Jigsaw: Three's A Crowd

"Hello, can anybody hear me?  Hello?"  the man yelled. 


Ashlyn could hear him from the basement.  She had to be there, watching the monitors.  She needed to see if he was playing by the rules.  She remembered John saying, "It's not a big game, but the outcome will be more important than you may realize."


The man was feeling around.  Ashlyn could see his eyes, they were sewn shut.  He had no use of his sight, it would naturally be altered forever.


His struggling was getting more intense.  Ashlyn didn't want to see him lose, but she knew she couldn't help him.


Finally he hit the button on the wall.  The television in the corner of the room proceeded to come on. 


"Hello Detective Jenkins, I want to play a game.  You've ruined and deceived at your workplace and home.  The luxurious life you live is sure to make you feel safe and secure.  Right now your eyes are sewn shut, you need to play the game without sight.  What you need to do is move four paces to the right and two paces forward.  There's a glass of hydrofluoric acid that you might feel.  It has a key in it, the key to your freedom.  The only problem is that there's no guarantee that you won't be hurt.  If you get the key within two minutes, you will be able to unlock the door beside you.  If not, the door will be locked and this room will forever be your tomb.  Hurry, time is running out.  Let the game begin."


When he heard the voice shut off, he went the correct amount of paces toward the jar.  Ashlyn was worried, she didn't want to watch, but she knew she had to report back to John.


The detective was quickly aware how uneasy it'd be to get the key once he stuck his hand into the jar. 


"I guess he doesn't know what hydrofluoric acid is,"  Ashlyn thought to herself.


He tried again and grasped the key.  His hand was bleeding, Ashlyn was in pain just watching him.  He grabbed the key and took it to the door.


He was yelling out, "Help me, help me," softer and softer each time.


Detective Jenkins unlocked the door before the timer went off.  Ashlyn was happy, he won.  The detective was now inside a safe that was built in on the other side of the door.  It was a sort of elevator, it took him up to the top floor so Ashlyn could meet him.


"Detective Jenkins?"  Ashlyn asked.


"Hello?"  he sobbed. 


His eyes were bleeding and his hands were rugged and burnt off from the acid.


"I'm here to help you, there's just one thing I need,"  Ashlyn said, carefully trying to keep calm.


"Yes?"  he asked, putting his hands softly to his eyes.


"I need your immunity,"  Ashlyn said, staring down at him.


"Why?"  he asked.


"No questions, I need a yes or no.  I know what you've done, detective.  Take John and I in and there will be trouble for you, I promise.  Do we have an agreement?"


"Deal."


Ashlyn didn't know how to take out the stitches that held his eyes together, but she did her best.  She probably hurt him a little more than necessary.  His eyes were bloody and gross, but she cleaned them up as best she could.


Once she was done, she took him back to the shop, where John was waiting to hear about the game.

"Congratulations, detective.  You've been reborn, you've restarted.  You now have the chance to cherish your life as you should have done before.  Right now you could take the time to bring Ashlyn and I into the police station, but I don't think you want to do that," John said, carefully eying the detectives eyes.

"Why shouldn't I take you in?"  Detective Jenkins asked eagerly.

"I know you, detective.  We know you.  If you bring us in, the game wouldn't have worked.  You see, I know what you did to all those people.  You used your job to blackmail and torment people for your own sick game.  Bring me down," he laughed, "and you're going down with me."

The detective looked quite stunned, he didn't think anyone knew.  He never told anyone.  He couldn't take them in.  If he even thought about it, his life, his career, it'd all be over.

"We'll be seeing you around, detective,"  John smiled.

Detective Jenkins headed down the hallway to the wooden doors that awaited his capture.  He went home.

"The next game's being played downstairs.  I don't think it's started yet, you need to watch this one closely, Ashlyn.  This one's all on the detective,"  John said, walking into a dark room, where he'd be sleeping.

Ashlyn went over to the full desk of monitors.  They were all different rooms.  The game hadn't started yet, everyone was still on the ground.  They all looked to be varying ages.

Ashlyn seemed confused.  This game was all on the detective, John said.  She wondered how it was all on him, he just played his game.  She'd find out soon enough.


"Help, help me!"  Kacee yelled.


She looked around and saw everyone else groggy and starting to wake up.


"Who the hell are you?"  Jack asked, rubbing his eyes and looking around.


"Kacee, thanks for asking,"  she said, sitting up.

That's when everyone else started getting up and asking questions.


"Where are we?"


"Is somebody there?"


"Who did this?"


It was non-stop noise.  Finally someone chirped in.


"It's a game,"  Lacey said, legs tucked in to her chin.


Lacey was a cute girl.  At fourteen years old she'd been through a lot that no one knew about.  There was another not so good thing about her, but she wasn't about to tell everyone in that room.


"How do you know?"  Kacee asked, staring at her.  Lacey almost felt the daggers.


"Do none of you watch the news?  The cops are looking for this Jigsaw guy that's setting these traps.  It's supposed to help you cherish your life,"  Lacey said, slightly grinning at the end.


The others were stunned to learn about her knowledge to the Jigsaw murders.  Or, not murders, according to John.


"Let's learn names really quick, there's eight of us in here.  Starting with you,"  Kacee said, pointing at Lacey.


"I'm Lacey,"  she said, shooting daggers back at Kacee.


"I'm Kacee,"  the petit, blue eyed, blond haired girl said.


"I'm Jack,"  the older looking man said with no emotion.


"AJ,"  the teenage, African American boy said.


"I am Kailyn,"  she dragged out the "n"'s at the end of her name, they all thought it was rather annoying.


"Roger,"  the over weight man in the corner said, he looked to be around twenty years old.


"Myles,"  the other African American teenager said.


"Last but not least, I'm Maci,"  she said with a slight turn of her head which made her ginger hair look even cuter.