Author's Notes: How does Jigsaw get the items he needs to build his traps? What was Hoffman's letter to Amanda all about? Why were Troy (classroom trap, Saw III) and Trevor (mausoleum trap, Saw IV) chosen to be tested? What really started Amanda's evolution to be a serial killer since she didn't kill Eric Matthews?
All this and more answered in this episode of Saw! The lost episode!
Anyway... This is my first submission to , but really isn't my first fic. It isn't the best writing from me, but hopefully it's entertaining. This is a short parody of The Jigsaw Killer crew in the events leading up to Saw III & IV. There are very mild spoilers from those films as well as a small Hoffman-backstory spoiler from the V movie, but nothing that'll ruin it.
Saw and its characters do not belong to me, naturally. If they did, I would have known what was in Amanda's letter in the fifth movie.
The rain had been coming down for hours with no signs of letting up, but the few Home Depot employees who had been unfortunate enough to have to close for the night were safe. There was the putrid glow of the florescent lights, the headache-inducing smell of plywood and the torturous pace of the second hand, but at least tomorrow was pay day. There was always something to look forward to.
It wasn't long before the automatic doors silently opened and three shadowy figures stepped over the threshold and into the store. The first was an elderly man in a black velvet track suit -- the hood pulled up over his head, but one could still tell that the man's head was shaven. The second figure was the shortest and, because of the slight evidence of curves, had to be feminine. A black hoodie mostly veiled her short, choppy brown hair; her bright green pajama pants made her stand out like a sore thumb. The last one was a man that was gracefully approaching old age and well-dressed. Well, well-dressed aside from the lumpy black parka he wore with the hood drawn up, shadowing his features.
The two cashiers looked to the three hooded members before exchanging a glance. After a long moment, the younger cashier looked back to the hooded trio and cleared his throat. "Hello, can we help you?"
"I'm afraid not," the elderly man in the track suit spoke up while continuing to lead his two companions. "They're going to have to help themselves." The hooded trio continued deeper into the store while the two cashiers again exchanged a glance, the younger one shrugging slightly to his co-worker.
The elderly hooded man continued slowly into the store. There was a limp to his step, but he walked with a purpose. The other two flanked each side of him but respectfully stayed back. Once the hooded trio was halfway through the power tool aisle, the elderly man stopped. He turned around to face the other two, looking between them.
"Mark. Amanda," the elderly man started, "I want to play a game."
Amanda Young exchanged a glance with Detective Mark Hoffman. Her one eyebrow arched above the other; he nodded slightly.
"The rules are simple," John Kramer continued. "We need certain items to construct the next few games. On the bus ride over, I gave you each a list of the items necessary to complete this task. Even though the lists have different items on them, I can assure you that they are equal. Do you remember when I made you obtain the blueprints of all the Home Depots in the area, Amanda?"
Amanda nodded slightly, her lips parted vaguely. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place in her mind through a series of flashbacks and intense music. She nodded slightly, unable to form the words.
John "Jigsaw" Kramer smirked slightly. "I told you that they would become an important part of your fate, Amanda. And I'm sure you've figured out why I gave you the task that I did last week, Mark..."
"Yes," Detective Hoffman said quietly, "to find which store had the latest closing hours. I should have anticipated this better..."
John's smirk was lengthening all the more. So, Mark was learning. Jigsaw continued, "Each item on your list is spaced evenly from your previous position. You must obtain all the items necessary and ask all of the necessary questions before the time runs--" John caught himself and corrected, "Before closing time, which is in exactly..." he pushed up the sleeve of his track suit hoodie -- velvet really did feel nice. "...sixteen minutes." He glanced back up from his watch, smiling devilishly at his two proteges.
"...And if we fail?" Hoffman asked.
"You have to play the next game alone while the winner gets to play the next game with me."
Amanda's eyes narrowed on Hoffman. He was always trying to capitalize on her and John's bonding time. Mark was always kissing ass -- just because both the men lost dear family members. ...Maybe mom can meet with an unfortunate accident, Amanda thought to herself, and slowly her glare began to soften.
Hoffman arched a brow at Amanda. If he could get in a little tighter with the boss, Hoffman knew that he could finally get John's approval to hand Amanda that letter he had wrote. Mark's therapist told him he didn't have to show it to anyone, even him, but... Hoffman knew how she felt about cops. No doubt she'd turn him in in exchange for skipping out on jail time. He eyed Amanda carefully.
"Let the games begin," John said, still holding that smile. Amanda turned quickly on her heel to start running while Hoffman did the same, both hastily pulling their lists from their pockets. "And for your benefit," he said after them which made them both freeze in their steps, "you might want to be careful. And get a shopping cart."
"But where are they?" Amanda said quickly, already breathless.
"They're in the back of..." John said as flashbacks zoomed through Amanda's mind again along with the same intense music, "of the store." As he finished his sentence, both of the apprentices went sprinting off towards the back of the store. Once they were out of sight, John slowly turned towards the power drills and nodding in approval.
Hoffman was the first to reach the shopping carts and he leaned out to kick the entire row of them forward. Amanda lunged for the orange handle and missed, catching it with her face instead as she stumbled forward. Hoffman smirked as he rushed away with his cart, checking the first item on his list. 'Two small pickhammers'. "Small?" Hoffman blurted out as he went tearing off, checking the aisles.
While Amanda's lip bled lightly, her nose wrinkled as she grabbed the cart and raced off in the opposite direction. Soon they were both piling up the items in their carts. Sewing thread, metal spiked poles, heavy boards to make a see-saw, chain links, hooks and a few power tools. Finally, it was to the last objective on the list. Amanda noticed Hoffman's cart was about as full as hers was as they passed on another.
"Ask 'Where would one be able to buy a giant block of ice?'" She read outloud before spying one of the workers -- a tall, bald-headed man whose nametag dubbed him Trevor. "Excuse me," Amanda started, breathless, glancing at the clock. Four minutes left. "Do you know where I could buy a giant block of ice?" She said her words hastily, determined to win.
"What do you need it for?"
"Ughh," she growled, "...Ice sculpting. I do ice sculptures."
"Then I'd call an art gallery, then," Trevor shrugged and rolled his eyes.
Amanda glared at the man before running off to find the next employee. Amanda wanted to sew his eyes shut and then see how much he likes Art. The asshole. She crossed paths with Hoffman again, ramming her shopping cart into his.
The cart pushed back and caught Hoffman hard in the chest, but he continued on towards the check out. Amanda saw that he was about to win and turned around quickly, running to the check out herself. With any luck, the cashier would know. She went to the older one with black hair pulled back into a pony tail; his nametag read "Troy". He gave the address of the place that provided the ice sculptures from his sister's wedding.
As soon as she had the address written down she began throwing her items quickly up onto the counter. A glance over to the other check-out showed her that Hoffman was making much more progress. In fact, he already had all the items out of his cart. John was standing by the automatic doors, flicking his gaze between the two proteges and his watch.
Hoffman pushed the cart away from him as the cashier was ringing up the spiked metal rods, nearly finished. Amanda glanced between how slowly Troy moved in finding the UPC codes and Hoffman's growing smirk as the last of his items were being totaled in. Amanda quickly reached down and grabbed one of the spike rods, vaulting it at Hoffman's cashier.
The metal rod pierced the cashier through the chest and he fell against the counter. Hoffman's jaw dropped slightly as he looked over at Amanda in disbelief, blood spurting on the front of his black parka. John shouted her name from across the store and she ignored it, quickly turning on Troy. She reached towards the small of her pack, pulling a pistol out from the seat of her pajama pants.
"Mark," John said calmly, "sedate the witnesses. Quickly." Hoffman nodded and ran off to find Trevor, first.
"Keep cashing out! Move faster, you slow motherfucker!" Amanda screamed at him. Troy quickly began ringing up the rest of her cart and she kept the pistol steady on him as she reached in her back pocket for the proper cash. As soon as he was finished, Hoffman stepped up behind him and injected a needle into his neck. Troy slumped against the counter.
"Amanda, that was uncalled for," John said, shaking his head slowly.
"But I still won, right?" she asked hopefully.
John sighed lightly, "Yes. But do you know what you have done? Neither one of you will get any sleep tonight. Mark, I need whatever dirt you can find on these two. Anything we can use for their tapes. Amanda, you will have to set up their games."
Hoffman spoke through grit teeth, "I understand." More than ever, he wanted to give Amanda that letter that would tell her exactly how he felt about her.
"They'll both get what they deserve, I'm sure," Amanda added.
John barely nodded. "Go out and start Mark's car. Then come back and help with moving the bodies." Amanda nodded and started out towards the car, a smug smile growing on her face. She got to play her next game with John and Mark didn't!
Once the automatic doors closed behind her, Hoffman looked to Jigsaw. "...We really should do something about her," Hoffman said, "She's getting out of control."
From all around him, Hoffman could swear he heard intense music starting to build. "I have a plan," John said, smirking to Hoffman, "but first... I'm going to need dirt."
A/N: I hope you enjoyed! And hopefully laughed a little. I couldn't get the image of the three of them going to a hardware store out of my head, and, well, it made me laugh. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!