Reckoning of Convictions 2/2

(A/N: As promised, the second part of the chapter! As previously stated in messages like this, I do hope that this trap is satisfying to read, so I hope you enjoy the chapter!)

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[35 Days Later - Present Day]

[Narrator's POV]

The air inside the old fish processing unit was thick with the scent of salt and mold, the faint echo of water dripping somewhere deep within its abandoned and rusty halls. The walls were lined with corroded metal and broken conveyor belts, relics of a time when the building was alive and bustling with activity. 

The place stood empty and desolate, bare of any human activity… with the exception of an unconscious woman bound to a metal chair with tight metal restraints in the middle of the old production room.

She had curly brown hair that was shoulder length and had some muscle on her, which was to be expected considering her former profession. In tandem with her milky brown eyes and average height, if it weren't for the fact the woman was bound to a metal chair in the middle of nowhere, she could have been described as somewhat average. 

Yet nothing was average about her predicament. Only two metres in front of her pointed directly at her heart, sat a harpoon as sharp as a thousand blades. The harpoon was accompanied by an equally sharp blade pointed directly at the lady's left eye, courtesy of the metal head brace she wore. Attached to her right forearm was a gauntlet of sorts, lined with inactive razor blades that could shred metal.

It didn't take long before the woman groaned in confusion, waking from unconsciousness as her eyes did their best to adjust to the lighting of her new environment. "Hmmhm," Izumi blinked a handful of times as her sight fully returned, but as she did so, her breath hitched.

"What the fuck?!" She tugged at the restraints she found herself in as she immediately took notice of the blade hovering over her left eye before it shifted to the harpoon ominously pointed toward her.

"What the fuck, what the hell, let me out of here! Someone!" She felt her voice reverberate around the rusted metal room, the air around her carrying the faint scent of rust and decay, a far cry from the salty sea breeze she used to know.

"Hello, Naito Izumi…" Izumi's heart skipped a beat the moment her name was called out. In her grogginess and panic, the lady had failed to notice the darkened figure of a puppet on a tricycle in her peripheral vision.

The puppet, mechanical in nature, peddled its way into full view. Dawned in a black suit with red swirls on its white face, the puppet elicited nothing but fear within Izumi. As the tricycle neared the harpoon, the puppet turned its head and faced Izumi before coming to a halt.

"I want to play a game."

"You may not know me, but I know you," the puppet began, its voice soaked in an eerie mechanical politeness. "A once skilled harpooner for the Seiji Fishing Corporation, your quirk allowed you to excel in a world driven by the need for precision. You were born with the gift of clarity — eyes that saw beyond what others could. Your talents brought you success, respect, and, for a time, purpose…"

The puppet's voice remained steady, but each word seemed to reach inside her, forcing her to confront bloody memories. She remembered the last day she worked at Seiji, her eyes flashing in rage as her boss belittled her before firing her. She recalled the heat of anger coursing through her as she grabbed the harpoon gun in a fit of rage… and took his life.

"But when that purpose was stripped away," the puppet continued, "you became lost, consumed by a rage you could not control. He was far from innocent, but you took a life, Izumi. You used the very tools of your trade — a harpoon, aimed directly at his heart — to end him. You took what you felt was yours, but in doing so, you lost far more than a job. You lost your humanity."

Izumi could only clench her jaw and bite her lips. 'It was his fault! It was his fault!' She screamed internally as more memories flooded her brain. 'He deserved to die after what he did! The motherfucker deserved it!' Water started to collect in her tear ducts as she bit her lip so hard it started to leak blood.

The puppet paused before continuing. "Today, you will have the opportunity to reclaim that humanity. But first, you must make a choice. Before you is a harpoon aimed directly at your heart, a reflection of the very weapon you used to kill your employer. In exactly one minute, it will fire, ending your life just as you ended his…"

Izumi's eyes darted to the floor. Beneath her feet, two buttons were embedded into the cold steel platform. 'Are those what I think they are? Do I have to…'

"But to survive, a sacrifice must be made."

"Your left eye gave you clarity, and your right hand pulled the trigger. The tools that you use to take a life are your keys to freedom. Beneath both your feet are pedals. Press the pedal beneath your left foot, and you will lose your left eye — the one you relied on to aim the harpoon. Press the pedal beneath your right foot, and you will lose your right arm — the one that pulled the trigger."

The puppet's mechanical grin seemed to stretch wider as the stakes were laid out before her. "One minute, Izumi. You decide. Will you sacrifice what you once held dear to live another day, or will you die the same way you killed Yoshimoto Seiji — impaled through the heart with a harpoon?"

"Live or die, make your choice."

60…

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO NOW!" She wailed, thrashing at her arm restraints as her muscles strained uselessly. She had trained her body over the years — first for her job, and later, for survival — but none of that strength would help her now.

"THE MAN DESERVED TO DIE!" The image of the CEO's face flashed before her eyes as she screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping to get somebody's attention. 

He had fired her without a warning. No severance, no second chances. With a snap of his fingers, years of dedication were tossed aside like an empty soda can on a dirt road.

55…

"WHAT TWISTED JUSTICE IS THIS, HUH?! WHY PUNISH ME?! I DID THE RIGHT THING!" The CEO was never a great man — he had exploited his employees, cut safety corners to save money, and overworked the crew. Izumi took a long stare at the harpoon and was reminded of the blood she saw splatter all over the office.

Blood splatters coated the walls, paper files and the computer monitor in a deep crimson red. He gasped and gagged as she saw his life drain from his eyes. It was… satisfying.

45…

"DO DON'T KNOW PAIN LIKE I DO! YOU WOULD HAVE DONE THE SAME THING AS ME, JIGSAW!" Izumi banged the back of her head repeatedly on the metal chair in unbridled, seething anger.

She felt his hands violently pull on her hair, dragging her around his office as she pleaded for mercy. He wouldn't listen. She screamed again, bellowing insults and profanities at her newly found dilemma.

Her voice grew hoarse and dry as she pictured chugging down cans upon cans of beer — an escape from an otherwise bleak situation — to calm her mind, only for her boss to ravage it as he dangled the promise of a raise with one hand and termination papers with another.

"I NEEDED THAT JOB! I NEEDED THE MONEY FOR MY MOTHER! AND THEN HE THREW ME AWAY WHEN I NEEDED IT THE MOST!"

35…

Izumi turned her head to face the pedals beneath her feet, taking in deep breaths as she recalled the words of the puppet, who sat motionless watching her. Without a second thought, she put pressure on the left pedal as the blade over her left eye dug right into her.

"GRAHHHHHH, FUCK!!!" The pain was unbearable as the blade dug into her vitreous body, just shy of touching the optic nerve. Blood caked the blade as the smell of iron mixed with the salty smell of the abandoned fish processing facility.

25…

20…

Izumi felt as if she was about to throw up, as through her tears, she gazed upon the gauntlet attached to her hand. "Fucking hell… I have to do this shit again!" She seethed to herself, imagining blood trickling down her forearm as she sat alone in a dimly lit bathroom with a razor gripped in her other hand.

15…

"I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die…"

10…

With a heavy heart and bated breath, Izumi put pressure on the right pedal as she felt her forearm being diced into a million pieces. The sound of loud razors and agonizing screams filled the room as the harpoon rotated, once aimed at her heart, shot toward an empty wall.

The restraints that bound Izumi to her chair were let go, as the woman fell with weak knees. Blood mixed with her tears, pooled beneath her as she curled into a fetal position. As Izumi lay crumpled on the floor, her body trembled with pain and exhaustion as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. She was too weak to lift her head, but her half-blinded eyes blurred with blood and tears caught a shadow moving closer.

The voice that reached her was calm, steady, almost clinical. "You survived," the voice said, cutting through the haze of her agony.

Izumi blinked, her one remaining eye trying to focus as the figure knelt beside her. She caught a glimpse of a man in his twenties — slightly tall and lean with short, messy black hair. But other than that, his facial features were unknown to her, thanks to the surgical mask and shades he wore to disguise himself. 

Despite the disguise, Izumi felt his eyes peer straight into her soul. Coupled with the way he carried himself, he conveyed a sense of strong empathy and calmness.

With him, he carried medical supplies of all sorts. Kramer wasted no time as he unwrapped a medical kit and got the necessary tools out. "Why… why'd you do it?" Izumi croaked painfully. "What do you want from me?"

Kramer didn't respond immediately, gently taking her mutilated right arm and tightly wrapping a tourniquet to stop the blood rushing out from her elbow. "Why… why are you helping me? You're the one who did this to me!"

It wasn't until her arm stopped bleeding that Kramer responded to her, simultaneously focusing on stopping blood from leaving her other wound. 

"I didn't do this to you. You did." He wrapped her left eye tightly in gauze, not before wiping the blood and tears away. "Everything you did here was your choice. Your actions, your decisions… all I did was present you with an opportunity."

"An… opportunity?" Izumi's voice wavered, incredulous. "You call this an opportunity?" Kramer only nodded, his hands steady as he tied off the bandage. "Yes, an opportunity to change… to survive… to learn…"

Izumi stared at him through her remaining eye as he now tended to her arm. "You believed you were justified in taking a life because of what was done to you. But now, you understand what it feels like to be powerless. To be on the edge of death and realize how precious life truly is. Most people are so ungrateful for the lives they live. But not you, not anymore…"

Izumi began to process everything, and Kramer saw it in her remaining eye. "I know what it's like to lose, but murder can never be justified, Izumi. What that man did to you was wrong, but he didn't deserve death. He deserved to be tested, just like you."

Izumi grumbled, "Maybe you're… maybe… maybe…" She could only sigh. "I just hope he's been sent to hell by God." Kramer mused as he continued to tend to her wounds.

"There is no God, that's why I stepped in."

The conversation lulled into silence as Izumi spoke internally with herself, reflecting on everything. "You're… right… you're right…" She said softly, noticing a small smile form on his face. Once Kramer was satisfied with the medical work, he got up and moved back slightly, studying Izumi's face.

"So you understand now," he said, his voice soft yet firm. Izumi, still on the floor, nodded in agreement, albeit weakly. "You've been given a second chance — a chance to find meaning in your life and value it." 

Izumi let his words wash over her. She had spent so long trapped in her anger, in her need for vengeance, that the concept of valuing her own life had become foreign. "Value… meaning… cherish… cherish your life…" She said to herself meekly.

It was then the sound of faint footsteps echoed from behind Kramer. Her head weakly turned toward the far corner of the room, her blurred vision barely catching the sight of a figure — another man — watching from the shadows.

Stendhal, silent and still, observed the scene with a respectful gaze. He had been watching the entire time and had been listening to Kramer converse with Izumi. And now, as Izumi lay broken and bleeding but alive, Stendhal's admiration grew. Jigsaw turned his head slightly, acknowledging the vigilante's presence.

"You're right," Stendhal finally spoke, his voice low but filled with conviction. "You were right about all of it."

Kramer turned to face him fully, the calmness in his eyes a stark contrast to the intensity radiating from Stendhal. "You've seen it for yourself now," Kramer said, his tone soft yet commanding. "This is what true change looks like…"

"I've always believed in making people face their sins. But your methods… they go deeper than just punishment. You don't just force them to acknowledge their wrongs — you make them change. You've opened my eyes today…"

Kramer's lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. "Change is the only path to survival. Punishment alone won't bring it. Fear alone won't bring it. But facing the consequences of their own choices… that is the key."

Stendhal crossed his arms, his admiration turning into complete solidarity. 

"I'm with you. I see it now — the power in what you do. It's not just about justice. It's about something greater, something that can reshape these corrupt people in the world."

Kramer observed the vigilante, the firm resolve in his expression, the spark of belief that now burned within his eyes. "The heroes, the villains, everyone in between… they're all caught up with their sins. But together, we'll purify their souls. One way or another…"

Kramer nodded approvingly. "Together, we can create a world where people learn to value their lives and the lives of others."

Stendhal looked down at Izumi once more, her weak murmurs breaking the silence between them. At that moment, he understood what Kramer had been trying to show him. His admiration had shifted into something much more profound — complete allegiance.

"I'm ready," Stendhal said, his voice filled with purpose. "Let's make them all see."

Kramer nodded again, this time with finality. 

"Then we begin…"

(A/N: I do hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, not just for the satisfying trap, but also to develop more of Stendhal's internal conflict before finally cementing his ideology. I noticed when I was writing a couple of chapters ago that I left Stendhal in an ambiguous place, so to speak. Hopefully, that answers some questions!

Other than that, how was the chapter? Please comment your thoughts below and don't forget to leave a review! Your feedback is always welcome!)