He rushed inside the warehouse, packing all of his necessities into a duffel bag.
Mark picked up a can of petrol and started throwing it around the workshop, trying not to stare at the ghosts of the past as they rose out of the shadows.
'Do you like how brutality feels, Mark?'
'Do you like how-'
'Do you?'
His gloved hand was already pulling at the door handle when a sudden chill down his spine made him glance back over his shoulder.
'Do you like how brutality feels?'
There was an envelope beside the head of an unfinished Billy puppet, the ends sticking out so he could clearly read the name printed on the crisp white of the envelope in red.
Mark Hoffman.
He snatched the paper up and was about to throw it into the flames when a sudden flash of memory made him stop.
The handwriting was hers.
He tore the envelope open and threw it aside when a piece of paper and a photograph fell face down on the workbench.
Mark picked up the note and groaned, his hands staining the paper with blood, her blood, as he read the note over and over again, trying to make sense of it all.
It was your fault.
He glanced towards the photograph and considered throwing it in the fire, trying to ignore the increased pulsing in his head when he picked up the smooth paper and flipped it over defiantly.
The photo fluttered to the floor as he collapsed beside it onto his knees, staring blankly at the familiar handwriting on the note.
It wasn't hers...but it had been written on another note over three years ago, the five words imprinted on his brain as they had been when he stood in his office clutching it between his fingers.
I know who you are.
Cyan was smiling in the photograph, half turned towards the person who was walking alongside her with a cool mask of indifference.
Him.
Someone had been watching them, him, for some time.
He needed to get out of L.A fast.
Mark's training kept him from darting to his car as he walked into the courtyard, pressing the button without remorse.
He didn't even look back as the last piece of John Kramer's legacy exploded.
A hand reached out of the darkness and stabbed his neck with a needle before he had chance to fight back. The two pig figures above him watched in silence as another pig with a cane removed his mask.
Dr Lawrence Gordon smirked at Mark as he fell to his knees, reaching out to grab the doctor weakly.
"What the-"
Gordon pushed him away as the world faded to black, Jigsaw's voice echoing in his ear.
'Do you like how brutality feels, Mark?'