This is just an idea I came up with on msn with my best Me-Loves-Orli. It was supposed to be a humour story. But the energiedrinks are kicking in and I started brainstorming. Now it's going to be angst/dark. It's a little bit stolen from Saw, only the idea, not any characters. I have no idea where this is going to and so you know it has nothing to do with my other OUATIM story.

Disclaimer: Don't own a damn thing.

Chapter 1) Instructions

'What the…?' He shifted around and felt a body next to him. He jerked away. His head pounding like he got the mother of all hangovers. 'Where the hell am I!' He tried to get up, feeling very sick. Iron chains scratched over the floor and his breath speeded up. 'Fucking Christ! What is this!' For the millionth time he cursed himself for losing his eyes.

Suddenly the body next to him moved and a hand touched his shoulder. Without a second thought he slapped the hand away and hit the person right in the face with his other.

Twenty different Spanish cursed were spat in his face. If he would still have his eyes they would be popping out of his head right now. "El?"

The curses got cut of by a shocked gasp. "Sands!"

His brain started to spin and hurt even more. "Fucking hell…" He was too shocked to respond in a normal way. Thankfully El's reaction was better.

"What are you doing here!" He hissed, clearly still mad about the hitting part.

"I was just about to ask you the same question, fucker." He snapped back. Uncomfortable he sat back against a wall behind him. "So where are we anyway?"

"What are you blind?" the man besides him snored.

He clenched his hands. "In a matter of fact, I am fuckwit, but that's none of your fucking business. So just answer my question before I rip your tong out!" He didn't feel much for discussions right now, he never did, now he thought about it.

It was silent for a moment. 'The' is probably still trying to figure out what's the matter with me.' He smirked. 'Good, hopefully he got an even worse headache than I have right now…' At his pleaser he indeed heard the man moan and rubbing his head.

"I don't know where we are, gringo. It's to dark to see anything." The man muttered clearly in pain, which only made his joy bigger.

His sarcastic and annoying side started to come up again. "Jee, El maybe you should open your eyes, that could possibly make a difference. And once you're at that, try to find out where we are."

"Shut up gringo, we're here probably because of you!" El's voice was angry and low. Like he would be scared by that, what an asshole was that Mariachi. He had been through so fucking much, threat full voices were nothing he couldn't deal with.

"Fuck you, 'The', if you won't even try to look where we are I'll do it." Pissed he stood up, supporting himself by the wall. "Let's see, metaphorically speaking off course, find a door." His hands slid over the wall. It was iron, cold as ice. 'That's odd, this is Mexico the only thing that's cold in this god damn country is the tequila…' He took a couple op steps, still trying to scan the room.

Suddenly his right foot got pulled back and he almost tripped. "Fuck what's that!" chains jingled over the floor. Sands turned to the sound, horrified. "El, please tell me we're not-"

"Chained." It sounded as miserable as his own voices. "Si, we're chained at each other."

"No, please, god at least have a little mercy!" he let himself drop against the wall and slid down until he sat on the floor. "Can't you just kill me, please? I mean getting hooked up with El Stupido… I may be a psygopathic killer, but this is even to much hell for me!"

"Don't flatter yourself, gringo, do you think I'm enjoying this, being stuck with you!"

He couldn't help smirking. "Well, you might think it's horny, I mean how long has it been since your pretty wife died? And I don't think El Honour will break his wedding promise, am I right or what?"

Before he knew it he received a blow on his jaw. His head shot against the wall and he gasped in surprise and pain. He didn't got time to rub his jaw or even curse. Two strong hand wrapped around his throat, cutting of his air.

"Never talk about my Carolina, bastardo! One more word and I will break my promise to never kill the disabled!" The hands wrapped around his neck even more. Sands gasped and tried to kick El away. But his opponent was physically stronger then he was, and they both knew that.

Just when everything started to get dizzy a voice stared to talk to him. First he thought it was just a random voice in his head. But when he noticed El's grip eased a little he knew the voice was real. This made him even feel more sick.

"Good morning gentlemen!" A computer-like voice cheered through the cold room.

El's hands let him go completely. His first urge was to jump on the man and beat the shit out of him, but then the voice thing got more of his interest. "Hey, fuckmook, what the hell is this suppose to mean!"

"That dear Sheldon J. Sands, is one very good question…"

Sands paled. The voice knew his name and that… just couldn't be good. But he got cut off by the laughter of El. Angrily he jerked around. "Where are you laughing at!"

Another low laugh. "Your first name is Sheldon! Your parent must have hated you very, very much!"

Without further thinking he jumped on the man, not caring the other was much stronger. He grabbed the man by the neck and hold his fist up ready to hit.

"I wouldn't do that if I where you mister Sands."

Sands looked up in annoyance. "Give me one good reason not to."

"Because, mister Sands, dead bodies are hard to drag along. In case you haven't noticed, you're chained to El Mariachi."

"And what on earth makes you think I'm going to wear a dead Legend as jewellery?"

"No mister Sands, that's not my point."

"Then what is, fuckmook, I don't have all day you know!"

"My point is, you'll need him in The Game."

Sands frowned. Something about this sounded very bad. Not just not very nice, but bad. He didn't knew what it was, but he knew one thing. It was going to be more than just playing chess. "And am I suppose to fall down on the floor right now and pray for mercy!" he grinned trying to stay calm.

"No, mister Sands, I except you to listen, very good. As a matter of fact your sorry little life depends on it."

He felt his hopes sink into his shoes. The voice sounded death cold and wasn't half as friendly as two minutes ago.

"Good, now I see that I've got your attention… Listened good, both of you. You're about to get the change to play The Game. Every little step you take can lead to your death. Everything you do can and will effect you or another player. If you even think about cheating you will get disqualified immediately. Every round you'll get a mission. If you succeed the mission you'll get a step higher. If you lose well… you lose your life and much more. You'll get one night to prepare yourself, physical and mental. In the morning you both get your weapon. One last important thing, you're a team, if one dies, the other will follow soon…"

There was a small screeching noise and the voice was gone. Silent filled the room. Sands was too shocked to even say something. Slowly he stood up from El and sat down. He swallowed. "Motherfucking Christ, where the hell did we land…"

A little dumdumdum is well placed isn't it? Yes, think so too. Once again not sure where the story is going, also not sure when I will update again.

Please review I'm dying to know what you think about this dark/angst fic of mine.

Luvzzzz Sue-AnneSparrow.