I do not own Saw

Trapped

Hoffman tripped over an overturned chair, hissing in pain. His ankle caught out from under him, lurching him forward. He managed to catch himself on the wall. Pain flared up his leg. He used the wall to guide him to the next door. He pulled on it experimentally. It cracked open. His eyes widened as the ticking became clearer. Hoffman dove to the side as a huge blade swung down where he was but a moment before.

"You think this is a game!? Coward!" he yelled, shaking his fist at a camera. He scowled as he maneuvered around the sharpened blade. The room was bathed in a cool light. Dread bubbled up in his stomach, but he pushed forward. Hoffman blinked, clearing his vision. A table was situated in the middle of the room. A large blade was right above it, inches from slicing the table in half. Hello Seth. Hoffman frowned deeply. "And how do you plan to get me on that table?"

A screen flickered to his left. A picture of Alice appeared. She was hunched over, unconscious. Behind her, a blonde (Ms. Gordon?) had placed the barrel of her gun in the center of Alice's head. Hoffman stiffened. A voice filtered from the ceiling.

Hello Mark. Before you is a blast from the past. You brutally murdered Seth Baxter, starting your journey as a serial killer. If you want Alice to live much longer, you will go through the same horrors that you forced upon the others. You will strap yourself to the table and crush one of your hands. Pick wisely. The blade will fall in thirty seconds. If you fail, Alice will die and you will be cut in half. Make your choice.

Hoffman's head shot up toward a flashing timer. "Fuck." He picked his way across the room, breathing slowly. He placed his palms on the table, looking up at the blade. Tempered steel. Of course. He let out another sigh.

"What are you doing?!" Amanda appeared beside him, punching him quickly in the arm. "You can't do this!"

"Fuck off, Mandy," Hoffman gritted his teeth. He sat down at the edge of table, swinging his legs up over the restraints.

"Mark, you could die!"

"We all do it eventually."

Amanda tried to pull at his arm, but Hoffman brushed her away. "Mark, you can't decide on your life because of this… bitch!"

Hoffman ignored her. He laid down fully, pressing his neck into the restraints. They clicked into place, choking him slightly. Restraints snapped across his ankles, pressing him to the table. Amanda growled in frustration, pulling at them.

"You can't do this!"

"But I am." Mark looked side to side. Suddenly, the timer started. The blade was lifted from the table, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Hoffman sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. Amanda disappeared in a huff. He reached toward his side, feeling for the button. He felt around a device, checking for any breaks in the machine. Finding none, he placed a shaking hand into the mechanism. He wasn't scared, but pain was pain.

15.

Time was ticking away. Sucking in a gasp of air, Hoffman plunged his hand towards the button. Ever so slowly, the block came down upon his hand. It pressed down, crushing his bones. Hoffman gritted his teeth, pressing his head to the table. Blood spurted from his left hand, making the machine slick. The blade swung closer. Hoffman screamed, kicking at his restraints.

5

"Fuck!"

The blade reached down enough to slice a shallow cut into his gut. Hoffman pressed the button harder. A clicking erupted from the machine, and the pendulum swung to a stop, lifting away from Hoffman's shaking body. Hoffman let out a relieved sigh, freeing himself from the restraints. He gently removed his hand and cradled it to his chest.

"Told you not to," Amanda sighed.

"Fuck…you…" Hoffman coughed.

Alice let Bobby lead the way through the dark hallways, tracing his steps carefully. He shuddered as he stepped over trip wires. Everything was silent. That was until the screams started. Alice's spine grew cold, tears prickling at the tips of her eyes. No. She ran forward, tears continuing to threaten.

"Mark!"

Bobby grabbed her arm, forcing her back. "No! There are wires!"

"I don't fucking care! Mark!" she cried out. Bobby wrapped his arms around her, holding her in place. Alice screamed at him, thumping him with her fist. Bobby winced, but held on. Alice kept screaming in tandem with Mark. Suddenly, the screaming stopped. Crying, Alice buried her head into Bobby's chest. Her fingers balled up the material, and her shoulders shook. Bobby hugged her to him, cherishing the feeling of a warm body pressed against him. It had been too long. He separated only enough to pull her short brown hair from her eyes. His fingers lingered on her bruise, a hurt look in his eyes.

"Did he really do this to you?"

"It's none of your concern," her voice broke. She wiped away her tears, pushing away from Bobby. "Let's go. If he's still alive…" she choked out a sob, "then we'll need a way out…" She ran ahead, eyes searching for tripwires and switches. Bobby stared after her, heart in his throat. He promised he wouldn't fall in love again. He promised Joyce. Then why the fuck was he acting like a horny teenager?

Hoffman collapsed forward, shock forcing him to his knees. He had made it out of the room, but his hand was practically useless. He had torn off a strip of his shirt, tying a sling with his teeth. But now the adrenaline was failing him, exhaustion teased at his consciousness.

"Come on, you mother fucker!"

Hoffman's eyes shot up. A shadowed figure stood not too far from him. Hoffman growled low in his throat. He raced towards the figure, energy replaced with anger. He mowed into him, forcing him to the wall. The figure grunted, voice deep. Male then. Hoffman dropped him to the floor, using one hand to silence his muffles. The man looked up at him with derision. Hoffman's eyes widened.

"Strahm?" He loosened his grip on the agent. Peter Strahm coughed, trying to pull away.

"Yeah. Who'd ya think it was?"

Hoffman frowned. "Why would I be hallucinating you?"

Strahm prodded Hoffman in the ribs. "Because you're a fucking pussy. You are going against my son, aren't ya?"Hoffman growled, rolling off his old enemy. Strahm nodded in thanks, sitting up. He rubbed his neck, and Hoffman saw that his arm was broken in two. However, it moved like a normal arm. There just happened to be a bone sticking out of him. "You killed me, Hoffy, and it doesn't sit well with you that you are reliving your horrors…" Strahm motioned to his arm. "I couldn't survive. Neither will you."

"Thanks for the fucking speech," Hoffman spat.

"Be patient. Alice is alive. She's Jigsaw. She'll push through," Strahm sighed as he stood. "Now buck up, asshole." And with that, Caesar returned and Brutus gained purpose.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves.

Julius Caesar, Shakespeare

I'm back, bitches! Hehehe…

SMH