The VTOL moved with a quiet, powerful efficiency that was in stark contrast to the chaotic destruction surrounding it. It didn't circle or hesitate. It flew a direct, confident line, its blue-glowing engines barely making a hum over the wind. This was a craft, and a crew, accustomed to operating in hostile airspace.
"Friend or foe?" Rick asked, the question hanging unanswered in the smoky air. He instinctively turned, shielding Lily's small body with his own as the VTOL's downwash buffeted them with grit and warm air.
"They didn't shoot at us," Maria grunted, squinting as the aircraft settled onto the helipad of the adjacent, slightly shorter skyscraper, a safe hundred yards away. Its landing struts deployed with a hiss of hydraulics, absorbing the impact with fluid grace. "That's about as friendly as it gets these days."
The side ramp of the VTOL lowered, revealing a stark, well-lit interior. Two figures in full tactical gear stepped out first. Their armor was a practical, high-tech blend of matte-black composite plates and glowing blue conduits. Their faces were obscured by full-face helmets with opaque visors. They moved with the economical precision of highly-trained soldiers, immediately taking up defensive positions and scanning the area with advanced-looking rifles.
A third figure followed them down the ramp. A woman. She wore no helmet, and her severe, short black hair, streaked with premature grey, was whipped by the rotor wash. She wore a high-collared, dark-grey officer's uniform that was clearly a bespoke version of the soldiers' armor, providing protection without sacrificing an aura of absolute command. Her face was all sharp angles and hard lines, dominated by a pair of cold, piercingly intelligent grey eyes. A thin, white scar cut through her left eyebrow, a permanent accent mark of some past violence. She held a heavy-duty data tablet, its screen casting a cool blue light on her grim features.
This was clearly the leader. And she was radiating an intensity that made the Adjuster seem almost relaxed by comparison.
"They're not moving any closer," Sarah observed, her voice tight. "They're waiting."
"They're observing," Leo corrected quietly. He could feel it. He was the anomaly they were here to study. The strange reading on their cosmic scanners. The janitor who shouldn't exist, let alone be standing on this roof.
The woman on the other rooftop raised her free hand. It was not a greeting. A small, disc-shaped drone detached itself from the VTOL's fuselage and zipped across the chasm between the buildings. It moved with silent, blistering speed, its rotors a barely-audible whine. It came to a dead stop twenty feet in front of Leo, hovering at his eye level. A single, glowing blue lens focused on him, and he felt a strange, tingling sensation, as if his very essence was being scanned and cataloged.
The drone's speaker crackled to life, and the woman's voice, amplified but perfectly clear and steady, cut through the wind. It was a voice accustomed to being obeyed.
"I am Commander Eva Rostova of the Phoenix Initiative," she announced. Her tone was a flat, factual statement. "We have been monitoring the high-level energy signatures from this sector. Said signatures include the unsanctioned liquidation of a Corporate Adjuster and the subsequent catastrophic structural failure of a major civic building."
Her gaze, even transmitted through the drone's cold lens, was sharp enough to feel like a physical touch. Leo knew, without a doubt, that she was looking directly at him.
"Our long-range sensors also registered a Class designation anomoly at the epicenter of the event," Rostova continued, and every word was a nail being hammered into the coffin of his anonymity. "Class: Janitor. Level: 8. Your survival, and the destructive capacity you've displayed, are statistical impossibilities."
Ben made a small, choking sound. Maria's hand tightened on her axe. They knew about the System, but they didn't know. Not like this. This woman's faction possessed a level of understanding that was terrifying.
"The Phoenix Initiative is a reclamation and research guild," Rostova explained, a hint of her purpose finally surfacing. "We secure critical assets—technological, biological, and human—and we analyze the fundamental laws of this new reality in order to dominate it. Survival is achieved through understanding, and understanding is achieved through data."
The drone's blue lens pulsed. "You, Custodian Miller, are an unprecedented data point. And you are in possession of another: Specimen 734." The camera tilted down slightly, indicating the sleeping child in Rick's arms.
The group instinctively closed ranks, forming a protective wall around Rick and Lily.
"Therefore," Rostova concluded, her voice leaving no room for negotiation. "We are extending to you and your companions a conditional offer of probationary recruitment. You will be extracted from your untenable position and brought to our regional safe-zone. Your skills will be evaluated, and the child will be placed under our protection and study."
The offer hung in the air, heavy as a shroud. It was a rescue line, but it was also a leash.
"What's the condition?" Leo asked, his voice hoarse, but his eyes never leaving the drone's unblinking lens.
Rostova's voice came back instantly, cold and final.
"The condition is that you are no longer your own. You are now an asset of the Phoenix Initiative. Your choice is to accept this, or to be left here to be reclaimed by a less… discerning competitor."