The tallest led the way into the building, the glow of a flashlight accenting the reddish glow of the redstone flowing through him. The other members of this small faction follow him, a couple quietly talking to each other.
"What do you mean he has no idea as to why we're here? Clearly Grian is the only one with a plan!" One says with a uniquely British accent.
"He's the least prepared out of all of us. For all we know this could be a trap."
"Scar, you really need to lighten up."
The flashlight dances from room to room, eventually stopping upon a closed door with a pale, flickering blue light pouring from under the door. The others gather around him while he opens the door, hand hovering over his beloved knife, adorned with the likeness of a dragon. The door swings open to a security room, monitors flickering with video from cameras. The leader looked over the room, guarding the entry with the hand that now held the knife, with two others looking in from behind him with interest. He looks down to the others and gestures for them to go inside, lowering his arm.
The two enter, one going directly for the computers while the other wanders around, trying to pick the lock of a locker on the other side of the room. The leader slightly shoves one of them, a dog/human hybrid dressed in heavy clothes and with a prosthetic leg from their job as a metalworker.
"You. Keep an eye on them." His voice held a power despite it's softness.
The rest moved on while they stayed behind. Most of them were strangers to each other, but they'd have to grow together if they even had a chance of surviving. The leader brings them to a large room, looking like a hallway that was supposed to have cubicles but now has nothing. Snow was falling outside, and a sigh came over the group. The leader let them go into the room and accomodate themselves as he ventured further in search of supplies. The heater is on.
The hallway that they stood in had a window which showed them a grim outside world. They opens the window, snow blowing into the hallway ever so slightly. They lights a cigarette, putting the flame of their lighter out before a sniper could find out. The others are fine. The heater is on.
The backup generator spurred on, lighting the building with a whirr. The leader had been wandering for a few floors before it becomes clear the building isin't entirely working. The bitter cold of the mid-October day became apparent. He simply pressed on, eventually stopping when it became too cold to proceed. The heater is off.
When the enigmatic leader returned, the room went silent. The heater is on.
"There's enough resources to keep us here for a few months. Don't go past floor 10 because the heating and electricity dosen't work."
A wave of anxiety and fear swept over the room, murmurs of leaving being overheard as he walks to a corner and shines the knife he killed a state officer with. Someone walks up to him, sitting next to him.
"You're the only one prepared for this. How?" The stranger says to him.
"I think ahead."
"What's your name?"
"Doc. Just call me Doc."
"Fine," He puts his hand out, expecting Doc to shake it. "I'm Iskall. Nice to meet you."
Doc simply continues to clean and shine his knife. The heater is on, but they're worried it won't be on for long.