Float Like a Bee, Sting Like a Butterfly

[Applesintime]

((Gregory Miller continued from You Don't Load a Gun, Close Your Eyes And Shoot))

While Fisk was running around the room, shouting at himself and dunking his own head into the toilet bowl, Gregory had taken the opportunity to sneak away, out of the room, down several flights of stairs and into a random room. He hadn't been able to get any of their guns, but he hadn't been shot, so Gregory considered that a, uh, tactical success. Sitting here in a room, all by himself, the only company he had his own mind.

Oh, who was he kidding, this wasn't a victory. It was a delay of the inevitable end for him, and that's all it was. Eventually, he'd be found by some player type and shot, or stabbed, or beaten to death, or some fate that if Gregory was on the other side of the cameras recording it, he'd be sorta relieved to see some boring guy's arc come to an end and hope that it would sorta bolster whoever was killing him's arc. Just thinking about that all was stupid. Three days ago, four maybe, he'd been rambling to the cameras about bees and shit and now he was all alone because he kept killing his allies or sorta scaring them off.

What would have been if he had stuck with Cory and Nate? Would they all have been shot by some douche of a player, or would they have hooked up with another group and flourished from there? Would he maybe have joined an escape group and found a way off the island? Would he have still become a player with blood on his hands? Would he be a hero, or a villain, or a heroic villain or a villain hero or or or or or

So many lost possibilities. He had taken the worst possible choices, hadn't he?

All Gregory could do now was ask Ben.

"Ben, uh, what do I do now?"

[Rattlesnake]

"You make it through the next five minutes. And then the five minutes after that. And then the next five minutes.

"Now, you're alone right now, you wanna stay that way? You let yourself get press-ganged by that little crew of pissant puddle pirates, it's 'cuz they want something from you, right? And frankly, I don't think you're entertaining enough for them to kill right now. But I'll tell ya, you're gettin' a front-row seat to some real human indecency there. Matinee with snacks 'n' everything. And if you try something crazy to break out, boy are you gonna be behind the curve on that one.

"Other hand, you sneak away, now you've given them a game to play. Like, I'm sure you can just roll up and say 'fuck that guy' and get some 'hell yeah's from whatever color bandanas you want, just not from the ones you'd be worrying about right now.

"S'what I think of your options, but it's your gut on the ground right now, as it were, so how's that all twistin'?"

[Applesintime]

"Well, uh, they're sorta crazy, man. Fisk was snorting coke and running around stabbing at things and putting his head in the toilet bowl, and, like, that's not a winning strategy. And, uhh..." Gregory fiddled with his bandana. "They're on the same team. There ain't no reason to keep me around, unless they want a free kill. And, like, uh, why not just kill me straight away? It's weird, man." He shrugged, sitting down on the bed and fiddling with his knife. "I wanna... stop them." It was a stupid notion, Gregory knew that, but he saw what they had done to Stokes. She didn't deserve that, she was nice.

"I mean, they have guns and I have a knife and a bolas, so not much in the way of weapons..." He chuckled, pulling a bit of cheese from his bag and nomming on it. "I'm thinking, uh, hit and run. Jump out somewhere, uh... Stab Verity, grab the gun, shoot Fisk." He didn't want to kill again. The idea made him feel sick. But he wanted to try and be a hero. He had murdered two people. Killing two bad guys would totally even it out, probably.

[Rattlesnake]

"I mean, that's a plan for sure. Could even say that's up my wheelhouse. Just need to be really, really certain, you know? Like, the plan's bonkin' someone before they know what's up, you best not hesitate a fuckin' instant. And even when you don't... well, you've seen my souvenirs.

"Whatever you choose, just keep moving forward, alright? Get a plan, commit to it, you're ahead of the game. Even of the people still left."

[Applesintime]

"I mean, uh, they're gonna be all thinking I'm on their side, right? Maybe they won't actually, but, uh, I can probably pretend I am long enough!" Gregory wasn't sure about this plan, because he didn't want Sammy to see him getting ganked live on TV, but then he thought about how he had murdered Cory and the noises Rhonda made as he cut her throat, and how Stokes hadn't done anything wrong and she still got murdered anyway by Fisk and his friends, and he just got a little mad. Maybe he'd get hurt, maybe he'd die, but maybe he'd end up killing those two, and it'd be two bad guys dead, and he'd be all good. Well, he'd still have killed a bunch of people, but it would, like, all sorta even out, you know?

Maybe he was just, as Sammy put it when they watched SOTF, 'tryna cope with doin' bad things and thinkin' they're good people'. But, he was a good person, though. Gregory was dimly aware that he was falling into that stereotype. But, he wasn't like, AnArchy or Fisk, someone who revelled in all the killing and weird shit they did. He was just Gregory, a dude who liked bees and was probably gonna die at the age of 16. Not even 17 — man, if they'd just waited a week, he'd have been 17! It didn't matter, but Gregory felt a little distress at the idea he might die at like, 16, not even 17.

"I'll think it over, I guess. Start planning in the morning. Night, Ben." Hopping onto the bed, Gregory closed his eyes, rolling on his side and trying to get comfortable.

((Gregory Miller concluded in Looking Like Meat))