Marcus's new equipment made Bruce and Selina significantly more powerful.
However, the energy consumption of these weapons was astonishing. In just a few minutes, the energy reserves in their battle suits had dropped by a substantial percentage.
"It seems we can't use these casually," Bruce sighed.
Though the weapons Marcus had given them were powerful, they relied heavily on the battle suits for energy. If the suits' power was depleted, their combat effectiveness would be greatly reduced.
"But under normal circumstances, we wouldn't need to use these weapons," Selina pointed out. "The enhancement from the battle suits alone is enough to handle most opponents."
These weapons were exceptionally powerful—almost unnecessarily so for their usual encounters. Such formidable tools would only be needed when facing truly dangerous enemies.
"Exactly right," Marcus laughed. "These weapons aren't meant for ordinary opponents. If you use them against common criminals, I'd question your judgment."
For the foreseeable future, these weapons would easily overcome most of their adversaries—unless they faced someone with extraordinary abilities.
Such a scenario was unlikely in Gotham. Most of the city's villains were ordinary humans whose true strength lay in their intelligence.
They might not be as physically imposing as the villains in other cities, but their mental capabilities were often unmatched. Many of Gotham's criminals were masterminds with extraordinarily high IQs.
These were challenges Bruce would need to face on his own. Marcus had no particular interest in these individuals—better to let Bruce handle them as part of his development.
Against such adversaries, Bruce's most valuable assets would be knowledge and the ability to skillfully apply that knowledge alongside his combat skills.
Throughout Gotham's criminal underworld, gang leaders were gathering their lieutenants for meetings. News had recently spread about three beast-man killers who had literally exploded due to their bodies over-expanding, with two mysterious figures present at the scene.
"Listen carefully—there are more and more freaks in Gotham these days. I don't care what they're doing, but you must protect my property!"
"Whether it's this bar or the dance hall next door, nothing can go wrong. Otherwise, I wouldn't hesitate to hang you in the harbor as shark food."
The man delivering these threats was a thin, wiry figure standing on an elevated platform. Had Marcus been present, he would have recognized this man as Cobblepot—the same man he'd encountered before.
Cobblepot was no longer the submissive figure he'd once been. Now he looked every bit the successful gang leader.
Everything he'd achieved had come through his intellect and his talent for gathering information. Where an ordinary person might have given up, Cobblepot persevered.
Despite his formerly low status, Cobblepot was clever. He knew which information was crucial—the kind that every powerful figure desired.
Using this knowledge, he had climbed to his current position step by step. Even now, as a gang leader, he hadn't abandoned his habit of collecting intelligence.
This latest news had come from one of his informants. The other gang leaders had only learned of it because of him.
However, Cobblepot remained cautious and hadn't revealed everything. He'd withheld details about the two shadowy figures.
Everyone knew that two vigilantes had appeared in Gotham, but no one knew their true identities. Within his information network, Cobblepot had obtained blurry images of the pair.
Though unclear, he could tell they were young. Yet their strength was remarkably—perhaps impossibly—impressive. He knew the capabilities of the beast-man killers, having seen footage of their bodies expanding unnaturally.
Though the beast-men ultimately exploded from overexpansion, before that point, they had displayed power far beyond normal beast-men.
"One more thing," Cobblepot added. "Find me all the gas masks you can—latest models or old ones, I want them all!"
He was particularly interested in the gas masks worn by the beast-man killers. The unexplained presence of these masks had piqued his curiosity.
The vigilantes had taken all the masks from the scene, which only heightened his interest.
If he could find similar gas masks, he might uncover something valuable.
Under Cobblepot's orders, his subordinates dispersed. While protecting their territories, they began collecting gas masks from throughout Gotham.
Most of the masks they found were discarded models. Even when disassembled, they revealed nothing unusual. But this didn't discourage Cobblepot.
He knew that truly valuable information wasn't easily obtained. He sent more people to gather gas masks from across the city.
Additionally, Cobblepot sent all the collected masks to testing facilities for thorough examination.
He was determined to find something special in these masks—something that could increase his power and influence in Gotham.
Meanwhile, Gordon frowned in his office. Though he and Cobblepot belonged to opposite sides of the law, information sources were vital for any Gotham law enforcement officer.
Despite his reluctance to deal with Cobblepot, Gordon knew that informants could provide crucial assistance. This was especially true for someone like Cobblepot, who had schemed his way to becoming a gang leader.
Recently, Cobblepot had contacted Gordon, offering to trade information. He'd provided a video in exchange for a future favor.
The video had given Gordon a headache. It showed three beast-man killers wearing gas masks suddenly swelling up until they exploded.
This was deeply troubling news.
It meant that whoever created these beast-men had developed more powerful—if unstable—technology. These exploding beast-men might simply be failed test subjects, discarded experimental prototypes.
In the coming days, Gordon feared that increasingly powerful beast-men might appear in Gotham. The resources of the Gotham Police Department might prove insufficient to stop them.
"The people behind this are truly damned!" Gordon slammed his fist on his desk, startling his partner Harvey, who had been dozing nearby.
"What's going on? What happened? Did those beast-men escape from Arkham Asylum?" Harvey asked groggily, blinking away his fatigue.