Flatline

Wonder who it could be by…

Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own much, and certainly not Star Ocean. And I'm not getting paid for this.

Warning: They swear. Yeah, I know I never warned about the worse things in the last chapter, but you'll live.

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Albel was roused to the dolor of his future tomb and raised himself into a sitting position slowly. Sharp pain protested his actions, but it was tolerable. The blood mixture had coagulated on his leg, and he picked it off along with the grime that was plastered to his arms from falling asleep in the grime. The Twisted One rubbed the bleariness from his eyes with the back of his hand and tried to focus on the task of escaping after dressing once again. Surveying the chains, he surmised that he should be able to free himself using his claw. Sure enough, he crushed the chains binding him and stood unsteadily. Leaning against the wall for support, he walked a few paces along the wall before his legs collapsed beneath him. "Goddammit…" he muttered aloud. Once again he clambered to his feet and relied on the wall to be his crutch as he made his way to the lone door on the far side of the room. His dungeon seemed to elongate as he scratched and pulled his way along the grimy, blood-caked wall, and his destination never grew closer. After what seemed like hours of toil, the lithe man finally made it to the filthy door, his only exit. He placed his right hand on the knob and rotated it when he heard the click of the latch barring his escape. "Goddammit all!" He shouted to the room, disgusted with the futility of his efforts. "How the hell am I supposed to escape this fucking hellhole? How the hell am I supposed to…" His grip loosened on the knob and he slowly slid down to the floor. "Fuck it." He cursed, digging his claw into the sturdy, once-oak door before him.

"Not having a good day, Albel? If you had joined me the first time we met, none of this would've happened to you. Vox would not have locked you in this dungeon after having his way with you, your dignity would still be intact, and you would've seen your father once again. All you need to do is welcome Death and all will-"

"Shut up." Albel commanded. "I'd rather live in this filthy shithole than die and become your personal sex toy." I couldn't face my father knowing that. I doubt I'd be able to look him in the eyes now.

"What a pity." The ethereal figure of Romero tsked. "I guess I'll have to kill you myself, then? Or should I like your archenemy finish you off and gloat about it?"

"Neither. Just leave." He was exhausted. He hadn't eaten in what he guessed was days, and pain takes a lot of energy to sustain. Aside from that, he was tired of the shenanigans of the King of the Dead and much preferred the company of Fayt and his friends to those two puppeteers. He clawed at the door as best he could in hopes of reaching the other side, but he only came a quarter of the way through when he realized that the attempt would dull his claws much too quickly. Neither of his weapons were made for digging through anything thick. He heaved an exasperated sigh and settled for placing his back to the door and watching the translucent firefly that was trying to con him into dying or becoming a necrophiliac, he wasn't sure which.

The King of the Dead regarded him with an enigmatic gaze. "Have you decided?"

"No." He wasn't in the mood for sarcastic retorts.

"Then I will decide for you. I'd rather you come back alive than in pieces." He hovered toward the spent man, his feet never touching the ground. He looked like a god amongst the wretched prison, with a slight glow about him and his silvery hair floating with little effort. Albel let his eyes drift to the shadow of wings on the ground and fixed his vision on the sight.

"Cheater."

"Hmm? If it's within my power, then it's fair play, is it not? But then again, I guess it's like sore losers, such as yourself, to cry cheater when things aren't going their way."

Albel closed his eyes and sighed in hopes of calming his nausea. Slowly, he began to explain himself. "You're a cheater. You won't even go near me after our first fight, and then you send a lackey to assassinate me. Then he decides o put me through hell and you only show up when I can't even stand on my own two goddamn legs. Above all that, you even cheat at levitating. You have wings."

"It doesn't matter how you win, as long as you win." Romero replied, with a reassuring smile. He teleported next to the young Captain and extended a hand to him. "Come with me and I'll deliver you the catharsis of your sufferance. If not, then I shall simply leave you to die a weakling's death in this putrid chamber. Which do you choose? Ultimately you will be mine, even if it takes sixty years. Everyone has to die, Albel, the only eternity comes in death."

Which was the right decision? Albel realized that what the pale deity said was true: he would die eventually. There was no way around it. But would he deny the man beside him once again and die in this filthy pit, or should he take his hand and join him, and be exempt from such a demeaning fate? He tried to employ logic, as Fayt had taught him to do.

"I may be eternal, but I cannot wait for your answer forever, Albel Nox." He declared impatiently. "I have things to do."

The swordsman closed his eyes once again and listened to the asymmetrical rhythm of his heartbeat and breathing. It felt like he couldn't keep going. Perhaps joining Romero would be the right thing to do. Reality began to ripple and sounds and images mixed together. He couldn't concentrate. He felt himself slowly falling backward, as if into the abyss of death that he'd been so desperate to escape. When he opened his eyes, the towering visage of Vox greeted him. He quickly glanced about the room to discover that Romero was nowhere to be found.

"Trying to escape, huh? Nice try." He picked up the younger man by the chain and brought him to eye level. "It's time for you to meet my king." He drew forth his sword and passed it over Albel's eyes. He pointed it at the Twisted one's chest and pulled back, ready to impale him.

"Stop!" Arzei commanded, determined to save the two-tone. "I don't know who you are, but I order you to refrain from impersonating a dead man and release him."

"So you'll get to live for another few days, what of it? We'll win in the end." The older man dropped Albel and walked further into the room, vanishing in the shadows.

The king rushed to his captain as he collapsed on the floor, too drained from sickness and lack of food to support himself. "Are you all right, Albel?"

"I never thought I'd be glad to see you…" He mumbled, with a smirk. "I told you that I saw Vox again… But you didn't believe me…"

Arzei gestured for his men to help the exhausted man to his feet and carry him to the nearest doctor. Before the group departed, Arzei addressed Albel one last time. "I apologize for not heeding your concerns, Albel. It'll never happen again. By the way, we'd have never discovered this spot had it not been for that redheaded woman who tipped us off. You should try to thank her sometime."

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Short chapter, I know. But it's quality and not quantity, right? I just wanted to get him out of there so I could proceed with the next plan. Thanks for reading, everyone.