I don't want to do this.

I really, really don't want to do this.

Don't make me do it.

The shock of his palm grasping around cold metal was a sharp realisation that he had no choice. Time seemed to slow as Prompto, as NH-01987, shakily raised it to the Prince stood before him, heart beating heavily in his chest and each drum drowned out the surrounding chaos. He couldn't lower his hand. He couldn't even let go of the gun. Everything continued to go in slow motion as Noctis began to turn, eyes a fraction wider as he noted the shaft of the silver weapon mere inches behind him; aimed directly at his back. Gladio was just as swift to act; already moving to charge forward and tackle him from the right, whereas Ignis began to position himself between Noctis and Loqi; the latter of which still stood in the dropship hangar, more than ready to watch the fight unfold.

Prompto wanted nothing more in that moment than to let himself be tackled, to let the gun be pulled from his hand before he could shoot.

NH-01987 on the other hand, his programming had other ideas. Time sped up.

NH-01987 swiftly pushed himself backwards, footing slipping slightly on the dusty concrete, yet the movement had been enough to move himself away from the charging Shield. Weapon still in hand, he changed his focus to the big guy and pulled the trigger.

His orders were to kill the Prince of Lucis. But programming commanded that he deal with all obstacles.

Please, stop.

The moment Gladio realised his fatal error in acting on such impulse, how he'd misjudged just how fast the MT could move, he attempting to shove his boots against the concrete in hopes of skidding to a premature halt to turn. Instead, the Shield let out a roar of agony as the bullet hit its mark; embedding itself in his leg. Crimson stained down the Shield's trousers near immediately as he stumbled and eventually dropped to one knee.

"Shit! Snap out of it, kid!"

Now he could turn his attention back to Noctis. The prince had barely moved; yet any surprise had slipped from his expression and had swiftly been replaced by caution. Still, he hadn't summoned forth any weapons and appeared to be watching the blond warily. There wasn't fear on his face, but there wasn't the resolve to fight back either. Noctis glanced back once to Loqi, before back to Prompto. Back to Loqi.

"Prom, put the gun down. Put it down." The prince attempted, taking a step forward. Forward? Was he insane?

Prompto wanted to reply, he really did. Wanted to explain that he couldn't. That the weapon felt more of an extension of himself than ever; that he quite literally was the weapon. Niflheim's weapon. There was no changing that, and he'd been stupid to even consider otherwise for a moment. He turned the gun on Noctis. Despite his inner turmoil, there was no shake in his hand no longer. No hesitation nor incline to falter.

"M-Move... Please." He managed, the words tasting like iron in his throat as he spat them out.

"Ignis, deal with that machine. Monica, Gladio." Cor took over, apparently finally having given up on waiting for any attempt at a plan.

Ignis hesitated for but a moment before his expression hardened and any pity or wariness dropped entirely. "As you wish." With that, the Marshal broke out in a sprint, heading straight for Loqi; who drew his weapon near instantly to accept the challenge.

"Let's see just how immortal you are!" The blond smirked, stepping down from the dropship and drawing his own blade.

None of this mattered though. None of it.

Prompto's.. NH-10987's attention was entirely focused on the two before him as Ignis stepped up beside Noctis.

"Prompto. I suggest you think your next action through very carefully…" Ignis started, yet his words were accompanied by him grabbing his daggers from subspace. The threat was clear.

That was the problem though.

He couldn't think.

He could only act.

Noctis summoned a dagger forth from subspace.

The moment the prince moved, NH-01987 pulled the trigger; the bullet flying through the air yet he'd entirely misjudged the angle and achieved nothing. With his hand shaking so much, grip so tight on the handle of the gun, it wasn't a surprise.

Despite how his body moved fluidly without his own mental input, it didn't prevent the sick feeling building up inside him the moment he heard the gunshot - desperately wanting to look away in case he had shot Noctis. Luckily for Prompto, he'd missed by quite a distance and was immediately shocked to see Noctis charging forward. All he could do was step back against the dusty concrete and raise the gun again, yet by no means in time for what happened next.

Noctis' hand collided and took rough hold of his collar, instinctively NH-01987 attempted to throw the raven-haired male off, gritting his teeth and biting down on the sudden wave of nausea as his mind rejected his body's actions. The Prince took a hold of his own dagger, and threw it. Somewhere in the distance he heard Ignis shout in shock, but...

Suddenly the floor seemed to give way from underneath him; a horrendous burning sensation that could only be the Crystals influence enveloping the blond's body. For a split moment it felt as if he was being harshly tugged in two separate directions at once, entirely disorientated. NH-01987 did his best to dislodge the Prince's hand from his collar, before bringing a knee up to collide it with Noctis' gut; just as whatever magic had just occurred ended.

Ended with a crash, to say the least as the two hit the dusty ground on the other side of the empty blockade, far from the fight. The moment Prompto felt his back collide with the hard ground - accompanied by a sickening crack that definitely wasn't normal from his shoulder, he kicked up at the Prince once more with a surprising amount of strength.

It w¬¬as either a miracle or some Astral's sick sense of karma that NH-01987 hadn't dropped his weapon in that scuffle, managing to land the kick before the Prince swiftly rolled aside, righted himself, and backed up. Pushing himself back to his feet, Prompto felt new pain surge through his shoulder; not daring to glance at it. Still dressed in little more than the borrowed clothing from the prince, there was no doubt something was now out of shape beneath. If only it had been his right arm instead; then the gun would have been useless. Prompto watched as Noctis dismissed his dagger once more, leaving himself entirely defenseless. He could do it. He could kill him now, right? No. Yes-..

I have my orders. I have to execute the- I don't. I don't have to. But If I don't.

"Prompto, I know you're still in there," Noctis began, his voice carefully neutral. "Orders or no orders, you're still Prompto. You still have a choice here, even if you don't think so. You can break free. I know you can."

Even with the swirling emotions going through his mind, Prompto heard the prince's words clear as day, and for a moment they seemed to stall him. But only a moment. Raising the gun once more, any emotion slipped from his expression with a carefully placed mask of indifference replacing them.

Please, no. Move!

NH-01987 shot again.

Prompto expected the bullet to hit true; his aim was spot on, and there shouldn't have been relief flooding through him as Noctis phased expertly to the right to avoid the bullet; the projectile embedding itself in a wall further away. Yet there it was, relief. Had the Prince not moved, the shot would have likely been fatal and he'd have completed his orders in one easy shot, a thought that both excited him and repulsed him at the same time.

"If you really wanted me dead, you wouldn't miss." Noctis observed, deciding to take a different tack. "If you wanted to put a bullet in me, you'd have done it already."

"Just because you didn't have orders doesn't mean that wasn't your choice. You think the Niff's needed to give direct orders? They want me dead. That's simple enough. But you don't."

Noctis began to advance and Prompto watched carefully as the Prince stepped around him, keeping a fair bit of distance. Each one of his words physically hurt. No. That wasn't right. He'd only been biding his time, that's why he hadn't killed him. It had nothing to do with disobeying orders, right? Had he disobeyed orders? Noctis was continuing to speak yet it was getting harder and harder for Prompto to follow the words exactly; a buzzing already rising in his hearing, his thoughts both scattered and conflicted.

"Prompto, listen. you're not a monster. I don't care what some Niff-shit in a fancy jacket says; you're not a bar-code or a piece of property. You're you." Noctis continued, "You're Prompto."

I'm not.

I'm-..

As Noctis walked around him, Prompto kept the gun trained perfectly on him; refusing to let him out of his sight. Yet, his expression was far from the emotionless facade it had dropped to earlier. As the buzzing and headache began to increase, he flinched against it and narrowed his gaze as his vision began to swim. Not now. This wasn't disobeying an order. He was just.. buying time. Yeah, totally, that was it. Buying time. His finger clenched slightly against the trigger, yet he didn't pull it yet. Instead, managing to speak; albeit strained.

"G-.. Get.. Out of.. here."

If Noctis just left now, then he'd just have to accept whatever fate came with failing his orders. That was fair. He was a machine. Only faulty machines disobeyed.

"No. I'm not going anywhere. You want to know what machines are? Machines are the regalia, phones, hell, even petrol stations." Noctis rambled, shaking his head. "Things that don't think. You think, Prompto. You're not a machine."

Prompto watched in internal horror as Noctis lowered himself to the ground, dust smearing against his trousers as he raised both hands above his head, palms out.

"Don't prove the Empire right. If you're a machine. Shoot me. If you're not, prove them wrong. Forget the day we played Kings Knight, the day we sparred, forget that you saved my life."

Noctis raised his gaze to Prompto's own, determination painting his expression.

"You're my friend, Prompto."

It hurt. By the Six, it hurt. Each word was enough to send both a sharp sting of realisation and pain through the blond's head, almost causing him to stumble on his own footing as he readjusted his grip on the gun aimed at Noctis.

Was he actually insane? Prompto watched as Noctis moved to get down on his knees. His body acted on instinct as he moved forward, raising the gun with a direct angle to the prince's forehead; stood merely inches away from him. His breath caught in his through; mixed with the taste of iron as nausea rose up in his stomach. Another glitch- No, that was a human reaction, right? He wasn't supposed to kill but- but these were orders. Orders that he had to comply with. The pain in his head was only worsening; vision near impossible to focus through as he focused on the trigger under his grip. All it would take was to pull it. Just two seconds and he'd have completed his task. Just-

Friend? Prompto blinked, the phrase entirely unheard of for him. For a moment his grip relaxed on the trigger. For a moment, he almost imagined this situation ending happily; all he had to do was throw the gun aside, let the others deal with Loqi, and be able to walk away.

It was such a beautiful resolution that he very nearly did put the gun down.

As your Commanding Officer, I order you: dispose of the Prince

Loqi's words, Loqi's order ran through his mind unbidden, and Prompto found himself pulling that trigger. His heart dropped as he felt his body unwillingly tense on the trigger; the heart stopping moment that he realised he was about to kill his friend. His first, true friend.

He turned the gun on himself.

It was a swift move; he'd still be pulling the trigger as ordered, just on the wrong target. It was the only amount of control he could pull back in a short space of time.

The gunshot sounded.

Pain seared uncontrollably through the blond's side, as the gun clattered to the ground. It was out of reach, but it didn't matter; the action had startled Prompto enough for the blond to stumble backwards; mind racing briefly in confusion at what he'd just done. Black blood began to seep from his side, a feeling that had become far too familiar in the past few days to be healthy.

"N-Noct."

The moment Prompto began to fall backwards, Noctis lunged forward, horrified. Catching ahold of the blond, he carefully tried to lower him to sit; hands near shaking as his mind caught up to his body.

The pain was near unbearable leaving Prompto vaguely aware of Noctis supporting him up. Wherever he'd shot, it hadn't been the smartest place; already bleeding heavily out over the Prince's hands and onto the concrete beneath the two of them. Still.. The blond was relieved. He'd managed to avoid shooting the Prince, and with this much pain now clouding his thoughts, he barely had the energy or need to continue to try and act on those orders. In a dizzying way, he felt a lot clearer mentally. Physically, on the other hand, well, that hadn't gone to plan in the slightest. His rash decision was going to cost him. The moment Noctis pushed his jacket down on the wound, Prompto cried out; one hand desperately grasping against the others hand.

"Oh Six, shit, Prompto- I'm sorry." Noctis stammered, eyes wide, the prince clearly at a loss as for what to do. Prompto wasn't surprised; MT Units weren't built to be healed by basic potions, there was little more Noct could do regardless.

Still, Prompto groaned in response to the apology, desperately wanting to re-assure the prince that his action had been his own choice: even if it had been a bad one. There wasn't anything to be sorry for. He'd fucked up in getting close to Noctis again; he should have kept his distance the moment he'd healed previously. This time, he wasn't so sure he'd get a second chance.

"What- How do I- Shit, why did you do that?!"

"T-Totally.. Couldn't let ya' have that heroic moment.. dude." Prompto joked, though his words fell into coughs, and were barely audible.

The world began to spin and Prompto was forced to close his eyes against the sensation, vaguely aware of an overwhelming taste of iron in his mouth, falling down his chin. He barely heard a mumble of 'idiot' from Noctis in response to his rather awful joke, already coughing up what he presumed to be blood.

Murmured voices fell into conversation around him. Someone else had stepped up beside Noctis, but the blond's eyelids were already so heavy that he didn't have the energy to see who. He felt a tap against his cheek, followed by a light shake, trying to tug him back to reality.

All he wanted to do was sleep.

"-mpto? Prompto. This is important."

Ignis?

"-to close the wound-.. Anything.. work?"

To close it? Prompto couldn't quite understand why they'd want to do such a thing after he'd quite literally just pulled a gun on the prince. Orders or no orders, why rescue a MT that could quite literally pose a safety risk to the one person they had to keep safe no matter what.

"-mpto? Prompto!"

The words were more desperate this time.

He was cold.

Everything around him felt cold, and distant. Even the voices continued to fade out of existence.

You're my friend, Prompto.

That was the first time anyone had referred to him as a friend. Anyone at all. Even as he fell to the depths of numbness and the bitter cold grip that tugged his consciousness down, Prompto was relieved. Like, really relieved. He'd defied an order, and managed to earn a friend.

Even.

Even just for a little while.

"Prompto! Don't-"

Just for a little while was okay.

Now though, now he was tired. Like, really tired. Super tired.

"Please-"

He was glad.

Machine or not, he'd done something right.