Disclaimer: I do not own anyone except Tara and any original characters. (sigh) No I don't own Agent Sands, AKA Johnny Depp..that honor goes to some gal in France. No I don't own the Mariachi, AKA Antonio Banderas.that honor goes to Melanie Griffith. Oh man what a sandwich that would be huh??? Oh yeah...(slap) Oh sorry about that.dreams of peanut butter and jelly. Grape jelly.gah.grape jelly and Johnny Depp.nummy num num (slap).

Okay so this is my first attempt at an OUATIM fic. I have no idea if this is any good. If this intrigues you, please leave feedback and I'll continue. I promise some interesting stuff and all kinds of angsty goodness as our girl is sucked into the darkness of our favorite fallen agent.

They called him Dead Eye.rumors swirled about why he got that name, but she had discovered the truth. As grisly and painful as it was, she knew how he got that name. A few years ago, during a semi-revolution in Mexico, he'd tangled with a powerful cartel. Their punishment to him was to rip out his eyes, in a not so friendly manner. Even with this happening, "Dead Eye" was able to take down some of their soldiers as well as kill the head of the cartels daughter. The rumor was she was his lover and had betrayed him.

The legends around the mystery of the man were varied and some where just insane in their over the top nature. But she knew the truth. She'd talked to a man who was there, who had seen it happen, or at least most of it.

That had been four years ago. The mysterious "Dead Eye" had a base of operations in a town not too far out of Mexico City. He had his own crew and had a varied list of money making enterprises that he did. From hiring out his men to do hits, running prostitution, to pot smuggling.

And here she was getting ready to walk into the proverbial lions den. She'd been setting in her car for the past forty five minutes.trying to get the nerve to drive the rest of the way up to the gate and push the buzzer to open it. All these years.she'd been looking for this man, all these years trying to figure out a way to get her revenge. And now she was scared?

She took a final drag off of the sweet Mexican cigarette she was smoking and tossed it out the window of the car. The damn things were addictive as hell, and she wondered not for the first time if Dennis Leary was right, and they did put heroin in the filters. She'd only started smoking about a year ago and wasn't sure about how easy it would be to quit as she used to be.

Popping a piece of licorice gum in her mouth she started the car and drove up the rest of the graveled road to the large, black electric gate that dominated the front of the mansion. She stopped at the speaker box, her eyes looking up at the tall gates. She knew they were charged with a good dose of electricity, and if touched they could quite possibly kill whoever was that stupid. Taking a deep breath she pushed the call button, a feeling of unease wrapping around her tightly.

A half minute later a heavily accented voice came out of the speaker, "What do you want?" was the gruff response.

"My name is Tara Cunnings.I'm here to see your boss." She replied, in a steady tone of voice. She was proud of herself. Her voice didn't break in complete nerves.

The brainiac on the other end of the line forgot to turn off the microphone or whatever it was, and Tara clearly heard him and another class act talking. "Did the boss order a whore tonight or what?" he spoke in Spanish. She could make out some mumbled reply to the extent of "I dunno.looks like it's just some bitch.let her in.we'll keep her in line."

Tara seethed inwardly, but she'd let it pass for now.

"You can come in seniorita, be ready to be searched though." The first man said through the box.

"Muchos Gracias." she replied and then under her breath, "asshole." The gate opened slowly and Tara drove through it. The compound was large and reminded her of the movie Scarface.only not nearly as gaudy and overblown. It was taken care of and all along the front area different kinds of roses and lilacs, lilies and shrubs grew. The scent of flowers wafted through her open window as she made her way up the drive. There was a fountain in the center of the circular driveway, the water lit from beneath. The house itself was large and looked to be 2 stories tall with God knew how many rooms. She saw that there were some houses behind it, no doubt for the goons that Dead Eye had as his crew and the staff that ran this place.

Tara parked her car at the entrance and turned it off. She saw that two large Mexican men, each with a shoulder holster were waiting for her at the entrance. She grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car.

"Ola." She said nodding to them. One came forward and held out his hand for her back pack, the other came closer and told her to face the car. She figured she'd be frisked, but she didn't like the thought of this jerk touching her. She did as told and the guy took his own sweet time, making sure to check her ass at least twice with a couple of rough squeezes. She'd remember him later, if she got the chance.

Goon number one handed back her bag, satisfied there was no gun or any other weapon in it. She looked inside to make sure everything was still inside it before following them into the house.

The entryway was large and carpeted in a deep burgundy. The staircase was massive and had two stairways that came down on either side. Flashes of Scarface came back to her and she wondered if there was some perverse hero worship going on here. Goon number one motioned for her to follow him up the stairs. She noticed the distinct lack of pictures or anything on the walls. They were all bare, the wallpaper the same deep burgundy as the floor, with a white trim.

Tara clutched her bag to her tightly, licking her lips. She couldn't get nervous now.this was what she'd been working for. If she was right about this guy NO DOUBTS! Her mind screamed at her.you can't doubt it now. She had worked too long on this, tracked him down. If he wasn't who she thought he was, she was screwed and she wouldn't be walking out of here, most likely. She took another calming breath and concentrated on the large bulky back of goon number one.

The hallway was long, and like the rest of the house bare of any mirrors or pictures. It made the whole of the place eerie and empty feeling. The end of the hallway finally came, and she was met by a set of double doors, coal black with silver handles. There was a buzzer on the side and goon one pushed the button. A moment later the doors opened and Tara was walked into the room beyond.

There was a sense of darkness in the room, even with the windows open. A kind of gleaming black all around, it was like walking into the great gaping maw of a hungry beast.

As her eyes adjusted, she made out the shape of a man standing next to a desk. As she got closer she saw he wasn't so much a man as a kid of about 18 years of age. He had dark hair and eyes and his face was set in an expressionless stare. He didn't even seem to blink as they came to a stop in front of the black monster of a desk.

The leather office chair had its back to them. When the man who sat in it spoke, the voice was soft, but Tara could tell this was a guy on the edge. There was something in the tone that made a shiver go up her spine. "I hear you wanted to see me."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "That's right." She replied.

He turned the chair around to face her and her eyes widened a bit in surprise. The man was younger than she expected, he had be at least 40 from what she'd read, but he looked younger, no more than 30 or so. His hair was shoulder length, straight dark brown, maybe even black. He had on sunglasses, dark ones that hid everything and gave him an air of complete mystery and more than a bit of menace. His lips were nice she noted, and then shook herself from that train of thought. He was dressed in black and his skin, in what light there was, looked pale as if he didn't get out into the sun that much. He was wearing black leather gloves on his hands, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. He tilted his head slightly, a smirk barely there on his face.

"Care to tell me why?" He asked. He could hear the nervousness, even in those two words she had spoken. She was scared...he liked that. He had no idea who this girl was, or why she was here, it was good to keep her afraid. If she let something slip, he'd know it in a heartbeat.

Tara decided to hell with it, honesty was the way to go with this guy. She had no reason to lie to him. He'd probably know if she was anyway, she wasn't very good at it. "It might be prudent for your boys here to leave before I say what I have to say."

She heard goon one make a grunt behind her and the young guy actually had a flicker of something in his eyes. The man in the chair's eyebrows raised slightly behind the shades. "It must be something quite interesting then."

"I'm sure it will be to you." Tara told him, her voice serious.

The man paused. She waited while he was most likely debating on killing her or listening to her. After a few seconds he told the two other men in the room to leave. The younger of the two hesitated and the man whispered something to him in Spanish. The kid lowered his head as if chastised and left, giving Tara a look filled with dislike. She gave him a hard glare back, not backing down to a punk. Goon one followed him and with a resounding thud the doors shut and she was alone with the man in black.

"Have a seat sweetheart." He motioned her to the chair that was to the right of the desk.

She sat down warily, wondering half jokingly to herself if this was some sort of ejector seat or trap door chair. She placed her bag on the floor next to her and took out the file folders she had in it.

"I'll begin with the introductions I suppose." She said deciding to get to the point. "My name is Tara Cunnings, my father was an agent with the CIA for twenty years."

The man in the chair flinched just barely at the initials of the agency. She noticed and continued on. "He was assigned to Mexico 3 years ago to watch the workings of a drug dealer who was becoming a force to reckon with. Eight months after being on assignment, we stopped hearing from him. Not only him but the three other agents assigned to the case."

The man in the chair was silent, taking in all she said. She took another breath and continued. This was the part that would interest him. "About a month after the search began for them, the bodies were found in an abandoned hanger 50 miles outside of Mexico. Each agent had been tortured to the point of nearly being unrecognizable. My father though, was the special case. He'd had his eyes ripped out, while alive. They had kept him that way for awhile. Then they did some more inventive things to him, before finally shooting him eight times in the chest."

She looked over at her silent host. It was hard to read the expression of a blind man, she decided to herself at that moment. But by the set of his jaw she could tell he was digesting the information slowly.

It was then that he spoke, and when he did his voice had lost the smarmy edge it had held before. Now it was pure steel, hard and cold. "What does this have to do with me Miss Cunnings?" his lips barely moving above his steepled fingers.

This was it.time to tell him her theory and pray he didn't decide to just kill her. "I was about ready to enter service with the Agency myself when all this happened. But after my fathers death I decided to hunt down the bastards that had done this. The Agency was dragging their asses, and they weren't even following up the leads right in front of them. I had copies of all of my father's data he had collected and started following my nose. It brought me down a very dark road. I also discovered something that I think the CIA has known for awhile, but for some reason have decided to not do anything about."

"And what would that be?" The voice spoke from the chair.

She leaned closer to the desk, to make sure he heard this part. "The man who killed my father and those other agents was supposed to be dead a long time ago. He was the leader of one of the most powerful cartels in Mexico at one time, and if everything I have discovered rings true, he still is.just very quietly. You should know the name Mr. Sands.the guy used to be known as Barrillo."