He jerked awake as a flash of bright light illuminating the once dark area. Squinting in irritation, he glanced around the area, only to freeze as a cold feeling settled in his gut. He was in a room. A small, square room illuminated by a single light-bulb that swung almost threateningly from the ceiling.
Good gods, he was in an Elevator.
A lesser man would have panicked. But Miles Edgeworth was no such man. He forced the impending panic-attack down and attempted to stand on shaky legs, groping the walls for support.
As he did, the lift jolted, sending him crashing down the ground again. He could hear the threatening creak of metal as if…

Hello Miles…

He froze again, staring at the small display screen above the blinking numbers of the elevator floors. He knew that voice…!

I want to play a game… For years you have wasted your life by judging it. How many people have you sentenced to death? How many people's lives have you destroyed for your own personal vengeance? Now, I give you a chance to save yourself.

The screen blinked, and he was flung to the side of the lift as it jolted again.

The lift you are currently in is very old, suspended only by cables much like your soul. Rotted and worn away by time. In this elevator is the tool to save yourself. To save you from yourself.
Be careful though. The floor is also very weak, and could give away at any moment.

And by the way Miles…. It's a long way down.

He shivered as the screen clicked off. Oh god. Jigsaw. The lunatic all over the news the past couple of weeks. He attempted to recall how he might have fallen into a trap, but came up with nothing. He could hear the wind howling outside, the steady creak of metal.
If there was a chance… He would take it.
Crawling along the ground, he headed for the first place big enough to hide anything. The emergency phone cavity. He flipped it open, getting up on his knees to reach in and grab the promised tool of salvation.

He felt something cold.
And it almost glittered in the pale light.

To save you from yourself.

The gunshot was heard by no-one.


She didn't know where she was. Dime candlelight cast an eerie shadow that seemed to talk to her in whispers. In this moment of weakness, she allowed herself to let tears leak out of her eyes and down her face, staining around her mouth with wetness.
She could see her father past the glass, unconscious and strapped loosely to a chair. She couldn't reach him!

Hello Franziska… I want to play a game…

She banged the bloodied stumps of her hands against the glass, in an attempt to awaken him so that he may save himself just… Just as she saved herself.
She banged harder, eyes darting to the clock on the wall. He must wake up!

For years you have chased perfection. You have let nothing stand in your way, leaving a trail of despair and pain behind you.

She let out a cry, begging, begging, for him to hear her and wake up. Blood ripped steadily down her lips from where the device tore out her tongue.

Your salvation comes in how you face your imperfections. Your hands that held the device you used to harm people, your tongue that used to lie…

The clock ticked, another minute gone into the wind. Water dripped down from the block of ice suspended from the ceiling, pooling around the metal chair. A broken cable lay nearby, hanging innocently from the ceiling.

Only you can remove the ties that bind you. How far are you willing to go to save yourself? How far are you willing to go to save someone else?
Oh yes, it's not only you who is playing this game.

No.. She wasn't going to make it. She sobbed, banging her stumps against the glass, painting it with crimson as she slid slowly down.

The power is out until ten.

Tick… Tick… She sobbed, missing the way Manfred's eyes flickered beneath his eyelids and opened sluggishly.

Can your perfection save you now?

The lights flicked on, a scream drowning out the cry of another.



His feet crunched against the gravel, breath coming out in white puffs of smoke. The cold morning reflected the scene. How fitting, he bitterly thought to himself.

He turned to watch the frantically waving officer for a while, before giving up and walking over.

He nodded. They had gotten a call around about five in the morning from a workman in charge of the site. The old courthouse was scheduled for demolition next week. Even so, the workman thought it odd that the old lift would suddenly drop down and plummet towards the ground after weeks of stability.
And then start to bleed.

He kneeled down to inspect the body, blood crusting over the magenta suit, staining the once silver hair.
Christ, I've seen enough. Disgusted, he turned from the scene, willing himself this mask of indifference until he was alone.
Another officer approached him quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed in concern and.. pity.
"You knew him right?"
He let out a bark of laughter. "C'mon Starr. We all knew him." he said bitterly, before turning away. He had better things to worry about now. No use wasting it on the dead after all. The least he could do was find this… monster before more had to die.
As he got into the car, he failed to turn and see Ms. Star sigh and shake her head.
"We knew him… but not like you did…"


He toyed around with the tape in his hands, message playing over and over in his mind.
To save you from yourself? What the hell?
He sighed again, tapping the class divider on the cab. "Hey Marco.. Take me back to the precinct, Pal."


He groaned. His stomach ached, and from the state of things, he was in a less than savoury situation. He blinked in the gloom, trying to figure out where he was, and who the hell had the audacity to try and freak him out. His throat was dry, and he gagged slightly on what seemed to be a piece of sting in his mouth. In his throat….?
He gripped against what seemed to be a walking frame and stood up. However, in doing so, he heard the sound of a pin being pulled. And the sting fell away from his lips.

Hello Gant… I want to play a game…

He froze, searching out the thread and staring at the end. At the thing… attached to the end…

For years you have abused your power. You've always held something over their heads. It's a wonder you didn't rot from the inside out.

Oh… fuck… The metal caught the feeble light in the room, revealing it to be what it truly was… A grenade pin.
His throat hurt. But now he knew the reason. Oh fuck, it was in his stomach.

I always give my students something to save themselves. But for you… there is no salvation.

His eyes dimmed. No salvation? Why fight it then. He gave a sob, and slid down the wall. He clenched his eyes tightly, curling in on himself in his last moments.



The first thing he noticed when he arrived on the scene was the scent of burnt flesh. He held a handkerchief to his nose and gagged slightly. The body of Ms. von Karma was laying behind the sheet of glass, as if she had stayed there until her final moment, refusing to leave her father's side.
Her father on the other hand… He walked around the chair to look at the.. well… cooked body of the legendary prosecutor. Odd… the bindings were loose enough. He could have escaped…
"No.. he couldn't." Came a voice from behind him. Ema stood beside him, gasing too at the corpse.
"Toxicology came back. He was hit with a BBk. A heavy sleeping drug. Probably why Ms. von Karma's blood spatter was odd. She was hitting her arms against the glass to wake him up."

He wordlessly took the report, and left forensics to do what they did best.


Klavier was scared. No, screw that. He was terrified. His feet slipped on the see-saw again, making him gag. The rope around his neck tightened slightly as he fought to regain his footing.
If he misbalanced… he could very well hang himself…

He heard a moan, and cast a frightened glance at the man in the guillotine.
"Oh… mein gott… Kristoph.."

"What…? Klavier?" Kristoph jerked against his restraints, feeling the metal boxes in his left and right hand.

"K..Kristoph.." the other sobbed, well past the point of coherent speech. Red lines of fluid dripped down from his neck.

Kristoph swallowed, and turned his head as far as his restraint would allow. In his left hand, he held an old-fashioned tape recorder. In the other, a switch of some kind. He was, as far as he could figure, strapped down in a table-guillotine, the sharp blade hanging threateningly above his head.

His eyes narrowed in resolve, and he pressed a button on the recorder.

Hello boys… I want to play a game…

Klavier sobbed louder if possible, and Kristoph would have snapped at him to shut up if he wasn't transfixed on the voice.

Or rather… Kristoph… I want to play a game.
You did, do terrible things. And you aren't even human enough to feel guilt, remorse or even mercy.
If your hand is the key to your freedom. Or the key to your brothers'. Pressing that button will bring the guillotine down, releasing the noose around your little brothers' neck. However, it will also bring the guillotine down.
On the other hand, you could wait for Klavier to tire and hang himself. His wight will be enough to automatically release your binds.
But what about if he steps down, and releases you? And then you try to save him? Ah, that won't work either.
You see, that rope is very special. It's a sort of piano wire. Any pressure is bound to make it slice very easily though your little brother's neck.

They say blood is thicker than water. But can you give in to your humanity and let someone else live, while you die?
Or will you never learn?

The choice is yours.

The silence the message brought was almost deafening. Klaviers sobs were reduced to shaky breaths.

Kristoph closed his eyes and smiled.

"Ich liebe dich, Brüderlein."


He scene was messy. Too messy. It lacked the finesse they had expected from Jigsaw. Seems like he had a real grudge against this guy.

Bits of flesh were flung around the room, blood splattered against the walls like some child's painting venture gone wrong.
"Oh! Oh my!"

The rest of his team looked upwards, luminol and blue light illuminating a message on the ceiling none would have seen before.

It's cold in here detective…

He whirled around, pointing at the dumbfounded team of officers.
"I want a search on all water construction, wells, drainpipes… everything! Check those locations people! We don't want to lose anyone else!"


He coughed again, groping blindly for the wall of the small cell, echoes of the voice on the tape recorder ringing in his ears. He wasn't sure where it was now though. And he had little time to berate himself for destroying what could have been a very important piece of evidence.

Hello Deigo
I want to play a game…

He wasn't sure how many fucking times he circled the cell. His vision blurred, the red light from his damaged visor flickering on and off.

You have blinded yourself from the truth, seeing only what you wish to see in your thirst for revenge. You were misguided and killed for no other reason than hate. Such hate brought despair I doubt you could imagine.

Walls, walls… There wasn't anything in this room but walls! A square prison of steel and cool concrete. Empty. Nothing. His arms ached. His legs ached. How many times did he circle this room already?

A poison runs though your veins. I'm sure you'll recognise it, Deigo. The same thing that took your eyesight will take your life if you don't… Open your eyes to what you refuse to see.
Somewhere in this room is the antidote. But will you find it?

His vision blurred, and he stumbled as he lost grip of the wall. Again. He fell again. Crashing down to the floor, he wondered if perhaps he should stay down. He thought he heard a familiar voice.

-- --

Of all the places… the cold room of the long abandoned Tres Bien was the last place he would expect some sick fuck to put something like this.
The white coats had carted off a kid about half an hour ago. But fuck… he couldn't get those eyes out of his head. That… haunted expression. That expression of 'I did what I had to do. And so did he'.
Brothers, he was told. In it till the end. Jigsaw only wanted one. Using the other as bait to get the other to play along.

The body bag came out, carried by slightly nauseated undertakers. Another report was waved in his face.
"Piano wire sir. And a guillotine. The head came clear off when it happened." Ema said, emotion clearly wiped from her face.

He ran a hand over his tired face. He was getting so tired.. of all these deaths. It was so.. pointless… And he couldn't even begin to link them together! He was drawn from his despair by a polite cough.
Ms. Star looked troubled, biting her bottom lip and toying with something in a clear bag.
"Detective… this was removed from the skin of Mr. Gavin's arm. I… I think it has something to do with… that case."

She held up the bag.
The DeKiller card glinted in the artificial light.

-- --

He slammed box after box down from storage, searching for a case five years too young. Ema stood a way away, avoiding the careless tossing of boxes.
"Sir? What.. what case was Ms. Star talking about?"

He finally brought down a box and ripped the lid open. Where the fuck is it?


He held up another DeKiller card, almost identical to the one found at the scene of Kristoph Gavin's demise. Ema stared at it in shock. Beofre she had the change to ask, the detective sighed.
"About five years ago… a defence attorney was murdered. Well, assassinated according to the papers."
He rummaged through the box again. "And get this… the walls of the apartment the body was found in had this smeared on the walls."

He tossed Ema a photograph, and almost smiled when she let out a horrified gasp.

They will pay for what they did

Ema tore her eyes from the photo, staring at the detective with watery eyes. "S.. sir.. does this mean..?"

He sighed again. "Unfortunately, yes. DeKiller's our Jigsaw. We need to find him."
Before Ema had time to ask, another officer burst into the evidence room. "SIR! WE FOUND ANOTHER ONE SIR! WE THINK YOU'D LIKE TO TAKE A LOOK AT THIS SIR!"


He was smiling. Fucking smiling
He didn't need the toxicology report to know the other had been poisoned. It was obvious. And he didn't need to look at the red vial of antidote around Godot's neck to know this Jigsaw was one sick fuck who knew what he was doing.

"He… couldn't see it. Could he?" Ema's voice rang out beside him, indifferent mask cracking slightly.
He didn't respond. Then he remembered. "Hey, get some Luminol and UV lights in here! NOW!"


The room… it was a map of sorts. A map… of what used to stand in the place the courthouse was.
If architects had just concreted over the land then…

"Get all units to the courthouse, NOW! I don't care if you have to pull guys out of their days off, this ends tonight!"

Come and get me Detective... If you're not too late, maybe another will not have to die.


A soft cry echoed out a well in a dark place.
"Please… please anyone…" She sobbed, the third ring digging mercilessly into her skin. Five metal rings were dug into her back, piercing flesh and skin. The rings were attached to the wall of the well as far as she knew, and the water was getting higher.

"Come now… Only three left… Can you make it?" A voice rang down before laughing.

If she didn't do it. She would drown. But if she did manage to rip the rings out of her back… She sobbed again. "I…" She whispered to herself. "I can't do it."

The voice seemed to sneer. "Disgusting. Even after all this time, you can't stand without your beloved bitch of a sister? Well, if that's the case, you'll be joining her soon."


"The library! Now!"
A team of no less than twenty police officers streamed into the courthouses' library, ten of them carrying a battering ram of sorts.
The Detective approached a bookcase, and back to a photograph he held. He smirked and turned to the others.
"Alright you lot! Take this down!"


I can hear banging form upstairs. It seems he's figured it out then. I smiled. Not long now…


The bookcase and wall gave way, revealing a winding staircase leading down into a dank corridor.
"Alright, Half of you come with me. The rest stay out here on standby."

His team entered the dank cavern, fearful of what they might come across at the end.


Silly girl, I thought. The well was well and truly full now. I can still see the last few bubbles rising from Iris's last breath.
How disgusting.


They were in a massive cave of sorts. An overflowing well stood in the middle, illuminated by what little sunlight managed to make it in. And.. beside the well stood…
Oh fuck…


I smiled as the Detective and troupe raised their guns. "FREEZE SIR! THIS IS THE POLICE SIR!"

The detective seemed to almost stumble over his shocked words.
"Why? I don't understand.. They didn't do anything!"

I chuckled. "Exactly. They didn't do anything They didn't realise their faults. How precious life is. When one was taken, they did nothing… nothing at all… as if his life ment nothing to them."

He shook his head, gun still raised regardless. "This isn't what he would he wanted."

I smiled. "Perhaps…" I spread my arms out, detonator strapped firmly to one hand. I watched his eyes widen and dart from my hand to my face.
I laughed. "I invite you to shoot me before it's too late detective. You can get your killer… or be buried under this court that housed only criminals, liars and filth."

He hesitated. Stupid. I grinned and brought my hands around to activate the explosives.

I heard a bang.
And a.. pain in my chest…

I smirked as I fell. No doubt he saw it too.
No matter. I planned this. I did what I needed to do. To purge the filth from the corrupted system.

My name is Pearl Fey.
And my work is finished.