A/N: Another co-written roleplay-turned-fanfic with a close buddy of mine, Corvin. Enjoy~ ; )

Messenger
An Assassins Creed III and Final Fantasy XV Crossover

The air is bitter, but its nothing a hat and thick jacket can't... somewhat... cure. Anyway, he won't be getting too cold, with how much he's going to be moving around.

He bids the master of the business a quick farewell over his shoulder before he's off to make his rounds, jogging along the icy cobblestone streets. He tries to be quick but careful, not wanting to slip on ice but wanting to make good time to his destinations. The snow over the city isn't thick, but it is somewhat of a hazard.

He collects a few things to be delivered from one part of town, things that were already half-paid for, and started heading to where they all needed to be delivered. He'd be able to collect the rest of the payment then, and with the cold weather and few wanting to venture into it, they should make quite a bit of money off of it.

He takes his route from one place to the next, all the while dodging through alleyways and between buildings to cut down on time. The city is a confusing maze to navigate, but he has practice and a good sense of direction, even just traversing it as the crow flies.

He slows to a stop as he goes down one long stretch of back alleys and isolated back yards when a man steps in his way ahead. Normally Prompto would just duck around people and keep going, but normally they didn't much mind his presence. The wide-footed stance of this man - and a very big man at that - was far too telling that his path was being blocked, and on purpose.

At first he didn't say anything, sizing the other up, wondering what he should do. Should he even engage in conversation at all? He knows he doesn't want any fights, but wouldn't it be weird if he just turned and ran the other way without a word? That'd make him look suspicious, wouldn't it? Not that he had any reason to be suspected of anything, but-

The man, which Prompto would say is easily the size of a grizzly bear, starts walking towards him, amber eyes beneath thick brows and framed by notable facial hair burning brightly like a fire that refused to go out. The intensity of those eyes on him is enough to make him nervous on its own.

"Hey," the man starts, putting on something of a faux-friendly tone overlaying the rough baritone of his voice. He even sounds like a bear, or at least what Prompto would assume a bear to sound like if it could speak. "What's a kid like you doing out in this cold? You'll freeze your ass off if you're not careful. Do you need some help?"

The man pulls down his white hood to reveal a mess of wild, dark hair and offers him a smile, but he doesn't trust it, backing up to match the other step for step with his own deep blue eyes not leaving. He gets a good look at the white and red robes the other wears, with weapons lining his belt. The first word that comes to mind is cultist. The man's words are friendly enough at surface value but they feel insincere and ulterior, and he purses his lips with distrust. He only turns his head behind him in a quick snap, not wanting to take his sights off the man, but its enough to confirm a few things in his mind.

There's no one else around. There's no other alleys he could go down besides the one ahead and one behind him, and both are narrow. If this other man can move faster than him, he won't make it down them. The larger yard he's in is isolated, well-trapped on all sides by tall buildings other than the two exits. He's far too aware of how vulnerable of a position he's in if this man intends something bad for him, and he's largely uncertain he could fight him off with how much bigger he is than Prompto. He's also far too aware that all these factors stacked against him feel all too deliberate.

He swallows nervously, answering tensely, "I'm fine. I can fend for myself. You're blocking my way." Even as he says 'blocking my way' as if he plans to move forward, he's leaning more towards back-tracking to the main street, where there are other people. Where he might be safer.

The main raises a bushy brow at him, appearing to size him up. "I just wanna talk." He hums, stopping and simply watching the blond. "So what do you say? Let's get out of this cold. Find a nice, warm place to talk."

Prompto knows he doesn't like the feel of this, the little tell-tale signs like eyes narrowing at him and arms crossing with a very business-like err, as if daring him to try anything. There's no reason this guy should have such a persistent interest in him completely at random. He wouldn't call himself smart but he's not that stupid either.

"Name's Gladiolus. You can just call me Gladio though."

One hand tightens around the straps of his messenger bag anxiously, trying to steady his nerves, and subconsciously his head is tilted just a bit down so his hair partially hangs in his face. He wants to take a step back and put up more distance, but if he's going to bolt he doesn't want to give warning he's going to. A sudden run would be his best bet at gaining a head start, but maybe it won't come to that.

"Maybe later." More likely never. "I have places I need to be and I don't really have the time to waste stopping anywhere." As an afterthought, and maybe, hopefully, as a bit of a deterrent, he adds in, "People will be wondering where I am and come looking if I don't get a move on."

Prompto is watching him like a hawk and he knows he doesn't like the gusty sigh of resignation Gladio lets out as he shakes his burly head, the man uncrossing his arms and flexing his fingers. It tells him everything he needs to know before Gladio starts advancing again and pulls his hood back up, and Prompto's ready to match him in reverse every step of the way, his brows furrowing into a more serious, almost defiant look. He shivers a bit, more from anticipation of what he was afraid of more than from the cold, and his instincts are screaming to run.

"We seriously needed to talk, but... if you'd rather this go a different way..."

He manages to resist bolting for a few moments, his breath picking up slightly and showing in greater plumes of white.

"Where're you going and who're you delivering to?"

So... what he was after were the things he was delivering. Some kind of petty robber hoping for deliveries of money and valuable trinkets? Or someone with a political agenda intercepting information? Either way didn't matter.

His voice noticeably trembled when he spoke, but a little bit louder and stronger than before regardless of this. "I'm sorry but I can't tell you that. We're an honest firm and that information is between my employers and our clients and out of respect for their privacy we don't give that out. You'll have to take it up with our company if you want a different answer."

He doesn't take his eyes off of Gladio but he's watching in his peripheral vision where he is. He matches pace with Gladio's advance in his retreat, trying to give the impression he's only maintaining the same distance instead of looking to outright run, but when he catches the corner of each building on either side of him, he turns and sprints down the narrow alleyway behind him.

He hears the man growl behind him and start running after, but he doesn't bother looking back.

Prompto's hoping, at least, that the narrow alleyways will be more to his advantage. They're not narrow enough to close in on the other guy, big as Gladio is, but they're enough that maybe he'll be more maneuverable when things stop being a straight line. First and foremost on his mind is to get to where there's more people. Maybe whatever this guy wants, he won't be so bold with witnesses around.

He makes a sharp left at the first diverging option of paths, around a fence and takes a right, hoping to make Gladio lose sight of him and stop in his tracks trying to figure out where he went. The more confusing he can make things, the better, he thinks, though he's not thinking much of the snow as he goes. Still, he doesn't plan to stop even if he's lost Gladio already, weaving through narrow passages and going more by sound than sight to find his way to somewhere busier.

It doesn't go exactly as planned, hearing another irritated growl behind him and steps getting closer. Prompto is used to jogging a fair distance without tiring himself out too much, but sprinting? Sprinting more than a block or three sucks, majorly, and that's doubly so with the crisp winter air biting his lungs. He was hoping his weaving through narrow alleys would help him lose the big guy, but Gladio's size doesn't detract much from his speed. His lungs hurt more than his legs keeping up this pace, but even just hearing Gladio on his tail is enough to keep him from slowing at all.

He sees the end of the alleyway opening up into the bright white streets just ahead, spurred on. Just a little further, and even without looking back he can almost feel how close Gladio is to catching him, catches sight of him almost grabbing his bag with one reaching hand. He immediately starts shrieking out breathlessly as he just barely burst out from between the buildings, startling several random bystanders, "HELP! GUARD! SOMEONE-!"

If Prompto had more breath in him, he would've yelled more, making as much of a fuss as he could. As it stood, what he did manage to scream out used what little breath he had left after running away, and he didn't get a chance to catch his breath enough for another shout before a hand clamped over his mouth and he was yanked back. A muffled squeal, maybe an attempted scream, rang in his throat as he instinctively tried to wrench free, reaching up to grab Gladio's arm and try to pry it away.

"Quiet!"

Panic rose as he felt a tip of cold steel against his throat, his fighting growing less only because he's utterly terrified the other will slash his throat right there just to make it easier on himself. He swallows hard around a lump in his throat threatening to suffocate him, blinking back tears as he watches the open street get further away again.

God, this is probably how he dies and he doesn't even know why.

He hears Gladio against his ear again, "work with me or I will kill you," the man tightening his hold on him further, and screws his eyes shut, choking down a whimper, going still more out of fear than surrender for cooperation's sake.

Gladio sighs behind him and takes the blade away from his throat, but he doesn't loosen his hold at all. Pressed with his back against the other's chest tightly, he can feel every movement, but he himself stays frozen in the man's grip at first, just trying to get adequate air through his nose.

Its hard to say, between cold, adrenaline, and terror, what the most prominent reason for Prompto's shaking is, but he's definitely shaking. He pointedly keeps his head turned away, even as he momentarily squirms for freedom, but he doesn't fight hard. Mainly because he's sure that if he does he'll be held at knife point again, or outright stabbed. Even with all his running and fighting, it doesn't quite account for his breath shuddering, bordering on hyperventilation.

"My name is Gladiolus Amicitia." Gladio whispers, tone much softer now. He finally takes his hand off of Prompto's mouth, but he tightens his hold everywhere else. "You may call me Gladio. Are you aware who you're working with, kid?"

"I-I d-don't know wh-what you're t-talking ab-bout... I-I'm j-just a c-courier! W-we j-j-just c- carry mail!"

Gladio hums in an unconvinced manner, but his grip loosens just a little bit. "The people you work for. Do you know who they are?"

Gladio loosening his hold isn't quite enough to make his anxiety subside, swallowing and breathing hard, but at the very least he doesn't have a knife against him anymore, so that's something. He's not sure exactly what Gladio means. He says people like its plural, but he only really has one employer, unless he means their clients but he can't be sure. He mentally struggles with coming up with an answer that won't just piss the other off if its not what he wants to hear.

"I-I only w-work for one person? And I- I don't know. I-if he's done something I've never seen it?" he stutters out tensely. "W-we have lots of clients a-and what they do is n-none of our business. They p-pay us to take messages a-and we deliver them. Th-that's all!"

Gladio's arm around him relaxes a bit, the threat of the hidden blade gone, but Gladio tries to reach for his bag again with a low growl. Prompto feels and sees the movement and instinctively closes his hands around the top and strap of his bag protectively, not even really thinking about the motion or what result its going to get; but its their business's well-earned reputation and money at stake if he doesn't keep the deliveries safe and untouched until they reach their intended destination. In hindsight, it could be his life at stake by trying to stop Gladio from taking them, but he holds on regardless, even as he trembles with nervous energy.

"Who're you delivering to today then? Don't be shy; shyness won't lead to any good." His grip loosens a bit more. "If you cooperate with me," he whispers, glancing around to make sure no guards are coming yet. "I'll let you go and we can pretend we never saw each other. You can forget about me and we can move on with our lives. Do you understand?"

"...I-I deliver to a good forty or more people... s-so..." He pauses as the other tells him to start going down the list of names, swallowing hard. He doesn't want to, but he doesn't see how he has a choice. He starts naming them off of trembling lips, even as he keeps his fingers tight around his bag to try and keep it shut. "...B-Bill Withrop... Mary Brook... A-Ardyn Izunia..."

Amber eyes narrow further at Ardyn Izunia and there's almost a relief that he was able to get that out of the messenger but he doesn't let go of Prompto just yet. Gladio hums and withdraws his hand.

"Tell me where Ardyn Izunia is located. I have... unfinished business with him." He loosens his grip just a bit more, just to show Prompto how close he was to freedom once more. "You're so close... so close to winning, birdie. Just give me the address and I'll be on my way."

He feels Gladio loosen up his hold more. He wants to be done with this. He wants to get away, but for a moment he stops to weigh what that information is worth. Part of him knows he could lose his life by refusing to give that up, but this Gladio man seems dangerous and... he's sure nothing good is going to come of him giving that information up. He especially doesn't like the way the other is baiting him with promises of safety and freedom, the little pet name of sorts he uses when he does so.

He doesn't take too long to consider his options, mainly because he also knows stalling too long will likely change things for worse, but he can't think of a good excuse or lie that quickly and instead takes a chance on letting go of his bag to try and shove Gladio's arm off him and duck under it, to twist out of his grip and run. He's just hoping his semi-cooperation up to this point will have been enough to make the other drop his guard just enough to make that escape possible.

Gladio makes a lung to grab him for sure, but he misses, and Prompto keeps running without looking back, and fails to hear Gladio chasing him this time.

Prompto is glad that biding his time a bit worked, managing to leave Gladio behind him. He almost slams right into the guards in his escape, a bit frantic as he tells them he got attacked and where to look and what to look for and also how big the other guy was. They came back finding nothing, but its still an ease off his mind to be away from that man and in one piece. He makes a point not to cross any streets that aren't busy the entire way to his other destinations, jumping at anything that even slightly suggests he might not've gotten away.

He manages to make the rest of his rounds without incident, including the ones to Mr. Izunia.

He's still shaken up by then, and its obvious enough that the man asks him about it, cooing over him all the while. There's a bit of a grim atmosphere around the man when he recounts meeting Gladio, and the end of his recollections come with a warning and more cooing that he's lucky to still be alive.

Assassins - they're called. They kill people, Ardyn tells him. Muck up politics, create chaos, do whatever it takes to murder people like himself who just want to bring stability to civilization and the good people who need guidance. There's more than just Gladio, and all of them are to be avoided, unless he wants to end up dead.