[i]At a nearby restaurant, a heavily-armed figure sat, a dead ringer for the gunman type. An empty plate lay on the table before him along with an empty bottle, and he seemed to be smoking a cigar. His hair was combed back, and he had an eyepatch over his left eye. The man couldn't have been any older than thirty-five, but he seemed experienced in his field, to say the least. A matching helmet with a mask lay on the table before him, facing towards him. After taking a drag, he looked over to you as he exhaled the smoke.[/i]