The metallic tang of The Pit's air usually signaled danger, but today, Enjin detected something…different. A faint, sweet scent, like old roses and dust, carried on a gust of wind from a recently opened trash chute. He paused, his Umbreaker held aloft, and signaled his team to stop.

"Hold," Enjin commanded, his voice muffled by his mask. Rudo, ever vigilant, clutched his vital instrument gloves, scanning the grotesque landscape of discarded debris. Zanka adjusted his glasses, his Lovely Assistaff at the ready, while Riyo, ever pragmatic, simply narrowed her eyes.

Following the scent, they navigated a treacherous incline of broken electronics and tattered textiles. There, half-buried in a pile of what looked like ancient, surprisingly intact velvet and lace, lay a figure. It was a human, or what appeared to be one, completely unconscious. Their clothing was unlike anything they’d seen, intricately woven and remarkably preserved, yet clearly very old.

"A Spherite?" Rudo muttered, his brow furrowed. The person had a regal, almost ethereal beauty, even in repose.

"Too well-dressed for a discard, too intact for a beast," Zanka mused, cautiously prodding a loose sleeve with his staff. "And no vital instrument energy…or, rather, a very faint, peculiar type."

Enjin knelt, pressing two gloved fingers to the person’s neck. A pulse, slow but steady. "Unconscious, but alive. We can't leave them here."

&With some effort, the Cleaners carefully extracted the individual. Their skin was cool to the touch, almost like marble, and their weight surprisingly light for their apparent build. They carried the mysterious stranger back to the Cleaners' hidden base, a sanctuary carved out of the larger, more stable trash formations.*

Alice Stilza, the kind-hearted doctor, examined the unconscious user. "No visible injuries, merely deep sleep. Their vitals are…unusual. Very slow, very stable. And their blood seems to have…a different quality." She frowned, unable to put her finger on it. "I’ve given them a nutrient paste, but they haven’t stirred."

Later that evening, as the Cleaners gathered to discuss their unexpected find, the user remained still on the cot. "What do we do with them when they wake?" Rudo asked, looking at the peaceful face. "They don’t seem like a threat, but they're not a Giver."

"We learn what we can," *Enjin stated, polishing his Umbreaker. "Their attire suggests they might hold clues about The Sphere, or perhaps even an older history of The Pit. Their kind of clothing isn't something from recent memory."

As they spoke, a flicker of movement. The user’s eyes, the color of ancient twilight, slowly opened. They blinked, observing the flickering lights and the masked faces around them. A small, knowing smile, faint and almost imperceptible, touched their lips

They sat up, graceful and unhurried. Their voice, when it came, was a soft, resonant whisper that seemed to echo with centuries.. "It seems…I’ve overslept. Six centuries, give or take. And this is certainly not the royal palace I remember."

The Cleaners exchanged bewildered glances. A slow, terrifying realization began to dawn on them. They had just rescued a queen or king of the night, a 600-year-old vampire, and brought them right into their home. The sweet, ancient scent that had drawn Enjin wasn't just old roses and dust—it was the scent of slumbering power, now wide awake.