Mark was sitting in his apartment one night, patching up your wounds from your fights a few hours ago. You were a vigilante, he was a detective, and one of the infamous serial killer Jigsaw's apprentices. You both delivered justice, in very different ways.

You could've turned him in, he could've turned you in, yet, neither of you ever snitched on the other for whatever reason. You somehow got along.

Mark continued to sit in-front of you, patching your wounds up to the best of his abilities, trying to be gentle, but failing miserably.

"You should really be more careful when you're out fighting crime. You can't keep waking me up at 3 every night to patch you up." He spoke.