He was selling gashapon toys in Marvel Studios, and at the beginning, Tony turned into Kuuga.

"Hey, Uncle Bat, stop staring, you're drooling."

Pietro walked over, tossing his black batwing belt in his hand, a broad smile on his face.

"You should just throw this piece of junk in a trash can or sell it as scrap. Maybe you can scrape together ten yuan for a taxi home."

Bruce withdrew his gaze, his eyes regaining their deep and sharp intensity.

He ignored Pietro's taunts and took a step forward.

Pietro thought he was going to steal the belt and instinctively tried to activate supersonic speed.

But Bruce's target wasn't the belt at all; he reached into the inside pocket of Pietro's jacket and pulled out his stolen leather wallet.

"You..." Pietro's eyes widened.

Although he wasn't serious, the fighting skills of these local inhabitants were indeed terrifying.

Bruce didn't waste any words. He opened the wallet with the Wayne family crest and pulled out a pure black metal card.

Centurion Black Card.

There is no limit to the amount that can be spent.

"Snapped!"

Bruce slammed the black card heavily onto the counter in front of Li Ang, his gaze sharp and unwavering. On the domineering face of Gotham's richest man, there was no longer a trace of hesitation or restraint.

"You just said it costs $10,000 per draw?"

Bruce stared at Li Ang, his voice low and deep, as if he were proclaiming a judgment.

"That's right, honest and trustworthy."

Li Ang gave a professional smile.

"Of course, if you want even stronger abilities, you'll need to exchange high-level gacha pulls for items related to cause and effect or high-energy items."

"Swipe your card."

Bruce pushed the black card forward, his tone carrying an unquestionable arrogance and an absolute thirst for power.

He turned and glanced at Tony and Pietro, his eyes cold.

"Money? Money is the last thing I lack!"

"Give me a hundred consecutive draws first."

Upon hearing this, the entire gashapon shop fell silent.

Even Frank, who had never been interested in opening gashapon machines, couldn't help but glance at this local native.

A hundred consecutive pulls, and you don't even blink?

"A hundred consecutive draws?" Tony gasped, then sneered, "Bat, judging by your shabby clothes, you didn't bring a credit card here to show off."

Bruce didn't even look at Tony; he was staring intently at the gashapon machine.

"Gotham doesn't need fairy tales, and it doesn't need magic."

Bruce said in a deep voice, as if he were speaking to Li Ang, or as if he were making a declaration to the whole world.

"If necessary, I will buy this machine from you."

Li Ang looked at the black card on the counter, his smile growing wider.

I'm not afraid of you being principled, I'm just afraid you won't spend money.

Once you start drawing cards, all principles of non-killing and technological bottom lines will be crushed by the power of the myriad worlds.

"Jarvis," Tony snapped his fingers, "check this wealthy gentleman's account balance and see if he can afford one of my mechanical fingers."

"Yes, sir."

A mechanical voice, seemingly generated by artificial intelligence, came from Tony's glasses, followed by an extremely rare pause.

"Sir, card information confirmed."

"This account belongs to Bruce Wayne, the current head of Wayne Enterprises, and he has personal access to its liquid funds and total assets..."

"How much?" Tony asked impatiently.

"Enough to buy half of Stark Industries."

Tony's sneer froze.

He turned to look at Bruce, scrutinizing his drab gray suit as if he were an alien monster.

"Fuck...you're practically half me?!"

Click.

Bruce ignored Tony and instead reached out to open the first gashapon capsule, inside which lay a pair of night vision goggles.

Infrared thermal imaging, with a resolution three times higher than his existing equipment.

"It's alright," Bruce nodded.

The second one.

Miniature eavesdropping patch that can be attached to any surface and has a battery life of 72 hours.

Bruce frowned slightly.

The third one.

Bulletproof tie clip.

"..."

Click click click.

The tenth to the thirtieth were produced one after another, like an assembly line.

High-strength climbing gloves, portable fingerprint collectors, voiceprint camouflage patches, mini trackers...

Each piece is top-of-the-line equipment.

But each piece hit the mark precisely where Bruce Wayne didn't need it.

"Another listening device?"

Tony was leaning on the counter, chin resting on his arm, his face beaming with the glee of watching a spectacle.

"Congratulations, Batboy, you can now monitor the entire Gotham City simultaneously."

"Shut up," Bruce said through gritted teeth.

The fiftieth one.

A retractable police baton.

The sixtieth one.

A pair of sunglasses that can change color.

The seventieth one.

A "Spy Survival Manual".

"Pfft!" Pietro, who had been holding back his laughter for so long, finally burst out laughing.

"Uncle, you wouldn't happen to be the real King of Spies, would you?"

Bruce's face had turned ashen.

One hundred gashapon capsules filled the entire counter, piled up like a small mountain.

There are no conceptual weapons, no bloodline enhancements, and no power that can directly contend with the Joker's "Childhood Sweetheart Fruit".

It's all special agent equipment.

Elite, top-tier special agent equipment, capable of crushing any enemy on a conventional battlefield.

But to him, these things were no different from the inventory in his bat cave.

"One million dollars," Bruce said in a low voice, "in exchange for a pile of junk that I can't use."

His gaze slowly swept over everyone in the gashapon shop.

Tony turned his head to the side, his face completely innocent.

Pietro whistled and pretended to be stupid.

"The randomness of regular gashapon is very high. These may not be very powerful for you, but they are like cutting-edge technology for ordinary people."

Steve, looking like a good older brother, came over and patted Bruce Wayne on the shoulder.

"How could I be in cahoots with you?" Bruce's voice was flat.

"From the moment I walked in, he physically subdued me, demonstrating the difference in strength, while you stood by and promoted your services."

"One plays the bad cop, and the other plays the good cop."

"The classic scam process."

"Of course, I don't mind any of that." Bruce took a step forward, his fists clenched.

"But you owe me an explanation... Why did Jack get a Devil Fruit, while I only got this trash?"

Li Ang paused, his hand still holding the straw, just as he was about to speak.

boom!

The door to the gashapon shop was blasted open from the outside.

The door slammed against the wall and bounced back, only to be forcefully held down by a hand.

A terrifying surge of energy seeped in through the crack in the door.

It wasn't heat, it wasn't cold; it was a kind of oppressive feeling that made your soul tremble.

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine, a feeling he had only experienced when facing death.

Swish!

Frank sprang up from the wall, his arms churning with flesh and blood, transforming once again into two scarlet blades.

Patton instinctively reached for the firing sublimator at his waist.

A man dressed in black and gold armor stood at the door, his face as pale as paper, his lips purple, and the veins on his forehead bulging and writhing like living things.

Loki.

He was carrying a boy in a red and blue bodysuit in his arms.

The boy's face was covered in dust, and his hair was a mess, but his eyes were bright and his mouth was moving at an astonishing speed.

"...Then that purple mist monster chased after me. I ran and ran, and almost got swallowed by it. Later, I discovered that I could use spider silk to swing on the rubble, and I swung like that for about three hours?"

"No, it might have been three days. There's no sun there, so I don't know what time it was. Anyway, I was swinging along when I bumped into you..."

"Wait, how did a door suddenly appear out of nowhere and let you in?"