Alright guys, this intro is gonna be pretty long, so bear with me. This will probably be my last announcement until the end of this fanfic.
I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that this is my second-to-last chapter :(. After this, there will be another chapter and a short epilogue, which will be told in the typical Saw fashion (I'd suggest playing Hello Zep-the Saw theme-while reading the epilogue to make it that much more epic :D).
Anyway, on to the good news. The good news is that I'm planning on writing some one-shot Saw crossovers. However, I need some ideas for them. I have a few ideas for some crossovers I want to do, but I want to hear what you guys think first. Suggest a show, book, anything that you would like to see be put in a Saw crossover.
But with every Saw-related-thing, there are rules...
1. I'm only gonna write a story about something I know a lot about. You can suggest whatever you want, but if I don't know anything about it, I won't write about it. Sorry!
2. You have to be willing to have some characters die. (Need I remind you about 99.9% of the Saw franchise?) If you do not want a certain character(s) to die, PM me and I'll see what I can do.
Thanks for reading all the way through this! If you made it to the end, make sure to put the word Scrabble somewhere in your review, because Jigsaw likes games XD. And so I know that at least SOME of you read this monster of an intro. Thanks again!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Saw franchise
"I can't believe you actually did it."
I didn't turn away from the syringe I was filling when I replied.
"Hatred can do a lot to people." I set the syringe down and started filling the other one. "So, how many tests of yours have I passed?"
"Three."
"Three?" I started placing the syringes in the collar.
"You passed the first one when you didn't get killed, you passed the second one when you didn't strike out at your father, and you passed the third one when you went through with putting your father in a trap."
I turned towards Mark, trap in hand. "You gonna help me with this or what?"
"I think I'll choose the 'or what'."
Mark smirked and I stuck my tongue out at him.
"Oh, real mature."
"You're one to talk." I shook my head, picking up a third syringe and handing it to Hoffman. "I'll distract him. All you need to do is inject him. Do you know how to work a syringe?"
"No. I think I need to practice on you." Mark lunged at me, jabbing the syringe in my neck.
"Do it," I hissed. "I dare you."
He hesitated, then ripped the syringe out of my neck. I rubbed the sore spot.
"I hate you," I spat.
"Love you too." Hoffman followed me outside. It was a cold night. Clouds covered the moon.
We walked in silence for a few blocks. Then we turned the corner and I held out my hand.
"He's just down there. I'm gonna go talk to him and you sneak up behind him."
I walked up to Donnie. He looked over at me and smiled.
"Hey, what's up Puzzle Piece?" He called. I cringed, knowing the hell I was about to put him through.
See, when I lived on the street, Donnie was like a father to me. He'd give me food and protection and, in return, I'd help him sell his drugs.
That was about as good of a relationship as I could get.
He's actually the one who came up with my nickname. We were just talking one night and I said that I felt like a puzzle piece missing its puzzle. From then on, he started to call me puzzle piece. Now that I look back on it, the nickname is childish and stupid, but it was all that I had that wasn't my father's.
"Uh, hi Donnie." Detach yourself from all emotion. I reminded myself. Never get emotionally involved.
"What's been happening?" He asked. I shrugged.
Donnie's strong. He can get through this. He'll pass.
"Oh, nothing much. I've just been hanging out on my own for awhile."
"Still holdin' on?"
"Oh yeah. I'm doing better than ever."
Donnie must've seen how tense I was. "Hey, kid. What's wrong?" He asked. I saw Mark sneaking up behind him.
"I'm sorry, Donnie," I said as Mark started to inject him. "It's for your own good."
"You knew him?"
I had helped Mark drag Donnie back to the warehouse. Now we were putting the collar on him.
"Yeah," I replied.
"And you still let me inject him?"
I nodded and Mark shook his head.
"You will never cease to impress me."
"You're supposed to detach from all emotion," I said, adjusting the collar one last time before I locked it. "It's the..."
"Rule," Mark finished. "Why does John call these things games? Does he think it will make them any less threatening?"
"Life is a game." I started to cut open Donnie's arm and stitch the key inside. "Sometimes people need to be taught the rules. That's where we come in."
Mark didn't say anything. He just watched as I finished stitching up Donnie's arm, then helped me strap him to a chair and set the timer up.
"Here." I handed Mark the tape we recorded earlier that day, then grabbed the bucket full of bleach we had brought down and started to clean up the blood with a rag. Mark put the tape in the TV and made sure it worked before rewinding the tape and turning the TV off.
"Come on, lets go. Before he wakes up." I grabbed the bucket and rag and left the room. Mark bolted the door behind us.
"I'd say we have about half an hour before he wakes up," Mark said. I nodded in agreement.
"You start it this time." I handed Mark the remote for the TV. Mark took it and stuck it in his pocket. "I'm gonna go help John with the finishing touches to Amanda's game."
I turned away before Mark could reply.
"Hey John," I greeted when I saw him sitting at his desk.
"Hey Puzzle."
"Ugh, don't call me that anymore," I said, kneeling on the ground next to him. "It's childish. And besides, my father is dead. It doesn't matter anymore."
I got a little annoyed as I saw an amused glimmer in John's eyes.
"Okay, Pamela. Why don't you test out the reverse bear trap?"
I picked up the trap and sat cross-legged on the floor, setting the trap in front of me.
"It needs an extra gear on the right side," I told John after I had tested it a few times without success. I set the trap back on John's desk. "It should be okay after that."
John nodded. "Alright. Can you..."
"Pam."
I jumped as Mark spoke behind me.
"What?" I asked, turning to face him.
"Im so sorry." I could see the contempt in his eyes. "Donnie failed his test."
"Already?" I asked. "He wasn't supposed to wake up yet!" I ran away from Mark and John, tears welling in my eyes. I didn't care if they saw that I was emotionally attached to Donnie. I didn't care anymore.
I knelt next to Donnie, who was laying on the ground. Not dead, but as good as dead.
"Pamela?"
"Go away." Don't cry. Don't cry.
"You knew him?" John knelt next to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.
"Yeah," I sniffed. Whatever you do, don't cry.
"It's okay to cry."
Needless to say, I was shocked.
"Don't get emotionally attached," I mumbled. "That's the rule."
"Do you want me to leave you alone?" John asked. I nodded, and he stood up and left. Only then did I allow myself to cry.
I glanced down at Donnie's motionless body, then took a second look.
"Wait a minute." I said aloud, wiping the tears from my eyes. "This doesn't look right."
Donnie's body, at first glance, looked like he had just failed his test. I don't know if his body was placed weird or what, but I knew that something wasn't right. I decided to take a closer look.
I examined the chair he was tied to and noticed that his restraints, which he was supposed to break through himself, were simply untied. They didn't seem damaged or frayed at all, like they would if Donnie had broken through them.
I walked over to where Donnie supposedly "failed". He was laying right in front of the tools we gave him to cut his arm with. When Donnie was able to grab the tools, the timer should've gone off. I checked Donnie's hand. In it was a scalpel, which I knew was impossible. The sedatives loosened up his body, so he should've dropped the scalpel. Also, his arm had one clean cut in it. Donnie's good at keeping his cool, but not that good. There would be stab marks, and the cut would be more jagged.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
I spun around. "You killed him," I hissed.
"Technically, no." Mark smiled. "He's not dead yet."
"But he will be, if Amanda decides to win her game," I said, contemplating hitting Mark, but deciding against it. "What do you want from me?"
"Stay out of my way," Mark growled, "or John will be the next one to die."
I started to walk away, not wanting Mark to see the tears running down my face. "I'm not leaving."
"You don't have to leave. You just have to stay out of my way."
"Hi."
I looked up, seeing a new face looking down at me as I made some finishing touches to my project.
"Amanda, right?" I asked. The girl nodded. "So." I looked back down at my sketch. "You won your game."
"You don't sound too happy about that."
"That was my buddy you brutally murdered," I grumbled.
"You're the one who put a key in his stomach," Amanda pointed out. "I didn't want to kill him, you know."
A little bit of hostility, but no anger yet. I noted.
"Yeah, yeah," I sighed. "You did whatever you had to to survive. Who was he, your boyfriend?"
"He was my drug dealer," Amanda said. "My boyfriend is dead."
"Wonderful," I mumbled.
Amanda was silent for a second, then she spoke. "I don't know why you're being so angry towards me. I have as much of a right to be here as you do, kid."
I looked back up at Amanda, contemplating whether I could trust her or not. I decided that I could and smiled. "Sorry about that," I said. "I was giving you a sort of...initiation, if that's what you want to call it." Looking back down at my sketch, I made a few adjustments, then flipped it over and started making notes on the two files I had laying open on my desk.
"What are you working on?" Amanda asked.
"Our next game," I replied.
"Cool." Amanda seemed like a pretty excitable person. I wondered how long that would last.
"How do you do this all the time?" Amanda gasped, ripping off her mask.
"You get used to it." I helped Amanda load Adam's body into the back of our car, then climbed into the passenger side. She drove the car to our little "hideout".
"Just knowing the hell that we're about to put these guys through..."
"Trust me, the feeling goes away," I reassured. "It helps to detach yourself emotionally."
"Does it ever get easier?" She asked. I shrugged.
"Yeah, I guess."
When we got there, I helped her carry Adam in and chain him to the pipe in the bathroom. The guys had already brought Lawrence and chained him to a pipe on the opposite end of the room.
"Is everything in place?" I asked John, who was pouring poisoned pig's blood on the ground and checking himself in the mirror.
"Yes."
I nodded. "Good." I surveyed the room quickly, double checking that everything was perfect. "What about Zep?"
"Already done." John said.
"See you in a few hours, John."
John nodded and slowly laid himself down on the puddle of pig's blood as Amanda and I walked out of the room, closing the sliding door behind us.
"It's not easy, is it?" Amanda asked.
"No," I replied. "Not even close."
"You'll catch me when I fall?" Amanda joked as I held the syringe up to her neck.
"Nope." I jabbed the needle into her skin. "You know what you need to do?"
"Get Daniel out alive and make sure the game goes smoothly."
"Alright." I injected Amanda with the sedatives and she fell to the floor in the old house we were using. Over by the door, John and Mark were setting up a gun, which was pointed at the eyehole.
"Is the gas turned on?" I asked.
"Not yet," John replied, testing out the gun.
"I'll go do that. You guys almost done here?"
Mark nodded and I started to leave as John went into a coughing fit and fell to his knees.
"John!" I dashed over to him. Mark and I each put one of his arms over our shoulders and hauled him to his feet. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," John whispered just as he went into another coughing fit.
"You are not fine!" I adjusted his arm on my shoulder. I was about to leave him with Mark when I realized that this would be a perfect time for him to seriously hurt John, since I still wasn't sure if I "stayed out of his way" enough.
"Mark, why don't you go turn on the gas? I'll help John out."
Mark nodded with no sign of any emotion whatsoever.
"I'm okay," John rasped. "It's just the..."
"Disease," I whispered. "I know."
"You idiot!" I screamed when I saw Hoffman and Amanda help John in the warehouse. I had been pacing back and fourth all evening, waiting for the games to finish.
"Pam, I'm okay." John voice was scratchy and strained when he spoke.
"No, you're not!" I grabbed a rag and started to wipe off the blood on John's face as Mark and Amanda helped him sit in his wheelchair.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Amanda asked.
"Bring me the the first aid kit," I ordered. A few minutes later, I was digging through the kit for some gauze and bandages.
"Never." I started to wrap up John's broken finger. "Ever." I finished wrapping his finger and started to check him for more injuries. "Do that again."
"I don't have much life left in me anyway," John sighed.
"Don't say that!" Amanda and I exclaimed together.
"You have plenty of life left," I said, hoping I was right.
I looked over some of Amanda's drawings. Interesting. I thought.
Amanda had been with us for a few months now, and she was starting to work on some of her own traps. I was looking at the blueprints for a trap that would rip open someone's rib cage if they failed.
"What are you doing?" Amanda asked as she walked up behind me.
"Just looking at a few of your ideas," I said, not looking up from the blueprints. "They're pretty interesting. I hope you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind." I looked up at Amanda, hearing the nervousness in her voice.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
I gave her a suspicious look, but otherwise decided to leave it alone.
"Do you need any help setting up?" I asked.
"No, that's okay." Amanda gathered up her blueprints and left the room just as Mark entered. I glared at him and he gave me an emotionless look.
"I'd keep an eye on her if I were you," he said as soon as Amanda was out of hearing range.
"Why should I?" I asked, annoyed.
"She's unstable. Since she doesn't take heroine anymore, she has no way to cope with her mental health." Mark smirked. "Well, actually, I guess she has another way."
"Which is...?"
"When my partner and I were investigating the latest Jigsaw Killer crime scene, we found something very strange."
I started to become impatient. "Quit with the riddles already and just tell me!"
Mark waited a second before replying. "It was unbeatable," he said finally.
"Mmmmhmm. Sure."
"Here." Mark handed me a case file. "This proves it."
I opened the file and quickly read through it. There were some notes scribbled on a piece of paper. The notes were written too neatly to be Mark's handwriting.
Door sealed shut. Unbeatable. Imposter Jigsaw Killer?
No. "Amanda is killing people?"
"Seems so."
"But... Amanda wouldn't do something like that!" I protested, shoving the file into Mark's hands.
"She already has."
"How do I know that you didn't rig the game?"
"Why don't we look at some of Amanda's other games, shall we?" Mark opened Amanda's bottom drawer on her desk and took out the blueprints for the trap that would pull your rib cage apart. A few things were different from the one I looked at previously.
The lock was in the back where the player couldn't reach it, for one thing. Another is that the trap would be connected to the rib cage directly instead of just clamped around the rib cage, like the last blueprint I looked at.
I sat in Amanda's chair, completely shocked.
"Here comes Amanda," Mark said. "I'll leave you two alone to talk it out."
Sure enough, Amanda walked in as soon as Mark left.
"Hey, Pam. Are you okay?" She asked when she saw me sitting in her chair.
"You kill people," I mumbled.
"What?" Amanda asked.
I threw the blueprints at her. "You kill people, you fucking bitch!"
"What are you talking about?!" Amanda screamed, scrambling to pick up the scattered pieces of paper.
"I know what happened at the schoolhouse, Amanda."
Amanda looked up from her gathering.
"How-how do you know about that?" She stuttered.
"Mark told me," I said.
"How do you know he's telling the truth?"
"Look at your fucking blueprints!"
Amanda looked down at the ground, trying to take as long as possible to gather her papers. "He was just a convict," she mumbled. "He didn't deserve to live."
"Everybody deserves to live!" I screamed, exploding with pure anger. "You'd better watch your back, Amanda!"
Amanda stood up, the papers in her hands. "What are you going to do about it?" She challenged.
"I'll call the police! I'll..." I contemplated my next response, and decided to go with it. "I'll tell John." I threatened.
"You wouldn't!"
I started towards the staircase. "Watch me!"
The last thing I felt before passing out was something jabbing me in the neck.