January 10th, 2069
The girls had been talking for over an hour. I had no idea what could possibly take that long to discuss, but the moment they came back — grinning like cats who'd just cornered a bird — I knew I was screwed. Those smug smiles practically screamed we're up to something.
In my experience, most female friendships revolve around conspiring against a third party. Today, that unlucky bastard was me.
"Alek," Kiwi began sweetly, "Sasha and I had a little chat. We've come to an understanding."
The brunette nodded along, flashing a smile that could only be described as villainous.
"And what kind of understanding are we talking about?"
I already knew asking was pointless — whatever it was, my fate was sealed.
"You're a dog. That's why we've decided to keep you on a short leash — make sure you don't drag anyone else into this mess."
"Knew I'd end up the villain here... Wait — we?"
I narrowed my eyes, suddenly aware of how in-sync they were.
"Yes, we," the blonde echoed, her voice dripping with mockery. "One smooth-talking asshole got both of us wrapped around his finger, then had the audacity to play innocent. Naturally, he couldn't figure out how to fix it, so Sasha and I did. And don't even think about dragging Vega into this — I'll lose it."
"Do I get any say in this?"
"Nope." Perfect unison. Firm. Final.
"Well, alright then."
I raised my hands in surrender. I've seen this before — women have a terrifying gift for dissecting everything you say, twisting it around, and stabbing you with it later. One wrong word and suddenly you're the villain in every possible timeline. Still, part of me had to wonder — how the hell did I get here? At what point did my life become this chaotic loop of karmic retribution? When exactly did I cross the threshold of no return?
"Denial," Kiwi deadpanned, yanking me back to reality.
"He's totally zoning out," Yakovleva snorted.
"Told you," Kiwi added, now fully laughing. "The second something doesn't go his way, he just shuts down."
"Oh, so now we're mocking the guy trying to show some shred of integrity?"
"Would you call that anger?" Sasha arched a brow.
"Sounds like it to me," the blonde mused, playing philosopher.
"Screw you all — I'm not bargaining."
I flipped them off, making a theatrical show of clinging to dignity.
"Acceptance came faster than I expected," Sasha remarked, smiling like she'd just won a bet.
"Well, he does bounce back fast."
"Am I interrupting something?" I tried, grasping at a lifeline.
"You made this mess. Now sit in it — and stay quiet," Kiwi snapped, silencing me with a look.
"Fine. Let's say you two have everything figured out. But what the hell are we supposed to tell your mom? Galina's not exactly going to be thrilled about this."
It sounded more desperate than I intended, but come on — I couldn't just roll over and take it. I still had a little pride left. Masculine, irrational, rapidly deteriorating pride... but pride nonetheless.
"She said she'd support whatever decision I make," the little brat announced smugly, sticking her tongue out at me.
"Oh yeah? Then maybe you'd like a little surprise too."
I didn't wait for permission — just bulldozed ahead.
"I'm eighteen. And you? You're only a year younger."
"Wait — Kiwi, is that true?" The brunette blinked, clearly caught off guard. Apparently, that little detail hadn't come up before.
"Physically? Yeah, he's eighteen. Mentally? Closer to twenty-five," the blonde replied smoothly, like that settled the matter.
"You wanna tell the story," Engel asked, glancing at me, "or should I?"
"You started it — you finish it." I waved her on — partly because I trusted her, mostly because I needed a second to breathe.
"About ten years ago, Alex's dad was under contract with Biotechnica. He was working on a prototype serum — something meant to massively boost human capability. Not just strength or stamina, but mental acuity too. Though, well... results vary."
She shot me a smirk without missing a beat.
"Love you too," I muttered.
"Ahem. Anyway — once the job was done, Biotechnica planned to quietly 'retire' the scientists. But his parents caught wind of it and tried to run. You can guess how well that went. His dad pulled the trigger on a distraction, lured the mercs away, gave his wife and kids a shot. She fled to Japantown with both boys. Friends were supposed to meet her there and smuggle Hirako and Alex out to Japan."
She paused, letting the silence thicken.
"In the end, his dad was killed — by Adam Smasher himself. And his mom? Stabbed in front of a clinic. Probably by someone she trusted. Someone who worked there."
"And then our bodies got tossed like trash."
I took over, letting the words hang for a second.
"They thought I was dead. Left me in some alley, trying to avoid the heat. Joke's on them — they all got wiped out anyway. Hirako's body ended up in the family crypt back in Japan. Arasaka territory."
Yakovleva looked like she'd just been handed a live grenade with the pin already pulled.
I couldn't help but enjoy it — dropping truth bombs had become something of a guilty pleasure.
"So that's what you meant earlier... about a personal vendetta." Sasha's voice was quiet now. Thoughtful.
"But wait — are you actually the Emperor of Japan's great-grandson?"
"Yup. And the best part? He doesn't even know I exist." I grinned, because why the hell not. "Michiko — my mom — technically she's Arasaka too. But for her own reasons, she used her mother's maiden name instead."
"So your aunt knows about you, but your grandfather doesn't?"
"Bingo. And I'd really like to keep it that way. Saburo's not exactly my idea of family. His worldview is... let's just say, aggressively outdated. Nationalism. Racial purity. The whole charming Imperial Japan package. Doesn't mesh well with, y'know, me."
"And what about your dad? What was he — some long-lost son of the Soviet General Secretary or something?"
She said it half-jokingly, but her tone made it clear: she wouldn't even be surprised at this point.
"Far as I know? Just a former Soviet soldier — orphan, actually. Top-tier education, courtesy of the USSR."
"Well... I guess that's the most normal part of this whole story." Sasha exhaled like she'd been holding her breath the entire time.
"So?" I raised an eyebrow in mock challenge, smirking at her. "Think you've had enough plot twists for one day, or should we keep the confession train rolling?"
"There's more? Like, something just as insane?"
"Oh, I don't know... maybe this."
With a snap of my fingers, the helmet from my Atlant armor shimmered into place, locking over my head in seconds.
"No way... Is that real?"
The brunette blinked, clearly not trusting what she was seeing.
And honestly? Her reaction caught me off guard. Tony Stark comics barely existed in this world — not the way they did in mine. Sometime in the '80s, history here veered off course. That one movie — the one with the legendary actor? Never made. No cinematic explosion, no cultural tidal wave. Stark's story fizzled out in print by the early 2000s, then vanished into obscurity.
Part of me found that tragic. The rest of me wasn't surprised. Movies, music — pop culture here either swerved hard or disappeared completely. I still remember the day I played Linkin Park through Vega — and no one knew who they were. Forums are still buzzing with theories about the mysterious artist who dropped those tracks and vanished.
I never claimed credit. Never tried to profit off it. Just felt... wrong. Like robbing a grave and selling the bones.
"You got repulsors too?"
Was it just me, or did Sasha's eyes just sparkle?
"These?" I lifted my left arm, shifting the bracer into a full combat gauntlet. "They work. Not about to fire one off indoors, though."
"Can I touch it?" Yakovleva was in front of me before I could blink.
"Be my guest."
The second I gave the go-ahead, her hands were all over it — inspecting every groove like a museum curator who'd just found a lost artifact.
"You can fly with it too?"
"Only on Mondays," I said, a little embarrassed at how into this she was. Did not have her pegged as a vintage comic book fangirl.
"Anyway, let's shelve the Stark stuff for now," I said, retracting the armor. "We've got bigger problems — like explaining all of this to Roxy and Lucy."
"Oh crap, we didn't even think of that," the girls said in unison, suddenly sheepish.
"Well, since you're both so clever and independent, you can explain it." I said it with all the satisfaction of slamming a coffin shut.
"Alek, that's cold," Kiwi pouted, arms folded across her chest.
"No, cold was you dragging me into this mess after your little emotional ambush earlier. I'm just returning the favor. So go ahead — finish what you started."
"What a manipulative little bastard," Sasha muttered, scowling.
Then she and Kiwi exchanged a glance, sighed in unison, and gave in with a reluctant nod.
"Freakin' madhouse…"
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