Jenna had closed her eyes what seemed like an eternity ago. She had no desire to see herself die. She counted the seconds, the last ones granted for her life. She was screaming now, she could her it. The slick sounds of the cement against her chest, the horrible grinding feeling… and the fear. The fear was tremendous. The deadly fear. The fear convicts feel as they are escorted to the electric chair. The fear cancer patients feel as they are told they have mere months to live. The fear the unlucky fly feels as the swatter rains down upon it, sealing its fate. It felt horrible; like your brain would split in two. All of her body was engulfed in it; the feeling that the fear now was the last thing they would ever feel.
Yet it all seemed so distant now. Her mind seemed to have slowed down time and blocked out all senses as she reached the realization that she would die soon. And then all feelings seemed to fade away, her body embraced by the gentle feeling of air. "I'm dead," She thought, and then hit the ground. A crunch as something shattered. She opened her eyes tentatively, expecting to see a realm beyond comprehension: the afterlife.
The afterlife was the warehouse she died in it seemed, it appeared she would wonder the place where she died, on a separate plane of existence, for the remainder of time. She was calm now, all was calm, it was over, she had failed, but it was over. She rose quickly, and turned. The sight of her own dead body at the electrical fence no doubt would greet her. Bracing herself, she examined the fence.
But nothing was there. No charred remains, no body.
The clarity of the situation became known, and Jenna understood.
In her panic, she had rolled off the ramp. She was still alive.
Inspired and enraged, Jenna looked around, spying a camera in the corner.
"Did you see that mother fucker!" She screamed at the camera, flipping off the cameraman who was no doubt engineering this. "I made it! I fucking made it! As soon as I get out of here, I'm going to find you, and I will fuck you up you son of a bitch! I will make you wish you would have never been born at a drunken party in the backseat of a run down truck!" She screamed then, forcing all her rage out.
From behind the camera, Jigsaw managed a laugh. "Drunken party in the backseat of a run down truck," He remarked, "Did you pick up that insult while fucking your English teacher to manage a C average?" Drumming his fingers against the control panel, he began to weigh options. That insult was not taken lightly, not lightly at all. He should kill her now by activating the failsafe. He withdrew that thought immediately, though, that would be ending his game prematurely. And there was no reason to end it prematurely; as the fun had just begun.
Ben had heard The Girl's screams, at first satisfied that she was screaming her last. And then came the words. "Did you see that mother fucker!" She had hissed, "I made it! I fucking made it! As soon as I get out of here, I'm going to find you, and I will fuck you up you son of a bitch! I will make you wish you would have never been born at a drunken party in the backseat of a run down truck!" And them she howled what must have been the most horrific battle cry.
At first he had thought She knew of his presence, but then he realized she must have been shouting at Jigsaw. (Unlike The Girl, it seemed, he kept up with the news.) In any event, he was beginning to crack.
At first Ben imagined that this would be cake, no different then his assassinations. But The Girl had proved to be evasive. He wanted to live, damnit. He wanted togo rid the world of another prick, and, if time permitted, watch them flat line.
That was the best part. The instant gratification as the line that symbolized their life force slowly declined, the pleasure as it made its final plummet, climaxing in that heavenly beep. The beep that would signal his hard work successful. He could see it now, rising and falling, rising and falling… and then the plummet. That blissful plummet. And then the buzz.
"Beep," Ben said aloud, to further improve his fantasy. "Beeeeeeeeeeeep."
He would love to bring The Girl in, botch Her surgery. Oh baby, oh honey, that would be where it's at. He could imagine the perfect doom for her; contaminate the scalpel used. A cough on the blade, a sneeze, and it would be done. But She deserved worse. No, no a fitting end for her would be to shit on the scalpel. Then perhaps a sneeze and a cough. He could urinate on the scalpel as well. Oh yes, "Sorry Doc, I had Taco Bell for lunch. Yeah, took a #1 and a #2 on the equipment too. But enough about me, let's begin. Go ahead and slice her up. Slice that bitch up." He opened his eyes, now escaping from his fantasy. He thanked Jigsaw silently, thanked him for delivering his next kill on a silver platter.
He pondered what this one would be like. His Sliver Platter Kill, yes, that's the proper term for it. No, this one won't die silently, she'll suffer until her last breath. She'll fry. He walked down the corridor further to wait for his Sliver Platter Kill to-be. He could see Her frying now. Her skin blackened and smoking, all facial details melted away. "Beep," He said at the thought. "Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."