Chapter Text
007n7 did not have it easy. He knew that.
He knew that none of his teammates really liked him.
The only ones who bothered to speak to him kindly were Two Time and Guest. And all Two Time spoke to him about was their religion.
007n7 appreciated the fact they didn't berate him like everyone else, but it was still.. awkward.
Guest was less talkative, but Guest had actually saved 007n7 from the killers a few times. Elliot turned in the other direction every time he saw 007n7 hurt.
This emotional, physical, neglect was getting to 007n7.
If nobody cares that I'm okay, why be okay at all? 007n7 thought, and the more he thought, the less logical his jumbled up mess of thoughts actually became.
There wasn't a round, there wasn't going to be another round for a while. At least an hour.
007n7 still has a gun.
He's not sure where he put it, but he knows he has one. The Spectre didn't take it from him.
The Spectre knows, he thought. The Spectre knows everything.
But did 007n7 even care?
Guest wouldn't miss him. Guest has others to care for. Guest has friends.
Two Time wouldn't miss him, either. They can find someone else to rant about their religion to. 007n7 was just their target because he didn't tell them off.
Two Time may be an outcast, but Spectre knows how much more of one 007n7 is.
They wouldn't miss him.
They never notice when he's gone.
They never notice or care for when he dies in the round.
007n7 wonders if dying outside the rounds works the same.
007n7 is secluded, alone.
007n7 is in his cabin, his room, his bed.
007n7 has his gun pressed against his temple.
Spectre knows.
It always knows.
It always knows.
…
BANG.