Casare had never fought in a war.
He rarely exchanged fire with drug traffickers, and when he had been a jail guard, he would quickly flee if things seemed amiss; you couldn't say he was utterly routed, but it still wasn't a good look.
Yet, when the army suddenly raided this area, he got all fired up!
Had Jason Bourne not grabbed him, he would have already rushed out with his rifle.
"Calm down, sir, leave the professional work to the professionals."
If he died here,
Victor could ensure that Michoacán would not sheathe its blade for seven days.
Bang!
The cannon on the M1A1 Abrams tank roared, and a building in the distance collapsed outright, like a set of blocks that had lost a corner, thunderously falling!
Casare's eyes widened as he swallowed his saliva, and the adrenaline that had been surging courageously suddenly plummeted. Glancing at Jason Bourne beside him, he gave a wry smile, nodded, and was pulled into a small cabin in the suburbs.