Those very few people he’d actually told about his plans had been understandably surprised. After all, he’d sworn to himself that he’d never venture into Niflheim again, let alone anywhere near Gralea.
That’d been before Prompto had so much time to think about it. Really think about it; all of those places that hadn’t been destroyed, completely ravaged. But also the buildings which remained standing, all the places that might hold more than daemons and MTs, where people might be waiting to be rescued. Or maybe... maybe not-quite-MTs. A false hope, but a bracing one.
People had been there after already, sure. Aranea had been “all over”--from the air. She only stopped making trips back once there was no movement beyond daemons, once it seemed that there was nothing human remaining. That should have been enough to assure him, to crush the last bits of optimism in the idea that there might be anything or anyone left worth saving. But...
But I’m an idiot. It had been a mantra from the moment he’d seen the crater, nevermind every step he’d taken toward the entrance of a building he’d rather not remember. Cold and dark, everything was cold and dark, every shadow cast by his flashlight threatening to swallow him up, likely hiding something that would indeed devour him. Particularly because he’d had to break in, doors sealed and locked from the inside.
The who might have been responsible remained a mystery. The why... well, Prompto didn’t know for sure, but working his way through yet more sealed doors (Like an idiot!), he’d started making unfortunate discoveries. Piles of MT parts. Dried streaks of black goo. A few daemons he knew he’d never seen before, which took a hell of a lot longer to finish off than he wanted to think about, but he’d made it.
He knew he should have left at that point. Turned tail and called for help. Except that no one would have showed up. Hunters were out there helping people, sure, but not in Niflheim. The entire continent had been abandoned, with good reason. There were probably far more horrible things the further he went in.
But the doors had to have been sealed from the inside, right? Did that mean someone might be alive in there? Holding out in the core of the facility like the population of Lestallum, filled with survivors and trying to drive away the daemons with light?
Yeah, he was an idiot. But when he noticed enormous claw marks on one door that had only scratched and not penetrated, he got more curious. Calling out might have made sense, if he weren’t sure the gunfire had already started attracting more horrible things, and he knew he was going to have to shoot to get in the door, so trying to warn whoever might be inside was kind of pointless if he wanted to rescue anyone. Sound enough logic. Probably. Too bad there was no signal on his phone or he would have called Ignis. And probably gotten yelled at.
Shoving all of those thoughts from his mind, Prompto took a deep breath, took aim at the locking mechanism, and flinched a little at the echoing bang as he blew the lock apart. Okay, well. That wasn’t safe anymore, was it? ...Damn.