I've heard it said that the last thing we see before we die is light. The brightest light we'll ever see in our life is there as a shining beacon for eternal peace. Guess what, I didn't get to see the light. All I see now is eternal darkness, there was no light when I crossed over either. There was only pain. Endless, agonizing, gripping pain.

Then again there was also the sound of that drill. Needless to say I don't think I'm going to be going to any dentists in the future. I might need to though from the amounts of gum that I'll be chewing.

That really hadn't been a good day for me, and that's as shame considering the way it started out. I had my inside man betray me, the legend of Mexico leave me, a woman perform several tortures that I didn't even get to enjoy, and a blind shootout. Now these things, in small dosages, could have been handled the way I always handle things. Shoot first, shoot again, and shoot once more just to make sure their dead. Then bury them far, far, away so that they can never come back again. To top it all off I haven't even had my daily pork and tequila yet.

No. It happened all in one day. One. Twenty-four hours has never been so painful for me. Not even the CIA training I had to sit through and that's saying a lot, my friend. Why am I so calm? Probably only because they dosed me with a hell of a painkiller, after the 'procedure' what done. I'm going to freak right out. . . and I was worried about having to wear glasses. Ha.

In maybe three hours from now I'll be a writhing mass upon the floor screaming hell for the agony my eyes, or lack thereof, cause me. I cant wait. Its not everyday that such things happen. Amazing isn't it. The first woman to ever see my gun deceived me. And people wonder why I don't let anyone get close.

Keep the gun with you at all times. Never let it go. The gun is the only thing that will save your sorry hide when the time comes. That's what I say to myself as I eat my traditional meal and hold the gun ready under the table. The one time that I trusted someone enough to let my guard down they tear my eyes out. Go figure, life is funny that way.

The last image is one I can try to bore out of my skull, but I cant seem to think of anything else. Everything else is blurred, the one thing that I want to forget I cant. The look in Ajedrez's eyes as she sentences me to a different kind of death. The would-be look on bandage boy's face as he chuckles in the background.

The high pitch of the drill as it comes closer, and then the satisfaction in Ajedrez's face when it turns my left eye into jelly. She pauses then so I can treasure the feeling and then she turns it on again just to see if I squirm. My scream as my right eye is taken somehow dulls the pain. Not a lot, but it allows me to keep hold on whatever shreds of sanity I have left.

I tried. I tried so hard to get away. It's the only thing I'm good at. Shooting, fighting, and killing. Its what I'm famous for. Need someone assassinated without a problem? Call Sands! He'll do it. Stupid fuckmooks. What am I good for now?

The blood is congealed but it still feels like its dripping down my face. Just by the feel of the blood I can at least be glad that they decided to give me a painkiller. I'm also shot in various other places of my body that I can't exactly feel right at the moment.

The little boy is saying something to me in Spanish. I understand him perfectly, yet everyone feels the need to educate me even further. They say it in Spanish and then translate it for me. I did learn Spanish you know, I had to have something to do on the side of all the carnage and death. I heard Mexico, Mexico equals Spanish, why the hell not?

Am I okay? I really don't know. I'm Agent Sands. I set them up, watch them fall, and smile the whole way. The boy thinks I will be. I hope I will be too. It seems that the blind make up for their sight with their other senses. Its already started, I can hear things a lot better then I did before and I can feel hand motions and sense expressions.

Its always nice to know when someone is flipping you off. I cant move. If I move I'll fall out onto the street where no doubt a bus will be waiting to run me over. Hell, why not? A bloodstain on the dirt road. I cant die yet. I'm Agent Sands damnit. I can still shoot, I can still aim, and killing's always been easy. I'll retrain myself to shoot and show them all.

If that's not determination, I just don't know what is. I need the little boy's help, I hate to bring him further into this but there's no one else here I know. The beat's changed but I'm still walking it. Or limping to it. Whatever suits the tempo. . . it'd be as shame not to go out without a bang, eh? Broadway will be waiting for me when its my time, and I'll go down with a fight.

Im shooting blindly at hope, I understand that but with only two and a half hours left until my sanity fades, I'll hold onto anything I can. I gave away so many cell-phones and of course the one that I kept for myself wont work.

"El telephono?" I ask.

"Si!" the boys answers glad to have something to do at last. He takes my hand and I follow him as best I can. The CIA will agree to come and get me, if they don't. . . hello Mexico.