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Noctis was going to die.
He had always known it’d be a possibility that he’d die. Maybe by monsters, maybe by Niflhiem who wanted his head on a pike, maybe in some freak accident, but he’d never considered it’d be by Prompto’s hand.
Prompto had called his name, and for a split second he’d been happy, even if it was his full name, but it switched to growing fear when he saw the gun pointed at him. So many enemies had pointed a gun at him before, but this was the first time someone he considered a friend had.
It had only been a day ago (Astrals, only yesterday ) when Noctis had met Prompto. He hadn't chosen the name Prompto yet, but he was Prompto all the same.
Noctis usually took out all the snipers first, but Gladio had needed his help with a larger MT so he'd left the last two for later, but a clear chance hadn't come. By the time it had, every other MT had been destroyed, leaving one sniper unit left. At the time he hadn't thought anything strange about it (but quickly realized the downed unit had been taken out by the one left standing), but after the last unit evaded his strikes (with moves he now recognized as his own) without attacking back, he'd realized something. Something about this MT unit made it more advanced, more sentient than the other models. Noctis didn't know what the something was (now he did and he wished he didn't), but even semi-sentience required a minor breach in code. The breach in code must have been why the sniper unit hadn't attacked him yet, even with a gun in hand and ample opportunity.
Of course that confidence had only lasted until the unit raised its rifle again, but that was neither here nor there.
The MT had shuttered and dropped to its knees, and Noctis may have panicked a bit, and in the heat of the moment, he'd done exactly what he would have done for a human (that… that had been a panic attack hadn't it? Because MT's were human underneath like Ignis said?).
Noctis had known there was inherently more about this MT unit, and if it was semi-sentient, it deserved to be treated like so.
Then it had looked up, and Noctis had somehow known it was safe.
He wasn't stupid though, so he stuck to the MT's injured side and made sure at least one of his retainers could see him at all times. That didn't mean he didn't try to be friendly. He talked to the MT, well, more like he talked at the MT since the MT never responded, non-verbal or otherwise (because he was forced not to, not because he wasn't capable, and how terrible was that?), and made jokes whenever he could. If things hadn't been so tense, he would have heard Gladio groaning at his jokes and seen the just-barely-there upward twitch of Ignis' lips when he was trying to hide his amusement.
But there was none of that, so Noctis talked and talked until he'd run out of things to say, and then talked some more, just to fill the suffocating void that was the silence when he went quiet.
He talked about anything and nothing, no important information of course, but about his travels and adventures outside of Insomnia. He talked about Mr. Wiz Forlane and his Chocobo Post with enough detail to paint a picture and create a scene. He talked about Sania and all the odd tasks that they did for her and her frog sciences. He talked about Cindy and her grandfather Cid who ran a gas station and repair shop next to a diner that had food to die for. Not as good as Ignis', Noctis assured, but wonderful in its own right.
When it had gotten too dark to see much, they'd flipped on lights and Noctis had assumed that the MT hadn't because he had night vision, as mechs usually did (now he knew that the night vision came from the Scourge, not mechanics, and felt ill). He'd been a bit unnerved by the fact that the MT couldn't come into the haven, because that meant Starscourge, and where the scourge went, darkness followed. Still there'd been no hint of hostility since the fight, and Noctis was willing to bank on the fact that it would stay that way. Ignis apparently was too, which outnumbered Gladio 2 to 1, meaning they would leave the MT be.
There hadn't been any major issue when Noctis had woken up (though the fact that Niflheim had put a lock on a human voice rankled his nerves even more than before), but the talk with the MT had been like a rude awakening, or a particularly hard slap to the face. Subconsciously, Noctis had considered that there was something more to the MT than just a breach in code, but to know that he(he— he because holy shit he was a human ) could feel? Was afraid? Noctis had felt his heart tear (now it was breaking).
Then Ignis had dropped a bomb on them, not even waiting for the timer to finish for it to go off. MTs were human (and he wanted to be sick at the thought that they'd been killing humans, even ones that wanted him dead). It was no wonder Prompto felt different. He was breaking free from what he'd been programmed to think and act like (Noctis didn't want to think about what would have happened to all the other MTs, if they'd have broken free or not, if he hadn't killed them ).
But somehow, Prompto started acting like a machine again.
It wasn't Prompto's fault.
He couldn't have chosen to revert to machine mode.
Prompto fired, and Noctis stood, frozen in place, believing that this would be the end of his life. There was no time to warp, no time to move.
He was dead.
And the gun exploded.
They all automatically lurched backwards from the explosion, eyes wide with fear and astonishment and a million other things Noctis didn't have the brain space to think about. He was focused solely on Prompto who had been thrown back a few feet, hand, chest, and face plate scorched and partially melted from the blast. The destroyed gun laid, smoking and disfigured, far away where it had landed when it had been expelled from Prompto's grasp. The gun had a distinctively bent and splintered barrel that looked to be the cause of the explosion. Had the gun been damaged in the fight? Then shouldn't Prompto have known not to use it?
Prompto stumbled back, tilting precariously, and Noctis took a step forward to help catch him, only for Ignis to snatch his forearm in a death grip. "Iggy, what…" The words died on his tongue when he saw his advisor's face. He was ashen grey, and more scared than Noctis had seen in years.
A tight feeling pulled at Noctis’ chest, and Ignis looked to Gladio, who nodded with a grim expression before charging at Prompto.
“No!” Noctis lurched forwards to escape Ignis’ grip, to stop Gladio before he seriously injured Prompto—the same Prompto who was terrified of Gladio not an hour before—but Ignis held fast. “Gladio, don’t—!”
“Noctis," Ignis cut through his words, voice strained. "That isn’t Prompto anymore.”
Noctis was edging on panic now, desperate not to lose his new companion, a possible friend . His wild eyes locked with Ignis’. “Yes he is! He was Prompto before he took the name and he’s Prompto afterwards! Whatever just happened had to be a mistake! An accident!”
Ignis didn’t argue, but instead asked, “Are you sure about that?” Noctis flinched. Ignis' lips flattened into a line and he turned to the fight. Noctis, helpless and unable to do anything else, turned to watch too.
Prompto fought with Gladio, but it was such a one sided fight that it should have ended already. Prompto was no longer fighting with the moves he’d picked up from the trio, instead only using movies that MTs would have used. Gladio swung straight down, but instead of side-stepping like he had with Noctis, he stepped backwards and the broadsword clipped his chest piece, tearing a chunk off.
Before, there had been a mile long hesitation from Prompto to even look in Gladio's direction. Now, there was nothing of the sort. Prompto didn't even falter when taking a swing at him.
The more Noctis watched, the more his heart sunk in his chest.
Ignis was right. Anything that had made Prompto Prompto , wasn’t there.
Noctis’ eyes stung.
Gladio spun and managed to catch Prompto in the side of his head with the flat of the blade, making him crumple to the ground, knocking him unconscious. Ignis didn’t let go of Noctis until Gladio had confirmed that Prompto was unconscious, at which point Noctis rushed to Prompto’s side. He leaned his head in close to Prompto’s chest, pressing his ear against the warm plating to check for breathing. After a few seconds he heard a slow inhale, followed by a shuttering exhale, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Noctis furrowed his brows, looking back to face his retainers. His voice was smaller than he’d have liked it to be when he spoke. “What… what do we do now?”
Gladio looked pained. Noctis knew he’d been against having Prompto around in the beginning, but the declaration of being scared and wanting to live must have affected Gladio more than he let on. He hadn’t even been fighting Prompto at full strength, hesitant to hurt someone who was so scared to be killed. If Noctis thought about it, Gladio had always been a sucker for scared kids.
Ignis still had that strained expression, but it had smoothed out somewhat. Noctis knew it wasn't because he felt better though. “I don’t think it would be a wise decision to take Prompto with us any longer,” Ignis said after a while.
Noctis couldn’t help but feel betrayed, even though the small, logical part of his brain knew Ignis was right. He'd worked so hard to get Prompto to see himself as more than just a machine, which was even more important now that Noctis knew Prompto was human. He couldn't just leave him here now. “What? No! He might have just been reminded of his programming by accident and he’ll be fine when he wakes up.” Even as he said it, the words felt false.
Ignis’ face tightened. “Noctis, we don’t even know if he’ll remember who we are beyond his programming.”
And if that wasn’t the most damning thing.
Noctis’ heart denied it, but he knew he couldn't keep pretending that everything would be fine. Even though Prompto had been forming his own personality, he was an MT first, and a person with an identity second. At least for now.
Ignis continued, “He may wake up and try to kill you again, and even considering as special as he is, I can’t take that chance, not with you.”
Noctis hung his head, chest throbbing, and Gladio put what was probably supposed to be a comforting hand on his shoulder, but it only made him feel worse, like the metaphorical weight on his shoulders had increased once again.
The pain in his chest gripped him tighter.
“I know,” Noctis managed to choke out. “But— but I can’t— I can’t just forget who he is— what he is.” Human , went unsaid, but completely understood.
“I know.” Ignis’ voice was soft and his hands softer as he and Gladio helped Noctis to his feet. “Neither can I.”
“We'll leave him here. If he survives, then he survives,” Gladio said resolutely, resolve coloring his voice. “Maybe not with us, but if the Astrals want him to, he’ll live.”
“Come on, Noctis,” Ignis said gently. “Time to go.”
Noctis choked on a breath, vision blurring in and out but he wouldn’t cry. He had a new goal now. He had to find a way to take down Niflheim so that no one else would end up like Prompto, stuck in life with the short end of the stick. They had to pay for playing with people’s lives, especially their own citizens.
He silently promised Prompto that he would take down Niflheim, and some day meet back up with him again.
With stronger and more determined steps, he strode back towards the Regalia, Ignis and Gladio right behind him, and said, “We have an Empire to take down.”
He could almost hear Gladio crack a grin. “Damn straight we do.”