Author's Note: Trick or treat? Well, since it's Halloween, I'm gonna post 'Day 1' along with the Prologue. :) Enjoy! And be sure to stay safe as you Trick-or-Treat tonight!

DAY 1

VIDEO LOG 1 | Edge City | 09-22-00 | 04:00am

Day one of our trip to Nibelheim Village is starting off painfully slow. The clock alarm goes off for at least a minute before my hand finally slams on the button to kill it. It's warm and soft under my comforter. The back of my throat feels scratchy while a dull headache starts to throb at the side of my head. I don't want to wake up: I want another hour of sleep. By some miracle, though, I manage to drag my ass out of bed anyway. It's a big day so I record myself with my PHS like I usually do.

"Welcome, fellow explorers, to another exciting episode of Wonders of the World," I mumble to the camera and rub the crust off my eyes. "I am your host, Mercury, the messenger who brings you the good news."

As I stumble down a small hallway, I say a few snarky comments about how excited I am to my faceless would-be audience. This, despite the fact I am in my boxers, can't see well without my glasses, and feel like shit. On the camera's screen, my dark wavy hair is a mess, full of fuzz and annoying static. Even at neck length it's a nightmare to manage. Making my way to the bathroom, I wash my face and take a long piss, mentally reminding myself to edit out this part of the video.

I've seen better days. Hazel eyes are teary and red-shot from a lack of proper sleep while cherry lips appear cracked. It's clear I haven't shaven for at least two weeks, notable by the small stubs that run along my jawline. In the mirror, I spot a fresh pimple on a cheek. Great. I'll need to bring along my pouch of wonders to cover that up; can't have the star of Wonders of the World looking zit-faced on camera, can we? A low growl escapes my lips as I suck in my stomach in some pathetic attempt to spot an impressive six-pack there. It's all skin and bones. I don't have time to care about this though. Quickly, I gel up my thick hair to its usual whimsy style. Then I slip on a pair of jeans, lace up my boots, and slide into a brown sweater. A pair of thick-framed glasses decorates my face.

"I'm ready to roll, fellow explorers," I tell the camera. "Adventure time begins. Follow Mercury into the great swirly unknown! Or, at least, follow him to the parking lot."

I leave the apartment complex shortly after. The block is quiet due to the early morning hour, hardly a soul is awake. I have a duster coat on while I stand outside by my van and fetch the keys. The Wonders of the World logo is pasted on the vehicle's side. A few flakes of snow drop from the black sky above.

Winter comes early this year, despite it being late September. The old people claim Meteorfall fucked up the seasons. It's caused the Planet to tilt on its axis differently. Or maybe something else prompts the erratic seasonal changes. I don't know or care. For a moment, I look up and dwell on the fact it will be a while until I see this sky from my home. I can get sentimental sometimes. Before I wallow in this nonsense any longer, though, I shift my mind into next gear. I unlock the van and get inside.

It's a sizable vehicle with enough room for our six-manned party. At the back, there is a large monitor with video-related equipment. My personal belongings clutter a corner. Thankfully, I was smart enough to pack for the trip last night.

A lot of planning went into this outing. I paid a neighbor to take care of my dog and I stocked up on supplies. There's canned food and beverages to last my group for a few weeks. From an outlet, I bought chemical protection coveralls. They're nothing too fancy but enough to keep us safe from potential mako radiation. Also as a precaution, a pistol sits in my glove department. We might run into wolves or bears. It's the fucking wilderness so who knows what is out there. Lastly, I made sure to bring along a big pack of toilet paper – I'll be damned if I have to wipe my ass with leaves. This will be a long trip so hopefully we got enough for it.

As I crank up the heater and wait for the air to get warm, I pull out my PHS and make the rounds. Most of my crew is still asleep. Those who bother to answer my call sound like zombies; all moans and slurred words. Idiots. The coffee I drank is already wearing off and so is my patience. We're supposed to be outside of Edge City by six. Timing is everything. According to the weather reports last night, the snow in the Nibel area is getting bad. Some part of me wonders if we'll be stuck out there after we're done filming. I quickly reassure myself we'll be out of Nibelheim before the path back home is blocked by snow. Making my calls, about the only person in the group who sounds coherent is our guide.

"I'm ready for pick-up," a male's voice confirms from the other line. "Let's mosey."

Last month, I placed a temporary job listing online and offered five-hundred Gil to anyone familiar with the Nibel area. I did this under the false pretense that it was for an environmental study. Not many responded to the ad. That was no surprise. After Meteorfall, a majority of the human population migrated to the developing cities to increase their survival chances. Over time, they grew accustomed to the urban setting and stayed there. People don't care for the wilderness, including myself. It's too dangerous. Monsters from post-Meteorfall times still run rampant. I was worried no one would answer my job listing. But then a man under the username Wolf86 contacted me through email. He claimed to know the area really well and agreed to be our guide.

Over the phone now, Wolf tells me his pick-up address and promptly hangs up before I can thank him. I feel slightly put off by our brief and abrupt conversation. This will be our first face-to-face meeting. Already, I can tell Wolf is one of those oddball quiet types. Still. Wolf's soft and husky voice did sound appealing over the phone. My face feels warm. I input his directions into my GPS and turn on my stereo at full blast. Then I pull out of the parking lot.

VIDEO LOG 2 | Edge City – Eastern Sector | 09-22-00 | 04:25am

With my PHS attached to the dashboard, I record myself while driving down a long stretch of road. I know most of this won't make it to the final cut. However, I need pre-Nibelheim footage for our documentary. I'd rather have a lot to work with than not enough. Even if it's just me staring at the camera, making a damn fool of myself, at least it's a potential idea we can use. Comic relief, yeah?

"So, I'm now on my way to pick up our guide," I report, "Wolf86. He sounds hot over the phone. I hope he's the real deal though. Wolf told me he grew up from those rural parts and knows the land well. I'm counting on that. Nibel is one of the few places untouched by human civilization since Meteorfall."

Music blasts in the background, some lively tune about love, and I feel more alive thanks to my second cup of coffee. I go over the speed limit but don't care. Hardly anyone is out in the streets at this early hour. I'm grateful for this. Traffic in Edge City sucks. It being the first major metropolis since the Restoration, the entire world practically lives here. No one can get anywhere within twenty minutes. Turning on a street, the snow falls more heavily and I put on my wipers. I resume talking to the camera.

"I honestly have no idea how Wolf is gonna take the news. He still doesn't know where we're actually headed. Being from the Nibel area, though, I would think he is familiar with the path that leads to the village. Let's hope so. The success of this project rests on Wolf's shoulders. I brought along an extra five-hundred Gil as an incentive, just in case he tries to back out."

Wolf's directions take me deeper into Edge City. I make a face when I realize it's at the eastern sector. Many of the city's weirdoes and misfits reside here. I automatically lock my van's doors. Humming to the current song on my stereo, I try to sound upbeat. Random topics pop in my head. I ramble about them to the camera. The deeper I go into the eastern sector, though, the quieter I become. The morning darkness shrouds my surroundings. Only the beams from my van's headlights cut through it.

When I arrive at an underpass, I lower the volume of my stereo and set the van on park. Briefly, I look at the camera. "Well. According to my GPS, fellow explorers, I'm at my destination. This looks… pleasant."

Below the underpass I spot a few homeless people. They stand around a fire-lit barrel. There's a closed pawn shop that's been spray-painted with graffiti. It's the same for the Family Gil-Store. A strip joint with neon-lights is at my right side. It's one of the few establishments actually opened. Music thumps and two girls in colorful fur coats stand outside an entrance in the cold weather. They talk with a blond-haired guy. It must be near to closing time for them.

I frown. This isn't a residential area. There are no apartments or homes here. Checking my GPS, I worry I may have inputted the wrong information. Or perhaps Wolf thought it would be a terrific idea to pick him up from the titty place. That could be him standing outside with the two girls. With a sigh, I grab my PHS and temporarily pause the recording to pull up his phone number. I have to get to the bottom of this. As I'm scrolling down my address book, however, I notice movement up ahead.

One of the homeless people under the pass abandons the make-shift camp fire. Currently smoking a cigarette, he heads in my direction. The man is likely coming to beg for Gil. Or to murder me. That's what I think as I hurriedly scan for Wolf's number. I'm not staying here a moment longer than I have to. Wolf better get his ass out here now. I've seen enough horror films to know how this ends for the dopey single white guy.

The lone figure straight ahead crosses the street. My van's head-beams reveal a lean-shaped male dressed in a white hoodie with faded jeans and rugged boots. The hood of his jacket is drawn over his head, covering most of his face. I can only make out the lips; a blush shade. They form a small smile. This homeless guy is seriously underdressed for the cold weather. With one hand tucked inside a pocket while the other holds his lit cigarette, he carries a backpack and hardly makes a sound as he walks. I grow tensed.

Quickly, I locate Wolf's number in my PHS' address book. I call it and prepare to reverse out of my spot before the murderer-serial-killer reaches my van. A peculiar thing happens though. As I hear the dial tone ring in my ear, I also hear the chime of a phone's melody sound off nearby. It gets closer and closer until I look up. The homeless guy stands directly in front of my van. His body glows against the light of my van's beams. The left hand raised, I spot a PHS in his palm. It's lit up and plays the ringtone I hear.

Wolf…? I catch my breath and flip my PHS shut. Sure enough, as soon as I stop calling Wolf's number the music in the man's phone stops. He goes around my van and approaches the door leading into the passenger's side. I unlock it for him and he opens it.

"Wolf86?" I immediately ask before he steps inside.

The hooded man exhales a cloud of smoke from his lips and nods.

I'm surprised my guide comes from the streets. Economic times are rough though. The world is still trying to stand on its feet, especially with the inhibitions of mako energy. I slip on a smile. "I'm Spence. You know me by my username, Mercury. Please. Get in."

With his boot, Wolf crushes his cigarette. He slips off his backpack and dumps it at the footing space of the passenger seat. Wolf takes a long look inside the van before getting in. He glances up at me. "I gotta warn you: I get motion sickness from time to time. I hope you brought enough cleaning supplies."

Without another word, Wolf enters the van.

It's the second time I hear my guide's voice. Despite his rather mortifying admission, he has a lovely sound. Soft and not too rough. Being in the company of homeless people, I halfway expected Wolf to smell of piss and days old corn-chips funk. He doesn't. His scent actually reminds me of raw earth: fresh and grassy. There is only a faint trace of cigarette smoke left on him. Wolf keeps his hood over his head and stares down the empty road ahead while I lock the doors again. He doesn't bother putting on his seat's safety belt.

We peel out of the shady area and head to the next pick-up address at the other side of town. Setting my PHS back to its original spot, I resume recording. "I hope you don't mind if I record our conversations, Wolf. It's for the documentary. Why not introduce yourself? Say hello to our audience."

Wolf simply stares at the camera. Then he yawns and sits back against his seat. This action reminds me of my dog whenever it's bath time.

"I was so worried you were going to kill me back there," I later confess with a half-hearted laugh. "It can get pretty rowdy in this part of the city. Are you cold, by the way? I got an extra jacket at the back."

Wolf shakes his head.

"Really? It's like twenty degrees this morning. You must be cold."

"I'm warm, actually," the other man finally replies.

Briefly, I glance at Wolf's direction to make sure he really is okay. My guide isn't shaking at all. His body hasn't emitted any cool air since he stepped inside. I realize he's not even wearing gloves or mittens. My curiosity is peaked when I notice a silver ring on the fourth finger of his left hand. It's in the shape of a wolf. A Fenrir.

Keeping my eyes on the road, I try to get a conversation going again. I still have no idea how to tell my guide about our true destination. All I can say is, "Thanks again for coming with us. Not many people are familiar with the sectors beyond WRO's safe zones. I'm surprised you were raised out there."

The man beside me says nothing. Instead, he reaches into his jacket's pocket.

I fidget in my seat while I drive. "Um. Did you get the chance to check out our online channel, by the way? Wonders of the World. I sent you a link to it in our last email. It gives you an idea of what we do."

Wolf pulls out a morsel wrapped in plastic paper. It smells of ginger. He noisily works to remove it.

"We mostly investigate and discuss the history of places. I figured documentaries like this are worth making, especially when the world almost went to hell. A lot was lost. It's important we know where we came from." I pause from my rambling. "What do you think? Pretty cool channel, huh?"

"I haven't seen it," Wolf blurts out. He shoves the morsel straight into his mouth and chews on it.

My brows furrow. Feeling slightly offended by Wolf's very blunt reply, I struggle to keep the smile on my face. "I guess you're not a fan of history?"

Wolf's lips loudly smack together. He looks at me. "I'm hoping if I eat this I won't puke in your ride."

I blink. I was right: Wolf is the oddball quiet type. Mentally, I tell myself to cut this part of the video out. I shift the topic elsewhere. "What's your name? Your real name, I mean. You never told me it."

Wolf stares out his window now. Pressing his forehead against the glass, he gazes up at the specks of iced crystals that fall from the sky. "It doesn't matter."

"Okaaaaaay. Um. But are you okay with me calling you Wolf for the documentary?"

"Wolf is fine." Wolf exhales and causes the window's glass to fog. His finger makes a squeaky sound as he draws a lopsided smiling face.

My own smile disappears. I try one last time to spark some energy into this dead conversation. "I, uh, see you're sporting a ring. Are you married? Do you have family here?"

At this, Wolf turns and stares at me. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Then he cocks his head to one side. "That isn't what you really want to know. Is it?"

A bit taken aback, I meet his gaze. "Uh, excuse me?"

"You don't want to know my real name. You don't want to know if I'm married or have a family. That's fine. No need to dilly-dally." He leans slightly toward me from his seat. "What you really want to know is if I'll take you to Nibelheim."

I nearly slam on the brakes when we almost pass a red light. My heart skips a beat.

The roads remain empty. Even with the temptation, I don't run the light. Instead, I keep my eyes locked on Wolf. I'm shocked he already knows about our true mission. Did someone from my crew give him the heads up? Only I have corresponded with him though. My questions are answered when he speaks.

"You're not the only person who's had the bright idea of going there. There've been others. Many."

Wolf finally pulls back the hood of his sweater. The light in his eyes is the first detail I instantly notice. I sit there, mesmerized by their color and brilliance. They remind me of Costa del Sol's ocean-blue waters. Clear. Rich. Saturated. Apparently, Wolf is amused by my enthralled reaction because he emits a hoarse chuckle and runs a hand through his wild furious hair. That funky hair of his takes on a platinum-blond shade. It's a chaotic mess with all sorts of spikes that jet everywhere. The style suits him though. With a gentle face and smooth ivory-colored skin, Wolf looks to be my age, early twenties. Faint freckles appear across the cheeks. They flare with color when he smiles and looks at me.

I admit Wolf is terribly handsome; a rural boy with wind-licked hair and striking blue eyes. I want to ask him out for coffee some time. Then I remember the ring on his fourth finger. It's the symbol of a taken man; a married man. Greeeat. His partner is also likely a missus than a mister. That isn't the only red flag for me though. Wolf carries himself in a way that doesn't reflect a man in his youth. Something about him feels… off.

"Anyone who wanders off to the Nibel area is only there for one thing: to find the abandoned mountain village," Wolf declares later, "You're after the same thing. Right?"

The light turns green but I don't push on the gas pedal. Licking my dried lips, I can only nod back.

"Figures…" Wolf unzips his jacket, apparently feeling hot now. He slips it off and reveals a short-sleeved gray shirt. It has a faded Tonberry image on it with the words, Sticking It to You. Super cheesy. Wolf doesn't seem to care. He settles back in his seat and tells me, "It's a bad idea, you know. You'll only find one thing in that place: despair."

Despair. For such a small word it holds a lot of impact. Wolf says it so casually too. Still, I can't let that word get to me. Ever since I heard about Nibelheim I knew this place needed to be documented. Most of its history has been distorted by various rumors. Many claim the village is cursed; the Lifestream corrupted there. A great fire happened, supposedly started when the mako reactor exploded. It killed all the villagers and destroyed their homes. Misfortune has followed ever since.

The second time Nibelheim was restored, Meteorfall happened. It nearly wiped the place from existence. On a third and final attempt, WRO's construction workers were in the process of restoring the site until another fire happened. The details are sketchy on this account. Apparently, a dispatch team was sent in after the construction crew failed to report in for over a month. The dispatch team found their burnt bodies; the homes destroyed again. They left only a week after the gruesome discovery. No official reason why they did was given. WRO sealed off the place and claimed it was a biohazard.

What caused the fires? Do the spirits of the villagers actually haunt this place? This abandoned town has sparked intrigue and rumors throughout many generations. Even when WRO officially declared the site a biohazard due to its damaged mako reactor, people still have questions. We're filled with numerous what-if scenarios. But as for the truth? The truth of what happened in this sleepy town? It evades us.

The streetlight above turns from yellow to red again. The van stays put. To Wolf, I say, "If you think we shouldn't go then why did you agree to be my guide? Why are you here?"

"I wanted to know if you'd change your mind." His answer is short and to the point.

My hand reaches out to the PHS on the dashboard. Stopping the recording, I immediately turn to face Wolf again. "Listen, I just want to get to the truth of this place, man. That's what my crew does. We get to the bottom of things and document it."

"You want the truth? People died. The end."

"That's not enough." My voice sounds rougher now. I take a deep breath to relax again. "I need to know what happened to this village, how those people died. Nibelheim is among the lost places of the Old World. The purpose of our channel is to remember our past."

"Some places are best left forgotten." Wolf idly draws another smiling face next to the first one on his window. He adds a heart between them and softly remarks, "You can't live in the past. The past belongs to the past. You can only go forward and smile."

"It's worth revisiting the past every now and then, though, to become a part of history," I argue.

He looks at me. His bizarre blue eyes never waver. "You actually think that? Even if it's dangerous?"

"It comes with the job."

"You're going then." Wolf must've seen the determination on my face since his words sound more like a declaration than a question. "Nothing will change your mind."

"Listen, if you're not comfortable with this then tell me where to drop you. I won't force you to come. Don't worry about the Gil either. I've already transferred it to your account."

Wolf laughs; a low gentle sound. "There's no point in me ditching. You'll go there regardless. I only needed to know if this was what you wanted. The results make no difference to me. I gave up worrying about things beyond my control a long, long time ago." Wolf slowly smiles. This smile never reaches his eyes though. "These days, I can only smile at misfortune."

"Then this means… you'll come?"

Wolf touches the ring in his hand. The light in his peculiar blue eyes dims as he stares at it. The next words he says sound strange to my ears. "This will be the last time. Five should be enough. Maybe less… And then it will all be over. And then we both can smile. Together."

"Wolf?" Confused, I look at him carefully. "Are you okay?"

Wolf's face is unreadable. He ignores my question. "I'll take you there. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

I nod. The street light turns green again.