One person’s phone went off, and Austin glanced over at Justin’s phone with a morbid curiosity. The same cheeky-looking text told him to go to a “drop-off point”? If Austin was being honest, he really didn’t like the idea of them splitting off for any reason. Especially with the dead bodies that were lying scattered about.

 The truth was that Austin expected there were still others out there, and keeping everyone close would be safer for everyone. Justin’s vials were just as concerning as his revolver, but the signals were all mixed.
 Who trapped them here and what were they getting out of this? It was like the tasks they were given wanted them to cooperate, but everything else was suggesting that this was going to end violently.

 If they put everything away, Austin could breathe easier without fear of someone stabbing him in the neck at a moment’s notice. The weapons could be put away, the food and water could be distributed properly, and maybe they could turn it into a sentry point against whatever force they decided to put out there. There was still the case of his missing soulmate, but he was hoping that finding them would be a simple task.
[color=magenta] “Okay, here’s what I think,”[/color] Austin announced to the crowd around him. It was a decent force, but his mental score sheets for each person were inconclusive.

[color=magenta] “I was in room seven… it’s in this hallway. We should all bring our stuff back to this room so that we know where to find it later. The less we all have to split up, the better. That being said, now would be the best time for us to go and find our stuff and bring it back. Is there anyone not comfortable coming back in the direction they came from?”[/color]

 This could work. This is what Austin’s brain was wired for. He could handle using all of the skills that he’d gained in life to keep everyone sane and satisfied. As long as all his brain cells were dedicated to the people, he himself could avoid losing his mind.

 He can handle the people part if the others could solve the puzzle. It would be simple, right?
 But the overlying sense of dread was something he hadn’t predicted. This was more than case studies of those with suicidal urges or long streaks of depression. This was… doom. Despair hung on the air clouding all of his senses. Darker than black, fouler than rotting, grimier than sewage… it prickled at the edge of his sense and at the threads of his clothes.

 He was swimming in it, but focusing on the other’s mentality could keep him afloat. Hopefully that could keep him from doing anything stupid.

 So, he took a step back, reached out for the wall and leaned against it to make his body positioning as casual as possible, and gave a bright smile. 

[i] Pretend that you’re doing fine. Remember that your scales are still there.[/i]

Mental Risk: 7
Emotional Risk: 3
Physical Risk: 1

 For some reason, keeping track wasn’t as comforting as he was used too.

 In fact, this new event seemed to be shaking the basic tracking of his scales.