She knew from the very begining that SHE wanted to be the prize for his efforts. She and nobody else. For HIM the guerillero, who had liberated the city from the evil of the ugly imperialistic forces. She had always wanted to be considered by men to be their potential prize. There was nothing wrong about that in her opinion. Nothing more to achieve in life than being the trophy of worthy men. She couldn't think of anything more fullfilling in her life. She remembered well back in her early childhood days when her mother was telling her how important it always had been for herself in her own teenage years to be considered a prize, a trophy for the trophyworthy. For the man who was forceful, righteous, brave, a hero. Her hero. Her mother had always wanted to be the mistress of heroes and forceful men and so the daughter grew up wanting the same. For Angelo, the brave guerillero, she was the ASS, the JOKER, the TROPHY from the very first moment his eyes had taken possession of her. And in his most trueful moments he had to admit to himself that it was not so much the cause of justice in the world that was his concern and that he was after than it was the TROPHY who made him reach for the highest goals, which he would not go after with such deadly determination otherwise if he had discovered easier means to reach his real goal, which in effect is getting the TROPHIES for free...The day they put him in chains was the day he had given up reaching out for those higher goals, lusting after the TROPHIES without having been really worthy of them.... And they threw him into prison where he still is, thinking it over what it was that had brought him down in the very end after such a glorious and promising start....