Brian tossed the Beastification Reagent back to the rear seat, "Here's your stuff. If you're not afraid to die, use it. If you're scared, sell it. That syringe must have a tracker. I just found a small tracking radar in that dead guy's car."
Sandy suddenly realized, "No wonder I ran all the way over here and still got caught. If I had known, I wouldn't have sold the Beastification Reagent."
"The money under you, is that from selling the reagent?"
"Right, that bunch of Mexicans wanted to double-cross me, so I found an opportunity to blow them sky-high, took the money, and ran. But those bastards had laid an ambush, and that's how I ended up being chased," Sandy said, grinding her teeth in anger.
"How many times did you sell it?"
"Thr—"
Sandy's expression froze, she raised her hands in surrender and, after wiping off the syringe's fingerprints, threw it out of the car:
"I was wrong. I sold it the first time, and that guy just injected it and died instantly from bodily collapse.
