Chapter 5: Ugly Dogs and Ugly Truths

Back at the police station…

Fernando leaned back in his chair, clearly annoyed. “So let me get this straight, Hernandez. You got held at gunpoint. The suspect escaped. Ramirez is in the hospital because he got shot… and then a bulldozer hit the back of the patrol car? Tell me one reason why I shouldn’t fire your ass right now.”

I exhaled slowly. “Because I might’ve found the location of the missing chemical shipment.”

“A missing chemical shipment?” Fernando raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“We got a report from the DEA. A container of chemical equipment from China was meant for the Reyes cartel. But it was intercepted—by Los Hermanos del Dolor.”

Fernando folded his arms. “Why the hell would the Reyes be the intended recipients?”

“It was a setup,” I replied. “Los Hermanos used the Reyes' name to cover their tracks. Pretty clever, actually.”

“And you know where the chemicals are?”

“Yes, sir.”

Fernando sighed. “Alright. I’m assigning you to investigate it—with Vincent.”

“Wait—Vincent? The guy from the Foreign Division?”

“Yeah, got a problem with that?” He grinned. “Better to have backup than end up like Ramirez—shot in the back, bleeding in my lobby.”

“Right… I’ll go find Vincent.”

At the Foreign Division office…

There he was. Vincent. The smooth-talking, cartel-connected scumbag wrapped in a nice suit and fake charm.

“Ah, Hernandez! What brings my favorite wet blanket here? Come, have a seat. I’ll even pour you some of my finest wine.”

“Shut up, Vincent. Fernando wants you to come with me. We’re investigating the missing chemicals.”

“Of course! But can’t we relax a bit first?” He offered me a chair.

I kicked it aside. “No. Get your jacket and move.”

“Alright, alright… You’re such a buzzkill.”

We took his car—not a patrol vehicle, but a damn purple sports car with racing tires.

“Nice ride. How much did the cartel pay you for it?”

“My, my, such harsh accusations,” he said with a smirk as he opened the door.

“So where did the money come from?”

“A smart little… investment.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s just go.”

At Rancho Sombra Verde...

The place used to be a thriving ranch before chemical waste ruined the land. Now, all that was left was a crumbling farmhouse, some broken fences, and—suspiciously—a single well-kept building.

“This is the place?” Vincent asked. “You sure your so-called ‘informant’ didn’t play you?”

“I’m sure,” I muttered, stepping out of the car.

"Maybe we should've brought a shovel. Might dig up treasure and chemicals.”

Then—noise.

I motioned for Vincent to keep quiet, but instead, he started sneaking toward it.

“Mierda... Can't believe El Jefe has us hauling this chemical again.”

“Yeah, what’s it even for? Can’t be a bomb, or the cops would be all over us.”

“Shut it. Just move fast. You know what happens if we screw this up.”

Then Vincent stepped out, gun raised.

“You two—nobody move or I shoot.”

“Mierda—Los Azules!” one shouted.

“Hands up, now!” Vincent ordered.

The two workers complied. The foreman, though, slowly reached into his pocket.

Vincent didn’t wait. BANG! BANG! BANG!

“What the hell, man?!”

“He was reaching for a gun.”

“We could’ve questioned him! He might’ve told us where the shipment was going!”

“It was him or me.”

“Damn it...” I muttered.

Vincent walked off while I searched the bodies. No gun. Just a permit... and a company name.

A shell company. Registered under Los Hermanos del Dolor.

Well—at least now we had proof.

Then I heard it—a howl. Coyote? No... something more.

I turned—and saw it.

A hairless, fanged creature. Not quite a dog, not quite a wolf. It looked like... like the Chupacabra.

It lunged.

I kicked it in the snout before it could sink its teeth into my leg.

Too close.

“Hernandez!” Vincent shouted. “We gotta get out of here! Something bit my leg!”

Gunfire echoed behind me.

“Hold on, I’m coming!”

I tossed a Boo Companero to distract the creature and bolted toward the car—only to see two more beasts waiting for us.

“Hernandez, shoot them!”

I fired. Center mass. Nothing. The bullets didn’t even slow them down.

“Damn it! They’re bulletproof!”

“What the hell are these things?!” Vincent screamed, still shooting with his magnum.

“I think they’re Chupacabras! Or worse.”

I pulled out my phone and played a high-pitched dog-whistle sound. The beasts winced, some even collapsed.

“Now! Run for the car!”

We made it.

“Start the engine, Vincent!”

“On it! Got it! Hehe—goodbye, ugly dogs!”

Vincent hit the gas and rammed one of the creatures.

“Hey! You didn’t need to do that, pendejo.”

“What? They’re monsters! Who cares?”

As we sped off, I caught a glimpse of a black van—men in suits, one of them holding some kind of control device.

Were they controlling the creatures?

Vincent asked, “So what now, Hernandez?”

I stared ahead. “Now? I’m gonna catch a Chupacabra.”

See you next Thursday.