Disclaimer: I own nothing really, except when it comes to calls and prior
claims with my friends so at the moment I own: Patrick Koster, Boromir,
Haldir, Faramir, Alec Trevelyan, Sean Miller, Hook, William Tavington,
Lucius Malfoy, Roux, Jack Sparrow, Abberline, and the great CIA agent who
wears I'm with stupid shirts. You all know who I'm talking about. Oh and
I own my own character. There you have it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It had been a fucking tight spot. He'd admit it to himself, if to no one else. The assignment had been in New Orleans, long before any of his trips to Mexico. The pastry shop he had gone to had been a set up. The owner, a Mr. Darmond, had the fucking royal flush played against him. Men with guns in the kitchens and men with guns across the street. While the owner babbled his demands of the Agency, Sands had been forming a somewhat sketchy plan of getting out, namely blowing them all to fucking hell.
The shop bell rang. He had turned to eye the sixteen year old girl who entered, along with the owner.
Jesus Christ......he didn't feel like helping out the stupid kid if things got messy and it seemed Darmond didn't either.
"Cecile, we're closed today." The chunky pisser called to her.
The girl removed her tan orange tint sunglasses. Sands did a fast check. 5'6, definitely not skinny assed, on the plump side but it had been years since there had been a fuck worthy Marilyn Monroe body, if anything it made him impressed. Dyed red hair, easy to tell off the bat, probably a brunette. A black tee saying "When ya got it, Flaunt it." Worn blue jeans and what looked like a mean pair of black kicks.
"Pops, the sign on the door would suggest otherwise." She answered, not at all disturbed by Darmonds trembling timber of voice.
"Cess," Darmond growled, shifting uneasily, "I'm busy now, come back tomorrow."
The girl gave Sands the eye. A gaze that skimmed, obviously liking what was displayed, "Mmm," she hummed, "I'd be busy too if I had customers like this."
Sands never let his hand move from the gun at his waist although keeping it hidden in the folds of his jacket, he felt his lips pull into a smirk. The girl winked and the smirk grew. Well that was Sands ego combusting. Maybe he'd wine, dine, and sixty nine her after he was done with the baker.
Turning back to Mr. Darmond she continued, "Look, Pops, I'm only here to get my usual chocolate crossiants and you KNOW I go crazy if I don't have some form of sugar. So pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaseeeeeee," she pouted adorably, "give me a break today and just give 'em to me."
Darmond ran a hand through his greasy hair, "Fine. Jesus, you're just like Sally. Always what you want, when you want it. Alright, two crossiants coming right up."
Sands eyes narrowed a fraction behind the dark shades, watching every movement Darmond made as he reached around to get the girls order. He dimly heard the damn child talking again.
"He's right on the mark though, ya know? I want. I get. I enjoy."
"Is that so....." Sands murmured taking note of the twitchy glances Darmond was throwing toward the register. Sands hand tense as it hovered over the gun.
"Oh yes, I don't think it right to deny oneself...." She rambled on.
Darmond came back with a bag. He was sweating. Ah ha......someone was scared shitless. He punched in some buttons ringing up the price, "That comes to $5.20, sweetheart."
The girl slid a ten across the counter, "Denial is bad for the system. That's why I don't deny myself anything....."
She was getting on his fucking nerves now. He was debating just shooting her and getting on with business when she finished her remark.
"I don't deny myself fun......like taking out your men in the back and across the building."
It registered on Sands what she had just said and he glanced at her quickly but his full concentration on Darmond. Her smile had not faded, if anything her eyes were more bright and her expression more sweet. Darmond however was white as a vampires ass, trembling.
"It's gonna need a hell of a clean up back there, Pops. Kitty will have a lot to do tomorrow at her shift I'm afraid."
The register opened with a beep. Darmond thrust his hand in as the girl whipped out a gun from inside the waist of her funky beaded belt, and had it at Darmond's head.
"Drop it, Poppy, or your blood will be mixed, I assure you, with the raspberry tarts. And I really like them, so don't make me ruin the pastries, ok?"
Sands brows rose slightly in amusement. Ohhhh he liked this girl already, knowing not a fucking idea who the hell she was or who the hell she worked for.
Darmond dropped whatever had been in his hand, clattering to the floor.
"Now why didn't I just say that?" Sands murmured taking off his shades and drawing out his own gun.
"I'll let you say it next time." The girl replied, her smile he noticed was hardened and her eyes held a cold amusement, "Now, Poppy, you're gonna tell sexy here what he needs to know, give us the ransom money, and you're going to go. Find a hide out, some place to retire to cause the next time I see you, I shoot your fat ass into your grave."
"Ok, ok......" Darmond stuttered under the girls close scrutiny. "The man behind this crapper plan from hell goes by the name Reaper. You know Reaps the rewards of the dealings and profits....."
"I know." The girl confirmed.
"And the Reaper as in Death......"
"Creative little ass, this one, huh?" The girl commented, cocking her head. Sands found himself giving her the twice over, taking in her stance. It radiated power, dominance. He sucked his tongue between his teeth. He'd do her in an alleyway as soon as this was over, "And where does this Reaper work?"
"The son of a bitch has a flair for the dramatic...."
"Obviously." She said.
"So he works from the center of the city...."
"Where?" The girl lost the sweet, childlike tone, becoming harsh and commanding.
"I don't know." The answer was too quick in coming.
"Liar, liar," Sands chanted raising his gun to point at Darmond, "pants on fire."
"Ya know that trigger finger doesn't look so steady, Poppy," The girl's smile jerked as she mentioned Sands, "I think you should just come out and tell us."
"I don't know!" The tremble in the beefy man had become a violent shake.
Sands cocked his gun, "Strike two, old geezer, and I don't feel like playing fucking ball....." There was a deadly click as the gun readied itself.
"He doesn't know." The girl muttered, "Shit. Ok, Pops, give me my change. All hundred thousand. Oh and my crossiants."
Darmonds hands shook as he started pulling out money from the back of the cash register, and putting it in her bag.
"Hey, babe," the girl asked, turning to look at Sands, "I like that gun, where'd ya get it?"
"Watch the fat fart." He warned her.
"He's not going anywhere." She assured him just as Darmond pulled out a gun from his apron. She and Sands shot at exactly the same time.
"Are ya?" The girl finished. She bent to her knees in front of the glass case. "Goddamnit, Poppy. I told you not the tarts!" She rose, sighed, shook her head, "Damn waste." She muttered, hands on her hips.
Sands reloaded and aimed his gun at the petite's head. "Start explaining or I start shooting."
"Up your tight little ass, sexy." She quipped uninterested, taking the bag of sweets with the mounds of cash in it off the counter, shoving her gun back into her belt, and the bright lensed glasses back upon her nose. "Goddamnit." She muttered again as she kicked the case. "Well come on, hot pants. My car is out front. Come on." Her finger beckoned to him.
"I'm not hearing any explanations, sugar-butt." He reminded her severely.
She sighed in annoyance and pinned him with a glare, "Alright jackass, feast your eyes on that. Now come on." She tossed a badge to him and he caught it deftly in his other hand.
F.B.I.
"You fucks sure have great timing."
She threw a smile over her shoulder as she walked out into the street, Sands following her, taking great notice of her backside, a subject which was soon diverted by the shock of her car.
"Now that's a fucking wild ride, there." He whistled as he threw back her id, and put back on his own shades. Her laughter surprised him, a sound not like the high feathery or girlish giggles he had heard many a time. It was...normal, surprisingly enough.
"Get in." She indicated to the passenger side.
Sands slid in pulling the door shut.
"You might want to put a sear belt on, sweets." The girl warned cheerfully.
"Leather?" He asked surprised taking in the interior of the car.
"Too late." The girl gunned the engine, slamming hard on the gas. Sands was pushed back into his seat by the sheer force of the speed momentum. Sands hands gripped the arm rest. The radio was on as fast as the car was. A throaty voice, that resonated and vibrated the car belted through:
Leavin' the house at a quarter to five
Took my boots and I'm ready to ride
I feel so high
I feel so alive
"You like this crap?" He asked moving to shut off the music as the singer started to scream the chorus:
YOU WANNA BRING ME DOWN!
YOU WANNA BRING ME DOWN!!!
Her gun was at his crotch in a second.
"Touch it, and I blow your balls off, cutie."
Sands raised his hands in the air, withdrawing as her gun did.
"So what's your name?" He asked watching the streets fly by in a blur.
"None of you fucking business." She responded politely.
"Damn long name. Your age then." He pressed, feeling a smile grow.
"Eighteen, today."
"Happy birthday, sugar-butt."
"Thanks, cutie-pie."
"No big thing." He slid his gaze over her, "Say this might sound crazy but," Sands grasped her knee giving a playful squeeze, "how 'bout we make it a birthday you never forget?"
She laughed again as they screeched to a stop, "Get out, snuggle- bunny, this is where you get off."
They were at the airport. She handed him the bag with the money and the sweets. "Take it to New York. Your people sure are pissed at you, they've been waiting three days for you."
"What about your sweets?"
"Eat 'em, get some fat on those bones of yours. Don't deny yourself, hun."
"I won't." He murmured, swiftly bearing down upon her mouth. It was quick, sharp, and over fast. She pushed him away.
"Get out of here you twisted son of a bitch, before I take you back to my hotel room."
She slapped his butt as he got out eliciting another smirk. Slamming the door he crossed to the other side.
"What's your name?" He asked again smiling.
She smiled back, "Fuck you."
Then blowing him a kiss, she roared the engine to deadly life and screeched away. Sometime later he would remember that chance encounter, but he never dwelt on it long. But ever since then for breakfast he would have a least one chocolate crossiant, maybe as in tribute. She had saved his ass, he would admit it. If not to anyone else. It would be another five years before they met again under somewhat the same circumstances.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It had been a fucking tight spot. He'd admit it to himself, if to no one else. The assignment had been in New Orleans, long before any of his trips to Mexico. The pastry shop he had gone to had been a set up. The owner, a Mr. Darmond, had the fucking royal flush played against him. Men with guns in the kitchens and men with guns across the street. While the owner babbled his demands of the Agency, Sands had been forming a somewhat sketchy plan of getting out, namely blowing them all to fucking hell.
The shop bell rang. He had turned to eye the sixteen year old girl who entered, along with the owner.
Jesus Christ......he didn't feel like helping out the stupid kid if things got messy and it seemed Darmond didn't either.
"Cecile, we're closed today." The chunky pisser called to her.
The girl removed her tan orange tint sunglasses. Sands did a fast check. 5'6, definitely not skinny assed, on the plump side but it had been years since there had been a fuck worthy Marilyn Monroe body, if anything it made him impressed. Dyed red hair, easy to tell off the bat, probably a brunette. A black tee saying "When ya got it, Flaunt it." Worn blue jeans and what looked like a mean pair of black kicks.
"Pops, the sign on the door would suggest otherwise." She answered, not at all disturbed by Darmonds trembling timber of voice.
"Cess," Darmond growled, shifting uneasily, "I'm busy now, come back tomorrow."
The girl gave Sands the eye. A gaze that skimmed, obviously liking what was displayed, "Mmm," she hummed, "I'd be busy too if I had customers like this."
Sands never let his hand move from the gun at his waist although keeping it hidden in the folds of his jacket, he felt his lips pull into a smirk. The girl winked and the smirk grew. Well that was Sands ego combusting. Maybe he'd wine, dine, and sixty nine her after he was done with the baker.
Turning back to Mr. Darmond she continued, "Look, Pops, I'm only here to get my usual chocolate crossiants and you KNOW I go crazy if I don't have some form of sugar. So pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaseeeeeee," she pouted adorably, "give me a break today and just give 'em to me."
Darmond ran a hand through his greasy hair, "Fine. Jesus, you're just like Sally. Always what you want, when you want it. Alright, two crossiants coming right up."
Sands eyes narrowed a fraction behind the dark shades, watching every movement Darmond made as he reached around to get the girls order. He dimly heard the damn child talking again.
"He's right on the mark though, ya know? I want. I get. I enjoy."
"Is that so....." Sands murmured taking note of the twitchy glances Darmond was throwing toward the register. Sands hand tense as it hovered over the gun.
"Oh yes, I don't think it right to deny oneself...." She rambled on.
Darmond came back with a bag. He was sweating. Ah ha......someone was scared shitless. He punched in some buttons ringing up the price, "That comes to $5.20, sweetheart."
The girl slid a ten across the counter, "Denial is bad for the system. That's why I don't deny myself anything....."
She was getting on his fucking nerves now. He was debating just shooting her and getting on with business when she finished her remark.
"I don't deny myself fun......like taking out your men in the back and across the building."
It registered on Sands what she had just said and he glanced at her quickly but his full concentration on Darmond. Her smile had not faded, if anything her eyes were more bright and her expression more sweet. Darmond however was white as a vampires ass, trembling.
"It's gonna need a hell of a clean up back there, Pops. Kitty will have a lot to do tomorrow at her shift I'm afraid."
The register opened with a beep. Darmond thrust his hand in as the girl whipped out a gun from inside the waist of her funky beaded belt, and had it at Darmond's head.
"Drop it, Poppy, or your blood will be mixed, I assure you, with the raspberry tarts. And I really like them, so don't make me ruin the pastries, ok?"
Sands brows rose slightly in amusement. Ohhhh he liked this girl already, knowing not a fucking idea who the hell she was or who the hell she worked for.
Darmond dropped whatever had been in his hand, clattering to the floor.
"Now why didn't I just say that?" Sands murmured taking off his shades and drawing out his own gun.
"I'll let you say it next time." The girl replied, her smile he noticed was hardened and her eyes held a cold amusement, "Now, Poppy, you're gonna tell sexy here what he needs to know, give us the ransom money, and you're going to go. Find a hide out, some place to retire to cause the next time I see you, I shoot your fat ass into your grave."
"Ok, ok......" Darmond stuttered under the girls close scrutiny. "The man behind this crapper plan from hell goes by the name Reaper. You know Reaps the rewards of the dealings and profits....."
"I know." The girl confirmed.
"And the Reaper as in Death......"
"Creative little ass, this one, huh?" The girl commented, cocking her head. Sands found himself giving her the twice over, taking in her stance. It radiated power, dominance. He sucked his tongue between his teeth. He'd do her in an alleyway as soon as this was over, "And where does this Reaper work?"
"The son of a bitch has a flair for the dramatic...."
"Obviously." She said.
"So he works from the center of the city...."
"Where?" The girl lost the sweet, childlike tone, becoming harsh and commanding.
"I don't know." The answer was too quick in coming.
"Liar, liar," Sands chanted raising his gun to point at Darmond, "pants on fire."
"Ya know that trigger finger doesn't look so steady, Poppy," The girl's smile jerked as she mentioned Sands, "I think you should just come out and tell us."
"I don't know!" The tremble in the beefy man had become a violent shake.
Sands cocked his gun, "Strike two, old geezer, and I don't feel like playing fucking ball....." There was a deadly click as the gun readied itself.
"He doesn't know." The girl muttered, "Shit. Ok, Pops, give me my change. All hundred thousand. Oh and my crossiants."
Darmonds hands shook as he started pulling out money from the back of the cash register, and putting it in her bag.
"Hey, babe," the girl asked, turning to look at Sands, "I like that gun, where'd ya get it?"
"Watch the fat fart." He warned her.
"He's not going anywhere." She assured him just as Darmond pulled out a gun from his apron. She and Sands shot at exactly the same time.
"Are ya?" The girl finished. She bent to her knees in front of the glass case. "Goddamnit, Poppy. I told you not the tarts!" She rose, sighed, shook her head, "Damn waste." She muttered, hands on her hips.
Sands reloaded and aimed his gun at the petite's head. "Start explaining or I start shooting."
"Up your tight little ass, sexy." She quipped uninterested, taking the bag of sweets with the mounds of cash in it off the counter, shoving her gun back into her belt, and the bright lensed glasses back upon her nose. "Goddamnit." She muttered again as she kicked the case. "Well come on, hot pants. My car is out front. Come on." Her finger beckoned to him.
"I'm not hearing any explanations, sugar-butt." He reminded her severely.
She sighed in annoyance and pinned him with a glare, "Alright jackass, feast your eyes on that. Now come on." She tossed a badge to him and he caught it deftly in his other hand.
F.B.I.
"You fucks sure have great timing."
She threw a smile over her shoulder as she walked out into the street, Sands following her, taking great notice of her backside, a subject which was soon diverted by the shock of her car.
"Now that's a fucking wild ride, there." He whistled as he threw back her id, and put back on his own shades. Her laughter surprised him, a sound not like the high feathery or girlish giggles he had heard many a time. It was...normal, surprisingly enough.
"Get in." She indicated to the passenger side.
Sands slid in pulling the door shut.
"You might want to put a sear belt on, sweets." The girl warned cheerfully.
"Leather?" He asked surprised taking in the interior of the car.
"Too late." The girl gunned the engine, slamming hard on the gas. Sands was pushed back into his seat by the sheer force of the speed momentum. Sands hands gripped the arm rest. The radio was on as fast as the car was. A throaty voice, that resonated and vibrated the car belted through:
Leavin' the house at a quarter to five
Took my boots and I'm ready to ride
I feel so high
I feel so alive
"You like this crap?" He asked moving to shut off the music as the singer started to scream the chorus:
YOU WANNA BRING ME DOWN!
YOU WANNA BRING ME DOWN!!!
Her gun was at his crotch in a second.
"Touch it, and I blow your balls off, cutie."
Sands raised his hands in the air, withdrawing as her gun did.
"So what's your name?" He asked watching the streets fly by in a blur.
"None of you fucking business." She responded politely.
"Damn long name. Your age then." He pressed, feeling a smile grow.
"Eighteen, today."
"Happy birthday, sugar-butt."
"Thanks, cutie-pie."
"No big thing." He slid his gaze over her, "Say this might sound crazy but," Sands grasped her knee giving a playful squeeze, "how 'bout we make it a birthday you never forget?"
She laughed again as they screeched to a stop, "Get out, snuggle- bunny, this is where you get off."
They were at the airport. She handed him the bag with the money and the sweets. "Take it to New York. Your people sure are pissed at you, they've been waiting three days for you."
"What about your sweets?"
"Eat 'em, get some fat on those bones of yours. Don't deny yourself, hun."
"I won't." He murmured, swiftly bearing down upon her mouth. It was quick, sharp, and over fast. She pushed him away.
"Get out of here you twisted son of a bitch, before I take you back to my hotel room."
She slapped his butt as he got out eliciting another smirk. Slamming the door he crossed to the other side.
"What's your name?" He asked again smiling.
She smiled back, "Fuck you."
Then blowing him a kiss, she roared the engine to deadly life and screeched away. Sometime later he would remember that chance encounter, but he never dwelt on it long. But ever since then for breakfast he would have a least one chocolate crossiant, maybe as in tribute. She had saved his ass, he would admit it. If not to anyone else. It would be another five years before they met again under somewhat the same circumstances.