O'Cule was having a telephone call.
"Yes, Bishop. Waterproof titanium shell this time. Do you have anything that could cut through bone? Acid? Hmm. How would it be contained inside the... all right. How much? ...that's fairly steep, are you sure you can... Okay. Okay. I understand. I'll have some of my Watchkeepers drop the money off."
Two images flickered in the conglomerate of video feeds that was his vision. One was a girl laughing holding a baseball bat with a bomb at her feet while thugs screamed and ran away from her. Another was a man nearing middle age packing and loading some high-power weaponry. They both caught his attention and he stumbled over the next part of his conversation.
"Actually... I'm going to have to call you back. Again the money will be dropped off, Bishop. Of course. Though... I might need to make yet another order very soon."
Call ended. Protocol initiated, orders sent to the eyes: watch and transmit, and flee at top speed if necessary. Both of them were interesting him immensely. Much more than those Metas- and still no sign of that dust girl- and the vigilante with the baseball bat, for some reason, seemed to be familiar. How could that be?
Oh well. He had other things on his mind. How this next order is going to suck him dry until he finds the time to stage a series of heists again. And while they weren't difficult whatsoever, in this time when his plans are to be executed and his new name- The Visionary- to become infamous throughout Gotham, he could not afford to do that.