Chapter Rating: R for violence

Timeline: This takes place mostly before Seth's trap

Chapter 3 "Vigilante"

"He didn't deserve a chance! He was an animal!" –Hoffman's opinion of Seth

Weeks after the incident that dominated the news and put everyone under close scrutiny, the number of articles exploiting the flaws of Mark's department dwindled down. They had picked up on a new, more shocking story. Mark pegged the latest article by Pamela Jenkins onto his board.

Murder, or rehabilitation?

She had mentioned the department, not yet stating her opinion on the way they were handling the case. "It was too premature to know," she claimed. The slight reference to his department and the infamy of the reporter were not the only reasons his attention was drawn to the article. The MO of this new killer, this man the press had coined "Jigsaw," intrigued him.

He stared at the headline, embedding the words into his mind. He reviewed the content of the article again, focusing especially on the parts where it mentioned his victims are those that do not appreciate life. Mark's thoughts lingered on that single detail, and an idea came to him, an epiphany that was the result of his extensive obsession over Seth and what happened to his sister.

He consumed himself with the idea for weeks, not wanting to act rashly. He was getting comfortable with the proposal that once shocked even him. It didn't help that he still saw Angelina's face in every dead woman at every crime scene since her passing. That he couldn't bury the horror because it was all around him. It was his job. It was his life.

Every time he remembered that night…

"Leave me alone!" he had screamed. Only he barely remembered forming words. The sickening sound of his sobbing, almost an inhuman noise, was the sound that accompanied that memory. He recalled stroking her hair, crying over her body, kissing her hand, seeing the looks of pity from his fellow officers as they tried to restrain him from the crime scene, and feeling coldness radiating from her skin that seeped into him and never seemed to completely leave, even now.

That was why every spare moment had been devoted to building the perfect machine that he would use to get his revenge. That coldness had driven him to this level of obsession. He spent hours reading and experimenting with new materials. Everything he needed was easily accessible from local hardware stores. He bought a little here, and a little there, so that he wouldn't look conspicuous. He looked around as he browsed, wondering if he wasn't standing next to Jigsaw himself. The thought intrigued him, but he didn't dwell on it. If Jigsaw did get his supplies here, surely he had the same concerns of remaining unobtrusive as Mark did. A slight grin spread across his face, generated by the ironic thought that he was imitating the man he was hunting, thinking the same way, performing the same actions. But their motives were entirely different, and that simple fact was what enabled Mark to continue.

Much sooner than Mark originally expected, he realized the time had come. He had the stage set: the fake Jigsaw video, the rigged trap, even the hole he'd drilled in the door so that he could observe everything went to plan. Everything was ready, except him. He still had to mentally prepare himself. Not that it was an issue of morality any longer. By seeing that Seth's new girlfriend facing the same inevitable, doomed fate as his sister, he managed to convince himself it was no longer an act of revenge, but the only way to free someone innocent by destroying something wicked.

Although deep inside, he knew it was also a chance to redeem himself for not saving Angelina.

A couple days later, he finally made the decision to do it. He wasn't sure exactly when he made the choice. It seemed as though he'd already started setting up the trap before he'd fully made up his mind, as though his subconscious was trying to coax him into a decision. Was the decision made when he finished the trap, or when he started making it, or maybe before then, when he was buying supplies? Or even before that, when a helpless woman opened the door to Seth's apartment? Maybe it was before that, when he saw Angelina's fatal wounds…

After reflecting, he realized it didn't matter. Maybe I am an instrument of fate, he thought, although he'd prefer to think he did his work on behalf of justice as well. As he mused on the idea, he thought that, as much as this sounded like a cop out to his own mind, maybe he never had a choice at all. And although he couldn't logically explain why it was that way, he feltthat was the right explanation. Maybe the grim reaper doesn't pick his victims, but is just following orders from higher up. That is what he felt like. That is the persona he was taking, the character whose role he was exploring. He was fate…and justice. An officer is always justice. And in this case, fate was death.

After deciding he would go through with it, the "when" part of his plan fell into place. Mark had done his homework. After a bit of on-line stalking via social networking websites, he'd discovered Marie would be visiting her mother on her 50th birthday. It was some huge family gathering that Marie had complained. "Seth never bothers to go to. I suppose I should consider myself lucky that he's letting me leave the house this time to go."

Mark leaned back and stared at his computer. He finally had the date set. It was so perfect, as if fate was subordinating itself to his will. He put his hand in his jacket pocket, his finger gliding against the syringe he would soon be using. The feeling finally washed over him. The feeling of knowing it was time.

(The Night of the Kidnapping)

Mark thought he would have the upperhand. He had a gun ready, a syringe in his pocket, and he would be wide awake versus Seth's half-awake state at 3 AM.

But Mark did not expect to encounter a fully conscious man. Rather than freak out at the masked intruder in his home, he immediately took action. He grabbed a large knife from the kitchen and lunged for Mark. He grabbed Seth and threw him on the ground.

Seth fumbled the knife to the floor. The sound of metal clanking against the tile reverberated. Mark tried to grab the sedative stored in his pocket, but never got the opportunity to reach into his jacket. Seth knocked him onto the ground.

He threw Seth off of him and grabbed the gun from his belt. His gloved hand clinched the weapon, his index finger hovering over the trigger.

They both stood still, less than a few feet apart, anticipating the each other's next action.

"What do you want?" Seth asked. His hands were in the hair, spread out as though he were a surrendering criminal caught in the act. Seth had no idea how ironic his gesture was.

Mark remained silent, uncertain that he should speak and thus give himself away. He was a vigilante dispensing justice; to take off his mask or speak and show Seth who he was would be making it about revenge. While he was determining a new way to get Seth out of the apartment since he couldn't get close enough to administer the drug, Seth attacked him and knocked him over. Mark collapsed under Seth's weight, and the gun flew across the kitchen. Mark tried to crawl over to it, but the knife was closer, and Seth managed to obtain it before Mark could get to the gun. Seth tried to penetrate the knife into Mark's chest, but he moved just in time to avoid Seth's blade. Mark wasn't as lucky the second time.

"Fuck!" he screamed. The knife slashed his chest, not deep enough to cause severe injury, but certainly not superficial enough to avoid pain and inevitable scarring. However, in Seth's attempt to injure Mark, the knife had been flung across the room. Mark took this opportunity to go for the gun. As he grasped the weapon, he immediately reacted in defense. He pointed the gun at Seth, but misfired. Seth tried to take the gun from Mark. They struggled for possession of the weapon. Seth got on top and put all of his weight into knocking the gun out of Mark's grasp, but Mark threw him off. He saw Seth looking at him, helplessly sprawled on the floor. Fighting the urge to murder him right there, he lowered his arm and grabbed the needle out of his pocket.

In the end…he'll suffer more this way. He doesn't deserve to go out that easily.

Mark jabbed the needle into Seth's side, and watched as he went limp under the influence of the drug.

(Later that Night)

He knew he was more excited than a vigilante should be. He'd accepted his actions only under the excuse that they were noble, because he was saving Marie. But he couldn't resist the sheer thrill he got out of seeing Seth laying on the table, and knowing that Seth was doomed. Knowing that Seth didn't know his own fate, that he thought he still had a chance, made Mark even more gleeful inside. He wondered if serial killers got the same thrill from their victims. He wondered especially if this is how Jigsaw felt.

But it's different. Because I am defending the innocent, not hurting them.

He heard Seth's moaning and yelling. He pressed his face closer to the door to get a bigger view. Seth struggled in his chains. Mark pressed the switch that would start the video. He watched Seth's horrified expression as he realized what was going on. He started shouting pathetic excuses and lies, saying that her death was an accident. Mark snarled in disgust. He is such a pathetic human being. He doesn't deserve life. If anyone deserves to be tested by Jigsaw anyway, it's him.

Mark half expected Seth would be too frantic and out of his mind to do what the tape said, not that it mattered anyway. But despite the fear, Seth had enough awareness to obey the tape and destroy his hands, the hands that destroyed the lives of so many, including Mark's. After Angelina's death, he'd had nothing left.

The blade continued to descend.

Seth just finished destroying his other hand. He was looking around helplessly as the blade continued to lower.

His screaming grew louder, more frantic as he realized it wasn't working. Something had gone wrong.

The blade fell low enough to finally strike Seth's abdomen. He let out an even louder scream, one that reverberated throughout the entire room, giving an almost haunting vibe as it echoed. Seconds later, guts and other internal organs flung across the room. Blood poured out of his stomach, seeping into the table and floor.

"I did what I was supposed to," he whispered, dying in confusion and an all-consuming violent pain rippling through his body. He looked at the door and saw Mark's blue eye staring. It was impossible to know if he recognized Mark, but it sent a chill through him anyway. He quickly turned around, unable to look at the carnage anymore. He expected relief to wash over him, but nothing came. No relief, yet no regret either. It was as though he had finally taken his vigilante status to a whole new level. Although he had gotten his revenge, and Mark could not deny that was a big part of his plan, perhaps that even initiated his whole scheme, he felt a numb, paralyzing sympathy gnawing at his heart. Seth deserved to die. Using Jigsaw's MO was the perfect cover. And most of all, Seth deserved it.

Tonight he would have to drink the incident out of his mind. Tomorrow it would all make sense again.