A/N: 3 chapter thing. all chaps will be able to stand on their own i guess. 3 part thing basically. unbetad, unedited, we die like men. tell me if u find mistakes i guess

or dont

meh

-oxy

Prompto didn't live in the best part of town, and Noctis didn't really care.

Prompto had been embarrassed the first time Noct had come over - his friend was the crowned prince, and Prompto didn't want him to observe the peeling paint, cracked ceiling, exposed wiring of the place he spent a lot of his time.

Noct had taken a look around, shrugged off Prompto's nerves in seven words, "Eh, I don't really give a fuck."

Noct came over to Prompto's apartment all the time to hang out or nap or avoid Ignis's prying questions about his day. They watched shit TV shows on Prompto's crappy 32-inch with the dead pixels in the upper right-hand corner and ate popcorn.

Prompto went over to Noct's apartment a lot, too, and the two of them ended up doing very similar things. Crap TV until the wee hours of the morning, spilling popcorn all over the undoubtedly expensive carpet, getting butter and salt on the knobs of Noct's game controllers.

Today was no different from the usual - shit TV shows on Prompto's couch, gaming on their phones, avoiding homework until around two in the morning. And then Prompto and Noctis decided together that they needed to walk to the corner store to buy some snacks.

Noct tucked his phone into his pants and snagged his wallet off Prompto's rickety entryway table.

"Ready to go?" Prompto asked, shoving his own wallet into his back pocket.

"Let's hit it," Noctis replied, and the two made their way down the stairs and out onto the dark, quiet, 2:00 am street.

They were halfway down the street to the corner store when Noctis suddenly stopped walking, and when Prompto turned to ask what was up his words died on his lips.

"Noct, wha-?"

There was a man with a gun pressed to Noctis's left temple. Noct's hands were raised in the air as if in surrender. His expression was calm, but his eyes were wild.

The man was in a black hoodie and black jeans and ripped-up running shoes. Prompto couldn't see his face at all.

"Wallets, now!" The man commanded.

Prompto saw him reach up and flick the gun's safety off. He tensed.

"Alright, man," Noctis said calmly, keeping his eyes forward, "It's okay. You're the one with the gun here, dude. We're going to do whatever you want, and we'll move as slow as you need us to, right, Prom?"

"...yeah," Prompto agreed, staring straight at his friend. His hands itched and he fought the urge to call his pistols from the Armiger. There was no way he'd be able to get an accurate shot off before the mugger could, at the range he was holding that gun.

Owning a gun was illegal in Insomnia. Using a gun was another thing entirely. Prompto had been given the right to do both of those things as soon as he had completed his training as part of the Crownsguard three months ago.

Cor had handed him his first live weapon in the firing range underneath the training grounds with several choice words.

"Part of being in the Crownsguard means that you don't have to follow all the rules that regular Insomnian citizens do.

"If you think there's a reasonable threat to the life of anyone in the royal family or in service to the royal family, you use deadly force first and ask questions later."

Prompto sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to the deadly force part - he couldn't imagine taking a life, ever, no matter the circumstance. He'd pledged that he was prepared to do it in defense of the prince's life, or the king's life, but he wasn't, really.

Cor hadn't told him what to do in this situation.

"Hey, man, I don't want you to have to do something you don't want to do," Noctis was saying, "and you holding that right against my head is making me a little twitchy. You can keep it pointed at me if you want, but mind stepping back just a bit?"

"K-keep your hands up," the mugger ordered, but took three steps back from Noctis.

"You got it," Noctis said, arms still up, "You want me to get my wallet for you? It's in my back pocket, and I'd have to lower at least one arm for that."

"No, your-your pretty blond friend can do that for me," the mugger stuttered out, staring at Prompto and jerking his head in a silent gesture towards Noctis. "You, walk over here real slow and don't try anything funny, or I'll put a bullet through his brain."

"Noct-" Prompto began.

"It's okay, Prom, really. Just do what he says. No amount of money is worth a life," Noctis assured, throwing Prompto a sincere glance. "Make slow movements and tell him what you're doing before you do it."

"Okay," Prompto took a deep breath, "I'm gonna walk over," he took very slow steps towards Noctis, "reach out my right hand," Prompto patted Noct's back pockets and found his leather wallet on the second attempt, "take out the wallet," he continued, "and I'll step away from him and put it on the ground," Prompto concluded. Both of his hands were trembling wildly at his sides.

Noct threw him a grateful look.

The mugger scooped it up and was standing back upright in a flash, opening the billfold and pulling out all manners of currency and cards.

"Well, what do we have here, Highness?" The mugger sneered suddenly, the hand not holding the gun waggling around Noct's ID card.

Oh no. Prompto's heart sank. He could only imagine the kind of grudge someone dressed in that manner would have against the royal family, what with their extreme wealth and power.

Noctis stayed silent, but his eyes closed for a moment and a heavy breath huffed out of his chest.

"I bet I could get a lot more outta you if I took you with me," the mugger chuckled, "and sent a nice little video to dear old dad. What do you think?"

"Hey, man," Prompto spoke up, and the mugger's weapon was suddenly pointed at him. His hands went up just like Noct's. "I can promise you, you let us go now and we won't tell anybody about this. You can keep whatever we have. Taking Noctis is a bad idea, trust me."

The mugger seemed to consider this. "Know what? You're right. I won't be taking His Highness anywhere. But you won't, either," and with that he fired a shot at Noctis.

Noctis fell hard to his knees with his hands clasped over the bullet wound in his stomach. Prompto watched blood pour through his fingers and he watched the mugger level the gun at Noct's head once more.

use deadly force first, ask questions later.

In an explosion of blue crystalline light, Prompto's pistols were in his hands and he was firing them. Two, four, six bullets embedded themselves in the mugger's skull in a flurry of sound and motion. Pieces of bone and brain and splatters of blood landed on the sidewalk and the wall of the building next to them.

The mugger's gun clattered to the ground, and the man fell soon after it.

Prompto was leaning over Noct with his shirt balled up and pressed to the gushing wound. Noct was groaning in pain and turning a startling shade of white. Prompto's pistols dissolved into thin air, forgotten and unneeded.

"Ignis!" Prompto yelled into his phone, and - when exactly had he dialed the number? - "My street, now! Noct got shot!"

Then he was calling the emergency center a few blocks away and repeating his address three times, and then he was just applying pressure to Noct's stomach and comforting his friend as blood seeped across the pavement.

Out of nowhere Ignis was there, and then the ambulance was there, and there were EMTs nudging Prompto back from the prince and assuring him he had a good chance at survival while loading him into the vehicle and speeding away.

Prompto stared at his hands, covered in Noctis's blood. Ignis put his hand on Prompto's shoulder and tried to guide him into the sleek black car he'd driven to the scene.

Prompto paused when he caught sight of the cooling corpse of the mugger on the ground, not yet removed from the cold concrete.

He'd just killed a guy. He'd just murdered someone in defense of the Crown. He wanted to feel ill. He wanted to feel the need to cry. He wanted to feel as if he'd done something wrong.

Instead, he pulled one of his pistols from the air, leveled it at the mugger's stomach, and fired.