"That sounds familiar," El remarked casually, as he watched Sands fiddle with the guitar in his hands. Sands smiled, but didn’t respond.

"Get out of here and leave me alone, Sands," El said at Sands’ silence, before turning from him and beginning to walk away.

Sands chuckled, causing El to pause and face the officer. Sands stopped plucking the strings and hopped off the car, removing the strap from his shoulder and holding the guitar by the neck.

"I take it that’s a no?" Sands said, still amused by El’s reaction.

"How did you guess?" El asked, beginning to walk away again.

Sands let El go for the moment, as he leaned the guitar against the front bumper of the car. He stepped back from it, as if admiring it, before calmly replying to El. "Hmm. Then I guess it’s a good thing I was only yankin’ your chain."

He heard El stop again, and he pretended to inspect the guitar critically. He was starting to wonder what the damn thing looked like, and could have laughed at that fact. He’d never particularly cared about the craftsmanship of guitars before.

"Then why are you here?" El asked, as he walked back towards Sands, growing increasingly frustrated.

"What do you think?" Sands asked, gesturing towards the guitar and ignoring El’s question. He knew his evasiveness was wearing on El’s patience. After making El wait for a moment, he answered. "I came to purchase a guitar. Why else would I be in Guitar Town?"

"Because I am here."

Sands tilted his head in El’s direction. "You’re so egocentric, El."

El snorted, and Sands returned his attention to the guitar. "The world doesn’t revolve around you and your overblown mythology." Sands paused to retrieve the guitar before continuing.

"The world revolves around me," Sands said, as if it was universal knowledge.

El shook his head, not buying Sands act. Something was up. He wanted something. "What do you want?"

"Soooo," Sands drawled, again disregarding El’s question and infuriating the Mariachi in the process. "What do you think? Personally, I don’t think this guitar is terribly impressive. Especially since it’s supposed to be the man’s finest."

"What are you doing here?" El demanded again, determined not to be swayed.

Sands continued looking at the guitar, and went on as if El didn’t exist. "No, not too impressive at all. Can’t even carry a proper tune."

El rolled his eyes upwards. He’d forgotten just how maddening Sands was. "I don’t think the guitar is the problem," El said, a direct insult to Sands’ poor playing.

"Oh! Ouch! That little barb struck my heart like a dagger El, truly," Sands said, his voice laced with sarcasm as his right hand flew to cover his heart.

"But I do have to respectfully disagree with your expert opinion. It’s definitely the guitar." Sands paused a moment. "You don’t think they’re trying to gyp me, do you?"

"It’s possible."

Sands raised his eyebrows, and smirked. "Well then, I guess I’m going to have to kick the saleman’s bucket… so to speak."

With a sigh, Sands quickly shifted gears, deciding to get down to business. "El, I’m here to ask a favor of you."

El took note of the fact that Sands made sure he was controlling the conversation by forcing El to wait.

Sands would give up the information when he chose to do so.

The forced control was something that El did not like one bit.

El also didn’t like the fact that Sands had asked for a ‘favor’ like it was the most normal thing in the world.

El watched as Sands carelessly tossed the guitar to the ground, and turned a full three-sixty with his arms extended, as if gesturing to the entire town. "Damn El. This place just isn’t happening. All I can say is that there better be a dive that serves some good slow-roasted pork here."

"Why? So you can shoot the cook?"

"You know me so well, El. I find the activity very… therapeutic."

El moved closer to Sands, and attempted to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Why would I grant you a favor?" El asked, straight to the point.

"Because it will be fun! It’ll add to your impressive – as well as highly exaggerated – myth. It’ll add a little spice to your life… et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Need I go on?"

"No, and no," El stated. His decision to not get mixed up in any of Sands’ schemes had been made as soon as he’d spied the officer in the square.

"No and no?"

"No. I’ve had enough killing, and enough revenge. I’ve finally found peace here. I’m not getting dragged into anymore of your plots."

"No killing? No revenge? Peace and harmony? What the hell kind of myth is that?" Sands scoffed, before switching tactics to hit El in one of his weak spots. "And here I thought you were an honorable man."

"Honor is something you wouldn’t know anything about."

Sands raised an eyebrow, his face shifting from teasing to serious in the span of a second. "Well then, how about this?" Sands began, closing the gap between himself and El and pointing a finger at him. "You owe me."

"Owe you?" El asked, as if the statement was absurd.

"Yes. You, El Mariachi, owe me, El Oficial, big time." Sands stated, and El was surprised by the conviction in Sands’ tone. "And if you don’t do what I ask you to, I’ll make sure to plaster your name - or lack there of – and place of residence, with its peace and harmony, everywhere in neon lights."

Sands moved his hands while he spoke, as if picturing the scene. "You’ve got great star power El. I have no doubt you’ll be performing to a full house. With your name? Oh, you’ll draw them to you in droves!"

Sands finished with a twisted smile, "Man, that’s Broadway. I’ll buy a ticket to that."

Once finished, Sands got the distinct impression that he might have pushed El a little too far when he felt El’s hands around his throat.

"You think you can threaten me? My answer is still no."

Sands smiled, despite his awkward position. "You can’t say I didn’t try and ask you nicely."

El tightened his grip but Sands gave no visible signs of discomfort.

Really, compared to having your eyes drilled out, this was nothing.

"You call all this asking nicely?"

Sands seemed to ponder El’s question for a moment. "Yes, I do. As a matter of fact, for me, I’d call this down right polite, because I’m a firm believer in the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ policy."

"If you’d killed me then you couldn’t have used me."

Sands smirked. "El, sometimes I wonder about you. You should know by now that there are plenty of places I could shoot you without causing serious damage. Bullet wounds can be pesky, you know?"

"No."

"No? You can’t possibly tell me you’ve never been shot."

"No, as in I’m not granting any favors to the devil."

"Such compliments. You’re too kind," Sands drawled, while he slipped a hand into his pants pocket, undetected by El.

Sands sighed, faking disappointment. "Really, El. You’re no fun."

With a grunt El let go of Sands, but remained directly in front of him. Sands hand had retrieved what appeared to be a lighter from his pocket. Now that he was free of El’s grasp, Sands fished his pack of cigarettes out, not caring if El saw it.

As Sands place an unlit cigarette between his lips, El continued to glare at him silently. The tension was palpable.

Sands brought up his lighter, but instead of lighting his cigarette, he quickly flipped open the bottom of the lighter and pressed it against El. Not caring where exactly it landed Sands pressed a small button on the side of the lighter-like object and an intense shock quickly passed through El’s body.

Sands had been so quick, El hadn’t even had time to register what was happening.

El hit the ground in a heap, unconscious.

Sands closed the bottom of the lighter, which doubled as a stun gun, flipped it so that it was again right side up, and proceeded to light his cigarette. He smiled as he returned it to his pocket.

Yes, working for the CIA did have its perks.

"So sorry El, but I don’t have time to waste in mindless chitchat."

El would be out for a good half hour.

Sands listened to the sounds around him, trying to hear Jackson or one of the salesmen. Unfortunately, they weren’t making a sound and Sands quickly felt lost without anyone’s voice to give him direction.

"Jackson?"

"Yeah?" Jackson asked, off to his right, and Sands turned to face him.

"What are you waiting for? Help me get this dead weight into the car before he wakes up and unleashes his guitar case of death." Sands took a drag of his cigarette and motioned towards El, who was currently dead to the world.

Jackson hurried over to where Sands stood, and helped get El into the backseat of the car. While Jackson tied his hands and feet, Sands relieved El of all his weapons.

‘Not too many. Must have caught him by surprise,’ Sands thought as he finished up. Closing the backdoor, Sands put the two guns he’d found on El in the trunk, and was about to sit in the passenger seat when a thought occurred to him.

Reopening the backdoor, Sands removed El’s boots, quickly finding a couple of knives and a small pistol. Smirking at the finds, Sands patted El down one last time before placing the new batch of weapons in the trunk with the others. Opening the passenger door, he sat down and heard Jackson do the same.

"Oh, Jackson? See the guitar out there?"

Jackson looked at Sands curiously. "Of course."

Sands inhaled a large amount of smoke and closed his door.

"Go fetch."