Sands stumbled through the cobble streets of Mexico, trying to find his way into the nearest bar without killing himself. He tripped on tangles of confetti, and large skull shaped masks, until he collided into a fellow Mexican.
"¿Necesita Ayuda, Amigo?"
"Doesn't it look like I could use some help, Fuck Monkey?" Sands said, frustrated. The Mexican laughed.
"El?"
"Sands, Nice to see you." He said sarcastically, while still chuckling to himself.
"Ah, Fuck you, El. Just get me to the nearest bar so I can order a nice, tall, big ass glass of booze." The Mexican laughed again, but escorted the misfortune-plagued comrade to La Barra de Armadillo. They entered the bar, and a silence fell over the drunk mob that blanketed the small, dank, dark room. The two beaten raw soldiers took a spot in the corner of the Barra and stuck up a conversation over some licor duro. Sands adjusted his sunglasses so that other bar dorks wouldn't realize his lack of eyes, but of course, you could easily tell from the streaks of blood that cascaded down his cheeks. Sands cleared his throat and asked El a question.
"So now that Barillo is off the streets, what do you plan on doing?" He reclined on the wicker chair and clumsily kicked up his spurred boots and positioned them on the table.
"I got my man, nothing else much to do around here it seems."
"Of course, it seems that Mexico is once again saved by the one and only El Mariachi." Sands said with a slight, quick smirk and a nod of his head. He grabbed for his drink, and knocked it from the table. The bar exploded with laughter. He whipped both loaded guns out from his two gun slings and began to shoot in all responsive corners of the bar.
One, fat, balding man's head jerked backwards as the bullet dug deep into his skull and whistled out the other end, splattering brain matter against the wooden planks of the wall. Another man collapsed as three bullets hit him squarely in the kneecaps and shattered them, causing a ricochet of noise as all three bullets splattered blood across the faces of others. Several other men stood up and pulled out their revolvers to shoot down Sands, but El decided to join him to save his ass and to have a little bit more fun before boredom struck again.
Pivoting on his heel, Sands dodged the bullets he could hear and shot in the relatively same direction to catch the man before he struggled to shoot again. El brought down three men with the same bullet as it entered one body, exited that body and flew through the other two. After several more appealing seconds of whistling bullets and splattering blood, the bar once again fell silent and the two gunman walked out of the bar, with drinks in their stomachs and satisfaction of their guns.