Prompto had spent the entire afternoon with the chocobos and, after seeing how the birds seemed to like him, Wiz started showing him how to care for them, letting him help with feeding and grooming them, clearing out the stalls and exercising the ones that hadn’t been hired for a while.
The sun was setting and the pair of them were working in an easy silence grooming two birds who had just been returned. “You’ve got a real knack for this, kid. You sure you’ve never been around the birds before?” Wiz asked.
Prompto grinned over the bird’s back and shook his head. “No, never. Today was the first day I’d even seen one other than just a photo. It’s too cold in Gralea for chocobos.”
That seemed to give Wiz pause—Prompto hadn’t mentioned where he was from before now—but when he continued speaking, there was no hint of malice in his voice. “Well, Nif or not, you ever get tired of following the prince around, you let me know. I could use another set of capable hands around here.”
Prompto practically beamed over the offer; it was the first time someone had actually said he was good at something he hadn’t trained his whole life for. Nonetheless, “I’ll keep that in mind. For now, though, I'm happy to stay with Noct,” he said, looking over to where the prince was sitting in front of the caravan, playing on his phone again. Noct was the one who had managed to break through past the training that had taken hold and then asked nothing more of him than to enjoy himself spending time with the chocobos. No demands, no questions, just patience and a willingness to let him readjust himself. He couldn't even think of leaving Noct now, even for something as awesome as chocobos.
“Understood,” Wiz said. “Just remember, I’ll always welcome you to work here should the need arise.”
Prompto nodded, and the two of them finished up in silence.
It was perhaps an hour later that Prompto hesitantly approached the prince. “Where’s Ignis?” he asked by way of a conversation starter. He could hear Gladio snoring in the caravan, so that one was obvious.
“Well, he was supposed to be just grabbing a few ingredients from the shop, but that was an hour ago,” Noct said, not looking up from his phone.
Prompto looked towards the shop with a frown. “Should we go see if he’s alright?”
“No way,” Noct said. “Not unless you wanna be stuck there for another three hours at least while he extolls the various virtues of the cabbage.” Prompto tried not to laugh at that, easily being able to picture it, but didn’t entirely succeed. “Hey,” Noct said, looking up from his phone. “Go grab Gladio’s phone and bring it out here. I’ll teach you to play King’s Knight.”
“Won’t he be angry?” Prompto asked, glancing towards the caravan as the man inside gave a rather loud snort.
“It’ll be fine,” Noct reassured him.
Prompto wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t about to start questioning Noct now. Thankfully, Gladio had left his phone on the table, so Prompto could grab it without waking him and bring it outside. He handed it to Noct and pulled a chair close so he could see what was being done.
They spent a good hour playing each other in the game. Ignis came back at some point carrying two large bags of supplies but other than humming in disapproval, a sound Noct just rolled his eyes at but otherwise ignored, he didn't comment on seeing a Nif with a phone.
“I suppose you want some kind of answer for what happened before, huh,” Prompto said eventually.
“Only if you want to,” Noct said slowly, watching him from the corner of his eye.
“I don't know what I want,” Prompto said honestly.
Perhaps guessing that Prom would need some kind of guidance on this, Noct suggested, “Why not start with what it was Ardyn said after we landed that was different to all the crap he said before?”
Prompto nodded. That made sense. “My name,” he said.
“Your name? Prompto?” Noct frowned, unable to recall Ardyn ever using any of their names.
Prompto, though, shook his head. “Not that one,” he said. “C1094 is who I am. What I am. My unit number.”
Prompto was strapped to a medical table. They told him this was part of the process of migrating to another unit. He had proven inadequate for melee so now they were trying something else. Only those who were completely malfunctioning, were defective, were destroyed.
A scientist wearing a full mask, apron, and gloves approached holding a syringe full of a dark liquid. Prompto watched it intently, but he didn't dare ask questions. The scientist tightened the wrist strap painfully tight, causing Prompto’s elbow to flex. Under the harsh lights, a vein was easy to find, and the needle inserted. Whatever that liquid was, it was thick; Prompto felt it spread, felt it as his racing heart pumped it ever faster throughout his body. It burned. It burned, it burned, it burned it burned!
He screamed.
“I thought you said Prompto was your name,” Noctis said.
“It was, until I was about twelve,” Prompto said. “They reassigned me then. I had failed too many times in melee training. I wasn't responding well to Inurement. This was my last chance to avoid being decommissioned.”
“Decommissioned? They fire you?” Noct asked.
Prompto shook his head. “I don't think so. No one really knows. Those who are decommissioned just… disappear. Reassignment was my last chance to avoid that. As part of it, they… kill who you were. You no longer exist as a name, and you're given a unit number. Prompto died then. C1094 was born.”
He was walked along a narrow hallway, flanked by two B-Grade units with guns, to stop him from trying to escape. He didn't want to escape, though part of him wondered if he could. His fingers twitched and his eyes darted this way and that and why were they walking so slowly! He wanted to run!
Turning a corner, he had to wait for one of them to open a door before he was ushered inside. There was a man there in a lab coat. He had long white hair and looked familiar, but he didn't care why. There was a girl on the other side of the room. She was pretty. She was chained to the wall, but it didn't look like she had been there for long; she didn't have the raw wrists that he had.
“C1094.”
He didn't understand at first, but then he remembered. C1094. That was him. He looked at the scientist.
“This woman has been found guilty of a crime by our courts,” he said. He picked up a rifle that had been resting against the wall and handed it to him. He had never held a gun before, but had seen other units use them. He copied the way his guards held it and awaited further instructions.
“You are to carry out her sentence. C1094, shoot the woman.”
“No, please no,” the woman said, pressing herself back against the wall. She was crying. Crying was weakness. He rose the weapon, pointing it at her.
And hesitated.
She didn’t look like a criminal. She looked like just an ordinary girl, older than he was, but not that old. Twenty would be pushing it.
“C1094. Shoot!”
Intense pain shot through his head and he gasped as he pulled the trigger. The woman’s chest exploded in blood and gore. It splattered against the wall, sprayed him, blood in the mouth. It was hot and metallic. He licked his lips. He grinned even as his arms trembled, euphoric.
“I killed a woman,” Prompto said, staring at the table. The phone he was holding had automatically locked ages ago. “That was the first task C1094 was assigned. I hesitated, but I still killed her.”
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“You did what you had to do to survive,” Noct said, his voice full of a sympathy that Prompto didn’t deserve, sympathy that wouldn’t be there if he knew the whole truth.
“I did have to do it. It was an order, and I had to obey,” he allowed. “But I liked it. I liked killing them and I liked the blood. And I wanted more.”
C1094 killed two more criminals, an old man and a middle aged man. He didn’t know what their crimes were. He didn’t ask. He didn’t care. All he wanted was that rush, the explosion of blood, the gore, the light fading from their eyes and the euphoria it brought him. Shooting targets was boring when he could shoot real people.
When they came for him again, he willingly offered up his arm for the drug they gave him before every execution. The scientist, the one who had given him the order to kill every time, had laughed at him.
“Eager, aren’t we?” he said.
C1094 didn’t answer; it was a question, but not one that required answering.
“So, this is your little pet project?”
C1094 turned his head to watch the new person enter.
“About time, Chancellor. I had hoped you would get here before the unit so I could run you through our findings so far,” the scientist said.
“All in good time, Verstael. What was it you wanted to show me?”
“A lower dose, first,” the scientist said. C1094 watched as he brought the syringe with the black liquid closer and injected it in.
Anything further they said was lost as the sensations the drug caused washed over him. It burned, it hurt, but less than normal and not for as long. The restraints were removed, and he was ordered to follow. His body obeyed before his mind caught up.
They took him to a different room this time and there was another unit in there, waiting for them. His eyes widened when he saw the two men (no need for guards now) accompanying C1094. That only made it obvious that he hadn’t had many Inurement sessions, hadn’t learned to hide his facial expressions.
The scientist was speaking, but not to him, so C1094 stood calmly, trying not to fidget, as they attached electrodes to his head, chest and back to measure his heart and brain activity.
“C1094. This unit is malfunctioning,” the scientist said, handing him a gun. “Shoot him.”
C1094 rose the gun and shot, then closed his eyes with a smile as the euphoria washed over him.
“Fascinating,” the Chancellor said.
“They always gave me some kind of drug before,” Prompto said. “I hope that’s why I liked it so much. The Chancellor took an interest in it and in me. I didn’t recognise him before, I usually only saw him after the drug was injected and that made things… muddled. But he had seemed really interested in how much I liked killing.”
“The drug made you like it, I’m sure of it,” Noct said, a conviction in his voice that Prompto didn’t understand.
“How? How can you be sure? I’m not even sure,” he said.
“Cause you didn’t want to kill me. And I saw the way you fought the Nifs back at the meteor. Clean shots straight to the head, every time. Even the MTs. Someone who enjoys blood and killing, who really enjoys it, doesn’t do that,” Noct said.
Prompto still wasn’t convinced, but he couldn’t deny anything that Noct said. And the fact was, the euphoria had faded when they started taking him off the drug—apparently it made him too jumpy and trigger happy—but still that kernel of doubt remained.
“I’m glad you gave your name as Prompto though. C1094 is such a mouthful,” Noct said, leaning back in his chair.
Prompto smiled. “That’s what Arvid said.”
“Arvid? Oh! Gladio said you had a friend who died up on that ridge.”
Prompto nodded. “He got reassigned too, some time after me. We worked well together, so they put us in the same unit. I… didn't recognise him at first. But he kept talking to me and helped soothe the withdrawals. He insisted on calling me Prompto when we were alone and made me promise to call him Arvid instead of his unit number. I hated it.”
Noct’s eyebrows rose at that. “You hated it? Why?”
“It’s a lot easier to deal with things when you don’t have to think about them. And having a name meant you were more than just an expendable unit. That’s probably why they did it. So we could do what needed to be done,” Prompto said.
“No,” Noct snapped. Prompto looked up in surprise at the forcefulness of the prince’s voice. “It doesn’t matter what these so-called reasons are. There is never an excuse to do that kind of crap to you, to children.”
Prompto smiled sadly. “I can’t imagine it being any different.” He paused, then added, “Of course, I can’t really imagine anything at the moment without getting a headache, so that’s not exactly a high bar.”
Noct gave a snort at that, but said, “Well, when we get Lucis back, you’ll get to see for yourself how it can be different.”
“I’d like that,” Prompto said softly, smiling through the pain.
“Dinner is ready,” Ignis called from the caravan.
“Come on, let’s eat!” Noctis said. Prompto stood to follow. Gladio was awake too now if the way the caravan rocked as he walked about was anything to go by.
“Where the hell is my phone?!”
-l-l-l-
Prompto woke suddenly with a gasp, then gritted his teeth as he ran a hand through sweaty hair. His heart was racing, and he breathed deeply, trying to slow it. Damn the chancellor and his sardonic smile! And damn his ability to bring everything back when Prompto was finally managing to feel like he belonged with these guys.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood in a fluid motion and moved away from the bed, absently rubbing his shoulder. The joint ached. He knew he had no one to blame but himself—he was the one who had gotten trampled to begin with and then kept removing it from its sling—but he was, nonetheless, frustrated with how long it was taking to heal.
“Everything alright, Prompto?”
Prompto jumped at the sudden voice, quiet though it was. “Of course, Ignis,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “Just… couldn’t sleep.”
“Neither can I,” Ignis said. A shadowy shape revealed itself to be the advisor. “I was just thinking of making myself a hot chocolate, if you’d care to join me?”
Prompto smiled; he doubted that was the case at all, but he wasn’t about to complain. “Sure.” He took a seat at the table and glanced back at the beds. As expected, though, both the other men were still asleep; Noctis could sleep through a hurricane and Gladio wasn’t much better. Ignis seemed like a light sleeper, though, unless Prompto had made some kind of sound in his sleep that he wasn’t aware of. Ignis was polite enough not to mention that though, moving about the small kitchen with a practiced ease.
“You really like cooking, don’t you?” Prompto asked.
“I find the true joy of cooking on the faces of those for whom I cook,” Ignis said.
Prompto smiled. “That wasn’t really an answer,” he said.
Ignis smiled as well as he handed a mug over. Prompto wrapped his hands around it, enjoying the warmth. “I have learned to enjoy it,” Ignis answered. “His highness wasn’t particularly adept at looking after himself as a teenager.”
Prompto laughed, then quickly smothered it, not wanting to wake anyone. “I could imagine that,” he said.
“What about you, do you like to cook?” Ignis asked as he sat opposite with his own mug.
Prompto took a sip before answering and hummed at the delicious warmth that spread through his body. “Honestly, I’ve never tried. Cooking was never really considered important to a soldier when we were just given ration bars and vitamin pills. I cooked a little in survival training, but that was more cut the skin off whatever I caught as best I can, then put it on a fire till the outside was black. There was usually an inch or so of flesh that was edible that way.”
“‘Edible’ seems to be a matter of opinion,” Ignis said dryly. “If you like, you can get up early tomorrow morning and cook breakfast with me. You can’t be any worse than Noctis, and you should at least know the basics. Then we can visit the store and get a wristband for you to wear.”
Prompto nodded. “Sure, sounds fun,” he said. Leaning back into the couch, he continued to sip his drink. To think that not all that long ago he had woken up in similar surrounds after nearly dying three times and now he was travelling with his country’s enemy prince. A prince he would even dare to call a friend who could summon magic and crystal swords and gods. “Life’s funny, isn’t it,” he said.
“I’m not sure I would use the word ‘funny’, truth be told,” Ignis said.
“Heh, maybe. But it’s so much easier to laugh at stuff, ya know? If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be here, with you guys doing this, I would have thought them mad. And… I know you lost a lot of people who were important to you, but… I’m glad things turned out the way they did. I’m glad that-” He took a breath and a sip of the hot chocolate. When he felt ready, he continued, “I’m glad that my first actual mission was against a soft-hearted prince who, for some reason, decided to spare my life and then, of all things, let me tag along.”
“For what it’s worth, Prompto, I’m glad you’re with us as well.” Ignis took a sip of his own drink before adding, “And away from those sadistic fucks.”
Prompto nearly snorted his drink at that. Wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, he just smiled at Ignis and the two of them finished their drinks in silence, just enjoying each other’s company.
-l-l-l-
Prompto strode up the aisle of the small shop the chocobo ranch had. He didn’t really expect to find what he was looking for—some tools to fix his armour should they ever get their car back—but it was nice just to look, to push the limits on his Inurement, to actually like what he was doing and looking at.
He and Ignis had cooked breakfast for the four of them, with mixed success. As it turned out, Prompto did not have the same innate talent for cooking that he had for shooting. What he lacked in skill he made up for in enthusiasm, trying to convince them that burnt bacon was better, but no one really bought it. He doubted Ignis would be so keen to invite him to help again anytime soon.
Now, though, he was proudly holding a wristband that he had chosen out himself and was eyeing off the various cameras on the shelves. They were all fairly basic, just simple things for the happy snaps of tourists.
“We can get one of them as well, if you like,” Ignis said from behind him, seeing where Prompto’s attention was.
“I wouldn’t know how to use one,” Prompto said, looking over his shoulder. “I’ve pulled a couple apart before. Pulling things apart and putting them back together is a good way to clear the mind and stop thinking. But that’s about it.”
“Well, no time like the present to learn. Who knows, you might find a new hobby. Something less destructive than burning bacon perhaps,” Ignis said.
Prompto hesitated briefly—he knew they didn’t have a lot of money to spend on frivolities—but in the end, he nodded and took one of them to the counter with his wristband. Ignis was the fiscally responsible one and if he said he could buy it, then it should be fine.
New wristband now covering his barcode and a crash course in how to use the camera given to him by the shop owner, Prompto raised the camera and took his first photo: a blurry picture of a decidedly unimpressed royal advisor.
