IMPORTANT NOTE, please, spare a moment to read: The whole story is rewritten, since it was a pain to read. I believe it is much better now, though certainly not perfect. Heck, if I could write perfectly or even near that, I'd be selling books instead of writing FanFiction, you bet. Anywayyy, aside from grammar, formatting and such, I also changed minor details, expanded some scenes and such stuff. It should be possible to just go on reading Chapter 5 (when it's up) if you read the first four when I last updated, but I'd recommend giving the first four another chance, however, because – seriously – there's more good stuff now. ;P
Title: The SAW Files
Disclaimer: No copyright infringements intended!
Complete Story Details:
Summary: Jigsaw has picked the Agents for his newest trap. Can they win the game? And why did they have to play at all? Nasty traps, shocking secrets, and – oh, yes... there will be blood!
Language: English
Category: FanFiction / Crossover– TV-Series / X-Files – Movies / Saw
Timeline: Saw: replaces the actual first movie; X-Files: no actual, but before Scully got cancer, because of the "value your life"-stuff. I'm pretty sure, she never took her living for granted after that...
Characters: Scully, D. / Mulder, F. / Jigsaw (but just a little, rather his work ;) ) / Along with two OC, you will love to watch suffer. (who wouldn't like some free OC-bashing? ]=D)
Genre: Suspense / Horror
Rating: M (Language, Violence)
A/N: My traps aren't as clever as Jigsaw's, I'm not such a 'mastermind' (I'd love to meet the guys who came up with all that brilliance. Or actually, I'd rather stand behind bulletproof glass and give them a thumbs-up or something. ;P) – but I'll try to come up with some nasty shit as sick as my head would allow me... mwaha
Chapter Details:
Title Chapter 1: Trapped
Chapter 1 Summary: Mulder wakes up in a strange room and finds out, he is not alone. Adding to his own dilemma he finds some seemingly innocent people and even Scully are in there with him. Why is the question.
Words in Chapter 1: 2.126
Part 1:
Trapped
Slowly, very slowly Agent Mulder awoke, feeling drained, dizzy and exhausted. His back was aching terribly and his head felt like somebody had worked on it with a jackhammer. After what felt like an eternity his eyes finally adjusted a little to the darkness around him. It was almost impossible for him to concentrate, due to the loosening, but yet secure grip of unconsciousness still lingering on him. Adding to that came an increasing, throbbing pain in his head.
As his hand reached out for his forehead it found a gaping wound there, not a fresh one, but it couldn't be very old, either. The blood covering it was not yet fully dried. He twitched, quickly withdrawing his hand from the sticky gash. The sharp hissing noise he made echoed surrealistically in the strange place. Eventually he was able to make out hints of silhouettes in his surroundings. There wasn't much to see after all… He figured vaguely it could be an abandoned freight house, but there was no way to be sure.
The floor was slightly wet and cold, and very uncomfortable. He was sitting on iron grating, but there had to be concrete just about an inch beneath it, Mulder could feel the mouldy dampness under the bare soles of his feet, heating the bruised skin. He tried to stand up, but failed miserably. Not only the dizziness, that overcame him pulled him back, but also a cold and quite heavy object on his right ankle. His fingers traced down his leg, searching for the source of the problem only to find an iron shackle. Attached to it was a chain, leading into a area he couldn't make out in the darkness.
Mulder grabbed for the chain and tried pulling on it, carefully at first until frustration got the better of him, making him pull with all strength his sore muscles were willing to offer. Nothing happened, except for rattling noises, echoing through the room, bouncing back and forth, sounding like spiteful cackles.
Beginning to feel sick to his stomach he sat back, took a deep and uneven breath and ran his hands over his face. Unless something – anything – would happen he had no chance to escape and the realization sent a thin layer of cold sweat forming on his back.
Still not fully capable of thinking logically he rubbed his eyes, blinked a few times and searched the room again. He didn't know, what he hoped to find, but there was no use in just leaning back and waiting for things to get better.
His gaze flew over misted outlines, but there was nothing he could recognize; only frames, garbled by shadow. However his eyes caught a slight movement in the grayish mess. He squinted hard and forced his reluctant mind to concentrate. There, on the opposite wall he identified the silhouettes of a lying body. It was too dark to tell in which state the person was.
"Hey", Mulder called out, startled by his own voice, which was no more than a raspy croak, that scratched its way through his throat like sandpaper.
The figure didn't react it just lay there with its seemingly motionless back turned to him. The Agent had to recover from his attempt to speak, it had cost him more energy than he had expected. For a few tormenting seconds he had to force oxygen through his aching throat and into his lungs. Within those deep breaths he smelled the air, which held a disgustingly heavy, rotten stench. He gagged fighting the urge to vomit, but couldn't keep himself from retching.
Just when he felt somewhat capable to make a new attempt at calling out he heard a soft rustling noise somewhere to his right side. As his eyes raced to the origin of the noise he was startled and delighted at the same time to see a rather vivid motion in the darkness. His first impulse was to prepare for trouble and his right hand went to his hip; of course not finding the gun he'd foolishly expected to be in its usual place. He swallowed hard, trying to get an awful taste of dust and bile out of his mouth, but it didn't help at all. Breathing in deeply he rasped, "Hey, who – is – there?" The words emerged his aching throat, giving him a good idea of how it must feel to have someone pulling barbwire out of him. Mulder did his very best to suppress a cough. He regretted saying anything at all, but the place where the motion had been suddenly stilled. Mulder tried hard to be as silent as possible, concentrating on his hearing. There was a shallow breathing, barely audible, but certainly there.
For a seemingly endless moment the strange breathing was the only noise while everything else stayed quiet. There was no move in the entire, middle sized hall. Then, all of a sudden a voice echoed, splitting the silence in a very awkward way.
"Who are… you?" it said coughing and wincing in pain. Sighing frustrated Mulder rested his head against the cold stone wall behind him.
"Special Agent Fox Mulder – FBI," he whispered, figuring it was best now to overstrain his slowly recovering voice at this moment.
Carefully the blurred form in the shadows slid closer to Mulder, a rattling and scratching noise of iron accompanying it. A determined ping announced that the person was wearing a shackle as well and its chain would not allow another step farther away from wherever it was rooted.
The Agent was now able to make out the person's silhouette; apparently it was a man, overweight, probably bald judging from the shape of his head. That much he could tell from what little was visible. Sometimes he would catch the flicker of eyes in the round shadow of the man's face.
"Tobey Connelly... could be a pleasure," the stranger rasped, trying to joke, but he winced again, clutching his hands to his neck. Mulder nodded, but didn't reply.
There were at least three people in this cold room that reeked of disease and neglect. Mulder didn't know the guy, who had introduced himself as Tobey Connelly. And he had no idea whose unmoving body was lying close to the opposite wall. He couldn't remember anything of significance happening before he woke up in this place. He hadn't even been working on a case that could have involved making enemies.
After a few minutes Tobey croaked, "Where are we? ...and who are those guys?" He pointed a thick, short finger at the motionless figure on the opposite wall and into the shadows left from Mulder. The Agent frowned and narrowed his eyes to adjust his sight to the even darker area to his left. He saw the very vague outlines of two other bodies, one lying on the ground like the one across the hall and the other sitting and rocking back and forth, soundless.
The frown deepening on his face, Mulder asked in a husky voice, "Hello... can you hear me?" But the person didn't answer but kept rocking back and forth, utterly silent. As Mulder tried once again to stand up, this time managing it surprisingly well, the figure twitched and began to whimper like a wounded animal. "It's okay... don't be scared, I won't harm you", he said soothingly, ignoring the small jolt of pain the effort caused, but the person just kept on whimpering and tried, without actual success, to crawl away from him. Taking the hint Mulder backed away again and narrowed his eyes. Shaking his head he turned back to Tobey and rasped, "I don't know. I can't even see anything really."
Just then the person, who had been lying completely motionless on the opposite side stirred and a soft moan reached Mulder's ears. He waited a bit before he raised his voice again, "You there, can you hear me?" Apparently the person tried to get up, but failed, just like Mulder had when he had first attempted to.
All of a sudden the Agent heard a sound, that sent chills down his spine and a threatening coldness spread on his skin.
"Mulder?" the person asked in a weak and hoarse voice.
"Oh Sh-," he whispered more to himself than to anybody else. A little louder and obviously not wanting a positive response he asked, "Scully?"
Before Dana Scully was able to straighten up and turn her head to look at her partner a sudden loud and hollow click echoed through the hall. It was followed by a bright, blue light, flickering and crackling before it settled into a cool and somewhat aseptic feeling illumination of the already uncomfortable room.
The four more or less alert people in the room all twitched and sharp intakes of breaths could be heard. Mulder grimaced, his eyes blinded by the unexpected brightness. Squinting he waited a few seconds until his eyesight finally returned and gave him a first clear impression of his surroundings. The room was about what he had expected; an old and dirty hall, supposedly in a abandoned factory or storage building.
"Scully, can you move freely?" Mulder asked. He saw her frown puzzled, but then she looked down on herself and pulled her knee closer to her chest. On her left ankle a shackle hold her in place, the same kind as Mulder's and Tobey's. He sighed in frustration and growled, "Dammit." Cursing himself as the pain came back to his not fully recovered throat.
By the sudden sound the figure to his left shrieked and huddled closer to the wall like a little child fearing the imaginary monster under its bed. The tall man ran a hand over his mouth and looked nonchalantly at the figure. It was a young woman. She was about twenty, give or take three years, she was short and skinny to the point of sickly, her body and face were bruised in several places and crusted blood painted a repulsive pattern all over her. Her short, blond hair was a mess that covered her face almost completely, but failed to hide the shocked, yet disturbingly blank expression it held. She wouldn't look anyone in the eyes and kept absently peering ahead.
The lying figure next to the girl was a young boy, not older than fifteen or sixteen years. Obviously he was unconscious and not dead, Mulder noticed by the slow and constant rising and falling of his chest. His face wasn't bruised as badly as the girl's, but his cloths were partly ripped and dried blood turned the fabric's colors into a nasty reddish-brown. His feet lay in plain sight and unlike any other in the hall he wasn't tied to the ground. Instead there was a heavy looking framework attached to his right shoulder. Stiff steel wire ropes led down from it to another, smaller framework around his wrist. His other arm was hidden behind his lying body.
Mulder moved his gaze to his right, briefly observing the man, who called himself Tobey. He was indeed a very overweight, bald man with tiny eyes in his balloon-like face. He too was bruised all over, but no uncanny devices were attached to his body.
"Mulder," came the hoarse voice of his partner from across the room. As he shifted his gaze towards her, relieve flickered through him for a moment. She too was free of any weird attachments other than the shackle. Mulder looked at her eyes, desperately searching for a clue in her expression. Unfortunately there was no sign that she had a better idea of what was going on. The right side of her face was partly covered in dried blood that must have come from a wound somewhere on the top of her head. Suddenly her blank expression changed into a confused frown and as she squinted the dried blood crinkled and cracked, turning the brownish red patch into a complex mosaic. Her gaze shifted downwards and Mulder's followed, stopping at her right hand, which was holding tightly onto a small black object. As Scully opened her hand the object turned out to be a cassette. She gave her partner a questioning look, but he could do nothing but shrug.
"I have one too," Tobey announced suddenly and held up another tiny cassette. "It reads 'play me'." He held it up for the others to see. "And that," he added, holding up a small recorder with his other hand.
After a short while Mulder ordered, "Play it." And Tobey did as told. As the big man pressed the play-button with a loud click the room went silent for a few seconds, then a deep, mechanic voice began to speak eerily.
"Hello, Tobey. I want to play a game"...
To Be Continued...
Alrighty, rewritten and hopefully not messed up even worse.
Sorry for possible spelling and grammar mistakes, or typos. Hope there're not too much.
Criticism is welcome! If you want to flame, do so in a creative way and make me goggle. ;P
Thank you for reading.