Maybe I was the asshole, you know, because I was the one guy still completely fine in the bathroom. Kramer was faking being dead, and the almost cheater of a doctor had his foot broken. But still, given that he took his own foot, I think having a broken foot was fine.
"So you're saying that we were kidnapped by Jigsaw?" Gordon asked as the two of us were looking around, Gordon still sitting because to get up would be to screw himself over.
"If the video we saw couple moments ago sporting the weird puppet meant anything, then yeah, we were," I told him as I kept trying to file away the door with the hacksaw.
"You seem fine for someone who had been kidnapped," Gordon said as I quickly turned to look at him, was he suspecting I was Jigsaw? Or what? I really wanted to punch him if that's what he meant.
"No, no, no, no, I'm pretty fucking awful right now, from the fact that I don't know why I got kidnapped to begin with,to the fact that I don't actually remember who I am besides the fact that my name is Adam and apparently, I'm pathetic, and a voyeur?" I asked, although that was more towards myself than him, because I doubt Gordon knew me, the fact that everything made sense and I felt like a giant black hole of stupidity made me frustrated more than anything else, who the hell am I?! If every piece fit a puzzle, then I'm a literal fucking brick that no one knows how it got there.
Frustrated, I punched the door, and to my surprise, it made an strange sound, almost as if I had really impacted it with my punch. Maybe the saw made enough work, and I just had to finish the job. So I had a job to do.
Going all the way to the bathtub I woke up in, I decided to run and try to tackle the door, which I have to say, yikes, my shoulder was hurting like a motherfucker, but it wasn't broken or even sprained, that meant I could still do a few more tackles before I shot the lock, assuming that actually worked.
The next slam was just as shitty, if I was any weaker, I would've fucked up my shoulder, and in my pain, I turned to the mirrors, which barely could reflect anything due to the grime in it, but I could still see myself.
"I'm a teenager?!" What?! I almost fell on my ass in shock, I mean, what the hell, since when Jigsaw throws teenagers into his games? The only time I saw an actual teenager was Brent, who was there to take revenge for his father's death because Brent was, admittedly, an asshole. I threw up on the bathtub, then I noticed that the water was flowing, right, that's so right!
I pushed the bathtub out of the way, a lot of my stamina eaten as I did my best to take away the obstacle from it's place.
There was a hole, a hole too big to make sense, that was fine by me.
I turned to the doctor, "I will see if I can make a turn around to get here, don't worry, I will come back for you and the dead guy over there," I told him, or get Tapp to shoot everything in this area, of course, hope that he doesn't get shot by one of those traps.
I was crawling, scurrying away like water in the drain, or a rat, I assume that the good doctor up there confused as all hell, I left nothing to incriminate myself, not even Kramer would know that I knew his plan. I won John, your stupid game 'see yourself die or do something about it', well, fuck you, I did everything about it.
How dare you call me a voyeur? Granted, I don't even know who I am, but fucking John Kramer calling me a voyeur gotta be the projection of the fucking century since I know that motherfucker is acting like a corpse right now so that he could have a great view of us getting screwed over.
Shit.
That's how I felt about John Kramer and my own lack of memories, I was hoping I would get after I dealt with his cancerous ass. Man, where do these pipes even end? They were much bigger than they had any right to. But I did, not because I 'learned' anything, because I legitimately haven't, I don't even know what was the reason why I entered besides 'being a voyeur' and 'being angry at the world', two things that I know for a fact that they can also be applied to Kramer.
It took me a while, at least ten minutes hurrying in the dark and smelly shitty place that I was until I found some stairs, and with it, my freedom, I hurried to open the manhole cover, hoping that there was no car going over me, but when I noticed that there was no noise, I took this moment to get out of the manhole, and damn, I was smelling like shit, the smell odor of the 'dead corpse', combined with the fact that sewer was also awful, like damn.
I run to find the police, the phone, Detective Tapp, fuck it honestly, about anything that could help me get Gordon to safety, but then I saw Zep running away from the Detective, had I taken this much time, or did Zep decide to go for the kill when he noticed that I was getting away? I didn't know, but I tackled him when I saw Tapp coming onto the scene.
"Cops!" I shouted as Tapp came towards me with Detective Singh in tow, holding a shotgun, looking at me suspiciously.
"Hold on Singh, I know this kid," Tapp said as he looked at me up and down. He knew me? "You look like shit, how did you manage it?" He asked as I told them about being kidnapped by Jigsaw, me and the doctor, and how I was having some issues remembering about who I am.
But I showed them the house I just came from, and told them how I knew it since I was able to track it from the way I came from the sewer system.
"It was strange, it had the look of a decrepit public bathroom, but it came from this way, I'm sure of it, there was a running door that I couldn't open, I assumed it was locked from the outside, there were some traps we had to 'play' because of Jigsaw..." I said as Zep was now on the floor with his stomach on the cold floor.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I offered my help to the cops, which Tapp had accepted, I can't remember the connection between this Adam character of mine and Tapp, but apparently he had hired me to do something, which might have been the reason why I got caught by Kramer, maybe, I didn't really understand. Maybe some aspirin and some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches would make me feel better to understand my suffering. Maybe a hooker is in order after all this if I'm being honest.
But yeah, because I was 'overstepping' my step, I triggered the shotgun trap that had previously killed Singh, although they were pissed at me, no one got hurt this time around because I was in the far side, where the shotgun didn't hurt me, thankfully.
With Zep's key, because of course he had the damn key to the thing, we opened the door to see Gordon, equally terrified and happy as he saw me, who gave him a lazy wave.
"I saw the tapes! How's my wife and children?!" He asked as he turned to look at the cops, who smiled.
"They're fine, we caught the guy," Singh said as Tapp nodded.
"Adam here had a hand on it, appeared out of nowhere to tackle that guy on," The rest of the day, no, it was night time now, wasn't it? The sky was dark, so it had to be, but yes, the rest of the night was a haze, my mind was just so shittily done with everything that I just jumped onto my bed, trying to remember who I am.
And my house, I was only able to know where it was because Tapp knew it, he told me, in secret of course, that I had been hired by him to shadow Doctor Lawrence because Tapp believed the doctor was the actual Jigsaw.
Huh.
What a clusterfuck. I nodded as he continued to speak, hoping that he would get the clue and go on his merry way.
Frankly, I was just so so tired, let me sleep.
"Well, call me if you need a follow up, keep in touch since you will probably be called for Zep's trial," He said as I nodded. Wasn't he in a contraption of his own though? I'm pretty sure that he would die because of it, no?
Eh, not really my problem since my only challenge was to make 'something', even if it was as vague as Kramer left it to me. Still pissed at the serial killer for targeting me for barely any reason.
It was only when I went to sleep that I began remembering... Remembering memories that were never mine, that is.
Of myself, as a child, apparently a triplet, could it be? I didn't know if that was relevant, given that I don't have any picture of myself in my own house, the memories began to flow through my head, his memories were my memories, and if he was alive, I knew that my memories would become his memories.
It was like a locked door opening, because I then learned who I was, and who I'm supposed to be. Adam Faulkner-Stanheight, yes. Not Adam 'Really fucking Confused' anymore, thank God, the issue is that even now that I knew who I am, and what was supposed to be the impact within the world of Saw... I never understood what the fuck was supposed to be my game because guess what? The only thing I can remember was taking a picture of pigface, and that's not a crime.
I woke up to see a strange screen on my face, and, like any other normal human being in the 21st century, I jumped backwards, cursing as I hit my head against the wall, fuck!
Adam Faulkner-Stanheight
Mettle
1
Moxie
2
Hustle
3
Savvy
3
Grit
2
Plot Armor
11
Raised eyebrow, I touched to find out what each stat even meant.
Mettle
For Feats of Strength and Offensive ability
Moxie
To make your performance convincing
Hustle
Quick, Deft, and to always hit your mark
Savvy
Intelligence, Planning, and Deduction
Grit
Durability, Toughness, and Endurance
Plot Armor
Mastering all five aspects of Plot Armor will make you a master of horror.
Thanks, I hate it.
"How much is a 3 in grit, even? God, I hate arbitrary numbers when it comes to my super powers," I mumbled, more to myself than anyone really, after all, I didn't know what to do, what to say, what I was supposed to do. I just wanted to fuck off from this town and never meet Jigsaw or anyone even remotely aware of John Kramer.
"But I have a system, that means Jigsaw isn't a one time thing, matter of fact, I should assume that Jigsaw isn't my biggest fucking issue," I shuddered, who would require a system to survive one horror movie? Especially one that's not rooted in supernatural stuff. If it was Friday the 13th, sure, I would one hundred percent believe that I needed a fucking system to survive that mo-
I froze for a moment as my eyes were darting to the pile of movies that I had on the corner of my room, Adam was a film critic, and he did like horror movies you see, but even with all of his memories, somehow I don't remember ever seeing Friday the 13th.
Which is just bogus, you know? Jason fucking Vorhees is like, baby's first slasher movie. What about Invasion of the Body Snatchers? It's a classic! Everyone has seen Little Shop of Horrors... besides me, that is.
I look around my apartment, trying to find an way to get a movie without looking weird, and from the corner of my eye, I see a Blockbuster, which just makes me more stressed, they had a Blockbuster, that meant that things were similar to my own world, enough that I can recognize things.
Taking a shower, as I wanted to get rid of the grim that my body was full of, I put my best pair of black pants to go with my white shirt, I really need to get better clothes, but given my budget of 'fuck you', I was apparently living alone even though I'm not even 18.
How does that work? From my memories of watching Saw, Adam was certainly on his early 20's, sure, but why am I not even of age this time around? Ugh, if this somehow forces me to go to school a second time around, I'm becoming a serial killer myself so that I can go straight to jail.
Five minutes later, I'm inside of the Blockbuster, and I darted directly to the horror movie section. Shivering, I began to search through the movies, most of them I couldn't recognize, but do you know which ones I could? The apocalypse ones, the ones where the world just straight up fucking ends, the zombie ones. World Ending types.
"Hey, is there a way to search for movies?" I asked the cashier, a teenager like me, he just pointed to my right, where there was like, three computers.
"There's a software with the database available, otherwise just check the Spreadsheets on Excel," Fuck, even Excel was a thing here.
Control plus f, opening the search function, I type a bunch of titles of horror movies, no matter how big or how small they were.
"Fuck."