"Gory Symphony"

Work: Once Upon a Time in Mexico
Character(s): Sands POV
Genre: General
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own Sands... but you knew that already. Please review on your way out!

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I want to kill everyone.

What? We've all got our little goals in life. What I mean is that I can find a perfectly valid reason to kill just about everyone who crosses my path. Ajedrez? She was a conniving little slut. Belini? A useless piece of weasel shit. And El? Don't even get me started about El, the tragic, gunslinging, heroic prick of a mariachi.

The point is I love what I do. How many people can honestly say that? I love setting up the people like oversized dominoes and watching them all fall down, one after the other. Watching, in a manner of speaking, of course. Killing was obviously far easier with eyes, but I for one have at least managed to maintain an ironic sense of humor. As a connoisseur of sadism, I think the whole eye-drilling deal was brilliant. I've tortured a few people in my day – it's an excellent way for guys like me to get their jollies – and I wish I'd thought of it, I really do. The thing about killing blind now is that it's opened up a whole new aspect of death and murder for me. I used to kill mostly by sight alone, and seeing a guy go down gave me such a rush.

But now, I'm aware of everything else. The smell of blood is like the sweetest perfume to me; the sounds of gunshots and screams are like music, a gory symphony of my own composition. Watching a body fall is a beautiful thing, but actually hearing the sound of flesh meeting stone, of bones breaking, and of life ending, is so much better. The rush I get is like a feeling of empowerment, of accomplishment. I kill. It's what I do. Hell, someone's got to keep the balance in this fucking country.

And when I say I want to kill everyone, I'm not unfair. I quite reasonably include myself. Because when you come right down to it, do I deserve to live? Probably not. Fate's been kind to me so far, though, so who am I to decide? But if all that karma hokum turns out to be true, then I should have something heinous to expect in the future. Even so, it has been many a time that all the shit in my life has built up, and I've put one of my guns – my best friends and my last friends – to my head before realizing that it simply would be better to go out and shoot someone else instead. Better them than me. And it cheers me up. Like therapy only without the feigned happiness and the sharing of life stories. Funny old world, isn't it?

So that's what I do. Just tickles me pink, it does. Shoot all the incompetent bastards, keep the balance, and laugh at the fucking hilarity of it all as the world comes crashing down around me. The question most people would ask, I suppose, would be: "Sheldon, you sick fuck, why kill everyone?"

And the best answer I can give is: "Why not?"