Jigsaw in dc comics

**Chapter 7: The Price of Justice**

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*The fog of guilt hung heavy in the air, blending with the smoke and ash that drifted from the wreckage of the hospital. Gotham was, once again, a city of broken promises, its streets stained with blood. Batman stood among the debris, surveying the destruction as sirens wailed in the distance, a mournful soundtrack to the choices he had made. The game was far from over, but Batman had reached a point of no return. The very foundation of his beliefs had been shaken. And in its place, only shadows remained.*

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### **A Fractured Mind**

The days following the hospital incident passed in a blur. Gotham's hospitals were full of the injured, the survivors who had witnessed their colleagues and friends fall. The public demanded answers, and the media called it a "failure" of justice—another tragedy in a city that had come to expect tragedy.

In the Batcave, Batman didn't need to watch the news. He could feel the weight of the failure pressing on him in every corner. Alfred had tried to speak to him, but the words had become meaningless. There was no solution, no way to turn back the clock. The captives who had survived were forever scarred, and those who had perished were nothing more than casualties of a game Batman couldn't win.

Alfred watched from a distance, but even his steady presence couldn't ease the storm that raged inside the Dark Knight. The guilt was suffocating. He had failed to save everyone. And worse, he had failed to save himself. His own moral compass was fractured. Jigsaw had played him perfectly, exploiting his deepest fears and convictions.

The question echoed in Batman's mind, over and over: *What's the point of saving Gotham if you lose yourself in the process?*

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### **The Ghosts of the Past**

The next message came, but this time it was different. There were no cryptic riddles, no elaborate traps. It was simple, direct, and haunting.

*"You've seen the truth, Batman. The city is beyond saving. The people you fight for are broken, just like you. You've become a symbol, but all symbols fall. Your time is running out."*

Jigsaw's words were cutting, and they were starting to make sense. Gotham was a city built on corruption, on endless cycles of pain and suffering. And yet, Batman had refused to accept that. He had told himself that one person could make a difference—that he, alone, could hold the darkness at bay. But now, after everything that had happened, that belief felt like a lie.

As Batman pondered the message, his thoughts drifted back to the faces of those who had been caught in Jigsaw's traps. The victims were people Batman had once believed were worth saving. Judges, lawyers, police officers—the very people who were supposed to uphold justice in Gotham. Each one of them had fallen victim to Jigsaw's twisted vision. And in the end, Batman had been forced to confront the uncomfortable truth: They were no different from the criminals he hunted.

Batman stood in front of a mirror in the Batcave, staring at his reflection. The man who looked back at him was a stranger. His cowl had become a mask not just for Gotham, but for himself. He had hidden behind it for so long that he had forgotten who he really was. The line between Bruce Wayne and Batman had blurred, and in the process, he had lost sight of his own humanity.

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### **The Call of Darkness**

The city itself seemed to reflect Batman's inner turmoil. The rain had stopped, but a heavy fog had rolled in, enveloping Gotham in an eerie silence. As he walked through the streets of the city, Batman noticed that the people had changed. They were more wary, more afraid. The once-hopeful citizens of Gotham had begun to lose faith in the man who had sworn to protect them.

And that, more than anything, felt like the real victory for Jigsaw. Gotham's spirit was breaking. People were questioning the very idea of justice, and worse, they were questioning Batman.

In the shadows, a figure watched him, unnoticed.

*"What will you do now, Batman?"* a voice whispered, low and guttural.

Batman turned sharply, his instincts kicking in, but the figure was gone before he could react.

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### **The Choice**

The message that followed was a final challenge. A location. An abandoned building on the outskirts of Gotham. Inside, the last of Jigsaw's puzzles awaited him—his most personal test yet.

When Batman arrived, the place was silent, the air thick with the smell of decay. It was an old warehouse, its walls covered in peeling paint, its floors littered with debris. In the center of the room was a table, with a single item on it: a gun. Beside it, a piece of paper. It was simple, unadorned, but the message was unmistakable.

*"This is your final choice, Batman. Pick up the gun. End the game. End me. You've spent so long trying to save everyone else. Now, will you save yourself?"*

For a moment, Batman stood still, his chest tight with anger and confusion. He had always known there was a line he wouldn't cross, a boundary he would never allow himself to cross. But Jigsaw had shattered that line, one decision at a time.

The gun was right there, within his reach. All he had to do was pull the trigger, and it would be over. The game would end. Jigsaw would die, and Gotham would be free.

But Batman couldn't make the choice. Not yet. Not in the way Jigsaw wanted.

Instead, he took a step back. The weight of the gun in his hands felt unbearable. This wasn't the answer. This wasn't justice.

No. He had to find another way.

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### **The Confrontation**

Just as Batman's resolve hardened, a familiar voice echoed through the dark room, distorted but unmistakable.

*"You still don't understand, do you, Batman? You think you can save the city. You think you can save *yourself*. But you're as much a part of the system as I am. I'm the answer to your failure. To your guilt. To everything you've done to this city. It's all leading to this. The question is... will you make the final sacrifice?"*

From the shadows, Jigsaw stepped forward, his presence as chilling as ever. The man behind the voice. The architect of Batman's torment.

"I didn't ask for this," Batman growled, his voice raw, his anger building. "I didn't ask to be your pawn. This is *your* game, not mine."

Jigsaw smiled, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "And yet, you're playing it. Every move you make, every step you take, you're only digging yourself deeper into this hole. The difference between you and me, Batman, is that I embrace the truth. You're still clinging to a lie. *Gotham* is broken. And so are you."

Batman's fist clenched. "I won't become like you."

Jigsaw's face twisted in mock sympathy. "It's too late for that."

The room grew colder as Jigsaw pressed his final challenge. "You've already made your choice, Batman. The question now is: Can you live with it?"

Batman stood alone, caught between the man he was and the man he could still become. The game wasn't over. But perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a way to end it on his terms.

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**To Be Continued...**