A/N: Forgive me all of you wonderful reviewers for the long delay. The writer has been somewhat out of commission for a while, but things should be getting back on track very soon. Hope you like the chapter and a special thanks to TheNextAmandaYoung, xXErineilXx, MarkHoffman, ., promghost07 and SawManiac211 for reviewing!! I love you guys! ^.^

The song lyrics used in this chapter are from Muse's "Feeling Good" and She Wants Revenge's "Tear You Apart"

Disclaimer: The Saw franchise does NOT belong to me, neither do any of its affiliates or characters.

This was NOT written by me. I claim to be the fountain-head of the idea, but this is written by my best friend, who doesn't have an account on here.

Quote of the Day:

"Tom Cruise: Twelve foot of crazy in a four foot man!"

"Timothy! Not the Thomas the Tank engine shirt! Please!" Juliet cried out, slapping her hand to her forehead.

They had all just spilled out of the car in front of Nexus, the most happening place in NoWhere"sville, USA. The blue neon lighting only served to highlight the looks of sheer horror on everyone's faces as Tim unzipped his hoodie, revealing the monstrosity beneath.

Every one else, in contrast to this, was dressed with a definite amount of nightclub class slickness.

John, looking as mysterious as ever, was wearing a floor length black trench coat. He looked every bit as imposing as a serial killer should, quiet and decorous.

Amanda had changed from her usual black-pants-and-top combo into a knee length gunmetal grey silk dress with oversized safety pins at the straps. She had a waifish charm to her that set the dress off to its full potential.

Strahm had remained more or less unchanged, in a form fitting black T-shirt, jeans and his leather jacket.

Hoffman (Still in Snake mode, not having relented Strahm's glasses yet) was in a dark blue button down shirt and black dress pants. He had added Doc Martens to this outfit on Juliet's request. She had stated that "it would scare the living Jesus out of Tim", so he was only too happy to comply.

Genevieve was looking particularly club-chic in a see through black blouse over a black lace bra, leather pants and high heels (elevating her to the height of 5"6).

Juliet had donned a tight black top under a high-waisted denim skirt coupled with black high-heeled boots.

Compared to these ensembles, Tim's T-shirt, beige khaki pants and tennis shoes were causing snide giggles and sniggers from everyone.

"Tim… why…?" Gen whimpered, her eyes widening in disgusted shock.

"I don't care what you think about m— Are you LAUGHING AT ME?" Tim screamed at Genevieve and Strahm.

"Not at all," Strahm sniggered into his fist, coughing a few times before regaining his composure.

"Good. Because I warn you, if you're making fun of me, I'll. I will. I. Uhm…" Tim trailed off, kicking at the ground with his unattractive shoes.

"You will annoy them to death, kind of like what you spent most of the afternoon trying to do to me?" Amanda remarked, rubbing her temples.

Timothy turned a weak shade of red and shoved his tiny hands into the pockets of his dorky pants.

"Everyone ready to go inside then?" John inquired, looking from person to person.

The group flocked into the dark building and towards the bar.

"Three Cosmos!" Juliet ordered, summoning the bartender.

"And two beers," Hoffman added, placing a twenty on the bar.

"A bottle of your very finest vodka, barkeep," John rasped over the pounding techno music. Everyone turned and looked at him, with simultaneous expressions of confusion. He shrugged it off, retrieved his drink and disappeared into the crowd leaving the flock to care for themselves.

"Shall we dance?" Juliet offered, looking at her two female companions.

"Sure, why not. Anything to get away from Tim. Anything. I mean it. If you want me to sell drugs in a back alley and get caught by John, I will face another life threatening trap at the gain of not having to deal with that thing," Amanda answered, draining her drink and standing.

Genevieve looked from her friends to Strahm's denim clad butt.

"I'll uh… sit this one out, ladies. But have fun!" she chirped, motioning Hoffman and Strahm to a couch.

Amanda and Juliet shrugged at each other and moved to the dance floor. Amanda had a creepy-sexy way of dancing. She moved her thin body slowly to its own beat in a mesmerizing routine that caught the eyes of many people, men and women alike. Juliet had a natural rhythm that was somewhere between high-class escort and big black woman.

Together they created this Yin-Yang kind of contrast that gave them a high percentage of male attention.

From where she stood, Juliet could see where the others sat. Tim appeared to be still at the bar, lecturing the inattentive bartender on the evils of Nationalism.

Genevieve was wedged between Hoffman and Strahm. She appeared to be leaning over to say something to Hoffman, her face millimeters from his, his hand on her waist.

Juliet stopped dead when she saw this. She motioned for Amanda to continue on and marched over to the three of them.

"Genevieve!" she motioned for her friend over the music. Genevieve stood up and walked over, looking confused.

"What's all that about?"

"All "what" about?"

"Plastering yourself to Hoffman."

"…What?"

"You were all over him dude."

"So?"

"Uh, Why?"

"You got a problem with it, dude?"

"… Not at all," Juliet huffed, returning to the dance floor with a particularly devious kind of revenge in mind.

She began to sway slowly and seductively to the new song spilling from the wall mounted speakers.

After a few minutes, she made direct eye contact with Strahm and beckoned for him to come over with a single dainty finger.

She grinned slowly at him as he approached. As soon as he was there, she stood on tiptoe so her lips were level with his ear.

"Play along," she whispered, guiding his hands to her hips. He looked down at her, uncertain for a second or two, but catching on quickly and pulling her closer to him.

They swayed against each other in perfect time, Strahm occasionally running his hands slowly up and down her sides.

The final blow was when Juliet hooked the top of her fingers over the waistband of his pants and stared directly at her best friend.

Genevieve responded by giving her friend a withering smile and "accidentally" spilling some of her Cosmo into Hoffman's lap, giving him a faux apologetic look, batting her eyelashes and dabbing at his crotch with a napkin covered hand,

Hoffman looked confusedly at Juliet who scowled in the direction of Genevieve and pulled Strahm as close as possible, leaning up to him.

"Grab my butt," she growled. He stared down at her for a second, and then complied, cupping an individual cheek in either of his large hands.

"What are you doing?!" Hoffman demanded, grabbing Genevieve by the shoulders.

"Making my best friend… jealous?" she answered tentatively, retracting her hands from his lap. He gave her a confused look, coupled with a pity-pat on the shoulder.

Genevieve heaved a sigh, rose from her seat and plodded over to Juliet, grapping her friend's thin wrist and dragging her to a less noise polluted spot, leaving a very confused Strahm behind.

"I'm sorry I pawed Hoffman."

"I'm sorry I had upright sex with Strahm."

"What?!"

"I'm joking. I'm sorry for dirty dancing with Strahm. Now, if you want to go over there and fill my spot, I'd be more than happy to go and paw Hoffman's crotch in the meantime."

"Deal."

"I love you, babe."

"I love you too, hon."

And as simple as that, the girls parted ways with a simple, inconspicuous slap on the butt.

Genevieve slipped up against Strahm, he smirked down at her, pulled her in close and they commenced dirty dancing with each other.

Juliet slinked over to Hoffman and sat next to him, sharing his beer and using him as a leg rest.

Eventually, the group reunited and all sat bundled together on the couch. Juliet sat on Hoffman's lap, taking advantage of the situation to feel up as much of him as possible. It appeared that he was subtly doing the same.

Genevieve was straddling Strahm, and they appeared to be whispering things to each other. Juliet knew they must be of a heavy sexual content because Genevieve, with her mind of pure smut, was blushing.

Amanda sprawled on the rest of the couch, leaving Timothy to sit on the floor, grumpy at the bartender who hadn't listened to his drabble.

The music changed to some cheesy 70"s beat and the entire group watched in sheer horror as three things happened.

Firstly, John had reappeared and shed his cloak revealing the worst and most severe 70"s attire any of them had ever seen. His bell-bottom jeans went out for at least a metre and his shirt was so bright in the flickering lights it made their eyes hurt.

Second, he began to move his arms and legs sporadically in what must have been the hottest dance of the 70"s but is today known as a "seizure".

Thirdly… everyone on the dance floor joined in.

Behind him, John had an army of 100+ people doing the same embarrassing dance as him.

"Oh hell to the no!" Juliet screamed, shielding her eyes.

"We are out of here!" Genevieve added, grabbing her best friend by the wrist.

The rest of the followed swiftly, all the way to the car where they sat in silent denial of what had just happened until John emerged and unlocked the car.

He was wearing his black cloak again, and minus a slight flush to his cheeks, he looked as psychotically serene as ever. He stared at each of them before getting into the car and slamming the door.

"Everyone cool with pretending that never happened?" Amanda mumbled, biting at a nail.

The chorus of disturbed looks and slight nods was all the confirmation she needed.

***

"You know, I always did have a desk fetish," Gen remarked as Strahm ripped off her blouse, pulled her pants off and fell onto the bed with her. Strahm grunted sexually in response, assisting her with the removal of his shirt and pants, which were, unceremoniously, flung the floor.

Down the hall in their softly lit room, Hoffman and Juliet were engaged in a similar (albeit not quite as aggressive) activity.

He picked her up with ease and placed her on the bed, sliding off her clothes smoothly. She required little help from him in returning the favor, her small hands quickly making short work of his apparel. The only noises they made were heavy breathing and the occasional pleasurable moan.

Further down the hall in his violently pink room, Timothy was brooding.

He didn't like John, he didn't like Amanda, he definitely didn't like Strahm and he hated Snake with a passion.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Snake. He thinks he's so hot and cool just because he's six-foot tall and buff and got really nice sk—hang about! I hate him! I hate him from his full lips to his sculpted butt! Wait a second, why can't I think of any bad stuff. Oh yeah! I hate the fact that he's dating Julie! God, it burns me up to think that she's being… violated by that man! Oh God, who knows what kind of disgusting things he makes her do! He probably even touches her! The horror!

Timothy continued along this path in his mind for quite some time, all the while scrunching up sections of the pink doona cover in his little fists.

Suddenly, from where he sat he heard a melody. As he strained his ears, the melody turned into a beat and then became a song.

By the time he had opened his door, he could hear faint lyrics.

"Yeah freedom is mine! And you know how I feel. It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me!"

He followed the noise down the hall until he was standing outside the door to room 206.

From outside the door, he heard what sounded like slightly muffled cries.

Oh no! He's hurting her! He thought, pushing open he door to a vastly different scene to what he imagined.

In his mind he had imagined a mean looking Snake standing over a cowering Juliet, who would run over to him and hide behind him as he battled off the monstrosity once and for all.

He now saw two figures on the bed, facing away from him, moving together, emitting moans and cries of pleasure.

He then realized these two figures were Hoffman and Juliet.

Having sex.

Wild, loud sex.

He stood rooted to the spot for a second before whimpering and backing slowly out of the room, pulling the door shut softly.

Without thinking, he pelted down the hall to Genevieve's room, hoping to find her awake and eagerly awaiting his friendship.

As he approached her door, out of breath and flushed, he heard music and accompanying lyrics from her room too.

"I want to hold you close. Soft breasts, beating heart. As I whisper in your ear. I want to fucking tear you apart…"

He was intending to fling open the door and lecture Genevieve on how horrible her sex-centric lyrics were, and how the evils of sex were spreading Nationalism to its evil core.

Instead, he heard her and Strahm screaming.

Oh God, they'd better not be fighting. I hate fighting. He turned the handle and pushed open the door, greeted by the sight of the totally bare body of Strahm from the back, Genevieve's legs wrapped around him and the sound of their orgasmic screams.

He slammed the door shut and ran the rest of the way down the hall, down the stairs, through the lobby and out the door, continuing down the path leading to the hotel.

"You're all sick! Sick! Sick! Sick!" he panted, keeling over from lack of breath outside the walls of the hotel.

John and Amanda leant on the balcony, observing this with smug smiles on their faces.

"Is that sane or normal?" Amanda enquired, gesturing down towards Timothy.

"No." Replied John, raising his eyebrows at the boy.

"But is it entertaining?"

"Oh yes."