- Star Ocean 3 is (c) Tri-Ace. This is for entertainment only. -


Dark infidel...

A pale face bled out of the darkness, summoned from memory, joined by luminous wings and embroidered robes. For mere programs, they were ridiculously elaborate. He wasn't sure he understood what a 'program' was completely, but if it could be equatable with 'maggots,' 'fools,' or any other expletive of his choice, why split hairs?

Ironically, he wasn't much different than they were. I didn't think it was possible for characters to jump out of the game! Rubbish.

Dark infidel. Albel had laughed, the first time he heard that. He rather liked it. Was it not accurate? He strove to build such an image, even if the enforcer was too dense to notice. Nel had no trouble noticing.

He grinned and cracked an eye open, the memory of the enforcer fading in favor of the reality sitting beside him, staring at the terminal. She didn't notice. Idiot. Still trying to make it work, are you? He'd given up on the Diplo's computers when he realized he didn't understand any of the information it spat out at him. Nel couldn't understand anymore than he, but she kept going back to it, like she thought it would do any good. Did banging one's head on a wall make it break down faster? No.

Try to figure it out. Just -try-. I'll laugh when you can't. He folded his arms behind his head and tapped the wall idly. It made a tinny metallic click.

Ridiculing Nel was wearing thin. She didn't make it very easy, with those daggers of hers, or her cutting sarcasm. She wasn't bad at all, for an Aquarian, but how many times could they exchange the same insults? He'd rather be out doing something, like shedding a little blood, even cooking, if it meant an end to the boredom. There was nothing to do on the Diplo. Everything was automated.

"Hey."

He lifted his head and met a cutting glance from Nel. "What?"

"Stop that, will you? I'm trying to concentrate."

"Stop wha-?" She rolled her eyes, and then it clicked. Tap, tap, tap. He grinned again. Vox had always hated that habit, hated the sound. Naturally, Albel had gone out of his way to do it as often as possible during meetings, tapped his sword, the table, his goblet, even earning reprimands from the king on a few occasions.

Ah, those were the days. Things were so much simpler.

"Do you have any idea--"

"Yeah, I do." Albel kept tapping and let his head fall back, grin fading. It might not be smart to make her angry, but at least it was something to do. What a novelty, to be stuck with a woman who would actually fight back - or slit his throat, maybe. Let her try.

She seemed to be thinking about it when he looked over again. He kept it up for another few seconds, daring her with his most insolent smile, before he finally gave up and let his hand fall. "Why do you even bother? You know it won't do any good."

"I won't know until I try." Nel turned back to the screen, but it had changed, displaying the word 'Diplo' in big, stylized letters. She tapped the keyboard and stared. "...Password? What?"

"A code word, you know? The kind you give to--"

"I know what a password is."

"Just trying to help--"

"Shut up, Albel. Just shut up."

He snickered and raised his hands to fend off her glare. So he was being childish. So what?

His amusement quickly faded when Nel turned her attention to the computer again. This wasn't going well at all. He'd followed Fayt hoping for a little excitement, and all he had so far was a sore shoulder and Nel for a roommate. What genius had assigned them to the same room, anyway? Whoever it was deserved to be gutted.

Albel allowed his eyes to drift shut again and let the sound of Nel's fingers on the keys blend into the noise of the background. This was the first time in ages he'd allowed himself to sit still for so long. Nothing good was coming of it. Instead of using the time to think - something to be avoided at all costs, if possible - he only called the enforcer to mind again. His memory had always been good, almost picture perfect, as his mother used to say.

Someone had started calling them 'Proclaimers' because of their constant admonitions, and it was a fitting name, though 'executioner' was more likely. He was curious how they planned to kill him. They were beautiful in their own way. It would have to be something beautiful - something like Apris was supposed to be, if he could only believe in such things.

Dark infidel. Who was he kidding? Even Apris couldn't scour him clean.

Nel cursed softly, and he heard the chair slam into the wall as she stalked away from the console. His mouth twisted a little, but the smile wouldn't return. "Told you."

"Do you have to talk?"

He sat up and crossed his legs. "What else am I supposed to do? I'm open to suggestions."

"Who knows." She dropped into a chair and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "This is ridiculous. We should be doing something, not sitting here and waiting to be killed."

"My thoughts exactly." So she felt the same way, at least - not that it helped the situation.

Silence fell between them again. Albel watched her stare at the ceiling, then let his eyes wander to her runes. He assumed most of them were covered by her clothing; only a hint of blue peeked at him from the pale side of her arms, and a few inches of a pattern was visible on her thigh when she propped her leg on the table. They made no sense to him, but he'd always been curious about runology, and how writing on his skin was supposed to give him the power to manipulate elements. No one in Airyglyph could satisfactorily explain it.

Would it work if he etched runes into his claw, perhaps? Or were runes supposed to be inscribed on living flesh? He wished he'd bothered to check those Crimson Blades Shelby captured before their rescue.

Nel's voice broke into his thoughts once again. "If you do more than look, I'll gut you."

He bared his teeth. "I'd rather try an Executioner."

"Do that." She rose and turned her back on him. "I'm going to look for Fayt. Try not to break anything."

Albel snorted as she disappeared through the door, staring at it long after she had gone. Now what was he going to do?


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The idea amused me, so I wrote it. I suppose it needs some work, but I'd rather direct my effort to more serious projects. However, if you want to offer constructive comments, I'll probably get back to this story eventually.