Gabriel Updike walked by an alleyway, gun in hand. He worked for the greater good, and was currently looking for a certain bomb headed specimen named 'Whitmore' or as others call him 'Whitty'. Gabriel's serious eyes dart around the dark alleyway, seeing if this Whitty fellow was inside. He was sure he was inside. "Come out, Whitmore! Come out with your hands up! I know you're in here!"