Game Over: A Saw Tribute [WARNING: Graphic]

Sirak Sazen · Game Over: A Saw Tribute [WARNING: Graphic]

What a world we live in, where fortune favors those who prey off the weak and scrape their way through life. Sometimes I feel that I'm the only one not willing to accept what society has become, and I won't be around much longer to help it. That's why my work must continue.

My name is John Kramer. I am the one many refer to as Jigsaw. Society has labeled me as a murderer, a psychopath who gets off on torture. Why? Because I refuse to see the world's idea of sane the same as mine? Is it because I won't fade away as the world becomes survival of the weak?

I like to think of myself as a doctor of sorts. My patients are the broken, the addicted, the lost. Unlike these apathetic doctors of our generation, I have never imposed an expiration date on a patient like the one that has been so fatefully placed on me. I always offer my patients a cure; a way to escape their disease and be healed. If my patients are willing to make sacrifices in the sake of their lives, I'm willing to heal them. I won't let them continue to grind along as their life ticks by. I'll make them want not just to survive, but to live.

Such is the case with my latest patient: Linda Wellman, 25-years-old, born into a high class family. She'd been given the opportunities most hard-working people can only dream about and thrown them away to fuel her addiction to drugs and live her ungrateful lifestyle that insults her very existence. Ms. Wellman has often claimed that she was recovering, but never did. I found her unworthy of the life she possessed, but was willing to heal her. Naturally, I set up one of my games specifically for her.

I sent Amanda and Mark - two of my most successful patients - to retrieve her. They'd been watching her for weeks. Fresh out of jail, continuing with her disgusting acts of immorality that brought a sick feeling to my stomach at every report. My patients found her one night, standing on a street corner desperate for money to continue her addiction. She was an easy target for them. You could almost say I made a house call. She was brought back to my "office", the Gideon meat packaging plant, and left in the starting position of her game for the drugging agents to lose their effect.

I sat at my workshop for nearly two hours, staring intently at her motionless body in the monitor. What a waste she had become. Looked as if she hadn't bathed in weeks and was beginning to re-lose what little weight she'd gained from her meals during incarceration. It made me sick, once again. She had stirred in her cramped space several times, but she was finally starting to regain consciousness. The treatment was about to begin.

Her first reaction was unsurprising; a series of blood-curdling screams audible only to me from where she had been placed at the other end of the building. Nobody would hear them in the seclusion. She continued to panic and howl around until she'd lost the energy to do so, then just wailed uncontrollably. "Help me," and "Where am I?" I believe I could hear through the wall. This reaction isn't uncommon with my patients. The road to recovery is one of pain and treachery.

I could tell she had come to her senses somewhat and realized her situation. She's been placed in a cramped vent, about 20 feet horizontally to the end. She screamed again, and I knew she'd seen her obstacle. The length of the vent, apart from where she's been lying, was lined on all four sides with a horrifying variety of needles, razor blades, spikes, broken glass, and an assortment of other pronged objects that had been tediously placed by myself over recent weeks. The tools were designed to stab, cut, and slice anyone who makes their way through them.

In the dim light, a dangling cassette tape was visible just in front of her with the words PLAY written across it. She obeyed and quieted her whimpering long enough to hear my message. I counted how much time had passed, since I couldn't hear the cassette playing, but I knew Linda could.

"Hello, Linda. You had the opportunity to lead a meaningful life, but thus far you've tossed that aside. You've always claimed in the papers to be seeking a light at the end of the tunnel. Today, I offer you that light. It's up to you how badly you want it. The door at the end of this vent will close in 5 minutes. You have that much time to make your way through this tunnel. Live or die. The choice is yours. Let the games begin."

When I'd counted to a set amount of time I knew the tape would end at, I pressed the button that would lead to a countdown. Unsurprisingly, more screams. My patient wasted the first minute of her rehabilitation convulsing and refusing to move towards the end of the vent, but the survival element found in all humans was even present in her, and she moved.

Slowly placing her hand forward, she moaned as her skin was punctured and blood began to flow from her hand. The blood of her former life was beginning to drain out. She would need to spill more blood in hopes to survive. Steadily, she moved one hand in front on the other, wailing at every movement. I could see her skin slicing and objects poking into her skin from every angle. She seemed to have no problem sticking needles in her arms in the past. I don't understand why she had a problem then.

At one point, she actually collapsed from pain, allowing the whole front of her body to fall into the collection of razors and such. She couldn't afford to falter again, or blood loss would kill her. Linda had difficulty getting back up again, as the needles and glass were sticking into her and holding her to the surface. She had to rip and tear her skin to get up and continue.

Yes. There was blood. Blood that was necessary to shed for redemption. Yes. There was pain. Pain that brought her closer to her new life. Yes. She screamed. Screams that let out to misery she had so willingly put herself through.

I kept glancing at the timer next to me. Three minutes. She wasn't near halfway there. Is was starting to appear that my patient wasn't motivated to live. If that was the case, all she had to do was sit still. Alas, she continued - cutting and slicing away at her body from all four angles in the name of new life. Such an interesting specimen she was. Every time I thought she would stop, she pressed on.

Frustration and ignorance to the intense pain must have gotten to her. Around the 4 minute mark, she crawled aggressively towards freedom. Blood was appearing to pool in the crevices between the objects in the vent and her clothes had become almost totally stained in red.

My patient yelled and convulsed madly near the end. Regrettably, her sacrifice wasn't enough. 5 minutes had passed. The thick metal plate passed over the exit with the flick of a switch under my desk, the light disappeared, and the cries of failure were deafened. Linda Wellman lost the game.

I cut the feed to my monitor. There was no reason to watch her die. That's not why I do this. It's to save people from themselves. Linda was not willing to do that, and in the end she didn't have the desire to survive.

I will continue with my work, my games. Not even my death can stop me, for I've found the cure for it: immortality, a chance for my work to live on in the form of my successful patients, my apprentices of trade. The future of our society depends on it.

I know I'm making a difference. Amanda Young is living proof - a woman dragged from the depths of addiction by my work. I offer the gift of life to those who are willing to sacrifice for it. If our society continues to reward our filth, it's game over for the future of mankind.

Live or die. The choice is yours.

I DID NOT CREATE THE SAW FRANCHISE NOR DO I CLAIM RIGHTS TO OWNERSHIP. ALL CREDIT FOR THE SAW FRANCHISE INCLUDING NAMES ETC. BELONG TO THE COPYRIGHT HOLDERS. THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FANFICTION.