Heeeey, all of our lovely readers! Mwah! Heh, well, this chappie was fun to write, it's just so so SO much fun to get into Dr. Larry Gordon's head! And unless you're a writer, like me, I don't think you'd understand why. But, well, it's just a lot of fun. So anyways, I hope u all like this chappie! Please R&R! Thanks, my lovely faithful readers! Mwah! Heh...ok now on with the chappie.

Chapter 7: Ring, Ring

Gordon was still in his hospital bed, chained in plastic I.V.-tube-like tubes. Heh. More like plastic chains. Holding him prisoner in this bed of 'healing'. Are they kidding? The only healing that could help him now would be the healing of his soul. And his soul could only be healed by one thing: Bloody Revenge.

Larry knew he only had one option to get what he desired so, so badly (bloody revenge). He had to break free of his chains.

'Heh.' He thought to himself. 'How ironic. Ironic that I had to break free of real chains to end up here, only to break free of more chains.'

With that, Gordon raised himself up. He ripped the tubes and all of the other new-fangled medical equipment off of him. When he stood he almost fell as he yelped out in pain. He had to quickly sit back down on the bed.

'Hmf. Forgot about my goddamn foot-well, lack thereof.' He wanted to smile, partly at his joke, but also partly at the fact that at such a dire moment in his life, he should forget about something so trivial as not even having a foot anymore. He didn't even feel pain until he stood (or attempted to stand) on it. Perhaps it was because he felt more alive now than ever. He was taking (or trying to take) the first step towards his Bloody revenge.

Larry got up and eased on to his foot, leaning most of his weight on it. He was able to put some weight on his stump. Very carefully, he limped to the door and walked out, never looking back.

Meanwhile, back where John and Amanda where living, John was reading over his plans and sketches to make sure everything was perfect while Amanda was making final preparations/packing necessary tools. The pair was almost ready to take off in their helicopter and make their way to the building where their victims were to carry out the final plans. Amanda was staring at John with a smile on her face.

"What are you looking at?" he inquired.

"Oh nothing." She smirked.

"No, seriously," he sounded a bit annoyed that she wouldn't tell him. "Is it my hair, or is there something on my face? Oh! It must be my shirt, I spilled something on it, that's it, isn't it?"

"J! Relax. Why are you freaking out? I was just thinking how adorable you look when you are busy with your plans. You are so passionate about teaching people to appreciate life, like how you were passionate in teaching me to appreciate my life instead of throwing it away on drugs. Or like how you were passionate in teaching Lawrence Gordon to appreciate his life and not to neglect his wife or his daughter by focusing on his work that distracted him and diverted all his time towards his laptop computer away from his wife and daughter and his life."

"Huhhhh." John sighed. "I'm sorry, Amanda, I'm just feeling anxious. I don't know why, but I have a bad feeling that something is going to go all wrong."

Amanda rubbed his shoulders, when at that very moment the telephone rang.

Ring, ring.

They both looked at each other and then at the cordless telephone.

Ring, ring.

John released himself from Amanda who was now tightly gripping his shoulders instead of massaging them. He went over to the telephone and looked at the caller ID. It read 'unknown number'. He hated when it read that. What was the point of having caller ID if it couldn't even identify who was calling? He could just as well say that it was an unknown number without the use of a machine. Sometimes modern technology was more of a pain than a help; at least that's what John thought. His angry, internal rant about technology was interrupted, however, when Amanda appeared at his side.

"Should we…?" her question faded, but John and her were very close, so he knew what she was thinking. He nodded. Amanda reached for the telephone, but John grabbed her hand.

"Wait!" he exclaimed. She looked puzzled. "Allow me to answer."

He picked up the receiver. There was a moment of silence before John managed to say 'Hello'. A voice came from the other end. John held the telephone a little bit away from his ear so Amanda could listen also. He would have put it on speakerphone, but then the voice on the other end tended to come in broken up and hard to hear and John had a feeling that he didn't want to miss any of this call. The two listened closely.

"Hello, Jigsaw, I presume?" said the voice.

"Who is this?" John demanded in a stern, yet strong voice.

"And Amanda is right by your side, I presume."

Suddenly, Amanda gave a shriek. John looked at her with concern and worry.

"I recognize this voice," She whispered. "It's Lawrence Gordon!"

"Who is that? I can hear you! Just as I presumed. Amanda is there, right beside you." The unmistakable voice of Dr. Larry Gordon said.

"What…who…how-" John was cut off.

"You of all people should know, Jigsaw. I believe it was you who asked 'how much blood would you shed to stay alive?'. Well I have shed a lot of blood to stay alive. And a lot of tears. Tell me, Jigsaw; was that also part of your plan? Your plan to teach me to appreciate life? Did you also want me to shed tears of pain? Because of you I have lost my own foot. I CUT OFF MY FOOT GOD DAMN YOU!" Amanda winced as Larry screamed this through the phone; John however, had remained still, listening intently. "I swear I shall make you pay for what you have done to me, Jigsaw."

Amanda had lost all the color in her face, not that there was much to begin with, as she spent most of her time hidden inside with John. John, on the other hand, chuckled.

"And what exactly are you going to do, Lawrence, with no foot and all?" John asked mockingly.

"Do you think this is a joke? A silly little game? Well, unlike you, Jigsaw, I don't play games. This is for real. I know something that you don't want me to know. Something that besides me, only you and Amanda know."

For a moment John thought that perhaps he was referring to his and Amanda's more-than-friends relationship, but before he could reply Gordon continued in a deep voice:

"I know where you are keeping all those people."

Amanda gasped and John's eyes grew wide. 'How could he possibly know about that?' John thought. Although this was not a good situation, John tried to play it cool.

"What people?" He asked innocently.

"Don't play stupid, Jigsaw. The people. You may refer to them as the 'players' in your latest sick game. But I know the truth, having been in one of your 'games' before. Those people are doing anything but 'playing'." Larry snapped back.

'Damn.' John thought. He looked at Amanda, who shook her head. It was no use. Gordon obviously knew a lot.

"So you know where I am keeping them. Big whoop. What are you going to do about it?" As John said this he reminded himself of a bully provoking another child on the playground, daring the other child to tattle to the teacher, knowing that the child wouldn't dare.

"Want to know what I'm going to do about it?" Larry asked.

"Yes, that's what I just asked."

"I'm going to help them. And not the 'help' that you offer. I'm going to give them real help. That building is a death trap, but I am going to help them out of it. I am going to save their lives. And there is nothing you can do about it, unless of course, you beat me there and kill them before I can get there." Larry seemed to be challenging them, John noticed, and John was not about to let Gordon get the upper hand.

"If it's a race to the building you want, it's a race you'll get." John accepted the challenge. Amanda was clinging to his arm.

"You'll be sorry, Jigsaw, that you ever messed with me. I will win this race across the city and I will get my revenge. My…bloody revenge." With that, Dr. Gordon hung up the telephone. John did the same and turned to face Amanda's face.

"Well," She began, "What happens now?"

"Darling," John said, "the race…has begun."