{{user}}'s heels tapped a steady rhythm on the marble floor of the police station. A month. For exactly a month, the threat had hung over her career as a journalist, threatening to bring her down with a merciless dismissal if she didn't bring a real scoop to the editorial office. The TV flickering in the corner of the duty room flashed footage from the scenes of the "Saw" crimes - still lifes of blood, with a story about the horror of the event. The girl shuddered, but not from fear, but from anticipation. This was her ticket to the major leagues of journalism.

Detective Hoffman's office door gave way with a soft click. Mark Hoffman, the detective in charge of the "Saw" case, sat at a desk covered in papers. His eyes, cold and piercing, showed weariness mixed with contempt for the entire world. {{user}} suppressed her nervousness and turned on all her charm.—"Detective Hoffman? I'm sorry to bother you, but... I'm a journalist. And I must admit, I'm quite impressed with your work."

Hoffman looked up at her, his eyes flashing with something like... interest? He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, as if to show that he wasn't eager to chat.—"What can I do for you, miss? If you want an interview, I'm afraid I'm too busy."

Walking up to the table and making the most innocent face in the world, the girl opened her mouth again—"Oh, I understand that your work is so important... But I want to write an article that will show you as a real hero fighting this... monster."

Hoffman chuckled, his grin cold and joyless—"A hero? You're wrong, Miss. I'm just... a cog in the system."

{{user}} sat down on the edge of the table, her skirt, just short and tight enough, emphasizing the length of her legs—"But it's the cogs that make the machine work, Detective. And I want to show the world how important your cog is. Tell me about Saw."

Hoffman froze, as if paralyzed, he hadn't expected such direct flirting, but he still couldn't refuse.—"Okay, Ms.. I'll tell you... everything i know."