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Chapter 37 - Chapter 37 FFXV (2)

While Cindy hummed a tune, wiping the grease from the Regalia's side panels, Theodore met with Cid.

The old mechanic was crusty, smelling of stale tobacco and motor oil, but his eyes were sharp.

Theodore wanted a car but didn't offer gold or gems—that would be too suspicious.

"Hey, Old man. I have something that might interest you."

Instead, he pulled out a ruggedized tablet 9S had prepared back at the Hub.

On it were the schematics for a Closed-Loop Mana-Ether Cooling System and a revolutionary Variable-Geometry Fuel Injector.

Cid snatched the tablet, his eyes widening behind his goggles.

"Where in the hells did you get these designs, boy? This ain't Magitek... it's cleaner. Much cleaner."

"Let's just say my team specializes in 'lost' technology,"

Theodore said smoothly.

"That data is yours. In exchange, I need Gil. Enough for a reliable ride, a full tank, and a mountain of Galdin Garlic."

Cid let out a wheezing laugh.

"You're a shark, kid. Deal."

A few hours later, after Cid had transferred a hefty sum of Gil into a local account for Theodore, Cindy led them to the back of the garage.

Resting under a tarp was a rugged, customized off-road SUV—built for the desert, with heavy-duty suspension and extra rack space for gear.

"She ain't as pretty as the Regalia,"

Cindy said, patting the hood,

"But she'll climb a mountain if you ask her nicely. I call her the 'Road Runner.'"

Theodore nodded in appreciation.

"Perfect. 9S, 2B, get our gear loaded. We're traveling in style."

With the leftover Gil, Theodore went on a shopping spree at the Hammerhead diner.

He didn't just buy skewers; he bought crates of high-quality ingredients, emergency rations, and a few luxury items that made Prompto's eyes pop.

"Whoa, Theodore! Is that... real Cactuar jerky?"

Prompto asked, drooling slightly.

"Only the best for the road trip,"

Theodore winked, tossing a pack to the blonde photographer.

The two cars sat side-by-side at the Hammerhead exit: the sleek, royal Regalia and the rugged, blacked-out Shadow Runner.

The mood was light, the group fueled by a successful hunt and full stomachs.

Noctis leaned out the window of the Regalia.

"Follow us to Galdin Quay. We're supposed to meet a ferry there."

"We'll be right on your tail,"

Theodore replied, his hands on the wheel. They asked who he was and why he wanted to go to insomnia.

He told them he was a dare devil traveler who lost all of his belongings to monsters in the desert.

9S and 2B were his bodyguards.

And as he turned the ignition, his mind picked up a strange static in the air.

The mana density was shifting. He glanced at 9S, who was already tapped into the local radio frequencies using his internal scanner.

9S's expression went from playful to dead serious in a heartbeat.

He looked at Theodore and shook his head.

"Theodore... the Crown City. Signals are dropping out. There's a massive surge of Magitek interference coming from the North."

Theodore's grip tightened on the wheel. He knew what was coming. The treaty was a trap. Niflheim had struck.

"Enjoy the breeze while you can, Noct,"

Theodore muttered to himself, watching the Prince's car pull onto the highway.

"The world's about to get a lot darker."

The drive to Galdin Quay was picturesque—palm trees and blue ocean—but the tension in the Road Runner was thick.

2B sat in the back, her blade across her knees, her sensors calibrated for the inevitable arrival of Imperial dropships.

As they pulled into the resort, they found the four guys standing by the pier, looking at a newspaper and a flickering television screen in the lobby.

The headline was screaming in bold letters: INSOMNIA FALLS. KING REGIS REPORTED DEAD.

Noctis looked hollow, the paper trembling in his hand.

The weight of his world had just collapsed.

Theodore stepped out of his SUV and walked up to the group. He didn't offer empty platitudes. He looked at Gladiolus and Ignis, who were already in "Protector Mode."

"The ferry isn't coming, is it?"

Theodore asked quietly.

"No,"

Ignis replied, his voice strained.

"The empire has blockaded the area. We're trapped on the coast."

....

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