My Glide On Death

Chapter 5: The Inscrutable Cube

(We were all in the car: Mr. Hastings in the driver's seat, Nicholas in the front, and me in the back.)

"How long until we reach the shooting range?" Nicholas asked.

"About half an hour. You know it’s out in the countryside, in an abandoned area," Hastings replied confidently.

"We've never been there before," I added.

"Yeah, you two are always together—best friends, right?" Hastings smirked.

"Sort of. I mean, we’ve lived together for over fifteen years," Nicholas said, smiling proudly.

"Fifteen years? Were your parents friends too?" Hastings asked, intrigued.

"Not exactly. I’d rather not talk about it," I said, deflecting.

"Come on, you’ve kept this from me long enough. You always refuse to share anything about your past. But now, with Nicholas here, you can't use the excuse, 'I need Nicholas’s permission.' As your comrade and senior, I want to understand you better. We can't afford to repeat the same mistake we made with Maki. She's missing, and all we know about her is basic—name, age, address, and biometrics," Hastings said, his tone more serious now.

"Hastings is right, Gust. You should tell him. Who knows? He might even help with Mission F," Nicholas added.

"You trust me, don’t you?" Hastings’s words hit a nerve.

"Alright, I’ll tell you," I finally agreed.

“My father was a nuclear researcher and a retired UN secret agent, tasked with eliminating traitors and dangerous individuals. I always admired his work; he helped rid the world of its most harmful elements. Even after retirement, he was often called back for the most challenging missions—at least three times a year. His passion for nuclear physics led him to establish a research lab after leaving the agency. My mother, on the other hand, was an aerospace engineer for a multinational corporation, designing planes and fighter jets. As their only child, I grew up proud to belong to such an extraordinary family. In our city, my family was highly respected.”

“So, that’s how you developed your passion for planes?” Hastings interrupted.

“Yes, my love for aerospace engineering and flying came from my mother, while my sense of duty to rid the world of its ‘weeds’ came from my father. But despite their love, my interests were often overlooked. It wasn’t that they didn’t care about me—they simply had no time. I spent days alone at home, studying, solving puzzles, and tinkering with the remote-controlled planes I built.

I often found myself questioning my life. That’s how I became an introvert and developed social anxiety. I never went to school, never had any friends. The best tutors taught me at home. By the age of eight, I was more mature than most teenagers. Then, when I was nine, the M.P. rebellion began—a brutal uprising that eventually led to their domination of Mars, taking control of the planet’s resources and technology. My father went on a mission to Mars and never returned. My mother’s company was seized by the M.P. for its advanced fighter jet technology. We fled the country, but they pursued us relentlessly. Within two days, they captured my mother. The rebellion spread globally—you know the story well. My mother... She took her own life as we fled. Not out of fear, but because she knew that if they captured her, the M.P. would extract the critical secrets behind the fighter jets she’d engineered.”

“Are you talking about the Prometheus jets?” Hastings interjected.

“Yes, the most advanced jets humanity ever created. Their technology was so sophisticated that, even now, no one fully understands how they worked.”