Disclaimer: I do not own Saw or anything associated with it.


Mark woke up in near total darkness. He seemed to be lying naked on a bare concrete floor in…somewhere. His head ached like crazy.

"Where the fuck am I?" he questioned himself as he held his throbbing head. He tried to sit up. No good. He was still too weak. As he brought his left arm back down by his side, he brushed against something. His fingers told him it was a cassette player.

"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me," he said after realizing just where he was. He toyed around with the idea of not playing the tape. If you don't play the tape, you won't find out about the game. And if you don't know the game how can you play?

"Shit," Mark thought aloud to himself. "What if I'm being timed?" He quickly depressed the 'play' button. The small device quietly hummed to life in the still darkness. A few seconds of silence passed on the tape. Then, an evil, raspy voice came on.

"Hello, Mark. How's life treating you? Pretty well usually, right? Only the best for a pimp like you."

Staticy coughing followed for several seconds. During which Mark's impatience came out, shouting: "Just get to the point already, damnit!"

The tape continued. "For years your 'employees' have been spreading the pleasure that most people's live seem to lack. But you don't think about the harm they spread as well. The diseases they all carry and spread like wildfire. Well, you'll soon know how their clients feel without their most valued possessions."

Suddenly, Mark was blinded by an amazing flood of artificial light. Once his eyes adjust, he could see that an open door is only ten feet to his right. By his arm, a dull knife blade glistened menacingly. But that's not what grabbed his attention. Instead, it was the heavy duty, industrial sized chains suspended from the ceiling, leading to the baseball sized shark hooks that skewered his genitals.

Mark gasped in stunned disbelief and horror. He knew Jigsaw almost as well as the police, yet he never thought his 'games' could be this sick and demented.

And worst of all, it was happening to him.

The tape continued. "That door will close forever in just over an hour. And it doesn't take much imagination to figure out what the knife is for."

The immensely loud hum of an industrial size winch filled the room. The clanking of chains was heard.

"Which is more important to you, Mark? Your manhood, or your life?"

The tape ends as Mark, via the hooks and chains, is slowly, agonizingly lifted into the air.

His cries eco in the slaughter-house-like room, heard only by his own doomed ears.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

John and his buddy sat down to lunch at the local McDonald's. They happened to pass each other on the street, and since they hadn't been in contact in years, the two elderly men decided to catch up on old times. They had been best friends at one point. Almost inseparable. Oddly enough, their conversation fell on who had the worse disease.

"Yeah, well I was diagnosed with brain cancer last year," John said hesitantly.

Dave looked down at the table. "That really sucks. But that's not as bad as what I got."

"Oh, really?" John asked, not believing a word of it. "You've got something worse than cancer?"

Dave sighed. "Yeah."

John raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to tell me what it is?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yeah. I told you which deadly disease I have. It's your turn now."

"I'm still not all that comfortable telling people."

"Dave, you're like a brother to me." John smiled. "We've shared much more personal things before."

"Alright," Dave said. "It's…"

"It's…?" John continued him.

"…penile cancer, brought on by complications from syphilis and gonorrhea that I got from some deadbeat hooker some years ago."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. I can either choose to amputate or die."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

John and many other people, all dressed in black, watch as Dave's casket is lowered slowly into the ground.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Mark's hips were lifted off the ground by the slowly retracting chains. He screams again. The pain is unbearable. It can be felt in nearly every nerve in his body. His shaking hand reaches for, and misses, the knife. He tries to sit up and hold his body weight with his hands, but it only makes the pressure, and thus the pain, that much worse. He falls back again, his head making a soft thud on the cold concrete. His arms flail about and manage to take hold of the knife. He brings it, in two hands, between his legs.

But where should he cut?

Four giant shark-fishing hooks are rammed through Mark's genitals. One through the head, and one the shaft of his penis, the other two through his testicles.

Why exactly did he not feel this before? He can certainly feel it now.

As his hands near their destination, his head leaves the floor, and his full weight is now dangling in the air. The pain is insane. His shaking hands drop the knife, and it falls past his face, cutting his chin and nose on contact. He begins to convulse, and temporarily loses motor control. Urine mixes with blood from the wounds in his neatheregion and runs down his body. He tries his best to breathe as it drips into his mouth and nose. The vile liquid runs through his sinuses, causing him to cough and vomit. His brain begins to become overloaded with sensory inputs. So to remain conscious, he chooses an item and focuses on it.

The knife.

He reaches for it. But by now he's too high up and it's out of his reach. All he can do is spread around the blood, urine, and vomit mixture on its surface. He panics and sits up. His hands clench around the base of his genitals. He grits his teeth as he tries to bounce and tear free from the hooks.

His brain overloads from the nerve input and shuts down, rendering him unconscious.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Mark wakes up, in a darkened room, to extreme pain. He begins to feel drowsy again, then remembers the trap he is still in. The chain stopped lifting him soon after he passed out. He grabs for the knife again. Still out of reach. He bounces again, and this time, the entirety of his genitals is ripped free from his two hundred pound body. He falls to the floor, bleeding profusely, and screaming like a banshee.

But he did it. He got free. Alive. He won the game. He turns and crawls towards the door. The same door that was locked forever hours ago.

"Game Over"