Chapter 1:

Mission Start

CIMEDE Chronicles

August 27, 2027

When the clock struck midnight, a new day would begin.

I looked down at the streetlamps and cars passing by from atop a tall glass office building. Right about now, I was in the heart of Tokyo, keeping a close eye on my watch, and my target. Well, this is a going to be a cinch I thought as I cracked a grin and checked the latches on my custom-made wingsuit.

The building that I was looking at was the Japanese Historical Museum of Worldwide Artifacts. The museum was built around fifteen years ago and has been collecting rare artifacts ever since.

Like the name suggests, the museum collects artifacts from not only Japan, but from across the entire world too.

I plan on breaking into the museum to collect a certain item that was just moved into the museum three days ago. Because of the urgency of getting my hands on this particular item, I had been barely getting any sleep leading up to this heist. And of course, to add more stress to this heist, the rarity of this certain item is extremely high. I've been feeling uneasy about the fact that other thieves could attempt to steal it first, and so, I'm getting a head start.

The item in question is called the Shard of Polaris.

My goal in stealing this artifact lies deeper than just getting my hands on something rare, in fact, I might not have cared about this item if it wasn't for the disappearance of Doc, my guardian, and sort of father figure.

I inhaled and then exhaled a deep breath.

“Yoho Keisuke! You’ve got thirty seconds until the security systems go offline. With that, there’ll be ten minutes of no interference. You ready bro? Teehee”

I listened to the energetic voice coming from my earpiece communicator and let out a chuckle. The voice on the other end of the communicator belonged to my best friend and partner, Isami Fujiwara, and he was none other than Doc's own grandson. If Doc had known that the two boys that he had taken in were indeed a couple of thieves, I doubt he would be proud of us, in fact, I can already imagine the lecture we'd receive.

I retorted on point.

“It’ll take me five, if all goes as planned. Uh... actually, are you sure this new equipment is going to work as planned? I mean it's never been tested before.”

I looked down at the device in my right hand, and then thought about the backpack-like thing I was wearing. The device I was holding was a slate colored, flat faced, metallic orb no larger than a golf ball. I guess you could say it was semicircular. The rounded end had two prongs protruding out about an inch, while the flat side had a watch-like dial that gave measurements in centimeters up to sixty.

Apparently, the golf ball sized device could send high frequency tones inside a radius of set size, up to said limit of sixty centimeters. Perfect for making a hole in a glass window to crawl through.

The so-called wingsuit was pretty much a backpack, and a glove that controlled it. The glove was close to a leather-like material, and it had four buttons on the palms. Of course, the entire thing worked on technology many levels above what my high school education offered. I think I recall it working on something called nanotechnology. Now of course I had seen plenty of Sci-Fi movies and know what nanotech is, but the actual working of it, of this particular wingsuit was unknown to me. Basically, I didn't get familiar with the workings of these devices that I was about to entrust my life to… Wait! Why was I using things that I didn’t even understand?

“What I mean to say is, that I can’t believe that you had me steal Doc’s prototype equipment. It’s ridiculous!”

“You better not be dissing Grandpa Fujiwara! Teehee. You know he always hits the mark with his creations, and not a single one of them has ever failed. Teehee.”

“I know. But his shit just keeps getting weirder and weirder, leaving the realm of the believable.”

“Hahahaha! They didn't call him Doctor Pathways for no reason. Teehee."

I let a grin creep across my face. Despite being almost a son to Doc, hell, even best friends with his grandson, I ended up stealing some of his prototype equipment, at said grandsons request, and that was by no means an easy task. I mean he had it guarded by his personal security system, and you can believe that was tough. His security is so futuristic I thought I walked right onto the set of a sci-fi movie.

Apparently, Doc had made some deals with certain militaries, and he was developing equipment for them to use in future missions. This certain wingsuit was one of those requests. I know that Doc's technology is really futuristic, but just thinking about the militaries around the world starting to use nanotech is making me feel rather old since just last year nano technology was a dream, well not for Doc, but for the rest of the world.

Oh well, at least it's cool.

“I’m cutting the chatter. Ten seconds till plan initiates.”

“Oh Keisuke!”


“If the wingsuit fails, where do you want your grave? Teehee.”

I could hear the grin come over my partner's face as he remarked, boosting my fear levels to the moon and back. Damn it! I thought he said Doc’s stuff never failed, then again, I don't believe that Doc's stuff would fail, I mean he's one of the great sages, there's no way something he makes will fail... but then again, it is a prototype. Isami knows just how to mess with me when it matters.

I felt a little uneasy jumping off this skyscraper, but I held my fear at bay, only because this was one of Doc's creations.

“Screw you” I yelled back as if reassuring myself that I wasn’t scared.

I silently pleaded that the wingsuit wouldn’t fail before looking down at the street below. I pictured my body laying limp in a pool of blood, broken and battered. SHIT! I shook my head to dispel the premonition.

I looked to my left wrist, the time on my wristwatch read 11:59, and our mission would start at midnight. Well here goes. I spoke the countdown out loud.


The time changed.

The next thing I knew, I was falling fast. Relax and breathe. Relax and breathe. Relax and breathe. Think of it as a regular wingsuit minus the webbing that helps you glide. WAIT WHAT!? This is more like a parachute, I mean it's just a backpack, nothing resembling a wingsuit whatsoever.

“there’s no wings on this thing damn it!” I screamed into my communicator.

The voice on the other end responded immediately.

“Teehee. YOLO MOFO!................................................. Just kidding, but it's true you do only live once. Anyways, your right glove controls the backpack, the four buttons on your palm can be pressed by closing each finger corresponding to the command you want. convenient right? Teehee.”

“Which do I press for what?”

“Teehee. You want to use you index finger to deploy the wingsuit, your middle finger will cause an increase in speed, while your ring finger will cause a decrease in speed. Oh, and your pinky finger will deactivate wingsuit, cool right? Teehee. Also, from what I read in Grandpas sketch book, if you press all four buttons at the same time, you will have emergency crash protection. Remember that. Teehee.”

Ughhh I think I got all that, but did he say that he read about it in a sketchbook? Or was that just that last part. Wait, Why the hell are we using prototypes instead of proven equipment anyways? Damn it! This is my life on the line, and I’m just dumb enough to follow through with this shit.

“Ughhh I got it! if I make it through this alive, I'm going to beat your ass!”


I pressed my index finger down. What is this? From what I could tell, a sort of black, leather-like, or maybe rubber-like suit started to wrap around me rapidly. It reminded me of a certain Iron Hero's suit from an American comic.

"I feel so coooooolll right nowwwwww" I screamed as I free falled from the skyscrapers roof. Suddenly, Black string-like things shot from my waist to my wrists, and next thing I knew, my legs were connected by a similar string.

The air pressure from my downward ascent rushed through the gaps in between the string and my body, almost seeming to pull me down faster. I thought about a plane with the doors torn off, or maybe a plane whose wings were just a pipe frame allowing the air of descent to rush through. What the hell!? Is this malfunctioning?

“Are you seeing this? What’s happening?”

Starting to panic, I pressed each of the four buttons over and over which made my decent even more uncontrolled. I was speeding up then slowing down, then the mysterious suit would fade, then return, then the process would repeat but in a different order.

“Shiiiiiitttttt!! I’mmm sooooo deeeaaaadddd!” I screamed out with a voice that seemed to distort from the pressure of the air, as I plummeted to my certain death.

“Keisuke relax, you must me doing something wrong! Actually, there’s seventeen seconds till you hit the ground…...............OOOOOOHHH SHIT! press all four buttons at once!!!!”

“Dammmmnn youuu!”

Having lost my cool, I clenched my fist as hard as I could, almost thinking that I might break the glove. With all buttons pressed, a black substance came from the backpack. The substance, almost similar to the suit earlier started to wrap around me, but this time, it was thicker, and without the ropes binding my limbs.

And like a meteor, I crashed against the earth’s surface.


“I can’t believe I got left out! Stupid director thinking I can't handle it arghhh!”

A young girl who looked to be 17 trudged through the busy streets of Tokyo, mumbling to herself. She was a third year at CIMEDE Academy, a prestigious school that trains students to be Mercenaries.

Students that attended CIMEDE Academy had knowledge in a handful of hand-to-hand combat styles and were said to be able to take on at least twenty black belt martial artists at once, all while not being injured, possibly not even being hit once. That alone was just their ability in hand-to-hand combat. When given weapons, a skilled student could handle anything from knives to sniper rifles and even military grade rocket launchers. A fully trained agent from CIMEDE was truly a war machine.

Said girl was one of those students who had such knowledge in tactical warfare, yet she was left out of a certain incident happening in another country due to her not being of the qualified rank for this said mission.

The girl walked down the street, still in her Academy uniform, complaining and kicking pebbles that lied along the sidewalk.

The girl checked the time on her phones display and let out a sigh. It read 12:00.

“I can't believe I was mad enough to leave the dorms and stay out passed curfew, I’m totally going to get scolded, and my AR will drop.” The girl continued to complain aloud as if seeking attention, yet no one was there to hear her voice. she kicked yet another nearby pebble.

CIMEDE Academy had a ranking system for the students, based on their grades. The AR, or Academy Rank was a student's rank among all the other students at the academy. CIMEDE enrolled around 1500 students at one time, that included all three years of high school. Considering that number, there should be 500 students in each year of high school, that’s if the 1500 students were distributed evenly.

Each of the three years had twelve classrooms, with forty-one students participating in each room, the rooms were labeled from A to F and -A to -F respectively by rank, this girl's current classroom was A, and she had an AR of 27. For someone already in the top class of the third years, she should have been happy. Although most students at the top were aiming for number one.

What came with a higher rank was not only access to help with missions that required a high rank, but also access to more information in CIMEDE's database. A student with a high AR also received the choice to pick certain dorm rooms for the following semester and received various other perks.

The girl continued walking through the night, head hanging dejectedly, complaining. When suddenly she heard a large crash from the intersection one block over. Thinking things of importance like there being trouble that she could help with, and things like it was a good thing that she had stayed out late, the girl ran towards where the explosion came from.

The red-haired girl energetically ran at top speeds, while letting out a giggle and started to talk aloud again. "My AR could rise significantly from this, YAAAAYYYYY!" She ended up singing the words out in a simple melody, which ended in her yelling out yay in an adorable rush of excitement.

To any normal civilian walking down the street this late, they might wonder what a highschool girl was doing out this late, and to add to that sighting, she was screaming out "YAAAAAAAAYY" in excitement as she ran. perhaps one might think she had just been confessed to and was running home to tell her mom.

Upon reaching the intersection, the girl hid behind the wall of a nearby office building and slowly crept along the side until she had a clear view of the intersection. The girl saw a large indent in the center of the crossroads, with cracks leading outwards. Laying in the center of the tiny crater was a black figure, he looked to be wearing a scuba diver's wetsuit, and a backpack.

Was he shot? Or…... is he even still alive? Don't tell me a drunk diver tried to swim through the air. The young girl thought multiple theories as she tried to discern the situation. The girl calmly reached to her back and pulled out a stainless-steel Beretta with custom woodgrain grips. She pulled the slide back, chambering a 9mm round.

The Academy student slowly walked out from the buildings shadow and looked around, checking if there was someone who could have shot the scuba diver. The streets were filled with onlookers, and even if there was a shooter of some sort, he would have slipped into the crowds disappearing from view.

Sirens could be heard, both police cars and medical ambulances. The girl walked up to the motionless scuba diver, who was sprawled out lying face up.

She pulled out her wallet, bearing her CIMEDE Academy ID card so that the civilians standing around would stay back. The girl made sure the scuba diver was still breathing, and then she slowly removed the front plate covering the face, the scuba diver's mask.