Scars
Prologue
This is part of a fanfiction that I'm starting in February. I've posted up the prologue to see what kind of response I will get from people, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading more! Keep a lookout for this in February!
"Right now you're feeling helpless…"
Mark Hoffman paced throughout the small area, avoiding the gazes of both Agents Erickson and Perez. How in the hell they found out…he had covered his steps, even used Strahm's damn hand for prints. And how did they find that tape? He was sure he had gotten rid of it.
He walked to the coffee pot as Erickson started on his theory on Strahm's involvement. He poured the hot liquid into the cup and tentatively picked it up, still keeping his back to the two agents as they talked. Then, in a split second, everything changed.
"There! Listen."
Mark turned around, just in time to hear his own voice say, "Right now you're feeling helpless."
Acting quickly, he took out the knife he kept latched onto his belt and flipped it open, swinging it high and making contact with Erickson's neck. He spun around, throwing the coffee in Perez's face, then using the agent who discovered him as a shield, pulling her in front of him to allow the bullets Perez shot at him to hit the agent in the back. He let the dead woman fall to the ground and advanced on Strahm's partner, the knife in his hand making contact with her stomach.
"Who else knows about me?" he snarled, pushing the knife farther into body.
Gasping in pain and for air, her hands fell on Mark, forcing him to look at her. With the last strength in her body, she managed to muster a smirk.
"Everybody."
Rage filled Mark. Something inside him told him that she wasn't lying, even though his next words as he stabbed her to death denied what his mind had confirmed. He pulled the knife from Perez as she slid down the wall, dead. He looked around at what he had done and threw the knife down as he rushed up the stairs and out to his car.
The last word Perez spoke started to haunt Mark's mind. If she hadn't been lying and everybody did know he was the accomplice of John Kramer, then…there was one person that definitely knew.
She's going to hate me, he thought. More than she did before.
Opening the trunk, he grabbed the red jug of gasoline and the frozen hand of Peter Strahm and made his way back to the audio room. He began to pour the gasoline everywhere, on the equipment, and the bodies of the agents, especially Erickson, who was still conscious. For one last attempt to throw the feds off of his trail he placed Strahm's hand on a few key items before standing up and lighting up a pack of matches and letting it fall to the ground, the room instantly turning into a ball of flame.
As he walked backward from the soon-to-be scene of the crime, his mind started to think about the one woman he ever had in his life, and how he managed to screw up the one thing that may have kept him from ever being involved in Jigsaw.
He opened the back door where his car was, his thoughts taking him back years to his first year in the police academy...