Remote was busy transcribing the details of Death P.A.C.T. (Again)'s latest meeting; it was only inevitable that someone came up to her because they didn't bother to listen.
It's the start of a new season. A new season, with a new host, with a new disposition, with new challenges, new twists, new turns. And most importantly, new chances to die in spectacular fashion, new risks they could be in the middle of without even knowing, and new conflicts that are bound to explode violently in everyone's face if left unchecked. The P.A.C.T. had a lot on their plate, a lot ahead of them... and they lost the first contest they competed in. *Great*.
And so the greatest problem the team has faced since its inception once again shows its ugly face: just what exactly should they prioritize? Death prevention is their motto and creed, of course, but how can they prevent *anything* if they can't prevent their fellow members getting the boot? Perhaps having one of their own go into the unknown beyond isn't exactly the *complete* disaster everyone thinks it is; if the whole situation with Four is anything to go by, the eliminated probably aren't just... disappearing. Maybe it's for the best that Pie went, you know? Maybe she can figure out what's going on out there, make it a better, safer place for all the others before they wind up there as well. But still, that means one less set of hands to help them out here. They already weren't doing so well in the previous competition, but that was *somewhat* justified as there were more contestants, and more things to keep track of. But even though there's a whole bunch of them taken off their hands, they're *still* failing.
That's... neat.
And so, the great argument raged on. The opposition largely consisted of Fanny and her *extremely* loud voice, but having just a single doubter within their own ranks could really hamper their future performance. It had to be dealt with, and it had to be dealt with *fast*.
Getting the one with the temper tantrums to calm down was just one part of the meeting, one thing the living remote quickly typed up a script for in her head for future reference. Another thing was the reconnaissance missions and the situation report. Obviously, they've had Black Hole flying around and looking for trouble since the very start. But with another soaring contestant now on their side, they've had Lightning do much the same as well. It's a good thing too, as they've got two contestants to deal with two issues: death, as always, is out there, but so is Two. They had *just* gotten used to Four and X when they suddenly showed up, split the competition in twain, and threw them into a whole new round of twists and turns. Naturally, there were 2,763 questions they wanted answered: Who was Two? Who are the algebralians? What even are they? What are they doing there? *Why*? What's their goal, exactly?
The sentient(?) machine simply watched as the two said the same thing they've always said, with little to no variation: nothing is changed, nothing is new, nothing is solved. *Wonderful*. The fan once again listed her many, *many* complaints, there'd be a bunch of bickering, and eventually the self-proclaimed voice of reason would have to put his foot down.
"Alright, alright. That's enough." Tree grumbled. "We're clearly going nowhere with this, so let's just wrap it up." He'd pause for a moment to do the exact opposite of what he was meant to do. "Just one more thing on the agenda, though." Shaking his head a few times, a wooden crate would fall out of its precarious position in the branches. Everyone was rather shocked, understandably, and the living foliage would be quick to explain.
"Our new host decided to give us a little gift." He'd explain. "Partly because we made the switch, and partly out of pity for being the first team to lose." The one with the spinning blades seethed. "There's no need to remind us, you know?" She'd remark, though this would fall on deaf ears; Tree was already busy working on opening up the crate. He'd throw away a few extra pieces of fluff that were inside along the way; Remote would get ahold of a pamphlet explaining how Flower (who apparently created all these things) was very, *very* happy that they bought so much from her, and that this was one step closer to achieving her dream, and so on and so forth. Their failure did *some* good, at the very least.
