Business, not pleasure (Jan. Writing Prompt)

[mynameisnotbrad]

((Taking place months after the Oct prompt. Small mentions / spoilers for the Saw movies))

Working with other people has always bothered him to no end. Unpredictable factors. Conflicting ideals and high tensions. To be an efficient kidnapper and killer, one can only trust themselves. Jeff has come to the realization that some scenarios are unavoidable for the sake of friendship.

He’s been traveling to New York almost non-stop for the past few weeks now, with John’s cancer worsening, leaving the once-proud engineer less active than before. Tasks must be completed, tests must be conducted, and Jeff is one of the few people left to do it.

Driving straight from La Guardia in an assigned car, he arrives at a worn-down neighborhood in Queens where his next assignment awaits him. The one-level house, in true stereotypical fashion, is something out of a horror film. Rotten boards jut out in different spots, the lawn is covered with brown splotches of dead grass; everything reeks of decay here. Jeff parks his car two houses away, and given the lack of human life in the area, he doesn’t expect anyone to notice him or his vehicle.

Approaching the front door is useless, he already knows it’s been blocked off from the inside, having been informed of the additions before his arrival. The house has been a constant pet project for Kramer’s work for months now, preparing it with all sorts of traps and mechanisms to keep people inside. Knowing this, Jeff walks along the side of the house, locating the ‘false door’, which connects to the interior. It was put there so any of John’s apprentices could gain quick entry into the house, but inconspicuous enough to be ignored.

The scent of mildew and dust immediately fills Jeff’s nose as he walks through the kitchen, greeted by a only clean thing in the room: a black bag on the kitchen table. He takes a pair of gloves from his pockets, puts them on, then grabs the bag by the handle quickly. Leaving through a narrow hallway, his eyes glance around, carefully inspecting all the modifications made since his last visit.

Cameras are now tucked away in different corners, crude melee weapons litter the floor, ranging from dulled knives to a broken baseball bat. Everything a panicked, kidnapped person could ever ask for, in his opinion. The front door doesn’t get his attention in the slightest, even with the words exit being painted onto the wood in large font and red paint. Only an idiot would think of it as a viable escape.

His walk takes him to the opposite end of the house, where a large metal door has been opened, revealing a bedroom that has been converted into a literal pit of nightmares. The wooden floor has been removed in places, bedrock destroyed in order to create a deep hole, filled with unsanitary needles. He’s never been a fan of overly dirty places and the needles do a good job of putting fear into his mind.

At the opposite end of the bedroom stands one of John’s many apprentices, a woman in her 20’s, sporting short, spiked brown hair. Her wardrobe makes him think of a punk rocker: tight blue jeans, leather black boots and a cut-up Nirvana t-shirt. He’s not shocked that she hasn’t shedded her former drug-addicted persona quite yet.

“I don’t need you here, double-checking my work.” She doesn’t bother looking at him, pulling the large rug over the hole, covering it up.

“This isn’t a deliberate jab at your work. I was asked to come here and help out with the preparations by John.” His grip on the bag tightens, as Amanda gives him a distrusting look.

“You’re not a true apprentice, therefore, you shouldn’t be getting involved in our tests.” She looks down at the needle pit for a split second, before locking eyes with Jeff. He’s not trying to start up anything with Amanda, but she’s bringing the fire.

“I chose not to become one for a reason. I’ll gladly give John my support, but he has selected specific people to carry on with his line of work. Like you and Hoffman.” The latter being much more serious than her, a trait Jeff can respect.

“You refuse his teachings then? His mentorship...?” She’s growing irritated, getting up in his face, as if disrespected by his lack of ‘commitment’.

“That’s not what I said. We have our separate goals: this is business, nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal? You two have gone out on multiple occasions together for dinner, plays, walks in the park…” Her hand reaches out for his plaid shirt, but she pulls back, controlling her rage for a split second.

“People can have friendships, pleasure, moments of peace. I’m a friend and confidant to John.” He shrugs his shoulders calmly, unaware that his relaxed state is only making matters worse.

“You shouldn’t be having them at all! Especially with John of all people!” Her tone, already angry, has reached a boiling point. She’s trying to force him away from the door and closer to the covered trap, but he isn’t biting. The argument is cut short, as Hoffman steps into the room, wearing his usual neatly pressed suit and tie.

“Jeff, glad to see you made it here okay. There’s still some work that needs to be finished up in the basement.” Hoffman doesn’t need to say anything to Amanda, staring at her with cold eyes.

“Right. Let’s get it taken care of.” He heads back out into the hallway, Hoffman following close behind, leaving Amanda to stare at their backs. Hoffman is annoying, but Jeff is the enemy now, and she makes a mental note that he will be the first to go once she becomes Jigsaw.

Once out of earshot and in the damp basement stairwell, Jeff manages to start a conversation up with the corrupted police office. He’s not afraid of Hoffman’s power, knowing full well that he doesn’t have any records or proof of his existence on this world.

“She’s on edge lately.”

“It's something you wouldn't understand.” Hoffman gestures to a large furnace in the middle of the basement. “Earning the right to become the next Jigsaw is an important thing.”

“Don’t let me get in your way then. I have no intent of challenging either of you for the crown.” He walks over to the large metal contraption, examining all the different working parts, but it’s hard to put Amanda’s recent outburst out of his thoughts. Something about her actions seem familiar, but it doesn’t click.

He pauses for a moment, turning to stare up at a camera that’s mounted directly above the furnace, remembering that Hoffman told him once that the device has no sound. Content that no one’s conversations will be remembered, Jeff turns his attention back to the task at hand.

---

Unknown to the three inhabitants of the house, the cameras are fully up and running, some even having microphones in particular places. Miles away, in the safety of an abandoned factory, he watches them. The man know to most as Jigsaw, John Kramer, sits in silence, taking in everything that he’s seen and heard so far.

It takes all of his strength to stand and walk across the workshop to where a large metanic recorder and microphone sit on a metal table. He pulls a chair over to the makeshift studio, taking a seat in front of the microphone. A quick flip of a switch on the tape recorder causes a large black wheel inside the machine to start spinning.

John leans forward, speaking calmly into the microphone.

“Jeff, if you’re hearing this, then things have changed drastically. I leave you with these last few instructions and thoughts…”