Flatline

A story by The Fetid Conceited.

Disclaimer: I only own Star Ocean in my dreams. But at least I get to own this fic. Though I ponder if it is a curse, or…

LeFox: Thanks for the support, my lone reviewer…

Warning: I will be exploiting Romero's personality, and because I'm only given a few lines from the story to work with, you'll have to bear with me…sweatdrop by the way, if you've not noticed, I neglected to proofread for fear of becoming fully aware of this chapter's crappiness…

Pairing: Albel/Romero… Now we shall finally meet the other half of the equation.

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The catacombs showed every sign of neglect imaginable. Quicklime had eaten away the stone walls, and water began to leak through the chips and cracks. The occasional droplet descending from the ceiling and the echoing footsteps of the lone swordsman were the only sounds to be heard in the dank pit. It was both a blessing and a curse to the two-tone, for he knew there was not another present in the catacombs, yet his location would be far too easy to pinpoint, making him a sitting duck for a preemptive strike.

Albel came to a halt in front of a rancid pile of half-cooked meat and bones, apparently victim of an acid bath or equally-painful and demeaning torture. The swordsman wrinkled his nose in disgust, hastily detouring around the pile of rotted flesh. He was not yet five feet away from it when it manifested into a horrific miscreation only found in terror-stricken nightmares. Albel regarded the abomination with trepidation, quickly backing up to widen the distance between them. This… thing, he supposed, must be one of the king's subordinates… Or what's left of it…

The creature roared and lunged at him clumsily, a move which Albel deftly dodged with his superior agility. However, he was left in a precarious situation in which he was pinned against the catacomb wall. The creature, taking not of that fact, used Albel's situation to its advantage and made another pass at him; to which, Albel responded, by sinking to the ground and arcing his sword upward in a more powerful simulacrum of air slash.

The manifestation let out a bloodcurdling shriek as its belly and throat were slit open vertically, spilling fetid, carious, baked meat on Albel. Grimacing and suppressing the urge to retch, Albel kicked the sack of putrefied flesh away from him and heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn't every day that Albel Nox was caught off guard.

"I'm impressed," a languid-yet-lustrous voice commended. Clapping reverberated through the hallway to further support the statement. "It's been a while since anyone has gotten even that far."

"Show yourself," Albel growled menacingly. "I've no lenity for cowards…"

"Very well." Came the curt reply, and was almost cut off in a prosaic materialization.

The being that stood before him was utterly transplendent. It took all of Albel's discipline to refrain from gaping at the awe and beauty this creature beheld. Silvery strands of evenly-cut hair framed an equally pallid aristocratic face frozen in stoicism. Astonishing chestnut eyes silently regarded and perlustrated the young man splayed before him. The young male was clothed in only the finest of material; a luxurious black dress shirt masked his silken skin elegantly, accented by a violet-trimmed black cape draped about his shoulders. The complex silver emblem on the back shone brightly in the dark dungeon. Arcane accentuations of matching colour to the emblem flowed eloquently into the consubstantial design of his pants, which were accessorized through use of velvet bands. Held firmly in one gloved hand was a daunting broadsword enveloped hungrily by orange ever-burning flame. Albel's eyes drifted to the shadow below the levitating celestial, noting the presence of ominous devil's wings.

Albel was roused out of his ascertainments by the being's voice. "I am Romero, King of the Dead. Your skills are noteworthy, but insignificant next to my own. What a pity you condemned yourself to oblivion by trespassing down here. Now I'm afraid you'll have to die."

"How unfortunate," Albel mocked, "that you crossed paths with Albel the Twisted. You're likely a walk in the park compared to some of the scum I've dealt with effortlessly. You're the King of the Dead, you say? Fine. I'll make you a deal. Resurrect my father and I'll spare your life."

Romero's cold-hearted laughter sent chills down the two-tone's spine. "What a pompous, ignorant mortal you are. Mocking me earns you a fate worse than death…" His sword flared to life, further illuminating the dark passage, and he was presented a better assessment of Albel's juxtaposition to himself. The defiant wretch was sitting against the wall, legs splayed out in an utmost flamboyant manner, skirt hiked up from the slide to the ground. This man would make the perfect playtoy, Romero mused to himself. "I'll make you a deal. Should I lose to you in a duel, I will resurrect your father. However, should you lose the duel, your soul will be mine to keep."

"Cut the semantics, worm, and let's get started." Albel rose to his feet, dusting himself off before stepping forward.

"Such brash words for a simple mortal." Romero chided. The dark deity teleported out of sight; he later reappeared behind Albel, catching him off guard. Quickly gathering his wits, Albel reversed his hold on his sword, thrusting it behind him in an upward inverted arc, thus catching Romero's collar. The vampire groaned in surprise and incredulity, retaliating against the lithe man by impaling the ground, sending molten flame shooting into the air. Albel narrowly evaded the rapidly-expanding pool of lava, and backed away for safety precautions.

"You'll pay for that…" Albel hadn't even a chance to turn toward the voice before Romero slashed at his back, sending a spray of blood across the floor. Albel staggered, then whirled around in a graceful horizontal slash sending swirls of violet shockwaves about him. However, it was too little too late as Romero once again stabbed his sword into the ground, kneeling before it as if it were an altar. A black pagan symbol scrawled itself across the ground in a nine-foot diameter, using Romero as the centre. Black, viscous liquid slowly flowed inward toward the vampire, cohesively bonding to form a malefic abyss. A demon comprised entirely of blood rose from that abyss, poised to attack with its bloody sword.

Romero rose from his prayer-like stance. He gestured to Albel with his sword, almost nonchalantly. "Kill him."

The demon burst forth with immense speed, blood splattering everywhere and melting anything it came in contact with. Albel broke and sprinted down the charnel, ducking into a niche in the wall empty of bones. It was a tight fit, but it apparently sufficed as the blood demon bowled past him in an onslaught of rage and fury. He crawled out of confinement when the monstrosity passed, turning to regard it whilst it simultaneously turned to survey its work.

Albel froze like a deer in headlights. There would be no escaping the demon if it came back for a second pass. However, it simply smirked triumphantly and melted into a pool of blood at the end of the passageway. Albel hadn't a chance to sigh from relief when Romero was upon him once again, slamming the frail swordsman into the wall, causing him to cry out in pain.

Albel's fine features contorted in agony as he attempted to overpower Romero in a deadlock. Unfortunately for the two-tone, it was clearly no contest as the dark being held him in check with one hand. "Your soul is mine, Albel Nox…" he whispered, inches away from Albel. The swordsman let out a tortured shriek when the vampire crushed him against the wall with his own bodyweight.

The Twisted One's vision was fading, the pain overpowering his senses. He could feel his ribs beginning to bend from the stress, no doubt they were to break should they undergo such pressure for much longer. The strength was ebbing from his arms and blood was beginning to trickle down his chin. A recent internal injury acquired from the battle urged him to cough, dislodging the blood accumulating in his lungs, but such an act would mean certain death. There was only one option left to save himself.

He kissed Romero. The vampire yielded in surprise of the unexpected-yet-welcome action, allowing Albel ample time to run him through. He pierced the dark king's stomach without breaking the kiss.

Romero finally broke away, staring at the swordsman with shock and sadness. "Why…" he questioned, facial expression transitioning to anger flawlessly. "Why the hell did you pull an idiotic stunt like that, you pathetic tramp!" Anger blazed in the deity's eyes as he raised his sword, poised to split Albel's skull in two.

"M'lord!" Standing at the entrance of the catacombs was a troupe of perhaps twenty heavily-armoured men, each thirsting for the blood of the man who almost claimed the life of their captain.

Romero lowered his sword, completely disregarding the troupe and turning his attention to Albel. "We shall finish our little duel later." He ushered, stroking Albel's cheek before dissipating entirely.

Albel let out a sigh of relief before allowing the darkness he had suppressed for so long wash over him. The soldiers gaped in consternation as their lanky general collapsed in unconsciousness.

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TFC: It still wasn't as long as I am used to, but I suppose it will suffice. However, lack of reviews lead me to question my abilities and this fic's quality. Either that, or FF hates me and refuses to allow my story posting in the search area.