DISCLAIMER: I don't own Final Fantasy XV, its characters, or any other intellectual property belonging to Square Enix. Nor do I own any other pieces of pop culture that I reference here.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The following has been rated T for profanity and some violence.

This is the first time I've written a story about a game that hasn't come out yet – and, by extension, characters I barely know anything about. Hopefully it turns out OK.

Nobody knows what the future holds,

And it's bad enough just getting old.

Live my life in self-defense.

You know I love the past 'cause I hate suspense.

- Vampire Weekend, "Diane Young"

1 running down a dream that never would come to me

There was me, that is Noctis, and my three friends, that is Prompto, Gladiolus, and Ignis, and we sat in a diner in the middle of nowhere trying to make up our minds what to order off their menu. The diner sold pancakes, pancakes plus hash browns or sausage links or turkey bacon, which is what I felt like ordering. This would sharpen us up and make us ready for a bit of driving to Altissia, where my arranged engagement would become official.

The diner itself was part of one of those small truck stops that had been built several decades ago and had undergone little to no renovations since, presumably to preserve its "vintage charm," with a fueling station and a small service garage. The metal signs outside were somewhat rusted and a couple of letters flickered on and off, their fluorescent light bulbs clearly in their dying throes. The buildings were rather plain, just boxy brick structures coated with white paint that chipped a bit near the windows, but I guess it doesn't take much to catch eyes when your only neighbors are tall trees and rolling hills.

We were definitely too hungry to question how such an enterprise could possibly have remained in business in such a remote area though. Best pancakes for a thousand miles! one sign outside had boasted, and we didn't question it considering this was the only building we'd seen in what felt like several hundred. It seemed a bit too late in the day to have breakfast, but none of us were really in the mood for lunch either. For my part, I was perhaps too accustomed to my father's rigid routine of "no breakfast after 11 a.m.," a practice he'd picked up from visiting a well-known local restaurant chain as a boy and one I'd never questioned myself "lest the cook be sent away."

The inside of the diner looked like a hangout from an old movie, the kind where teenagers would go after school to trade gossip, eat burgers, and drink chocolate milkshakes with a jukebox blaring in the background. The floor was all black-and-white checkerboard tiles, freshly mopped by our server shortly before our arrival for the sake of keeping busy, and the seats were all faded red leather. There was even the obligatory jukebox near the front door, albeit with an OUT OF ORDER sign taped to the glass that looked like it had been there long enough to declare the jukebox "for decoration purposes only."

The four of us were seated about halfway across the room from the door. Prompto had won the initial scramble for the window seat but, true to his name, was quick to switch once he caught a glimpse of our server. She looked maybe a few years older than us, at most. She wore hip-hugging jeans and a pink shirt over her petite frame, and she would sometimes pause to brush her auburn hair away from her brown eyes, chomping on a wad of bubblegum all the while and generally not responding to Prompto's flirting. So he pulled out the big guns and unknowingly, as always, aimed them straight at his foot.

"You know," he said, gesturing toward me, "my buddy over there is an honest-to-God prince."

And may the gods forever bless you for your honesty, O my brother. What a shame that I typically prefer to keep this information secret from people who don't already know who I am or what I look like.

"Uh-huh," the server said, cracking her bubblegum. "And I'm the empress of Niflheim. I'm just slumming it in this diner to endear myself to the common folk."

Sharp tongue on this one. Ignis chuckled softly and began looking at her with increased admiration. He always did like women with a rapier wit.

"I'm serious!" said Prompto, not ready to abandon his cool-by-association "stick with me and you'll go places" narrative. "That guy right over there is Noctis Lucis Caelum, son of Regis, heir to the throne of—"

"Prompto," Ignis interrupted, "you're not seriously using someone else's heritage to impress a girl, are you?"

Of course he was. I knew this for a fact because I had seen him do it two weeks prior.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You seriously expect me to believe you're friends with the prince?" a pretty ponytailed blonde had asked Prompto in the midst of a crowded bar somewhere in downtown Insomnia, shouting to be heard over the thudding dance beat.

"Oh yeah!" Prompto had said. "He and I go way back." He turned to wave and call over to me with an especially boisterous "YO NOCT!"

I was seated on a bar stool nearby, sipping a cocktail of whiskey and amaretto and generally avoiding drawing too much attention to myself. Once I heard Prompto calling out to me, I realized that I had taken my anonymity for granted that night. And I knew that soon I would be bombarded by hordes of drunk people desperately trying to insert themselves into my social circle – the kind of people who don't understand that I don't go to bars to be everybody's friend, but rather to have a good time with the friends I've already got. I must be mindful of my family's reputation, after all; it wouldn't do to have stories and images from one night of liquor-fueled debauchery coming back to bite me in the ass when the time comes for me to ascend the throne, tempting as it is sometimes to indulge in it. That's why it pays to know how to be sneaky about such things.

And on top of all that, I'm going to be spoken for soon. I hope Luna's the kind of woman who has no ethical qualms about getting married on the first date.

"What?" I called back, turning to face Prompto.

"Say hello to my lady friend!" he said, grinning like an idiot and slipping his arm around the blonde's waist.

"Stay away from that guy!" I joked, and I began making the throat-slashing gesture. "He's a loser!"

"You're the worst wingman of all time," Prompto shouted.

"Guilty as charged," I said, raising my arms as if surrendering to the police, and as I turned back to my drink I noticed the blonde's eyes widening with the realization that the goofy blond-haired guy with the studded sleeveless jacket really did have friends in high places.

About a minute later she came over wanting to meet me.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And now there we were, sitting in that truck stop diner in the middle of nowhere, watching Prompto show everyone that he hadn't learned his lesson from that night. "Come on, Ignis," he said, "you know chicks dig an honest man."

"So if he's really the prince of Lucis," said the server, pointing at me with her pen, "then what is he doing in a run-down dump like this?"

I checked my watch – 10:32 a.m., give or take a few minutes. Then I set my menu on the table, ran a hand through my stylish black hair, and looked up at the server with a polite smile. "Just ordering some pancakes, miss," I said.

The Regalia zoomed along at a comfortable highway speed, following every curve of the long asphalt strip that cut through the Duscae countryside for what seemed like forever, stretching off toward the horizon as the sun beat down upon our heads. The car was a sleek black convertible that had once belonged to my father and which he'd passed along to me once my friends and I were all old enough to drive. It's a nice reminder that sometimes regal birth really does have its perks; most teenagers' hand-me-downs are usually old T-shirts and sweaters.

The roof was down, so the rushing wind made the music harder to hear, but I picked up electric guitars jangling through the speakers. And the lyrics were about driving on the open road, singing along to the songs on the radio, and feeling like something good was coming at the road's end, even if you didn't know for sure what it was. It's funny how sometimes the radio seems to know just the right song for your mood.

As for me, I was lounging in the backseat, resting my head in my hand while watching the trees and fields and occasional road sign whiz by. While the Regalia may be mine, I'm certainly not above sharing the driving duties. On a day like this one I'm all too happy to let Ignis take the wheel, relax in the back, and take in the scenery – or, more likely, doze off for a while. Irony: it's what happens when you live in a city called Insomnia, and you suffer from narcolepsy.

Still, the breakfast had been a nice pick-me-up and I found myself not feeling drowsy at all – that, or perhaps it simply wasn't possible to fall asleep with the wind blowing in my face at all times. Or with Prompto yapping away in the seat next to me, for that matter. I didn't really care what he was talking about; I was mostly trying to read the patch near the neck on his studded black vest.

It's a beautiful day, the patch said. Now watch some bastard fuck it up.

"Hey, the road looks like it straightens out for a pretty long time now," he observed, scratching the back of his head. "I say we shift this baby into overdrive and see what it can really do."

"That won't be necessary," said Ignis.

"Don't be such a buzzkill, man," said Prompto. "We're barely even doing the speed limit."

"The speed limit here is 55, and we are doing 66."

"I'm just saying," Prompto went on, "it's not like there are any hiding places around here where a cop can jump out of nowhere and bust us for speeding."

"I don't care," Ignis said. "I'm not your damned chauffeur."

"No," I chimed in, "but you are mine."

This got Prompto to burst out laughing. "Oh snap!" he hollered. "Gentlemen, the prince is finally pulling rank!"

"Yes, I am," I said, smirking at Prompto. "Carry on, Ignis."

Now it was the others' turn to laugh as Prompto slumped back in his seat. "Man," he said, "you guys are no fun at all. I bet there isn't a single cop within two hundred miles of here."

"I'll take that bet," said Gladiolus, turning from the passenger seat to face Prompto. "Two hundred gil says there's at least one police officer within two hundred miles."

"You're on," said Prompto, and they shook hands to seal the deal.

"Oh, my lord," Ignis said. "Raise the wager, Gladio."

"I would, but I'd feel bad about bankrupting him."

"Get a load of these bozos," Prompto said, giving me a little nudge, "thinking they've got this thing in the bag." He chuckled and shook his head. "Watch this." And with that, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, gripping the driver's seat to steady himself and cupping his mouth with his other hand.

Things to know about Prompto: he doesn't always care about consequences. He's actually a wanted man in another country for an incredibly stupid thing he did without really thinking about what he was doing (he doesn't talk about it much). Look, lord knows I love the guy – he and I have been friends since we were kids – but sometimes it really does take every ounce of willpower within me to refrain from smacking him upside the head, hoping to knock a little sense into him. But I know better; he's the kind of guy who would probably do something crazy anyway, just to spite anyone who says he shouldn't.

"Calling all cars!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "We've got a black Regalia convertible doing 66 in a 55 zone!"

"Not anymore," Ignis mumbled as he applied the brake.

"I have a gun in a duffel bag in the trunk!" Prompto continued, stating a fact despite being fully aware that all firearms are completely outlawed in Lucis. "And I am clearly not wearing my seatbelt!"

At this point the car drove over a bumpy patch of road. Prompto had to grab the driver's seat with both hands and hang on for dear life to keep from toppling over the door.

"Sit down before you fall out of the damn car!" Gladiolus ordered.

"WITNESS ME!" Prompto shouted to the invisible officers. "ARREST ME!"

And sure enough, not a single police officer was there to do it – not that this meant much, as there were still about 196 miles left in the range of the little friendly wager. Of course, as the Crown Prince of Lucis, technically I would have more authority than any cop could ever dream of having.

"Okay, that's enough," I finally said. "I'm pulling rank again. Sit your ass back down, Prompto. That's an official royal order."

"Noctis," said Ignis, "promise me that your first order of business upon your coronation will be to extradite this idiot."

"Don't listen to him, Noct," Prompto said, finally sitting back in his seat and buckling up again. "If there's one thing I've learned from movies, it's that the royal advisor always turns out to be a corrupt scheming bastard."

"Prompto," Ignis fired back, "I realize this advice is coming about twenty years too late to do you any good, but here it is anyway: don't be stupid."

"Shut up, Ignis."

Gladiolus opened the glove compartment and dug around for a few seconds before finding what he wanted. "Here," he said to Prompto, pulling out a book. "Instead of trying to get us all locked up for the rest of our lives, you can read this."

"What is it?"

"It's a Duscae travel guide," Gladiolus said. "See if you can find something for us to do."

"Whatever," Prompto mumbled. He took the travel guide and started flicking through it.

And so, with the situation defused for the time being, we continued on down the long and winding road in search of something to explore, something to experience for ourselves. We were blazing a trail that had already been thoroughly blazed, mapped, and paved over a long time ago, but if we couldn't forge our own path we could at least follow our predecessors' footsteps however we saw fit.

"Hey guys," Prompto called out, still reading the travel guide about half an hour later, "all in favor of checking out the biggest ball of twine in Duscae, say aye!"

The only audible responses were the revving of the Regalia's engine and a voice on the radio melodramatically reading promotional material for the long-awaited remake of Last Vision 7, which I expect to beat the anthology show's upcoming fifteenth season to our televisions despite the latter project being started first.

"All in favor of tossing Prompto out of the car right now, say aye," Ignis said as he steered the car along a curve overlooking a steep cliff.

"Now this is why I like getting out of the city," said Gladiolus.

We had pulled over to the side of the road to have some snacks and drink some water, and we picked a spot in the middle of what looked like one of those landscape paintings people like to hang in their dining rooms. We were staring out towards a shimmering lake that sat calmly in the heart of a plain peppered with tall skinny trees and a water tower or two with a mountainous backdrop overlooking it. And if we turned our heads just a bit to the right we could see the massive stone arches that were Duscae's signature natural landmarks.

Well… possibly natural landmarks. It depends on who you ask, really. It's become one of our civilization's greatest, most enduring mysteries. Nobody is entirely sure where the Duscae arches came from, or who built them, or why. They've been around long enough for us to know that the ancients believed they were constructed by the earth god Titan to provide safe passage for travelers above the many dangerous beasts that called the valley home. Other tribes would have told you they were the remnants of giant worms or serpents that had been turned to stone as divine punishment for some grave misdeed. One early scientific explanation was that they were man-made bridges, but that idea went out the window when nobody could figure out how they were built. They didn't appear to have been made from scratch with stone blocks and mortar, and even if they'd been carved out from a much larger natural rocky formation, nobody could explain how it was done, how long it took, or where the excess rock had gone once it was removed. They were too neatly sculpted to have resulted from any demolition, and there was no way to determine if some great flood had eroded whatever stone may have once filled that gap between the arches and the ground. Ask Ignis, our resident science buff, and he will politely inform you that your question is wasted on him as he is not in fact a geologist – which of course is his way of saying "I have absolutely no idea."

"It is quite a view, isn't it?" said Ignis.

"Definitely," Gladiolus answered. "Hang on a second. I want to get a picture of this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone.

"Dude, you brought your phone?" Prompto asked upon sighting the device.

"Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?"

"I thought the whole point of leaving a couple days early was so we could just drop off the grid for a while," Prompto said. "Nobody can find us. We can do whatever we want, and nobody ever has to know."

"Not when you've got the second-most important man in Lucis in your traveling party," said Gladiolus. "Besides, I never leave home without my phone. You know that."

Ever since we were kids, Prompto's had this fantasy of getting in a car and going… well, anywhere. He never really had a specific destination in mind; it was more about driving for the sake of driving, going somewhere on a whim, or getting lost and finding your way back home, because having your own car meant having that kind of freedom. It also meant having to constantly fill your tank with gas and your tires with air, and emptying your wallet every time you needed the damn thing inspected or repaired, but he's never had his own car so he's never really experienced that downside of it. Driving also meant that you took your life and the lives of those around you and placed them on the betting table, and if you weren't careful enough you could cause some serious damage or get yourself or others injured or even killed. It was this truth, along with a rather serious accident he'd survived back in his early twenties, that had led my father to dub all cars "coffins on wheels."

None of this had ever dissuaded Prompto, however, and once I took ownership of the Regalia his enthusiasm for such a trip only continued to grow. His technophobic approach was something he picked up from reading about those whose explorations brought about the expansion of human civilization; he concluded that if they could figure out how to get around without any sort of guidance, then so could he, and that would enhance the excitement of it all. I could never understand the appeal of doing without devices invented to make life easier, but then again he was never one to back down from a challenge – or so he says.

"Did anyone else bring their phones?" he asked.

"I did," said Ignis, "but my battery is dead and I left my charger cord at home like an idiot."

"I have mine in my pocket," I confessed.

Prompto threw up his hands in apparent frustration. "You guys, you're totally killing the adventure!" he said. "We're supposed to be exploring the vast and wild frontier using only our wits, like the pioneers did centuries before us."

"I'm pretty sure the pioneers didn't have cars," I said. "Or maps. Or signs. Or even roads."

"They didn't need roads."

"Well, we do," said Gladiolus, snapping an attempt at a panoramic picture of the valley with his phone.

"Prompto," Ignis teased, "it's okay to admit that you lost your phone again."

"Shut up," said Prompto. "I didn't lose it. I put it in a safe before we left, with all my other valuable stuff."

"Why would anyone put their phone in a safe?" I asked.

"Because I don't trust other people with my stuff!" he answered, folding his arms and leaning against the Regalia. "You remember what happened three years ago? I left my water snake with my next-door neighbor when I went on vacation and I haven't seen it since!"

"Why didn't you get it back?" asked Gladiolus.

"My neighbor told me it died, so he just dumped the body in the water."

"Well, wherever it is," Gladiolus said, "I'm sure it's in a better place."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was another calm and beautiful day out on the open sea. Not a cloud could be found for miles, leaving the sun free to shine brightly and warmly upon the surface water as it flowed peacefully along the current, the only disturbance being from the occasional dolphin or fish that leapt into the air.

But then, all of a sudden, there came a rumbling from far beneath the surface. Had any poor souls been there to witness it, they surely would have started trembling in fear as the rumble grew louder and louder and its source came closer and closer.

Finally, with a deafening roar, the great sea serpent Leviathan burst forth. A massive eruption of water accompanied her as for a moment she glimpsed the bright blue sky.

And then, as she plunged back down into the depths from whence she came, the waves Leviathan created rolled on for miles, gradually shrinking all the while. By the time they reached the nearest coast, the waves had been reduced to mere ripples, completely in lockstep with the routine rising and falling of the tides. Thus the local beachgoers remained blissfully clueless as to their true origins, surfing and splashing and swimming where the sea met the sand, concerning themselves only with avoiding the undertow.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey Gladio, how have you still not taken that picture yet?" asked Prompto as he leaned against the car. "I could have painted one for you by the time you were done."

"Shut up. I'm trying to keep my hands steady."

"All you had to do was ask. I'm just sayin'."

"Well," said Ignis, now directing his attention to the two of us who weren't busy with a camera phone, "while he's off capturing his masterpiece, which of you would like to take the wheel for the rest of the day? I could use a break from all that driving."

His face fell as Prompto's hand immediately shot into the air.

"Noctis," he asked, "are you really all right with giving your keys to Mr. Floor-It over there?"

"Hey, if you didn't want me driving," Prompto countered, "then why'd you ask both of us?"

"We'll flip a coin for it," I offered, pulling one out of my pocket, and I smirked as I caught Ignis's relief at not having to answer Prompto's question. "Heads, I drive. Tails, he takes over."

"What about me?" Gladiolus asked as he put his phone back in his pocket. "I don't get a say in this?"

"Sorry, bro," Prompto teased. "We figured you had more important things to do."

"Whatever."

"We'll let you toss the coin if you want."

Gladiolus rolled his eyes and sat back in the front passenger seat.

"All right, everyone shut up and let's get this over with," I said.

I placed the coin atop my thumbnail and flicked it into the air. It spun rapidly, end over end, until finally landing in my palm. Then I slapped it on the back of my other hand and uncovered it.

"Tails," I announced, and Prompto's cheers echoed throughout the valley.

"Well, so much for being able to rest easy," said Ignis as he climbed into the backseat.

"Don't worry," said Gladiolus. "He'll be driving nice and safe."

"Oh yeah?" Prompto retorted, making his way to the driver's seat. "Says who?"

"That guy," Gladiolus said, pointing down the road. "The one who's about to make me two hundred gil richer."

The rest of us turned our heads to follow his finger, and sure enough, we spotted a police car zooming down the highway towards us and then past us. The lights weren't flashing and the sirens remained silent, but it was unmistakably a police car.

"Man, this just isn't my day," Prompto said. He started digging into his pocket for his wallet. Say what you will about him, but while he's made his fair share of bad bets over the years, he's never been known to welch on one.

"That cop was going awfully fast," Ignis observed.

"A lot faster than you were going," I added, feeling confident in my assertion despite not having a radar gun handy.

Prompto sighed loudly as he handed Gladiolus the two hundred gil. "I hope he writes himself a ticket when he gets wherever he's going," he said. "Corrupt old bastard."

In spite of all his complaints, Ignis was actually the first of us to fall asleep as the evening hours approached. I spotted him leaning toward the car door with his head propped up on his hand and his glasses having slipped halfway down the bridge of his nose. I reached over and gently removed the glasses, figuring that this way they wouldn't be at risk of falling out of the car, and rested them on the empty middle seat between us. His wrist would probably be killing him whenever he woke up, but there's only so much a man can do.

My narcolepsy kicked in soon after that, and I welcomed the opportunity for a nap. It wasn't like I had any idea whether there was any place for us to spend the night that happened to be conveniently located in an otherwise uninhabited stretch of land. I slouched a bit in my seat – a habit my father has wanted me to break for years – and tried to stretch my legs as much as the limited space would allow. Then I simply closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, stopped thinking about anything in particular, and within minutes I was out cold.

It's not really the sleeping that gets me though. It's the dreaming.

Quite simply, my dreams as of late never make much sense. They feel more like memories from another lifetime, transmitted across dimensions from some alternate version of Noctis Lucis Caelum directly into my brain. Instead of being royalty, my father and I are mafia kingpins running networks of gangs, waging urban warfare against rival gangs. I keep seeing visions of a mysterious goddess that, to my knowledge, isn't worshipped in any modern or even historical culture. There's also a young woman in a white dress with blond hair extending just beneath her shoulders, claiming that she sees the same visions. And she's not Luna, but she claims to be a relative. I have no idea what any of this means, yet I do recognize her – she's someone I met at a bar a few weeks ago and haven't seen or heard from since, even though I would much prefer the opposite to be true.

Maybe I'm just gradually losing my mind. Then again, the fact that I can even entertain the notion would suggest otherwise; they say those who are truly crazy are the ones who are completely and genuinely unaware of their own insanity.

I mention all of this because I was in the middle of having one of those dreams when Gladiolus started shaking me awake. Prompto and Ignis were arguing about something in the background, but I was still a bit out of it and couldn't quite make out what they were saying yet.

"Good, you're finally up," said Gladiolus. "There are corpses that don't sleep as deeply as you do."

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Let's just say you shouldn't have let things come to a coin toss."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I rubbed my eyes, turned my attention toward the sources of the voices shouting over each other, and caught a glimpse of the Regalia's open hood. We had pulled over to the side of the road. Smoke billowed from behind the hood and something smelled unusual. I could see Ignis standing with his arms folded, a scowl painted on his face as he observed whatever was wrong with the car. Prompto had his hands clasped behind his head, pacing back and forth across the width of our lane.

"This is unbelievable," Ignis said. "The one time we actually let you drive, and this is what you do!"

"You're right, Ignis!" shouted Prompto. "I totally did this on purpose! I wanted to get us all stranded out in the middle of nowhere!"

"How did this even happen?"

"How the hell should I know? All I did was drive fast, dude!"

"Can someone please tell me what's going on here?" I interjected.

"Prompto wrecked your car," Gladiolus answered.

"No, I didn't!" he countered. "The car broke down. Wrecking the car is what happens when you crash into shit. Have I crashed into shit? There isn't even anything around here to crash into!"

There actually were some trees and bushes scattered throughout the grassy fields that surrounded us, but they were far enough away from the road that his point could still stand.

"All right, everyone calm down," I said. "Let me take a look at it."

I stepped out of the Regalia, still a bit drowsy from my nap, and stretched my arms and legs. Then I shuffled over to the front of the car. The smoke was starting to ease up a bit, but it was blowing right into my face. I coughed and began to wave the smoke away as I glanced inside, squinting my eyes so I could at least sort of see.

"It's bad, man," Prompto warned. He stood with his hands on his waist, shaking his head as if still in disbelief. "Really bad."

"No kidding," I replied. "Holy shit." I turned my head and coughed some more. "It looks like there's something wrong with the motor."

"Wonderful," mumbled Ignis, folding his arms to presumably keep from grabbing his hair by the spiked-up part in front and tearing it all out of his scalp at once.

"Yeah, I don't think we'll be driving anywhere for a while," I said. "Hey Gladio, does your phone have any battery left?"

"One step ahead of you, Noct," Gladio said, his eyes fixed on his mobile phone and his index finger swiping the screen. "The good news is there's a garage down the road with a caravan right next door. It's called Coernix Station… or something like that." He mangled the pronunciation of Coernix a bit; had Prompto been in a better mood he surely would have replied by asking if Gladiolus had called the place Cervix Station by mistake. "If we had kept going, we probably would have passed it by now."

"That seems a bit too fortunate for us at the moment," Ignis said. "Bring on the inevitable bad news."

"It's about ten miles away."

Ignis tilted his head back and laughed a bitter laugh. "Oh, this is getting better by the minute," he said. "I don't suppose next you'll tell me the Regalia is about to catch fire?"

"Here's what I can tell you," Gladiolus continued. "The Coernix Station garage closed about an hour ago."

"Well, now you're just piling it on."

"So what exactly are we supposed to do?" Prompto asked.

"That depends," I answered. "How badly do you guys want to sleep in a bed tonight?"

I sat in the Regalia's driver seat with my hands gripping the wheel at ten and two o'clock and a cool breeze blowing a few strands of hair across my face. Looking straight ahead, I could see the last patches of brightened sky along the horizon as the sun continued to set. All around above our heads the first stars of the night began twinkling into view. But most importantly, there was no sign of any rain clouds for miles around.

Not that this information made the others feel better, of course.

"Damn you, Noctis," Prompto groaned. "You can go years at a time without pulling rank on us, and the one time you do…"

"Quit your whining and push the damn car," Ignis muttered.

By the time we reached Coernix Station, the night was a few hours old and we were all thoroughly exhausted, having taken occasional breaks and rotated in and out of the driver's seat. We left the Regalia outside the garage, and I took a look around as we all stopped to catch our breath. The place looked as though it had been built fairly recently, judging from the look of the well-lit filling station and the clean and flashy convenience store. Not far away, beyond a rusted white sign that read EVERGREEN OAKS, stood several trailers waiting for rental occupants (or so we hoped). In the center of the caravan lot there were a few arrangements of lawn chairs, small tables, and umbrellas. I spotted a young man and woman sitting at one such table, reaching across it to clasp each other's hands as they conversed about what I could only assume was something serious. I couldn't see anyone inside the convenience store, so I concluded I would have to politely interrupt their little chat and told my friends I'd be back shortly.

As I approached the pair, I got a better view of what they looked like. The young woman had a cute blond bob and wore a white top that left her shoulders bare and showed her navel through a slit toward the bottom, and her short pink skirt would have stood out in broad daylight, let alone in the dead of night. The man had a light brown crew cut with spikes at the front and long sideburns, and he wore a fancy-looking vest over a long-sleeved white shirt with tight black pants. They both appeared to be around university age, though their voices made them sound slightly older.

"I saw you looking at that poster in the store," she murmured.

"What, the hunting poster?" he asked with a suave accent that reminded me of Ignis. "I merely skimmed it. I haven't even the slightest clue what the reward was. No need to worry."

"I'm worried anyway," she said. "A lot of hunters have pursued Deadeye, and none of them have ever returned." She paused to brush a strand of hair away from her eye. "And I know what you're about to say because you always say it, but…"

Her voice trailed off, and I took advantage of the opportunity to cut in.

"Excuse me," I said, startling them both and causing them to release each other's hands. "Hi. Sorry to interrupt you, but would you happen to know how my friends and I could rent a trailer here? I don't see an office anywhere."

"We… um, we came in our own RV," the young woman mumbled, gesturing toward a shiny white RV nearby that was clearly sleeker, fancier, and more modern-looking than the boxy orange-and-brown caravan trailers.

"I think you check in with the shopkeeper at the convenience store and he gives you a key," the young man said.

"I didn't see anyone in there," I said.

"The store's open twenty-four hours a day," he answered, "so he should still be in there somewhere. There's a little bell on the counter in case you still can't find him."

"Thanks," I said. "Again, sorry to bother you. Have a good night." I turned to head for the convenience store.

"You too," he said, and turned his focus back to his lovely companion. "Now, where were we?"

"Please," she said, her already hushed voice growing fainter as I walked away, "don't go after Deadeye. I almost lost you once, and that was bad enough. If you die out there, I… I…"

"It's all right," he assured her. "I wasn't planning on hunting him anyway, but if it really means this much to you, I promise you I'll leave him alone."

The convenience store was surprisingly big on the inside, much bigger than you would typically see at most gas stations. It was arranged something like an uppercase L, with the counter at the point where the two lines intersected. The shelves were stocked with the usual snacks – potato chips, pretzels, nachos, and assorted chocolates and candies – along with first aid items and a magazine rack. On the farthest wall to the right, next to a refrigerator stocked with colas and iced teas and sport drinks, I spotted that poster calling for the head of Deadeye the Behemoth (which provoked an "oh shit" reaction from me, as that species is notoriously aggressive) and offering a hefty reward in return: 25,000 gil.

One issue among the throngs of travel guides and magazines for sports and car enthusiasts caught my eye. The cover story was about the best entrepreneurs under age 25. The cover photo was the owner of 7th Heaven, a stunning brunette whose topnotch cooking and collection of signature cocktails had transformed what was once a low-key bar and grill into one of Insomnia's most popular restaurants. I go there a lot – I've even had dinner there for my last few birthdays. She probably would have chosen a more professional-looking photo for the cover, had that been her call to make. I've met her a few times and while she looks like a bombshell (she's arguably best known for her hourglass figure), she's really more of a shy girl-next-door type that you could bring home to Mom and Dad with no worries. But because she was young, beautiful, and honestly rather well-endowed, they showed her in a tight white top holding a cocktail glass in each hand, flashing a friendly smile and pushing her breasts out toward the camera. Then again, I suppose it wouldn't have mattered whether she posed in a frumpy pantsuit without makeup or naked on a horse and waving a ten gallon hat in the air (she "never really grew out of her cowgirl phase," as her boyfriend put it) – a lot of men probably would have dehydrated themselves from drooling over her anyway. If I had a gil for every time I've heard someone call her boyfriend "the luckiest man in Lucis"… well, I'd be twice as well off as I already am.

I considered picking up a copy for Prompto's reading pleasure, but soon decided against it as we'd all agreed to save our cash for the essentials only.

"Good evening, sir!" said the shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and wearing a plain red T-shirt and blue jeans, exiting the bathroom with a mop in his hand. "Sorry I wasn't here. I was just cleaning the bathroom."

"Got to keep yourself busy somehow when you work the night shift, huh?" I said.

The shopkeeper chuckled at that. "Exactly," he said, "especially when your place of business is conveniently located in God-knows-where. Besides, I can only read the same magazine articles so many times."

He held up a copy of the magazine with the owner of 7th Heaven on the cover, though it was opened to the middle of the article about her. I recognized her from what were obviously personal photos: chaperoning a mechanical bull back before she took ownership of the place, wearing a bright orange cowgirl outfit and hugging her spiky-haired boyfriend at one of her annual costume parties, and playfully puckering up while a horse licked her cheek. None of them attempted to match the alluring nature of the cover photo.

"So how may I be of service to you?" he asked.

"Just trying to rent a trailer," I answered. "Please tell me you have vacancies."

"You're in luck," he said. "I got one left. It'll cost you two hundred gil a night. How long are you looking to stick around?"

"Hopefully just for one night. My car broke down and my friends and I had to push it all the way here."

"Shucks, son, you could've just waited 'til morning and called us so we could tow it here for you."

"I know," I said. I pulled out my wallet and paid off the bill in cash.

"Remind me not to pick a fight with you fellas!" he said with a laugh, and whistled to express his amazement at our little feat of strength. Then he grabbed a key from a bulletin board behind him. "Trailer number six is all yours. I'll walk you over. I could use a little fresh air."

I thanked the shopkeeper and we walked out of the store, and I motioned to my friends to follow us to the trailer. On our way over I saw that pair from earlier and quickly learned that their conversation had taken a turn for the better since I'd left. The blonde was sitting quite comfortably on the young man's lap with one hand on his chest and the other at the nape of his neck, letting him caress her thigh and run his fingers through her hair. They were too busy sharing a passionate kiss to notice us passing by.

It made me kind of jealous of the guy, frankly. Must be nice to have a girl kiss you like that and actually mean it.

"Jeez," said Prompto, "you'd think somebody would make them get a room."

"They came here with four other people," the shopkeeper said. "At this hour, in this neck of the woods, I'd wager they have more privacy outside."

Once we reached trailer number six, the shopkeeper gave us a quick tour of the place and bid us all good night. As soon as he shut the door we made our way to the bunk beds and got ourselves all tucked in for some much-needed rest. Gladiolus was first to fall asleep this time; he was out almost immediately.

"Shit," whispered Prompto. "I forgot to ask that guy if this place gets cable."

"You can watch all the television you want while they're fixing the car," Ignis muttered.

I stayed awake the longest of our little group, and I wasn't entirely sure why. Could have been my aching muscles keeping me from getting comfortable. Maybe it was from worrying about what my father might say if he found out how much money I was about to spend thanks to Prompto's fast and furious driving. Perhaps I was just nervous about running into that nasty Behemoth, and wondering if the couple outside was really safe. Or maybe it was because part of me wanted to interrupt them once more, this time to ask them how they'd been fortunate enough to find each other in such a big and wild world.

It didn't really matter in the end. With all of those thoughts swirling around, my brain soon became as fatigued as the rest of my body and I finally fell asleep. And I dreamed once more of the long-lost mystery woman in the white dress, walking down a staircase and out of my life, just like she always does.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

One chapter down! And there are still as many as five to come, though I've got a feeling the second half of the story will be more of a challenge than the first.

The title of this chapter comes from "Runnin' Down A Dream" by Tom Petty, the greatest driving song of all time. The first paragraph spoofs the beginning of A Clockwork Orange; I like to picture "Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary" playing in the background during that whole scene. The "biggest ball of twine" bit was supposed to be part of a running gag where Prompto suggests various absurd tourist attractions to visit, but I settled for a Weird Al reference instead (his song "The Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota" is about a real tourist attraction). Also, that bit about "no breakfast after 11 a.m." is something I actually do. I'm not sure why. Even McDonald's doesn't do that anymore.

Spot the Cameos: I'm apparently incapable of writing a Final Fantasy story that doesn't feature cameos by characters from other Final Fantasy games. It's made me think of an interesting "what if" though: what if all FF characters exist somewhere in each FF world, and the reason each game is about a different cast is because each alternate world needs someone else to save it? So now we have Cloud and Tifa from VII popping up in a magazine article. Meanwhile Ashe and Balthier from XII, the stars of my previous fic "Parades & Fireworks," appear as a couple of random tourists, and their interaction here sums up their interaction in that story in several thousand fewer words.

Okay, there's more to that story than that, but I never shy away from self-deprecation! I should probably see a therapist about that.