However, what almost drove Clay to the brink of a mental breakdown was this.
Through the rearview mirror, he clearly saw the elderly figure standing at the wildly skidding and violently shaking rear of the car, still standing there as if rooted to the spot.
He even maintained the stance of leaning on a cane, not a corner of his garment was disturbed, as if the out-of-control chaos around him was just an insignificant breeze.
"Insane! Completely insane!" Clay screamed desperately in his heart, each thread of his rationality snapping one by one.
And on the passenger seat, Ryan was even more miserable, unable to stabilize his body in such violent chaos.
The expensive tactical data lenses on his eyes, and the specially made revolver, had long been flung away by inertia, bouncing around the cabin like cannonballs.
Several times they smashed against his alloy helmet, producing dull thuds.
