September 10, 2066
Alex Mitchell (Volkov) POV
Lately, my days had fallen into a monotonous routine. Back when I lived with the Bakkers clan, I never felt this kind of inner emptiness. Maybe I just miss the atmosphere I had back then. Say what you will, but nomads have always appealed to me more than the people here, with their constant fake smiles and empty small talk. Out in the Badlands, people value each other, understand the meaning of mutual support — unlike the residents of cities like Night City, where survival often means stepping on someone else to get ahead.
"Hi, Dad," the girls chimed in unison as they walked into the workshop, their cyberpets trailing behind them.
"Tired of sitting at home?" I asked with a smile, watching them nod enthusiastically as their eyes immediately locked onto the unfinished power suit hanging on a specialized stand.
"You still haven't finished it?" Lucy asked, reaching out to gently touch the exposed exoskeleton.
"It's not a quick process," I replied, waving a hand toward the suit. "The main issue is with the decision-making system." I activated a hologram, projecting the fully assembled armor in vivid detail. "I'm working on a system that can respond to the environment and adapt to changes without constant input from the operator. Essentially, I'm aiming to build something like an onboard AI."
"Why not ask Vega?" Lucy continued, undeterred.
"Because this suit won't be a one-off, and there's also the issue of connection reliability. Relying on Vega for something like this would be too risky."
"Got it. Where are you going to test it?"
"I'll head out to the Bakkers for a couple of days. The Badlands are perfect for working away from prying eyes," I said, placing a hand on Lucy's head and ruffling her hair gently. She didn't protest — lately, she seemed to have accepted this small show of affection.
"Cool, I want one of these," Roxy suddenly declared, her eyes glued to the hologram.
"Maybe one day," I said with a shrug, smiling at her excitement. "But definitely not for another ten years. It's way too risky to let this kind of tech become public knowledge."
"Dad…" Lucy turned to face me, her expression a mix of excitement and uncertainty. "We recorded a song recently, but we need a vocalist. Will you help us?"
"That's… unexpected," I admitted, scratching my cheek awkwardly. "I don't mind, but we'll need a good studio for the recording. I could repurpose the shooting range, but it won't be a quick job."
"Thanks!" Before I could say another word, my daughters launched themselves at me, hugging me tightly from both sides like two small projectiles.
"Looks like I'll have to expand. There's not enough space for all my projects anymore," I muttered, shaking my head. Mentally, I cringed at the hefty expense this would probably involve.
"Alex, Michiko is here and asking permission to come in," Vega's voice cut in through our internal comms.
"Did she say what she wants?" My smile faded instantly as I processed the news. The realization hit me — I'd have to have that serious conversation with my aunt, the woman who had so abruptly reappeared in my life.
"No, she just said it's a personal matter between the two of you."
"Fine, let her in," I said, unlocking the door and bracing myself as I waited for Michiko to enter.
"Lucy, Roxy," I said, turning to the girls. "I need to have a private conversation right now. Would you mind hanging out with Vega for a bit?"
"Are you kicking us out?" Roxy asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
"Of course not. But I doubt you want to be smothered by hugs from my aunt," I replied, playing my trump card. As expected, both girls grimaced involuntarily at the thought.
"We'll wait outside," Lucy said, grabbing her sister's hand and pulling her toward the door.
As the girls reached the exit, the door opened to reveal the aforementioned aunt. Michiko entered with a confident stride, casting a brief but curious glance at the retreating children before turning her focus back to me. In her hands was a rectangular object resembling a tablet.
As she approached, I got a better look at what she was carrying — and froze.
"You wanted to talk?" I asked, forcing my face to stay neutral. It took considerable effort to maintain my composure.
"How much longer are you going to pretend you don't know?" she asked sharply, her dark eyes boring into mine with stormy intensity.
"What do you want me to say?" I replied in Japanese, leaning back against the edge of the table as the weight of the conversation settled on my shoulders.
"A-chan," she began, her voice tinged with sadness. "Why did you treat me this way? Do you really think I'd ever harm you?"
A single tear traced its way down her cheek, and in that moment, I felt like the worst kind of person.
"I'm sorry," I said, stepping forward and pulling her into an embrace. She trembled against me, her silent sobs sending faint shudders through her frame.
"I panicked," I admitted. "Seeing you after all these years, I didn't know how to react. You haven't changed a bit."
"Tell me everything," Michiko murmured, her voice quiet but resolute. "I want to know what you've been through."
"Alright," I said softly. "But in that case, we should sit down. This is going to be a long and, at times, unpleasant story."
***
"What would you like to know first?" I asked Michiko, sitting down across from her.
"For starters, I'd like to know what happened to you after your parents fled," Michiko said, her voice steady but carrying a faint undercurrent of unease.
"So, from the very beginning, huh?" I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the long, painful story ahead.
"It all started that day — my parents came home earlier than usual. They had a brief conversation, and then my father injected me with a strong sedative. When I woke up, I was in a dumpster, buried under my mother's corpse."
I paused, watching as Michiko's hands clenched into trembling fists, her knuckles turning white.
"Getting out of there was a nightmare," I continued. "My body started rejecting the implants — not that I understood what was happening at the time. I couldn't control my limbs, the smell made my head spin, and I was vomiting uncontrollably. It felt like my body was eating itself alive."
"Who could do something so vile — throw a child into a dumpster?" Michiko whispered, her voice trembling with suppressed rage, her gaze fixed on the floor.
"People for whom morality stopped being relevant long ago," I said with a shrug, letting the weight of the words sink in before continuing.
"My first thought was to hide somewhere. Somehow, I managed to crawl behind the dumpster before passing out again," I explained, deliberately sparing her the more gruesome details, like the fact I'd passed out face-first in my own vomit.
"I don't know how long I was out, but I woke up to voices nearby. It didn't take long to figure out I wasn't safe. The killers responsible for my mom's death were back — they were searching the area and had realized they were one body short."
The longer I spoke, the more frequently I had to pause. Each harrowing detail seemed to weigh heavier on Michiko. At times, she couldn't hold back her reactions — stifled cries, trembling hands, even breaking into quiet sobs. I stopped several times to calm her down before continuing, unsure whether sharing everything was helping or hurting her.
Despite my offers to stop, Michiko insisted I tell her everything. She wanted the full truth, even if it meant confronting emotions that were clearly painful for her to process.
Eventually, I reached the part of the story where I escaped the city with the nomad clan. For the first time, Michiko openly laughed.
She seemed genuinely entertained by my anecdotes about the clan — their quirks, camaraderie, and peculiar ways of life. It was a welcome reprieve from the heavy emotions that had dominated our conversation until then.
I was so caught up in recounting my life story that I didn't notice how the room had filled with more people than when we'd started. At some point, Lucy and Roxy had made their way onto my lap, while Vega and Kiwi stood behind me, listening intently. I only snapped out of my storytelling trance when I mentioned the theft of the AI from Militech.
"So that's where the so-called 'sister' came from," Michiko remarked, shaking her head as she cast a curious, evaluative glance at the android. "I always wondered why you never mentioned her."
"Well, I only appeared in this form fairly recently," Vega replied smoothly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear in a gesture so quintessentially Kiwi.
About an hour later, I reached the part of the story where I arrived in Night City. The first two months of my life there weren't particularly exciting — at least, until I deliberately brought up the creation of Vega's current body.
That revelation earned an immediate reaction. The girls on my lap flushed a deep red, their ears practically glowing, while Kiwi, standing behind me, cleared her throat in a way that left little room for interpretation — a subtle but clear signal to skip certain details from that chapter of events.
Naturally, I couldn't resist teasing them. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up, and their flustered reactions livened up the audience, who had started to grow a little restless.
But, like all stories, mine eventually had to come to an end.
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For those wondering why MC made this decision, let me clarify a few things. Alex wasn't just given a child's body — he also inherited the thoughts and emotions of one. This naturally influences his behavior, sometimes making him act in ways that might seem odd or even foolish.
In this version of the universe, Michiko was essentially a second mother to Alex. That bond was deeply ingrained in his mind, meaning she already had a foundation of trust with MC. During their conversation, Alex simply confirmed that his aunt wasn't a threat and, as a result, chose to downplay the risk.
Some may not be thrilled with this, but the core idea behind this piece is that the protagonist is growing into his new body — embracing both its strengths and its limitations. Hopefully, this explanation clears up some of the questions that have come up.
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The link is also in the synopsis.