Prompto couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd been as still as he was now. Finger wrapped around the trigger in as futile gesture he could manage, he did not move a muscle as their fated enemy picked himself up from death and walked away.

"Be seeing you, boys. You'd best get a move on, you're oh so far from home."

He barely caught those mocking words, his mind still fixated on what had been said only moments before.

Ah, but Noct has learned the truth. The crystal was never his saviour. It only meant to take his life.

"Come on," Gladio said beside him. "No use staying around here."

Prompto rounded on him, heat crawling from his chest to his chin as he yelled at his comrade. "How can you say that," he yelled, puffing up to his full less than impressive height in front of the mountain of a man. He couldn't leave Noct behind, not after they'd come all this way, not after Noct came so far for him. "We can't leave him behind. Not here, not now."

"So what do you plan on doing, then, huh?" Gladio said, refusing, as always, to back down. "You gonna go inside the crystal and pull him out? Or do we just wait inside a demon infested fortress until destiny decides to show up?"

Prompto deflated, his shoulders falling and his arms going limp. "I know. I- I know. It just doesn't feel right."

"We share your frustration," Ignis said. Prompto looked up as a hand was placed on his shoulder to see that familiar understated sympathy worn openly on his face. "None of us would abandon Noctis willingly. But we must trust that he is on the right path."

Prompto let out a breathy, shaky sigh. "I don't want Noct to die."

"Don't listen to that arsehole." It took a second for Prompto to realise that the words didn't come out of Gladio's mouth, but were instead delivered by Ignis' clipped tones. "He has led us to disaster from the moment we met him."

He nodded along, but his heart still did not buy the reassuring words. A dark cloud had been hanging over the group from the moment Noct had taken possession of the ring. He'd never asked, afraid of hearing the answer he already knew. It was going to kill his best friend.

"What if we take the crystal with us?"

Gladio chuckled. "Buddy, I'm strong, but I'm not that strong."

"What would that achieve?" Ignis asked.

"Well, Noct's gotta come out of the crystal at some point, right?" Prompto's confidence grew with each word. He skipped around the sides of the walkway, eyeing the chains that were anchoring the crystal into place. "So let's make sure he comes out somewhere safe!"

"And how do you propose we remove it?"

"Well, they got it in here somehow, right?" Prompto said. He knelt down next to one of the chains, running his hands over the cold steel surface to find some sort of latch for releasing it. "So we can get it out."

"Yeah, I get you kid," Gladio said, kneeling down on the opposite side of the crystal and inspecting the chain there. "This place is big enough to get one of their ships in. That's how we get it out."

"Yeah!" Prompto stood up and punched the air in delight. "Let's go! I'll find a ship, you and Iggy see if you can get the crystal loose!"

Prompto shuffled past Ignis, patting his friend gently on the arm as he passed. Giving Gladio one last determined nod, he sprinted down the walkway and back into the hellhole corridors of the keep.

"Right! So if I was a freaky ship, where would I be?" he asked himself as the elevator creaked and rumbled its way back down to the lower levels. Right! The hangar where they fought that Ravus guy! "I hope the daemons haven't decided to come back."

Life, as usual, was not so kind to him. While certainly fewer than they had faced before, the room was lousy with daemons, large and small milling around the clear space in front of the lines of dormant mechs and abandoned ships.

"Okay, Prompto," he whispered to himself, crouching behind the nearest wall of crates. The daemons were wandering aimlessly through the hangar, and though occasionally a daemon would stumble through, he could see a clear path around the back to the closest drop ship — conveniently, with its door still left open. "Let's do this."

Keeping low, he ducked from his cover to the edge of the platform that held the elevator, dropping down as silently as he could into the blind corridors made by the stacked crates and equipment that scattered the huge room. He reached for his gun by reflex as he landed, the familiar tingle of magic giving way to a heavy but familiar weight in his hands.

His gun… he stared at his hand, at the faithful sidearm he'd summoned a thousand times before. Noct! Their magic still worked, so Noct must still be alive!

He couldn't help himself, his smile spreading from ear to ear as he soaked the feeling in. It was proof the bastard was lying! The connection he had with his prince was not broken and until the day it was, he would storm this damned keep a thousand times for him.

Pressing a gloved hand to the side of the crates, he pulled his closer until he could peer around the corner, his gun held tense against his chest.

Clear. Nothing but empty floor and the discordant sound of claws scraping on metal grating off in the distance.

He scrambled through the open space to the next cover he could find, a wall high stack of steel tanks holding Gods knew what. He pressed his back against the steel, trying to steady his breathing as blood rushed through his ears.

"C'mon Prompto, you're being ridiculous," he whispered to himself, eyes darting between each opening. Across the hangar floor, behind a maze of supply crates and scattered debris, lay his target. Somehow, despite his chest being tighter than his jeans, his heart managed to pound like a racing chocobo, beating out a turbulent rhythm in his chest. "You've done this plenty of times before."

But never alone, that dark corner of his mind reminded him. Always with someone to hold your hand. No, he wouldn't think like that. He'd always needed the others, now they needed him. He wouldn't let them down. Not just Noct, but Gladio and Ignis too. Who, despite every reason not to, had not hesitated to accept him. Who, when confronted with the dark reality of what he was, replied that they already knew who he was. How could he ever let that trust down?

"Guys… I've got this." Breaking from his cover he sprinted across the floor, ducking behind the debris and detritus as often as he could to shield him from prying, glowing eyes. The sound of soft rubber soles hitting hard concrete was too loud in his ears, but far better than being caught out in the open by one of the lumbering giants. He weaved through the waist high crates, vaulting over those that stood in his way and scrambling under others that offered a clearer path. Clumsy? Ha! He was majestic as—

The room shook with a cacophonous crash and Prompto fell flat on his face, only just managing to tuck into a roll to avoid any scrapes to his skin. His momentum was unceremoniously ended by a steel wall saying hello to his shoulder, the impact wrenching his gun from his fingers where it disappeared into tiny shards of blue light.

Ugh, at least he could always summon it back. He lay still, leaning against the wall as he desperately tried to look and listen for any sign of the daemons. Moments passed, his heart making a valiant attempt to leave his body via his throat as the silence stretched on. More scrabbling of claws came back, then another violent crash. His eyes fixed on the walkway overhead, where a giant was doggedly trying to walk on a surface completely unsuited for bearing its massive weight. Half the walkway had buckled already, the twisted metal curled down to the floor like some macabre industrial slide. The supports splayed out, knocking a huge wall of crates down into a tumble of disarray.

Well, a distraction was exactly what he needed right now. Trying to ignore the sound of screeching metal piercing his skull, he hauled himself to his feet. He held himself steady for a few moments, eyes scanning his surroundings while he steadied his breathing. A group of imps flapped frantically around the giant, adding their own high pitched screams to the tortured metal. In the distance a pair of Reapers stalked the floor, unperturbed by the chaos around them. A lone Magitek Trooper dragged its axe behind it as it shambled in front of the row of ships.

The ship was so close now, just beyond the next wall of crates. Chop chop, Prompto. He grinned and dashed for it, trusting in the cacophony of sound surrounding the giant to keep him safe for now. The ship was just around the corner, the back ramp down and ready for him. Perfect. He turned the corner, heels clicking on the concrete as he made a break for the ship—

A loud screech, a blur of metal and he was tumbling again. He fell to the floor, something grabbing at his leg. He kicked out blindly, trying desperately to dislodge whatever was grabbing him.

A pained metallic moan had him scrambling, kicking furiously until he could back away and face his attacker. The Magitek Trooper — axe discarded and crawling towards him on the floor, one hand wrapped too tight around his ankle.

"Shit! Shit!" he said, far too loud. He scrabbled backwards, reaching for gun. He felt the weight in his hand before it appeared in a shower of crystal light. He pulled the trigger twice, two shots ringing out. Two shots pierced the trooper's helmet, exploding in fragments of grey metal and eerie Magitek red.

The echo of the gunshots faded and the room was utterly quiet. Even the screeching of the imps had given way to the ominous silence.

Prompto scrambled to his feet. "Sorry," he said, flicking his eyes to the slowly disintegrating corpse of the Magitek Trooper. He'd never learned what lay beneath those medieval masks and a part of him never wanted to find out. Maybe in another fate he was the one behind that mask, dying alone on a featureless floor in a room full of monsters.

The room exploded with noises, scrabbling claws and screeching imps, the dull thumps of the giants moving. Prompto dashed for the ship, feet pounding up the ramp in sheer desperation. He could already see it in his imagination, a thousand Magitek Troopers crawling behind him, grasping at his heels, trying to drag him back. He rustled through the equipment at the edge of the door, trying to find something, a lever or switch maybe, that would close the ramp before any of the fiends could get in. Wires, some weird netting, but nothing of use. This really wasn't the best time to realise he had no idea how these ships worked.

"Shit!" He looked back out to the hangar. Nothing yet, but with that blind corner they'd be on the ramp before he could see them coming.

The control panel— cockpit— whatever it was! Gotta be! He ran up the ship, dumping his ass in the pilot's seat and reaching for the controls. Perfect! It looked just like he was hoping — a horrid mess of knobs and buttons everywhere that made no logical sense at all. At least he could read the labels. APU GEN, ENG T BLEED, FAC 2. Well, that made a load of sense. Aha! R. HATCH. That was probably it. With a triumphant grin he jammed his finger into the button.

Nothing.

"Oh, man. Don't tell me I gotta start this thing as well." He looked along the entire pilot's side for anything that even resembled "on". Maybe an ignition? Well, that would suck given he didn't have a key.

"Oh," he whispered to himself as he spotted what he needed. A small green bar, exactly the same as the ones all over the keep. He pulled his wristband down and held his codeprint up to the reader. The ship shuddered, lights on the console flashing green, yellow, everything bathed in a soft hum. He hit the button again and with satisfaction turned to his to hear the mechanical whirring of the rear door closing on him.

He'd made it.

Now he just had to learn how to fly this thing. Couldn't be hard, right? They had sims in the arcade and he fancied himself a bit of an ace pilot, better than Noct at any rate.

How hard could it be?

The ship shuddered hard enough to nearly knock him out of his seat, leaving him clinging on in desperation as the world moved out from under him. A hiss and the sound of screeching, bending metal had him looking back to a nice sword shaped indent in the top corner of the cargo bay.

"Shit!" he yelled, pulling himself up in his seat and grabbing the controls desperately. He yanked on the yoke. Nothing. Dammit... throttle? The centre console did indeed have a bunch of throttles sitting there. He tentatively reached for one, wincing when the ship shook from another hit.

He inched the throttle forward, his face frozen in a pained wince as the hum of the engines started winding up. No, too fast! Too fast!

He pulled back on the throttle only to have the ship flip into reverse, flying back at ungodly speeds until suddenly it wasn't, and Prompto was flying forward in his chair.

He sprawled along the controls in what was possibly one of the most painful pratfalls he had ever taken in his life. The ship was hissing at him, red lights blaring all over the control panel as a warning siren blared loud enough to alert all the monsters that hadn't already noticed his presence.

"Fuckin' ace job, Prompto," he whined as he peeled himself off the dashboard and stared through the windshield.

A dozen monsters stared right back at him.

"That's cool, even the monsters think you're an idiot," he muttered as he plastered himself back into the pilot's chair, this time taking the extra few seconds to click the harness into place. "No wonder Iggy's always making a fuss."

Grabbing the controls in both hands, he looked back through the window and grinned at the horde of monsters charging towards him.

"Might as well go out doing something epic, yeah?"

He grabbed the throttle and shoved it forward.