied calmly.

Before she had time to think about it, she had curled back her right arm and thrown a punch at his face. He blocked it with his left hand, and before she could twist out of it his other hand had clamped around her body and had pressed her against him in an un-budging grip. His arm wound around her neck and his hand cradled the back of her head so that her face was slightly pressed against his chest.

She was about to yell when she heard the source of his actions: a set of lone footsteps echoing in the halls, steadily coming closer to the fork. Nel tensed, anger temporarily forgotten. If they decided to go down the left hall, they were screwed. There were no places to hide, the lights weren't dim enough to be unseen in darkness, and they couldn't go hide in the hallway with those men who were most likely mercenaries.

The footsteps got closer, and they paused at the fork. Nel could see the tip of a shadow at the fork from around the gentle curve of the hall.

Nel held her breath. They were weaponless, in ridiculous heels and vulnerable. If they were revealed now…

Chaos would be sure to follow.

vox: Nel and Albel, in a dark corner between a rock and a hard place? What will they do?