The P.A.C.T. was in the middle of doing their own thing.
It's all in the name, really: Death Prevention and Creating Trust. Again. Yet Again. They wake up (assuming they go to sleep; do living objects need to do that?), they regain their senses, they prevent death and create trust, then they do it all over again the following day. And the day after that. And the following days afterwards. It's a rather simple routine, really. on paper, anyway. In practice, the death preventer itinerary is the most difficult one to keep up with. It's *death*. Death is one of the few things in the universe that's considered to be a permanent fixture, an inevitability. Everyone eventually dies, everything ultimately decays. And in a world where it's something that can easily be reversed in a snap, in a world where attitudes towards the miracle of life are... *lukewarm* at best, the P.A.C.T. was always going to be facing an uphill battle. There were 2,763 ways of causing death, and there were also 2,763 ways of preventing it; one key difference, however, is that the former takes no effort at all, and the latter takes *some*. You don't need to do *anything* at all for life to be put out, like a stray flame; if anything, that *expedites* the process. Meanwhile, preserving that beautiful thing is an active, conscious effort. One which requires constant oversight and attention, stamping out threats as soon as they pop up, lest they spiral into an unmitigated disaster.
And so, perhaps counterintuitively, sometimes the P.A.C.T. stops what they're doing to... not prevent death. They gather around, sit in a big circle, and talk about what they've been up to. Considering the constant and overbearing nature of death, it seems like this was them actively sabotaging themselves at first glance. But Remote (before she... *vanished*) ran the numbers, and they figured that this was the most ideal way of things going forward. They were fighting a chaotic, incomprehensible foe here. The only competent combatant against chaos is order, and the only way to get order is to actually sit down and plan things out, instead of jumping into things head-first. It's why they made the P.A.C.T. in the first place. If they tried a new strategy of preventing death each and every time, they're gonna tire themselves out. If everyone knew what they were doing, if they knew what to do and when to do it, their burden could be... *somewhat* lessened. And so, every once in a while, they get together and report on what they've seen, what they've heard. They plan out how best to approach things going forward, how to deal with any future obstacles and hindrances when they arrive. Then they split up once again, returning to doing things largely autonomously. They'd only regroup once another meeting was called, or if another episode started up.
It's at around the tail end of one such meeting where this peculiar incident took place. Much discussion was had about all the latest developments, the latest worries and concerns, and the latest strategies and schemes to sort things out. Everyone very quickly got to what they were doing ASAP, not wanting to waste any more precious time; once again, death is a constant, persistent, *stubborn* foe.
Black Hole was just about to take off into the sky when Tree would suddenly come closer, something still bothering him. "Oh, uh, I almost forgot." The living foliage began. "Black Hole, can you give me a minute?" "Uh..." The void hesitated; he had to be up in the air soon, constantly patrolling the skies and looking for any dangers to others and themselves. "Sure. Go ahead." "Perhaps this is something a little outside of our field, but I think it's still worth looking at." The assemblage of wood and leaves continued. "It's about... Yellow Face. The salesman. You might've heard of him." "...A bit, yeah." The vortex wasn't really known for his sense of hearing, but it's hard to miss those shrill sales pitches. "Right, yes." Treeyee nodded. "Can you just... check in on him, while doing your usual rounds? I've overheard a number of... *complaints* about him." "Oh. Sure thing." The cosmic force replied. "Yes, thank you." The bunch of branches answered back. "That's all; you're dismissed."
And indeed, he was dismissed; Black Hole was up in the sky before anyone knew it. After doing a few tactical training maneuvers, he proceeded to do his usual orbit around the Hotel, which gave him good coverage of any *reasonable* place the other contestants might be in. Despite the fact that there were no fences or walls, *nothing* that prevented them from just getting up and leaving this horrid competition, everyone decided that the best course of action was to just... *not* do that. What's up with that? What is it about the Battle for Dream Island that made it so compelling for others, even though it's been around a decade and there's *still* no winner? They aren't even competing for an island anymore, for crying out loud.
