Only a Moment
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After the bullfight.
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You want to know the secret to winning the game? Creative sportsmanship.
The crowd was going wild, scattered boos mingled with the screams and applause. Sands reached down and tapped Cucuy on the shoulder. "Go collect."
Cucuy, obedient goon that he was, shuffled off to do just that.
Nicholas, El Presidente's closest adviser and betrayer, just stared at him. The man was obviously still trying to process what had just happened.
Sands smirked. He always enjoyed the moment when people realized they were utterly outsmarted. The moment when they understood that they had no idea who they were dealing with. Half the fun of fucking with someone was that moment of discovery.
In the ring, the matador lay groaning in the dirt. The bull stalked around at the far end, snorting at the men who were approaching it. One of them held a tranquilizer gun. The barrel looked big enough to hold a dart capable of paralyzing an elephant. Other men ran back and forth, some headed for the matador, others clearly with no idea what the hell they were doing.
It was chaos down there in the ring, and it was all due to him. Sands felt his smirk become a grin. He never stopped enjoying the rush that came from setting things in motion.
I throw shapes. I set them up, and watch them fall.
"I think we should go," Nicholas said nervously. He was a nervous little man, all twitchy. He made the perfect rat, really. Twitchy, and traitorous. Brilliant.
"Stay," Sands said. It would be a while before Cucuy came back with the money, anyway.
Money. It all came back to money, didn't it? The ultimate freedom. The chance to slip away and go wherever he wanted, become whoever he wanted.
He was thinking about asking Ajedrez to come with him. She was beautiful, and a good fuck. He hadn't yet made up his mind though. Saddling himself with another person wasn't the best way to escape notice from the world.
In a way it was almost a shame that he wouldn't be around to watch it all fall apart. But the plan called for him to be long gone by the time Mexico realized what had happened to her. Marquez would take control, and Sands would be sitting on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean, drinking rum and ogling the local girls.
Screw the CIA. Screw everyone.
This was all about killing two birds (and one President) with one stone. Restore the balance to Mexico, and make his own escape. It was a perfect plan. Nothing would go wrong.
He was sure of it.
*****
Author's Note: Okay, I hadn't planned to write this one. It just sort of happened. I find my mind drifting back to Sands at odd moments.
So here's my request to you all. What would you like to see next? Are there any other moments in the film you'd like me to write about? Let me know, either in a review or an e-mail to beckyg19@yahoo.com, and I'll see about writing it.