Magitek Unit NH-01987 began to develop a dark spot on his left forearm early during his incubation process in the artificial womb at Magitek Facility One. The scientists who looked after the progression of the infantry trooper's most crucial stage of development were in equal parts puzzled and intrigued by the blemish.
During his infant stage, the mark was no more than a splotch of black on the unit's arm. Theorized to be nothing more than a slight birth defect - nothing to be concerned about - and certainly not enough cause to terminate the unit. But as the unit grew, the blemish began to gradually become more defined and sharpened; it became clear what the spot was.
It was a soulmark.
This discovery put the unit, only three years into its development, under the direct scrutiny of Verstael Besithia himself. Released from the artificial womb, thus allowing the Minister direct access to the anomaly to perform many extensive and invasive experiments and tests.
Magitek Units did not have souls. They were empty husks, made from Besithia's own genetic code, as a host for the plasmodium parasite to imprint onto, nothing more. It shouldn't be possible for them to have a soulmark, especially when Besithia himself did not have one.
All of his tests came back the same - NH-01987 was an exact copy of any other healthy developing MT. Its genetic material was a 99.86% match to Besithia's own DNA, well within the parameters and by far not the most genetically different of the Magitek Units. The starscourge that had already been injected during the fetal stages had mixed wonderfully with the unit's own body, and by all means it was a completely normal developing soldier of Nifelheim.
Despite that, it had a mark. A mark that stood dark and proud on his left forearm, encompassing the lower portion of his arm entirely, trickling down to his hand and fingers. The mark was intricate and unmistakably Lucian in design; dark and bold lines swooped and curled even down to the little creature's fingertips. It was one of the biggest soulmarks Besithia had ever seen.
The Minister had considered terminating the unit. But... his scientific mind gave him pause. In the thousands of Magitek Troopers that had been created this is the first time such an oddity had occurred. What was it about this particular unit that it was blessed with a soulmate? Besithia was ever so curious what kind of person that soulmate must be, to be paired with an empty clone of himself, of all things.
As a youth, Besithia had been obsessed with the prospect of soulmates - people who were blessed by the six to be paired together. He researched it tirelessly; how two people could be linked through a magic divine bond (and would perform ethically dubious experiments on bonded pairs to learn how and why this happened). It was a rare phenomenon, less than 5% of the population had blessed marks, and those rare few who did receive them were seemingly random. Rich, poor, male or female, as far as Besithia could tell it was merely divine chance.
Most pairs had remarkable chemistry, though Besithia hadn't ever quite figured out if this was because of the magic bond or from obligation to the Six's choice in pairing them together.
For all intents and purposes soulmate pairs were made for each other.
And Besithia was very eager to know who was made for him, Unit NH-01987 was his near exact clone afterall. He came to the very logical conclusion that the man or woman that carried the matching mark on their arm was, in a way, his soulmate as well. Absolutely fascinating. Not that he had any desire for a partner, especially at his age, but even the great Verstael Besithia was prone to vain curiosity every now and then.
Nonetheless, he bookmarked the unit's file and number after he had learned everything he could about the toddler. Sent him back with the rest of the NH units with new surgical scars criss crossing his pale skin and a nervous disposition that would eventually be beaten and programmed out of him. Besithia did not plan to interact anymore with the unit, he was far too busy to waste anymore of his time on one MT. But out of curiosity he would peak at the unit's file from time to time.
Unit NH-01987 developed to be an exemplary marksman, topmarks in every ranged weapon in its division. Truly an amazing future asset to the Empire. The plasmodium injections became more frequent for the NH division and the Marked unit took to the starscourge beautifully, showing no signs of degradation or Felling. Mechanical implants soon followed the increase in injections, and the unit quickly accustomed to the physical change in its body.
If not for the fact that the scientists recorded the unit was prone to anxiety and panic attacks, Besithia would say that he was the perfect model for an MT unit. No matter, it was not the first unit to display such weakness, and it would not be the last. By the time the unit finished its demonic transformation, all emotion would be gone anyway.
Ten years passed by quickly, Nifelheim's empire was growing faster than anticipated thanks to Besithia's Magitek Infantry. With the growth of the Empire came the growth of Resistance groups within their borders, a minor annoyance at best and a massive inconvenience at worst. Attacks on supply trains and sabotaged weaponry became more frequent and even the best officers in the Empire were having trouble pinpointing the radical criminals that were known as Vanargand.
Late one bitter cold night, Besithia was in his lab located at the Capitol testing the effects Plasmodium had on human blood when a frantic knock sounded on his door. Annoyed, the minister didn't even have the time to snap for the interrupter to leave at once when the door opened and a panicked officer exclaimed "Sir! Magitek Facility One has been attacked!"
"What?" Besithia snapped, his annoyance forgotten in place of rage.
"Vanargard has bombed the Facility, it is unknown just how substantial the damages are, we-"
Besithia stormed past the stammering officer, "Get out of the way!" he roared, storming down the hall to the nearest transportation to his Magitek Facility.
The damages were severe and costly, but nothing the great empire of Niflheim could rise above. An entire wing of the building had caught flame and thousands of MTs had been lost in the resulting fire. Millions of Gil in technology had been destroyed and over a dozen of the finest doctors and scientists of the Empire had been lost. To think that the most devastating hit to the Empire's war efforts had come within their borders… disgusting.
He began the long and arduous inventory check on all of the MT bodies that lay burnt and destroyed and it was confirmed that the Marked MT, Unit NH-01987 was missing.
Prompto Argentum stepped into the elevator of a prestigious law firm one early fall morning, mumbling a quiet "Excuse me," to the pair of suited men already within the lift, tugging a cleaning cart behind him. He wore a saturated blue janitor uniform, with a Insomnia Ravens baseball ballcap on his head; all of his gold hair tucked within the hat. Awkwardly, he reached around one of the men to punch the top most available floor, shuffling back into the corner. The men ignored him, as people are wont to do with cleaning staff, and continued to make small talk with each other as the lift smoothly ascended. The door dinged, and they stepped out on to their floor without a backwards glance at Prompto, which worked fine for him.
The rest of the lift went by agonizingly slow, he shifted from foot to foot, took slow steady breaths, and tried his best to ignore the way the walls seemed to loom all around him. Another ding sounded and Prompto practically lunged out of the small space, nearly forgetting his cart in his haste to get out of the suffocating box. A secretary lady, who had been walking by with a stack of important looking papers in hand, gave him a strange look but thankfully didn't say anything.
Despite it being so early in the day, the sun not even peaking over the Insomnian skyline, the topmost floor was bustling with men and women in fancy suits going about their respective jobs like a well oiled machine. Ducking his head so the bill of his hat shadowed his face Prompto pushed his cart through the halls silently.
The most important thing about sneaking through somewhere you weren't supposed to be was confidence. As long as he acted like he was supposed to be there no one would question him or say anything. He repeated this in his head over and over again. This was far from his first job, but it was the first time he had had to break into some poor janitor's house, drug him, and steal his uniform and then sneak into such a populated area. Prompto just hoped that the guy wouldn't get in a lot of trouble after this. Maybe he could ask Aranea to send the janitor some compensation? Probably not. Aranea would just laugh at him, tell him he was too soft hearted. He would have to think more on it later, after he was done here.
Faking a bored yawn, the blond swifty took out the stolen key ring and walked up to a metal door that said 'Employees Only: Roof Access", and stepped inside.
As soon the heavy door closed behind him and he was left standing in a cold concrete stariwell his entire demeanor changed, tired and bored shifted to determined and cold. Kneeling next to the cleaning cart he reached into the garbage bag and pulled out a heavy duffle bag, hauling the black bag onto his shoulder he swiftly went about blocking the door so we wouldn't be interrupted.
Stepping onto the roof, Prom tugged off the stupid janitor uniform and hat. Running a hand through his messy hair, the blond walked up to the ledge of the building in black cargo pants and tight black tank top, his left arm wrapped in bandages.
Setting his bag next to him, the blond took a moment to breathe in the cold morning air. The high rise building had a beautiful view of the Insomnian skyline and the Citadel. Which, of course, is why he chose this building to set up. Up this high, the chill caused goosebumps to raise on his exposed arms, and the strong wind messed up his hair. Grumbling at his unruly hair, he pulled a black bandana from his pocket and tied the sash of fabric around his forehead to keep his hair from his eyes.
Falling to his knees, Prompto unzips his duffle bag. Reaching inside he begins to pull out gun components and swiftly begins to set up his high tech sniper rifle. His movements are well practised and efficient, the only sound being the clicking of parts of his rifle snapping together and the high winds that come from being at the top of a skyscraper.
Running a hand along the smooth metal of his rifle, Prompto sets the stand on the flat edge of the building and spies through the scope, aimed towards the citadel. He sights the stainglass of the Lucian throne room, with a flick of a switch the scope vision flickers and then he can see within the room as if the windows weren't there. A few people wander around the room, polishing and cleaning, none of them are his target.
This is the only building in the whole of Insomnia that has a direct view of the throne room and is close enough for an assassin such as Prompto to get a clear shot, if just barely. Approximately twenty four thousand meters, the blond has never made a shot that far before (let alone without a spotter), and not for the first time doubts Aranea's faith in him. He isn't sure if he can do this, but he has never missed before and hopes that today won't break his streak. They only have one chance at this after all.
Prompto sighs and settles down for a long wait, his assignment isn't due to be in the throne room till noon, and it is barely past eight in the morning. Better to be early than late, he supposes. Not like Prompto had gotten any sleep last night anyway, he had just tossed and turned with nerves and eventually had just gotten up before the sky began to even lighten with day to get started on his mission.
To pass the time he familiarizes himself with the layout of the throne room and the surrounding area, there are several rows of intricately decorated columns that might get in the way of his shot. But if his sources are correct his target stands near the king during such ceremonies as the one taking place today. An initiation of the next group of Kingsglaives (the royalty here make a big spectacle out of linking the king's magic to the new soldiers). Luckily for Prompto, he has a perfect view of the throne, and luckily for King Regis he isn't Prompto's target today. He thinks maybe they should send an anonymous letter to the Royal family that there is such a big security risk that they seem to be none the wiser about.
Of course, there are very few people in the world who could make such a shot, so Prompto doesn't really think it would be a top priority.
There are several patrols of crown guards stationed throughout the citadel, but what the blond is truly worried about is the kingsglaive he spots through his scope dotted around the area. With access to the king's magic, the kingsglaive will be able to teleport to this building within minutes and considering who the blond's target is… they're going to be very motivated to catch him.
He is on his own for this job. Aranea wasn't able to spare anyone to come with him, and if he gets caught she won't be able to help him. At least not for a while yet.
Prompto sighs long and slow, and fiddles with his gun a bit to get in a more comfortable position as he settles in for the long haul. His patience had never been great, his body is constantly high strung and needs to be moving or focused on something at all times. Prompto had already prepared everything for this job before he even took a step into this skyscraper and there is only so much scouting of the citadel he can do before he begins to get bored.
He passes the time by going through the math of this particular shot over and over in his head, the computer chip implanted in his head as a child helps a lot with this. Nonetheless, he does the math again and again and when that gets boring he settles for people watching on the people below through his scope.
Time passes agonizingly slow. The sun rises steadily and the heat begins to rise as well, thankfully. Thick clouds begin to come in from the horizon and Prompto thinks it might rain later, but for now, the air is calm and still. When the sun is at its highest point in the sky is when people start to trickle into the throne room. Finally, Prompto thinks to himself with relief.
He watches as the king finally enters flanked by the prince, Cor Leonis, Clarus Amicitia, and Titus Drautos. King Regis makes it across the room and finally settles onto his throne and the ritual starts.
The cross of his scope lingers on the prince, who slouches and looks like he is trying really hard to not look like he is bored out of his mind. Something within Prompto pauses a moment, and for a strange and confusing minute he cannot take his eyes off of the man. He is… pretty. Really pretty. He is transfixed, he cannot look away and doesn't want to. A foreign thrill runs up his spine and Prompto wants to be closer, wants to stand in front of the man and feel the warmth of his body and to know what makes him smile and happy and-
Prompto shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. He will unpack… all of that later. When he isn't about to kill someone.
He shifts his gun ever so slightly to look at the man that the prince is partially covering from the blond's view. If he is off by a hairswidth he will hit Noctis Lucis Caelum and not even Aranea will be able to protect him from the wrath of the entirety of Lucis.
Taking a deep breath, Prompto lets it out slow and steady. Everything around him blurs into white noise and all he can hear is his own heart beating slowly in his ears. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-
He pulls the trigger.
The bullet seems to go in slow motion as it sails through the air in an arch, blasting through the pristine stained glass windows of the far off throne room. The bullet nicks the prince's ear as it shoots past him to finally hit Prompto's unsuspecting target in the back of the head. The man falls to the ground, dead.
Prompto smirked, target Titus Drautos eliminated.
Not wasting any time, and not allowing himself to linger on the satisfaction of his most impressive kill to date, the blonde practically shoves his rifle back in his duffle bag and swiftly jogs to the exit of the roof. He zips up the stolen blue uniform, and takes the concrete stairs down to the entrance of the skyscraper two at a time. Not bothering to take the cart with him, Prompto readjusts his duffel as he steps into the pristine hallway of the topmost floor.
No one seems to be any the wiser of the assassination that took place on this very roof, the news has not gotten time to get out yet, obviously. And Prompto swallows the lump of anxiety in his throat as he speed walks to the lift. Some people look at him with raised brows at his hurried steps but no one stops to question him. Practically jumping into the elevator, Prompto presses the lobby floor button half a dozen times with his fist.
The doors slide shut and he begins to make his descent. Nearly jumping out of his skin when the elevator comes to a stop early and a young woman steps in, holding a bunch of folders. She's apparently going to the Lobby as well since she glances at the buttons but doesn't press any. Prompto bites his lip and tries his best not to look too suspicious as he readjusts his duffle.
"Are you new here? I haven't seen you around," the girl says conversationally.
The blond makes a strangled noise and stammers "I-uh… y-y-yeah, I-I just started today," he chokes out, a cold sweat shining on his face.
The girl smiles, "It's okay to be nervous! I know it can be a little intimidating at first. When I first started here I spilled coffee all over the CEO's shirt and I thought she was going to kill me! Just think, you can't have a worse first day than that!" and she seems so genuinely kind and Prompto feels sort of bad that the moment the lift opens up on the first floor he mumbles a quiet goodbye and practically sprints out of the lift and makes a B-line for the exit.
He was barely a block away from the building when sirens began to blare loudly through the city, people in the street around the blond stopped to stare upwards at the noise in equal parts confusion and trepidation. Hunching his shoulders, Prompto picked up his pace. He needs to get out of the city ASAP. The sooner he is back in Nifelheim the better.
He knows he should hole up and lay low a couple of days, maybe weeks, but that animalistic and demonic part of his head is screaming at him to run. He needs to leave right now. He needs to get as far away from the danger as possible and just make a run for it. He is starting to panic, he knows he is. But he can't stop it. His breathing comes in short ragged breaths and he ducks his chin deep into the collar of his shirt.
Thunder rolls up above, and it begins to rain softly. Prompt glances up in annoyance, just his luck. As minutes trickle on the rain increases into a steady pour, soaking his unruly hair flat to his head. Prompto is most worried about his precious rifle and risks stepping into an alley to pull his baby out and wrap it up nice and tight so it doesn't get waterlogged.
Maybe it is the panic, maybe it's just because he is fucking stupid, but Prompto doesn't notice the crownsguard that just so happens to have seen his gold hair and got suspicious and followed him into the alley and got a full view of the military-grade sniper rifle he was half in the process of zipping back into its case.
He is grabbed from behind and pulled into a tight chokehold, and all Prompto can think for a hysterical moment is that this is certainly not the protocol to obtain a suspect. Kicking his legs out, Prompto snarls at the man, a deep demonic noise. Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck! Just his fucking luck.
Prompto throws his head back to headbutt the crownsguard that has a hold on him, the man curses and a hand flies to his bleeding broken nose and gives the blond just the opportunity to wriggle free and run. Leaving his duffle behind.
He hears the man snarl and into his earpiece shouts, "I have eyes on the sniper; slim, blond, approximately 5'6, making his way down 48th and 7th!" if he reports more on Prompto he doesn't hear it because he sprints into the street, jumping over a taxi and narrowly avoiding a bicyclist before darting down an alleyway.
Lightning flashes across the dark sky and lights up a group of police already on his tail.
For hours they chase him, but Prompto is faster and stronger than a normal human and outpaces them every time they get close. The teleportation is hard to run from, but Prompto is quick to figure out that if he leads the chase into cramped buildings it is impossible for the kingsglaive to properly use their swords to teleport to him. He has never been more thankful for those parkour lessons from Bicks and Wedge, and uses every skill he has to avoid capture. Climbing up buildings and jumping from roof to roof. But as the day wears on his body begins to falter and he misjudges a step and falls off the roof, narrowly grabbing hold of a slippery fire escape before he falls to the hard concrete below. Screaming as something in his shoulder rips out of place and he falls the rest of the way down into a pile of soaked trash bags.
His hands are bloody and raw from all of the climbing, blood cakes on the side of his head from slipping on wet stone headfirst into a fucking brick wall. He is beaten and bruised and so fucking tired.
The sun is just about to set when he runs across an intersection, the lights of the streetlights reflecting in the water on the street when suddenly there is a flash of blue light and something big and heavy hits him from behind and he is tackled to the ground with a grunt. The kingsglaive above him is panting hard, brutal grip twisting his arm to the point of tear-inducing agony, but not quite enough to break.
"Got you, you fucker," the man hisses in his ear before sitting up and pressing a hand to his ear, "This is Ulric, I have the target. Bringing him in now."
Prompto goes limp in defeat and lets his head fall back against the wet asphalt, blinking rain from his eyes.
He is so fucked.
AN: Yes hi i am trash and can never finish anything so here is another freaking idea I am so sorry lol I hope yall liked it! No I did not base Prompto's sniper outfit off of Cloud's cause they literally look like siblings pffsshhh
So... yeah this is a thing I did in one sitting if you couldn't tell lol next chapter has a grumpy Cor in it and Noctis being cute :P