Work Text:
There was a knock at the door.
Zeke groaned from the couch where he had barely moved for hours. What was there to do? There were so many emotions running through him- His father was killed in front of him by his colleagues (or co-workers, if that is a colder term), and the whole thing was orchestrated was the man he thought was his partner. All of the emotions nearly canceled each other out, leaving him a shell.
Another knock.
Zeke shifted on the couch. Did the outside world even exist? Was there someone on the other side of the door? Probably yet another cop, asking him to recount the worst moment of his life in excruciating detail.
A third knock, the most demanding one yet.
Zeke got up, already debating what to say to the cop at the door. Hell, maybe it was some family friend he barely knew, looking to pay condolences. In that case, he would say his polite thanks and get the door closed as quickly as possible.
He did not have a plan on what to say when William Schenk was at the door.
Turns out, he wasn’t expected to say anything, as Schenk walked into his apartment quickly yet casually. Zeke blinked at the now empty doorway, once then twice. He slowly closed the door and turned towards Schenk. Schenk was in the middle of his apartment, looking around. Zeke opened his mouth to say something (what he was going to say, he wasn’t sure, but something full of expletives), but Schenk beat him to the first word.
“Hi.”
Zeke shook his head. “You better give me three really good motherfucking reasons to not beat your ass and call the police right now.”
“Three? Why so many? I only need one: you haven’t already.” Zeke narrowed his eyes. Schenk continued looking around as he talked, keeping his respectful distance from anything. “I’ve been watching my apartment for the past few hours. Well, what the precinct believes is my apartment. Watching from a safe distance. Thing is, not a single pig has passed by. Why is that, Zeke?”
Zeke was silent. William continued.
“Why aren’t there pigs at my apartment? Why did you stay strong all those hours without me asking you to? Why didn’t you shoot me when you had the chance-“
Zeke started walking towards Schenk quickly. “You fucking killed my father-“
“Your father was killed from being shot. I didn't fire a single bullet at him,” Schenk said, walking backward carefully to avoid being cornered. When Zeke kept walking, “It’s not me you’re mad at.”
Zeke stopped walking. Yes, it was Schenk he was mad at. He wanted to kill Schenk, right? Give him justice. Then why hadn’t he told the police what he saw? He certainly was interrogated, yet in his story he never saw the face of the next Jigsaw descendant. “Why the fuck are you even here? To mock me? The one that got away?”
Schenk looked near horrified. “Mock you? No. I’m asking you to join me.”
Zeke scoffed. “Join you? Okay, now I’m calling the police on your ass for real.”
“You haven’t reached for your phone one time since I walked in.”
A moment passed when Zeke looked away and said nothing.
“Look, I know it’s a big question, and I have a few answers you can choose from. If you come up with your own answer, that’s that. First, probably my least favorite option, you say no and call the police. They won’t catch me, and I’ll be well out of the state and possibly the country before they find where I’ve been staying. The games will continue, of course, and we never see each other again. Well, you’ll never see me again.”
Schenk sat on the couch before continuing.
“Second, also not my favorite but probably the most likely, you say no but don’t call the police. I’ll stay working at the precinct with you, unless you want me to quit. Whatever you want to happen, happens. I work with you, you never see me again, etcetera. But the games will continue.”
He paused a second to let it settle.
“Last, and this is my preferred option, you say yes. You work with me to put all the pigs in their place. The ones who took our families and so many others. Who work motivated by money, not justice. They’ll all learn their lessons or die trying.” He smiled. He looked at Zeke for any hint of an answer.
Zeke shook his head. “I should be calling the cops right now.”
“Maybe you should be. But you’re not.”
Zeke turned away, trying to gather his thoughts. He could feel Schenk’s eyes on him. Without turning around, he asked, “What the hell would us working together even look like?”
Zeke could nearly hear Schenk’s smile as he talked. “You have the presence and knowledge. You know what they’ve done. You can get into their history. I have the resources. You tell me anything and everything about any of them, and together we right it.”
“I help you murder them?”
“I was really hoping you saw it as something other than murder.” There was disappointment in Schenk’s voice, but it recovered. “But you’re as involved as you want. From just telling me what needs to happen to helping me with the traps. To watching, if you want to. Whatever you want.”
Zeke was silent.
“I’m getting towards the end of my monologue, Zeke. In all of these options, the games continue with or without you. That won’t change. But,” a pause, “I really would like you by my side. We have made, and will make, a really great team.”
Zeke turned around and looked at Schenk. “Stand up.”
Schenk looked confused.
“Stand up,” he repeated. Schenk stood up.
Swiftly, Zeke took a few steps towards him and socked Schenk in the jaw. Schenk stumbled back but, to his credit, didn’t fall. He still had his head bowed, feeling his jaw with his hand, when he heard Zeke’s next words.
“How soon can we get started?”