Chapter Two

Doctor No More

"Jigsaw's Spree of Torture Ends" was the headline flashing on the television screen, just under a newsman speaking of the incident. An older man sitting in his living room widened his eyes as the far too familiar name caught his eye and ears. Going for his crutches, Lawrence Gordon hurried over to the screen, getting as close as possible. A wide, smile spread across his face.

Jigsaw had been found! According to the news, his body had been discovered severely beaten. The man triumphed at the news bulletin and burst into a laughing fit. For weeks he'd been working sleepless trying to catch the man who ruined his life. Before awakening in that hell hole of a room, he'd had a sweet, promising life. He had his wife and child, a high paying job as a well respected doctor, and an exceptional reputation.

His enemy put a quick end to that. The hospital heard about his nightly visit to see a non-patient, and told him to take some time off. Also hearing of his stunt, Alison, his wife, had left him on the spot, taking her daughter Diana with her. He now spent his days in a crappy, apartment searching for any leads on Jigsaw, wanting nothing more than the man dead. If only he had been the one to kill him, he would've made sure he was put any much more pain than he obviously had been in. Regardless, Lawrence planned on meeting the one who took care of the bastard and congratulating him.

Leaving his place by the television, the one-legged man gripped his crutches and headed out his apartment door. He wasn't quite sure where he was headed, but what he did know was that it was wherever there was information about Jigsaw. Who killed him and why were they provoked to do so? Lawrence had many questions he wanted answered, and he wanted them answered soon.

Another familiar face to the good doctor was also watching the same news program, but this lovely face shared the exact opposite reaction to Gordon. Here the god damn media was treating her mentor like human scum, calling him a killer and many other filthy names. John had never killed a single person in his entire life. Amanda was in pure disgust with what she was seeing. Leave it to people, to take advantage of the story of a great, wise man and make it sick for their own nasty profit.

John was not a killer, he was a savior. Those people, his so called "murder victims", simply didn't want their life enough to be part of this world, so John showed them that. Before her own encounter with his strict teachings, she spent her days on heroin, practically dead to the world. John showed her life, how precious it was, and how people didn't appreciate what they had. The man changed her life, and now hearing all these people celebrate at the news of his death made her want to put them in the same mechanism she'd been in and force them to dig through another's body for a little key. She was purely sickened, but she had to remember John said it would be like this.

"Ignore them," he instructed her. "In the end, they will die undeserving, and you shall be immortal. You, my dear, are so grateful to have your life, so grateful that you would do whatever it takes to keep it. When I die, you will take my place and teach them how to appreciate what they have. Only you, Amanda, will know who is deserving."

A smile crept across her face after hearing his voice again, even if it was just a flashback. It was enough to get her to turn the television off and head back to her office. There were plenty of sketches she needed to finish, and several more ideas she needed to produce for her newest game. Picking up her pencil, she stared at the paper for a moment before becoming satisfied with a sudden thought and began sketching.

The bar was slow that night, not nearly as busy as it was on a normal day. Kerry wasn't sure what was so special about this one as she took another drink of her beer. Feeling a lot less tight, she pulled the band out of her hair, letting the brown curls fall down the her shoulders. So Jigsaw was dead? There was no doubt in her mind Eric had killed him, but the real question was, where was Eric?

The last time she saw him, he'd left with the killer and headed for the house where Daniel was being kept. Only the thing was, the kid had been in the same room with them the whole time, locked in a safe. She'd lost radio contact with Eric soon after he entered the house and that was the last she'd heard from him. Teams had searched the house but found nothing at all. It was completely empty of any signs of life.

Even in death, the Jigsaw killer left her puzzled. Only he knew where Eric was and he obviously wasn't talking. She could only hope Eric had grown angry and was off alone somewhere in the city. If only he could know his son was okay, then he might come back but back to what? His secret had gotten out. Even though it came out of Jigsaw's mouth, everyone had realized that night what Eric had done, planting evidence to convict innocent people just so he could add another name to his reputation.

The bar televisions were all the same thing. Pictures of the sheet-covered body of Jigsaw being transported out on a gurney kept being run constantly, only revealing his mutilated face. Kerry barely recognized him as the man they had hostage only last night. Even though he was a terrible man, what Eric had done to him was horrible on his part and reflected on his career as a detective.

It was still a relief to know the investigation was over. She's spent what had seemed like all her career on this case. Her mind had focused on it for so long that it was still all she could think about, even thought it'd been over for several hours. There would be no more getting up in the mornings wondering if they found another game room, no more brutal scenes of graphic violence from a sadistic mind, and no more spending every day dawn to dusk with Eric Matthews. Even with so many pieces of the puzzle missing, things felt so much easier to Kerry.

Taking one last drink, she finished her beer and tossed it in the garbage before leaving the bar. Walking out the door, she felt a sudden drop in temperature from the freezing streets. Hugging her sweater, she headed down the sidewalk for her car, not expecting to see a familiar face walk by. She knew his face but would not recall exactly who the crutched-man was until she was streets away in her car. It was Dr. Lawrence Gordon, the guy previously under suspicion of the killings… with one leg.

The city morgue was just a few buildings down as the crippled man staggered down the sidewalk. Lawrence was good friends with the manager there, seeing him at the hospital about once a week, and could only hope he would get some information out of him. Passing a woman on the way, he could've sworn she looked familiar, but right now she wasn't ringing a bell. Not worrying too much about it, he let the thought out of his head.

Gordon entered the doors to the morgue, heading down the hall to the office labeled Dr. Kirk Tate. A man sat at a desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper as he looked up at Lawrence. Taking off his glasses, he stared in awe, noticing his friend had lost a limb since the last time he'd seen him.

"Lawrence, what happened to you," Tate immediately rose from his desk.

"It's, uh, a long story," Lawrence sighed, balancing his crutches. "I wondered if you could do me a favor, Kirk. I was wondering if you had a body come in earlier."

"My friend, I've had many bodies come in earlier," Dr. Tate chuckled. "Perhaps, you could be a little more specific."

Lowering his head, Lawrence debated whether to say it or not, worried that Kirk would run him out of his morgue as soon as the name left his mouth. His voice dropped to a low and silent tone.

"Jigsaw."

Tate's smile faded quickly off his face, glancing to the back room. Biting the rim of his glasses, he knew that he wasn't supposed to give any information about the man to anyone, but he'd known Lawrence for a while and the man was logical. He had to have some kind of reason for wanting to know such a thing.

"Ah yes, John Kramer… well," Tate hesitated. "He was brought in several hours ago, dead of course. He'd been beaten very brutally, more than a man his age could take. Under oath, I cannot give you a name, but it was one of the detectives. They said his boy was in the game, so he took some drastic measures and there you have it, the end of Jigsaw."

Lawrence would try his hardest to get a name out of his friend, but Dr. Tate just couldn't say it at the fear of losing his job. If the media got a hold of it like they'd gotten everything else, it would be the end of him, so Lawrence was forced to leave with the only bit of information he could get. So it looked like ol' Jigsaw went a little too far with his game, as if he hadn't already, and made a big mistake. They called him the perfect killer. Lawrence scoffed at the thought. Jigsaw was anything but perfect. He was a sick bastard in his eyes, a sick, dead bastard.

It was very late, so the ex-doctor started back home, worn out from searching for a lost cause. Why worry anymore? The full story would be on the news in a few weeks knowing the media, who were running around town trying to get their hands on anything and everything. Maybe he could start life back up again, try to get another chance with Alison. Sighing he knew that was near impossible too. Heading up the elevator to his apartment, he figured things would start turning out okay. As long as there was no more Jigsaw, he figured his life would take a new turn.

In a downtown area, police had found something they never expected to see again. In an isolating room, under an abandoned house, a young man was found. The enormous amount of blood he was lying in and the ridiculously large cuts on his arms proved he had bled to death. In one of his hands, he clutched a key tightly, the key that could've saved his life if he'd gotten it only seconds earlier. The cops looked at each other puzzled.

"They found the guy last night, right?" one of them spoke. "Well, judging by his looks, this kid hadn't been in here but a few hours. Whoever they found last night did not kill this boy."