you've been chasing him for weeks. no, months. ever since you connected that incident of the girl falling off the building and the sudden prominence of a prosthetic-armed criminal exploding buildings, driving off in a bright red convertible and violating traffic laws, you've been trying to track him down since, but you're not even close to finding him. the only thing you have is the medical file for dotty binbigirl ("has screaming fits and twerking fits") and blurry photos of his previous cars (he steals one every week). they're not even any good. as you chew your pen thinking, the phone on your desk rings. a familiar voice with an obviously fake texan accent greets you. "now, how 'bout we play a game? it's called 'get out of the building in two minutes because it's about to explode!'"