January 6th, 2069
Corporate Square — Memorial Park
Alex Mitchell (Volkov) POV
Downtown was packed — absolutely crawling with people from every walk of life. Not exactly shocking. This was the day. Every channel across the country was broadcasting the inauguration of the United States of North America's new president. Elizabeth Kress was officially handing over power to her protégé, Rosalind Myers.
A historic day, no doubt. Not just for Myers' fiery speech, but for something else too — the announcement of a brand-new "unification war."
Yeah. Unification. That's what they're calling it.
Me? I don't see how you spin an invasion as "bringing people together." But Myers clearly does.
"Look at all these people..." Roxy muttered, tightening her grip on my hand.
"Yeah, it's crazy," I said, scanning the endless sea of faces.
"I should've stayed home," Lucy grumbled, her eyes darting nervously through the restless crowd.
"You were the one who insisted on coming," I shot back, flicking her lightly on the forehead. She puffed up and turned away, sulking.
For someone who acts all grown-up, she's still such a kid sometimes.
I rolled my eyes and glanced over at my other daughter.
Roxy wasn't that scared little girl I'd once pulled out of a hellhole lab anymore. Long silver hair, bright blue eyes, and a face that was naturally angelic — she barely even wore makeup. Thanks to the serum, she'd grown into a total knockout. No wonder half the guys nearby couldn't stop staring.
Lucy wasn't exactly invisible either. Even with her sour expression — and a whole "I hate all of you" vibe — she was still getting plenty of looks. Not that she appreciated it.
"Why's everyone staring like they've never seen a girl before?" Lucy huffed, pulling her shoulders in.
"Because you don't have a single implant. Pure, natural beauty. Guys pick up on that — even if they don't realize it," I teased, giving her a wink.
Her scowl somehow deepened. I didn't think that was possible.
"I'm not some damn exhibit," she snapped.
"Yeah... I don't envy whoever ends up dating you," I said, laughing.
Predictably, she puffed up again, looking like a very angry little bird.
"Your jokes suck," she deadpanned.
"I think they're hilarious," Roxy chimed in, hiding her smile behind her hand.
"Traitor," Lucy muttered. Then, clearly done with the conversation, she asked, "So, when's this thing starting?"
"Any minute now. We got here early. Broadcast goes live at noon sharp."
"Boooring," Lucy groaned, then without the slightest shame, flopped her head right onto my lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Still just a kid, I thought, running my fingers through her hair. She looked so peaceful like this — no sarcasm, no snark.
For once, no complaints. That was new.
Honestly, Roxy should've grown up a lot faster. If her body hadn't been wrecked the first time she took the serum, she probably would've hit every milestone ahead of schedule. But no — the first six months were all about undoing the damage left behind by black market junk and cocktail drugs. Every ounce of energy went into piecing herself back together.
And even after all that? She still had a temper. Always did. Push Lucy too far and she'd snap — no filter, no finesse, just brutal honesty, fired straight in your face. Dealing with the fallout? Not her problem. Sure, she'd mellowed out over the years, but that sharp edge was still there, just waiting to cut loose.
"Attention, citizens of Night City. The official broadcast of the United North American States presidential inauguration will begin in one minute. I repeat — one minute until broadcast."
"See? Just a minute left," I said, nodding at the massive holo-display hovering above the crowd.
"Dad?" Roxy's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. She tapped my shoulder, looking concerned.
"Yeah?"
"Galina's been trying to reach you. Says it's urgent. You've been off the grid."
Of course.
"Alright, give me a sec." I reconnected to the local net with a quick mental command. Instantly, my inbox lit up like a damn Christmas tree.
One name in particular was hitting me like a machine gun.
Incoming call: Galina Yakovleva
Establishing secure connection…
Private channel created.
"Alex, for fuck's sake — where the hell have you been?" Galina's face popped up, glaring with enough heat to make a corp exec flinch.
"Nice to see you too," I shot back, dry as ever. "And last I checked, we didn't have anything scheduled for today."
"I do have a life, you know. Ever heard of something called taking a break?" I leaned back, letting just enough amusement slip into my voice to poke the bear.
"Sorry," Galina said, her voice dropping. "But this is urgent."
"Then quit stalling and get to the point," I snapped, already bracing for bad news.
"Ebunike Metro Station. Full lockdown. Terrorists took it over — whole place sealed tight. Some of them are loaded with military-grade implants."
"Call MaxTac. Why the hell are you telling me?" I shot back, though that sick feeling had already started creeping in.
Wait. No. Don't tell me—
"Sasha's in there, isn't she?"
Galina's face darkened. "Yeah. She's holed up in a service room, managed to lock it down… but she's trapped. And she's hurt. Took one to the leg. She's not going anywhere fast."
I cursed under my breath. This wasn't just bad — this was a damn disaster.
"Five minutes," I said sharply, already running the fastest route in my head. "Tell her I'm on my way."
"That's the problem," Galina cut in, her voice tight with frustration. "I can't reach her. She's gone dark."
That hit harder than I wanted to admit. But something else was already gnawing at me.
"Alright... but why the hell hasn't a response team gone in yet?"
She hesitated, then dropped the real bomb.
"Because there are no teams left. Same thing's hitting everywhere — Heywood, Watson, Arroyo, the docks. All at once. Cops are stretched thin. We've already lost ten officers in the last half hour."
For a second, I just sat there, letting it sink in.
And then it clicked — ugly, obvious.
"So that's what this is," I muttered, eyes narrowing. "No wonder Militech's been crawling all over public zones lately. This isn't chaos. This is a goddamn performance."
"Galina," I said, low and serious. "Pull your people back from any hot zones. This isn't random. Someone planned this to the second."
"Got it. I'm on it."
The call cut.
I stood right away, shaking off the tension.
"Something's come up. I need to go," I told the girls, glancing between them. "Stay put. Stay in the city center. Don't wander, no matter what."
"What's going on?" Lucy asked, frowning.
I was already moving when I shot back, voice grim.
"Looks like our shiny new Madam President doesn't mind getting her hands dirty."
***
Pushing through the crowd was a goddamn nightmare — at least while I was still in the corporate square. But once I got out, everything changed. The swarm thinned fast. By the time I left Corporate Plaza behind, the streets were practically dead. Quiet, empty. Just the way I liked it. I kicked up the pace and broke into a full sprint toward Glen.
What was really going on in the city? That part was obvious. Rosalind Myers had made her move. All this — the chaos, the gridlock, the sudden collapse of order — was her power play. Her way of proving Night City PD couldn't handle a real crisis. She wanted to force Night Corp's hand. Push them to greenlight her new "civil security force."
Neighborhood watch? Yeah, with teeth.
This wasn't about safety. It never is. It was about control. With her own people in the streets, Myers could tighten her grip, run whatever dirty games she wanted, and keep the rest of us from looking too closely.
Honestly, I didn't think she'd actually have the guts to pull something this blatant. But credit where it's due — strategically? Smart move. And the deaths of a few hundred civilians? To someone who thinks in millions, that's just background noise. Nothing more.
"Vega," I subvocalized, pinging my digital assistant. "Try to patch me through to Sasha."
"Hold on…" Vega responded a second later. "No signal. Something's blocking it."
"Figures. Thanks anyway."
Not good. If these so-called terrorists were jamming signals, they were way better equipped than some random street gang. Which meant corporate fingerprints were all over this mess.
I'd hoped — maybe "hoped" was too generous — that I was just being paranoid about Madame President. But now? Now I was sure. This wasn't random. This wasn't accidental. No one else in Night City had the muscle or reach to pull off something this clean.
As for Sasha? If she were just some stranger caught in the crossfire, I wouldn't have lifted a damn finger. But she wasn't. Over the past year, we'd gotten close — closer than most people ever do in this city. She was family now, whether she realized it or not.
The area around the metro station was dead silent. No one in sight except for a few tense-looking cops near the entrance.
And then I saw it — one of them missing an arm. Fresh wound. The whole perimeter screamed serious firefight. Spent shells, blood splatter… the closer I got, the uglier it looked.
"Sir, this area's off-limits. Metro's under lockdown," came the bark over the loudspeaker as I approached. "Turn around now. We can't guarantee your safety."
I kept moving until I was close enough to talk.
"Officer," I said calmly, "there's a cop's daughter trapped down there. Sasha. Give me a sec — I'll have her mother call you."
"They've sealed off the station. Won't let me through. Help."
I pinged Galina right away.
"You're already there? Hold on… okay, done. You've got clearance. They'll let you through now."
She came back quick.
"Nice one — 'Official Police Department Contract.' Smooth," I muttered, flashing my alt-identity creds to the nervous-looking cops guarding the entrance.
"Lex, right?" the silver-haired officer asked. He looked worn — face lined, eyes sharp. The kind of guy who'd seen way too many years in this hellhole.
"That's me," I confirmed, giving him a nod. "So, can I get through or what?"
He let out a low whistle and shook his head.
"Shit, kid... you really are insane." Still, he stepped aside. "Alright, go ahead. But — one more thing."
He stopped me as I moved past.
"They've got a netrunner in there. And at least three assholes with military-grade implants. You sure you can handle this alone?"
"Appreciate the concern," I said coolly. "But I've got it covered. Just make sure no one else gets inside."
"That's the plan, sir," he replied, nodding. "Good luck."
I didn't bother responding. Politeness wasn't exactly a priority right now. Sasha's life was on the line — nothing else mattered.
Besides, these guys? Glorified scarecrows. One boosted merc could tear through a squad of street cops like wet paper. And there were at least four of those bastards down there.
Yeah. It was gonna get ugly. And it was all on me.
What really gnawed at me wasn't just the takeover itself — it was how easy it all went down. Too easy.
Whoever planned this — and I was pretty damn sure Rosalind Myers had her fingerprints all over it — wasn't thrilled about that either. Pulling this off meant cracking into public security systems built by Night Corp. Supposedly airtight.
Which left only two players with the juice to break them this clean: Militech... or Night Corp itself.
Militech? Sure, easy to believe. But Night Corp turning on its own infrastructure? That didn't add up.
Still, maybe I was chasing shadows. Not every dark alley hides a knife.
Night City's metro was split into two kinds — surface and underground. Surface stations were everywhere. Almost every street had one. Underground? Rare. Which made sense. Long-distance travel wasn't really necessary unless you wanted speed... or to stay off the radar.
"Mars, engage Urban Combat Mode. Block all incoming except priority exceptions."
"Combat Mode active."
My onboard AI lit up, painting tactical overlays across my vision as the nanite mesh tightened under my skin.
A familiar chill rolled through me as mimicry mode kicked in, my form blurring into the environment.
"Alright then…" I muttered, flexing my fingers as the interface came alive. "Let's do this my way."
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