Chapter Six: Torture Session
"Idiot!" Ramirez growled as he slammed the phone down on the receiver.
El glanced up from his guitar. "What happened?"
"We've lost Sands."
---------------------------------
He was pretty sure he was awake, although when one lives in never- ending darkness, one can never truly be sure. Sands let a low groan escape his lips and felt a hand collide with his face, jerking his head to one side.
"You will not make a sound unless we tell you to," someone growled in Spanish.
"Screw you," Sands bit out.
He was fully expecting the second hit and so was prepared for it. "I said-"
"I know what you said," Sands answered. "Now what do you want?"
An eerie chuckle came from what sounded like the entranceway. "Agent Sands, we've got some experiments we'd like to conduct."
Sands froze. "Guevera."
"Sì." Sands could hear the malicious grin in the psychotic doctor's voice. "Now, Agent Sands, hold still. This might hurt...."
------------------------
It took several hours before the screams came from behind closed doors. Several hours before Sands finally gave in.
They're not coming for you.
Shut up.
Just like the CIA. They left you. Your new friends left you. Your really quite worthless to everyone, aren't you, Sheldon?
"Just shut up..."
Sands heard a chuckle. "Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."
"You must have crossed that line long ago," Sands spat. He struggled against the chains that attached his hands to the top of a bedpost. "What the hell do you want? Torture me to death?"
"It has its appeals."
"Sick bastard."
----------------------
"That's the place," El said as he lit a cigarette.
"You sure?"
"Sì," El answered, letting the smoke escape from his mouth. "We go in now?"
Ramirez looked over his shoulder. "Yeah, we'll go in now."
--------------------------
"Señor, there's someone in the building."
"Who?"
"We don't know. A man with a guitar.... We think...."
Sands chuckled from his place where he was tied up. "You're dead, you know that, don't you, Guevera? El Mariachi hasyour number and there you go."
"And your FBI friend, I'm sure is with him. We've tracked you well, Agent Sands."
"Won't do you any good."
Guevera sighed as he moved closer to the agent, something in his hand. Sands inched away the best he could, but could not avoid the needle as it made its way to his neck. "So sorry, Señor Sands, but I can't let you get away and live. You know too much this time."
"Yeah? It'll be your funeral."
"Perhaps, but yours as well."
The doors slammed open and the semi-conscious American heard the sound of El Mariachi walking into the room, guns cocked and ready. There were several definite sounds of a gun being fired and men hitting the ground. He was almost sure he heard the sound of running footsteps, but they were silenced some way down the hall.
"Sands?"
"Heya, El," the American managed, his voice sounding slurred with the drugs in his system. "Why're you here?"
"To rescue you."
"Oh." This came out in a breath before Sands' head lulled to one side, his body relaxing as he lost all awareness.
"How is he?"
El looked behind him to see Ramirez with his gun in his hand. He had made sure Guevera was dead this time, from the look on his face. "I don't know what they've given him," the mariachi said quietly as he worked at the ropes that were cutting into the American's wrists.
"We'll figure that out later. For now let's just get him out of here."
El nodded as the last knot came undone and he picked the unconscious man up, grabbing the pair of sunglasses that lay discarded on the table on his way out.
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A/N: I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow! Washington DC until Tuesday! Yay! Anyway, I MIGHT update tomorrow, but I doubt it. I've got a job interview before I go and then I'll be heading out. :)
Raphe1: Ah! No evil doctors! I need my eyes! I'm an artist, I have to be able to see to make a living! And anyway, if I can't see, then I can't update! So ha! You better keep all evil doctors away from me. :)
LaVieSandsAmour: Well he's Johnny Depp. He's a beautiful man. Hehe... He's twice my age, but he's still lovely. Ah yes, peachy keen.... Hehe... My friend Anna Maxwell uses that term a lot, so it managed to slither its way into my writings. It just struck me as something Sands would say in his oh so sarcastic manner he uses.
VanillaFluffy: What are cohones? Dare I ask.....
"Idiot!" Ramirez growled as he slammed the phone down on the receiver.
El glanced up from his guitar. "What happened?"
"We've lost Sands."
---------------------------------
He was pretty sure he was awake, although when one lives in never- ending darkness, one can never truly be sure. Sands let a low groan escape his lips and felt a hand collide with his face, jerking his head to one side.
"You will not make a sound unless we tell you to," someone growled in Spanish.
"Screw you," Sands bit out.
He was fully expecting the second hit and so was prepared for it. "I said-"
"I know what you said," Sands answered. "Now what do you want?"
An eerie chuckle came from what sounded like the entranceway. "Agent Sands, we've got some experiments we'd like to conduct."
Sands froze. "Guevera."
"Sì." Sands could hear the malicious grin in the psychotic doctor's voice. "Now, Agent Sands, hold still. This might hurt...."
------------------------
It took several hours before the screams came from behind closed doors. Several hours before Sands finally gave in.
They're not coming for you.
Shut up.
Just like the CIA. They left you. Your new friends left you. Your really quite worthless to everyone, aren't you, Sheldon?
"Just shut up..."
Sands heard a chuckle. "Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."
"You must have crossed that line long ago," Sands spat. He struggled against the chains that attached his hands to the top of a bedpost. "What the hell do you want? Torture me to death?"
"It has its appeals."
"Sick bastard."
----------------------
"That's the place," El said as he lit a cigarette.
"You sure?"
"Sì," El answered, letting the smoke escape from his mouth. "We go in now?"
Ramirez looked over his shoulder. "Yeah, we'll go in now."
--------------------------
"Señor, there's someone in the building."
"Who?"
"We don't know. A man with a guitar.... We think...."
Sands chuckled from his place where he was tied up. "You're dead, you know that, don't you, Guevera? El Mariachi hasyour number and there you go."
"And your FBI friend, I'm sure is with him. We've tracked you well, Agent Sands."
"Won't do you any good."
Guevera sighed as he moved closer to the agent, something in his hand. Sands inched away the best he could, but could not avoid the needle as it made its way to his neck. "So sorry, Señor Sands, but I can't let you get away and live. You know too much this time."
"Yeah? It'll be your funeral."
"Perhaps, but yours as well."
The doors slammed open and the semi-conscious American heard the sound of El Mariachi walking into the room, guns cocked and ready. There were several definite sounds of a gun being fired and men hitting the ground. He was almost sure he heard the sound of running footsteps, but they were silenced some way down the hall.
"Sands?"
"Heya, El," the American managed, his voice sounding slurred with the drugs in his system. "Why're you here?"
"To rescue you."
"Oh." This came out in a breath before Sands' head lulled to one side, his body relaxing as he lost all awareness.
"How is he?"
El looked behind him to see Ramirez with his gun in his hand. He had made sure Guevera was dead this time, from the look on his face. "I don't know what they've given him," the mariachi said quietly as he worked at the ropes that were cutting into the American's wrists.
"We'll figure that out later. For now let's just get him out of here."
El nodded as the last knot came undone and he picked the unconscious man up, grabbing the pair of sunglasses that lay discarded on the table on his way out.
----------------------
A/N: I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow! Washington DC until Tuesday! Yay! Anyway, I MIGHT update tomorrow, but I doubt it. I've got a job interview before I go and then I'll be heading out. :)
Raphe1: Ah! No evil doctors! I need my eyes! I'm an artist, I have to be able to see to make a living! And anyway, if I can't see, then I can't update! So ha! You better keep all evil doctors away from me. :)
LaVieSandsAmour: Well he's Johnny Depp. He's a beautiful man. Hehe... He's twice my age, but he's still lovely. Ah yes, peachy keen.... Hehe... My friend Anna Maxwell uses that term a lot, so it managed to slither its way into my writings. It just struck me as something Sands would say in his oh so sarcastic manner he uses.
VanillaFluffy: What are cohones? Dare I ask.....