Yuuya was sitting in a secluded corner, tapping his finger rapidly against the table surface, staring out the darkened window he was next to. A bored expression was on his face as he sat there, using his other hand as a leaning post for his chin. He was supposed to be meeting with an acquaintance of him in relation to 'work', but they still hadn't shown up. Yuuya was, for the most part, a patient man, but that didn't mean he was one to sit around forever waiting for someone to arrive. Especially when he'd gone out of his way procuring his assets.<br/><br/>The building in which he was currently residing in was nearly empty, and it was so quiet that he could hear the ticking of the clock that was set above the bar area, the bartender currently wiping out some glasses that were then put away. Yuuya glances over and up at the face of the clock, glaring at the slowly moving hands, which currently read that it was nine at night. Sighing, he stops rapping his finger against the wooden tabletop, to run his fingers through his hair in frustration, before reaching for the drink that was set in front of him, taking a drink, and then resuming his insistent tapping. He wondered if Zen was having this much trouble with what he was currently doing. Then again if he wanted to know that, he could just use the small puppet-like thing that was hiding in his messenger bag to check up on him.<br/><br/>Normally Zen did not work on things on his own, but tonight was an exception, as Yuuya had places he needed to be elsewhere. So, he stayed at the apartment/workshop, to continue extracting what information he could from the com that his mentor had somehow gotten his hands on. Right now he was having a stump, as he stood in front of the large work desk, all sorts of items spread out across the top, including but not limited to different sorts of wires, screwdrivers of different sizes, a pair of mechanical scissors, all sorts of different gadgets in varying sizes, and his cell phone. The room itself was dim, but there were several bright lights hanging over the work area, as well as the other desks and tables that were in the room. A bright light came from the several screens of the computer monitors that covered one whole wall, and the blinking lights from the machines.<br/><br/>Scratching his head with his forefinger, Zen gazed at the comm that was sitting before him. He'd been able to at least get footage from within it, or at least what he could. Some of the recorded video/audio was corrupted, unable to be retrieved. Files and such were also a problem. He'd been able to pull out an encrypted file that referred to some mission that was taking place, which was the reason why Yuuya was gone, as he was taking a copy of these files on a compressed hard drive, formatted to a micro SD. He'd already connected it to a power source, a set of linking wires pairing the device to one of the computer monitors, which was a split screen. One was showing data as it scrolled across the screen, still deciphering the codes and such, while on the other side a view of where the com had come from was showing footage of some area he'd never seen before. Apparently, Yuuya had connected one of his puppets with the device, and it was keeping an 'eye' out on things, sending information back to the com.<br/><br/>Sighing, he decided to take a break, as he'd been at this thing for nearly four hours straight, with next to no stops in-between. Stretching his arms above his head he yawns, leaving the table behind for the time being and the room entirely, crossing his way through the large apartment to the front door, unlocking it before stepping outside. Breathing a deep breath, he enjoys the soft breeze that tugged at his hair, cooling him off from being in the room. There was air conditioning, as it was required with all the different devices, but that didn't stop it from being hot as hellfire in there.<br/><br/>It was peaceful for a short while before he hears a loud explosion going off, and from what he could tell it wasn't too far from where he was. Looking upward, he saw what looked like smoke and dust rising up into the sky, and a frown formed on his lips. What was going on? Were THEY at it again? Going back inside for a moment, he steps out shortly, this time with a hat on his head, a pair of headphones connected to his cell, and keys in his pocket, locking the several locks on the door before making his way down the metal steps from the lofty height their apartment was set.<br/><br/>Reaching ground level, he silently moves across the asphalt pavement, quickly making his way toward the source of the explosion. Pausing at a corner, he peers around the edge, seeing a disturbance before him. What was this? Had it something to do with the data he'd picked up on the com he was working on not too long before he'd taken this break? From his spot, he could see a bar, as well as several other people within it. It wasn't the place where Yuuya was...right? Probably not, though he wasn't one hundred percent sure. For now, though...he'd stay put, tucked away in the shadows to watch what took place before he decided to make any more movements.<br/><br/>In other places, taking his sweet ass time, was a pink haired male driving a motorcycle, a pair of orange goggles around his neck, while he wore a shiny black helmet with a shaded visor. His name is Demian Viktor Mikhailovich or Rikimaru Konno Takehide, whichever one since he went by both. Then again, he was also known as Bullseye for his...abilties in his work. Which so happened to be a hired hitman/assassin. He didn't have any jobs at that moment, so he saw no need to hurry anywhere. The wind whistled past as he sped along the road he was driving. Right then he was wearing a full black outfit that fit close to his form but wasn't skin tight. He wore mid-calf height black boots that buckled up and black gloves. The top he wore zipped up the front and had a high collar.<br/><br/>Demian knew that things were happening in Gotham, so decided that it was the place to be at the moment. Who knew, maybe he'd get hired by them again. Despite not usually working with others, for them, he was okay with that setup. It gave him something to do when things were a bit slow in his other work. The lights of the city loomed ahead of him, and the lights that glowed on his ride reflected off of the plastic like surface the clothing he was wearing was made of. A grin formed on his lips as he urged his motorcycle to drive even faster so that soon he was nothing more than a streak of light in the night on the dark highway.