THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS TO SAW 6. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. I do not own Saw, but I DO own Carter and Ward. Enjoy.

It had been a very long day for Detective Lieutenant Mark Hoffman. It had been a full day since he was left to be executed in his test. He stayed in his messy apartment the entire day, barely moving an inch. Jill had walked away without giving Hoffman a single message or anything. That struck him as odd.

Hadn't Amanda received a message the second time she was tested? Why wasn't he given one? He contemplated that for a while, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Hoffman's test was a modified reverse bear trap. He obviously knew how to escape it, he is an accomplice after all.

Hoffman sat on his black leather couch, nursing his gashed and swollen face. The reverse bear trap had damn near ripped off the entire side of his face. Blood was still oozing out of his wounds. His wrists were banged up pretty well due to those damn straps.

He had a thick, white washcloth draped over side of his face, it was quickly turning red. He had thick bandages wrapped securely around both wrists, trying to prevent infection. His body ached all over, a headache was starting to sit in.

He felt like shit. He sat there for what felt like an eternity nursing himself back to health. He could've easily went to a hospital, but how would he explain the severity of his condition?

This was a lot easier for him, it cut out all the stress. Well, some of the stress. He still had to deal with the hard reality of his identity being discovered as the Jigsaw killer.

Since "everyone" knew of his identity, he was sure to bring Jill crashing down with him. That bitch had to have been the cause of his identity being known.

Jill was taking everything too calm, too lightly. She had to have had something to do with it. Hoffman knew Jill wanted to completely discontinue John's work, so she tried to dispose of him in any way she saw fit.

Now the only question here was how to get Jill discovered without bringing more heat on himself. That would prove to be a great task to complete. Hoffman was very furious with Jill as of late.

He had always been though, it's not like she didn't have it coming to her. Hell, both Amanda and himself hated the woman. They would do anything John told them to do, but if Jill gave a single order it was completely ignored.

Hoffman completely found himself on the verge of wanting to annihilate Jill Tuck. He absolutely hated the woman. It was her fault he was in this predicament to begin with. It seemed to him like everything was Jill's fault. Hoffman stood up, feeling slightly dizzy.

It felt like the room was spinning just like the carousel trap. He had to sit back down from the realization of him possibly passing out. He lifted up the washcloth, noticing how his blood was finally beginning to dry up.

He removed the cloth, gently touching his face. It hurt like hell, the wound was very deep. He decided to sleep on the couch that night, attempting to move to his bed would be too much trouble.

Hoffman awoke the next day, his body felt worse then it did the day before. His cuts and bruises were starting to slightly heal. He slowly sat up, feeling the terrorizing effects of sleeping on the couch.

He got to his feet slowly, wiping some blood off his face and heading out the door. Hoffman arrived at one of the many workshops in under ten minutes. This particular workshop served as the home for the most current traps. He quickly walked though the door, heading the in the direction of Jill.

She was sitting in a black chair, watching the monitors of their recent game. The screens were slightly flashing, their subjects were moving quickly about the room. Jill didn't glimpse at Hoffman whenever he entered through the door. She sat there waiting for him to speak.

Hoffman quickly approached her, getting in her face.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"

Jill glared at Hoffman with pure hatred. She didn't respond at first, she just sat there eyeballing him.

"What in the hell do you want?"

Hoffman seized Jill by the arm, gripping her hard. He grabbed her as hard as the straps she put on him the day before. Hoffman's eyes flashed of hate and murder, he would want nothing more then to see the bitch laying in a pool of her own blood.

"What the fuck do you think I want? You fucking set me up!"

Jill smirked at him, trying to get out of his death grip. She struggled hard against him, wanting to get out of the situation she found herself in. Jill tried to defend herself.

"You set yourself up. You're the one who went against John's wishes. You didn't respect him enough to follow out his legacy the way it was intended it to be. This is all your fault that you were discovered, not mine. You brought this all upon yourself. I had nothing to do with it."

Hoffman's grip increased, his anger rising. He felt the exact same way whenever he murdered Erickson, Perez, and that Asian woman. If only he still had that knife on him. He got up in Jill's face, yelling at her.

"I'm the one who didn't follow John's wishes? YOU'RE the one who told him to stop his work! I followed his legacy the same way you followed it. You're the one who got me discovered in the first place! This is ALL your fucking fault you stupid bitch!"

Hoffman hit Jill across the face with his injured hand, it hurt like hell but it was well worth it. His grip increased harder, if possible. Blood was dripping from Jill's mouth, she struggled to get free. Jill kicked Hoffman hard in the legs, causing him to lose his balance for a moment.

Hoffman pushed her hard against the chair she was sitting in, forcing her back. He hit her across the face with his forearm, causing blood to spew out of her mouth. The blood landed on his shirt, spotting it red.

Jill discontinued to struggle, quickly realizing Hoffman had full control over the situation. Hoffman smirked, hitting her once more across the face. He loved watching the blood pour slowly out of her. He loved feeling like he was in total control.

Hoffman roared at her.

"Now it's your turn to be tested bitch!"

All in one motion, Hoffman let go of Jill's arm and swiftly pulled out a syringe stabbing her in the neck. Jill immediately passed out, almost falling out of her chair. Hoffman briefly left the room for a moment to gather up Jill's trap.

Jill woke up slowly, she glanced around looking for Hoffman. She spied Hoffman leaning against a wall, watching her. Jill peered down at the rest of her body to notice she was in some sort of trap.

There were hooks sticking to either side of Jill's neck. Her arms were suspended to the ceiling, wrapped in two feet of chain. There were thick chains wrapped tightly around Jill's waist and legs.

She was completely immobilized by the weight and width of the chains. She was dangling four feet above the ground, swaying slowly back and forth.

Her neck was dripping spots of blood all over the ground, Hoffman glanced up at her smirking.

"Welcome to your trap Jill. The only way to survive this trap is to free yourself from the very vices that bind you. You must free yourself only using whatever you have available on you, which isn't much. Will you hang there for the world to see, or free yourself from the binds that hold you? Make your choice."

With that being said, Hoffman walked out of the room. Jill shrieked, trying to escape. She tried to swing herself back and forth to fall onto the ground, but to her luck the chains didn't budge. Hoffman tightened the chains as hard as he could.

It surprised Jill that he didn't kill her by wrapping the thick chains around her. Jill continued to struggle with all her might. She suddenly realized she didn't see any sort of clock around her. Did Hoffman set this trap to a certain amount of time?

She glanced around the room rapidly, however she didn't spot a timer. Jill screamed.

"Fuck!"

She tried to pry off the chains around her waist, they didn't move. Jill screamed in agony trying to free herself.

Hoffman returned home after setting up Jill's trap. He sat on his couch once again, trying to heal his wounds. He figured he had better lay low for a while before going back to the endless work of being a detective.

He heavily sighed, realizing how much easier all of this would have been to handle if his lover; John Kramer was still alive.

After all, John had been identified as the Jigsaw killer before. Hoffman could always escape and hide out from the police like John had done before him. It was fairly simple to do, as long as you knew how to do it.

Hoffman's eyes started to droop, he was exhausted due to the work he was currently doing. He had been though a lot after all. Lighting fire to the FBI tech lab proved to be a task on its own. It was a damn good thing he had properly disposed of any evidence from the tech lab, that would lead back to him to being identified as the Jigsaw killer.

Hoffman smiled to himself for a moment, before being interrupted by a loud knock at the door. He glanced over at the door, trying to ignore it at first. He knew who it was, he was just surprised Jill had escaped so soon. He ignored the knocking for a few more minutes, luckily it went away.

Hoffman smirked, glad at the fact Jill had quickly stopped knocking on his door. A loud crash damn near made Hoffman jump out of his skin. He stared where his black paneled door previously was, now it lay on the ground next to him.

Four FBI agents came rushing through the Hoffman's apartment. He quickly got to his feet, watching them closely. He was both shocked and angry, they had just broke down his door after all.

One tall, middle aged, blond-haired FBI agent approached him, he flashed his badge to Hoffman.

"Detective Hoffman? I'm Special Agent Carter, this is my partner Special Agent Ward. We are here to question you about the deaths of Special Agents Erickson, Perez, and a tech specialist named Amy Sachi."

Hoffman appeared nervous, he quickly changed his facial expression to calm and concerning. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"How can I help you Special Agent Carter?"

Special Agent Ward was a tall brown-haired male in his early 30s. He was expressionless, his eyes wondered around Hoffman's apartment suspiciously. Special Agent Carter held out a plastic forensic bag containing a bloody knife.

"Do you recognize this Detective Hoffman?"

Carter held it closer for Hoffman to see. He stared at it almost horrified. That was the very same knife he used to murder Perez and stab Erickson in the throat with.

He had thrown it on the stairs right after murdering Perez with it. He thought it would have burned up in the fire he started. Obviously he was wrong.

Hoffman played it off cool and calm.

"I don't. I have never seen that knife before in my life."

Carter stared in his eyes hard, he peered back at him harder. Carter watched Hoffman, not taking his eyes off him. Carter half-smiled at him, breaking the stare.

"Special Agent Ward and I were closely going over the crime scene to try and find any kind of evidence that we could link back to possible suspects. You already know about Special Agent Peter Strahm. We believe he has an accomplice working under him."

Hoffman avoided eye contact, he merely watched the other officers scurrying around his place.

"And who are your possible accomplices?"

Carter pulled out a small cream-colored notebook. He flipped a few pages quickly locating the page he sought out.

"According to our data there are two suspects."

Hoffman's eyebrows raised, he was surprised to hear the small number of possibilities that he could easily match up to the crime.

"What are the names?"

Carter appeared grim, he closed his notepad for a second.

"Well the reason why we came over here Detective Hoffman was to originally ask you to help us with the case. You have been on the case of the Jigsaw killer since the beginning after all. However, the other reason we came over here is to name you a suspect in the murders."

Sweat began to slowly creep down Hoffman's face. Was his secret beyond the amount of danger he already thought? Was his life as the current Jigsaw killer over?

"Me? You actually suspect me?"

Special Agent Carter nodded at him.

"Yes Detective. You are a suspect. You're a suspect because of the previous investigation done by Special Agents Erickson and Perez. They pieced up the puzzle leading everyone to believe that you are the Jigsaw killer and not Special Agent Peter Strahm."

Hoffman appeared to be shaking. He was deathly pale, sweat dripped down his face. He wasn't sure what to say. One thing he knew he had to do was lead them away from his trail and hotly onto one of the other suspects.

Hoffman tried to speak, his words came out almost weak sounding.

"Can I at least know the other suspect's identities?"

Carter flipped back to the page where the suspect's names were listed. He scanned over the names, staring back at Hoffman.

"We originally didn't want to take that risk. We didn't want the suspects to know each other's identity. But, since you are the current leading expert on the case we feel as though we have no choice but to inform you."

Hoffman's eyes grew wide. He was finally getting somewhere. Hoffman swallowed, he was nervous. He was hoping Jill's name was on the list. If it wasn't then he would have to prove to the Agents that Jill was in fact the only current Jigsaw killer.

"The suspects are Ms. Jill Tuck and you."

Hoffman was thrilled to hear Jill's name on the list. He stared intently at Carter, watching him carefully.

Hoffman nodded solemnly toward the agent, his mind was racing.

"That's a very interesting list Special Agent. After hearing that single name I know just the person who fits perfectly to the crimes."

Hoffman half-smirked, he appeared very pleased with himself. He knew how to handle the situation now. He was going to soon be in complete control just where he likes it.

The other two FBI agents were walking around apartment, surveying things. Ward came back with a short brown-haired female agent, who was carrying a bloody shirt in her hand.

She gave the shirt to Carter, who examined it for a moment. Ward saw the fresh blood stains on the shirt, pointing them out to Carter. Hoffman nervously watched on, realizing that was the very shirt he wore yesterday during his trap.

Carter held the shirt closer to Hoffman.

"Is this your shirt?"

Hoffman nodded, eyeballing it.

"Yeah, that's my shirt."

Special Agents Carter and Ward looked at each other for a moment. Did the FBI really know what Hoffman did, or was Perez just messing with him? He wasn't sure himself anymore. He stood very still, watching everything play out.

This time, it was Ward who asked the question.

"Why is there freshly dried blood on your shirt? Did you have an accident of some sort? Were you attacked?"

Hoffman wasn't sure what to say to the FBI. He couldn't tell them that was the shirt he wore during his "test". He had to think up something very believable and quick.

He pondered this question for a few moments before realizing a correct answer. This would be just the thing he needed at the moment.

Hoffman appeared solemn.

"I was brutally attacked yesterday, as you can tell from my face and that shirt."

Special Agent Ward quickly began taking notes. He began to write down everything Hoffman said.

Ward flipped the page, staring at Hoffman.

"Who attacked you?"

Hoffman gently touched his face, he appeared sad and hurt.

"The number one suspect on your list, Jill Tuck."