Rostova's final words hung in the air, stripped of all ambiguity. It was a choice between a gilded cage and an open grave. The wind whipped across the rooftop, carrying the scent of smoke and the cold, hard truth of their situation.
Ben was the first to break the stunned silence. "Less discerning competitors? What does she mean by that?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Like the suit-guy?"
"Or worse," Maria growgled, her knuckles white on her axe handle. She spat on the tarred roof. "I've been on the wrong end of a corporate takeover before. It never ends well for the little guy. They're talking about us like we're office furniture they're acquiring in a merger."
"She called Lily a specimen," Sarah said, her voice shaking with a cold fury. "We can't just hand her over. We don't know what they'll do to her."
"And we can't protect her up here!" Rick countered, his voice desperate as he shielded the sleeping child from the wind. "This roof is going to give way. Even if it doesn't, we have no food, no water, and what's left of the building is probably crawling with… with whatever that shadow-thing was. What choice do we really have?"
He was right. The cold, brutal logic of it settled over them. They were a handful of exhausted survivors on a crumbling island in the sky. Their victory against the Adjuster had been a miracle, a final, desperate act that had left their leader drained and their sanctuary in ruins. They had nothing left.
Rostova's faction had a VTOL, soldiers, advanced technology, and a safe zone. They had answers. But the price for those answers was their autonomy. Their freedom.
They all looked at Leo.
He was still weak, leaning on a bent piece of railing for support. He met each of their gazes, seeing the maelstrom of fear, defiance, and desperation in their eyes. For three years, his world had been confined to the 44th floor of OmniCorp Tower. His biggest choice was what brand of wax to use on the marble floors. Now, the fate of five people—and a child who might be the key to everything—rested on his decision.
The drone's blue lens stared at him, patient and unblinking. It was waiting for his answer, not theirs. Rostova had identified him as the 'asset', the data point, the party leader. He was the one she was negotiating with, whether he liked it or not.
He pushed himself to stand straighter, his jaw setting. He had not survived all this just to be another cog in someone else's machine without a fight. Even a losing one.
"We need a name," he said, his voice quiet but clear.
The others looked at him, confused. "A name?" Ben asked. "Leo, this is not the time to be starting a band!"
"It's the most important time," Leo said, his eyes never leaving the drone. "She sees us as assets. As scattered refugees she can collect. We need to show her that's not what we are. We are a unit. We are a party. The System recognizes it, and her tech is good enough that she'll recognize it too. It changes the dynamic. It gives us leverage, even if it's just a little."
A flicker of understanding dawned on Maria's face. It wasn't about defiance. It was about presentation. It was the first rule of any negotiation: define yourself before your opponent does.
"I was thinking," Leo continued, a sliver of his old, quiet determination returning. "We're the ones who clean up the messes. We protect. We maintain." He met Sarah's eyes. "We're the Custodians."
Sarah nodded slowly, the name resonating with a deeper truth. That's what they had been doing. Protecting the ward, protecting Lily. Taking care of things.
"The Custodians," Maria echoed, a grim smile touching her lips. "Damn right. It's better than 'the liabilities'."
Leo took a steadying breath. With a thought, he formally accepted the party prompt in his mind.
[Party Name Confirmed: The Custodians.]
[Party Members: Leo Miller (Leader), Sarah Miller, Ben Carter, Maria Flores, Rick Jones.]
[Party Chat feature is now fully active.]
A faint blue shimmer, so subtle it was almost imperceptible, seemed to connect the five of them for a brief moment. He could feel their presence in his mind now, not just as people beside him, but as nodes in a network. His network. His responsibility.
He stepped forward, away from the group, and faced the drone alone. He raised his chin, his exhaustion masked by a newfound, hard-won authority.
"This is Custodian Miller of the party 'The Custodians'," he said, his voice ringing with a strength that surprised even himself. "We accept your offer of probationary recruitment. Under our own terms."
The drone didn't move. The wind howled around them. But across the chasm, Leo saw Commander Rostova, who had been watching the entire exchange through a pair of high-tech binoculars, lower them and allow a flicker of something—not quite a smile, but a sharp, calculating interest—to cross her face.
The anomaly was showing initiative. The data was getting more interesting.