"I'll start with my views," Harley said, "since we have combat personnel, we first need an equipnt area with all kinds of specialized gear, like firearms, blades, and even vehicles."
Deathstroke nodded and said, "That's true. Get a couple of handy weapons, that's better than anything else."
Harley picked up a piece of paper from the side and said, "Write down the types and quantities of weapons you each need, and I'll have soone buy them."
"But you'd better take it easy; I can't get heavy weapons here. Even if I could, it would be hard to bring them in. If Gordon catches us, he'll definitely nag again."
Deathstroke was clearly interested in the weaponry, with "wanting to use public funds to get so private goods" written all over his face as he madly began writing.
Harley also handed out papers to the others. It was obvious that the others were not that interested in weapons, as they were either not front-line fighters or could fight without weapons, so they naturally didn't need firearms.
"Aren't you writing?" Shiller asked Jack in a lowered voice.
"You expect to shoot people with a rifle?" Jack retorted.
"Didn't you hear? Equipnt can include vehicles. If not now, then when will you change cars?"
Jack's eyes lit up with excitent but then, a bit shyly, he looked at Harley and asked, "Any vehicle is fine?"
"Are you planning to buy a truck? Well, you could, since we need to transport things anyway. But don't get anything too outrageous; if it damages the roads, Gordon will still give trouble."
Jack imdiately began writing furiously.
Shiller thought for a mont. Although he was familiar with firearms now due to his skills, neither as an agent nor otherwise was he skilled with handguns.
To Shiller, handguns were sowhat useless. If you're close enough for the handgun, it's better to rush in with a blade, which he's more proficient with, and it's less risky; if it's too far, the handgun probably wouldn't hit anyway.
Moreover, most handguns, unless they deliver a headshot, have limited stopping power. In Shiller's observations over the years, all survivable gunshot wounds were from handguns. He's never heard of soone surviving a shotgun or sniper rifle hit.
So Shiller decided to have Harley get him a sniper rifle.
In a past life, he'd used a sniper rifle; it's a good choice for blending into places you can't easily enter or where close-range combat would blow your cover.
Victor raised an eyebrow as he looked at the weapon nas Shiller wrote down, clearly shocked, like "You can do this too?"
Then, a bit excited, he said, "I've been wanting to work on cryogenic sniper bullets, but I only know how to handle handguns. If you're good with snipers, maybe we can team up..."
Shiller considered it and thought Victor made a good point. Sotis, they needed live captures, and long-range sniper rifles with freeze bullets were indeed optimal for capturing.
Victor thought for a mont, then said, "I could bring so equipnt from my Cryogenic Lab, then procure so raw materials..."
He began writing down the materials needed for producing freeze bullets. Pala glanced over and asked, "Can I get reimbursent for materials I need for botanical weapons?"
"Of course!" Harley waved her hand generously, "As long as it's weapons we can use, whether finished products or raw materials, they can be reimbursed!"
Cobblepot and Harvey were even less interested in weapons; they didn't plan on fighting at all, so they just wrote sothing random. Harvey asked for a computer and a printer, while Cobblepot asked for a new suit and cufflinks.
Once everyone was done writing, Harley collected the papers, took photos with her phone, clearly arranging for soone to purchase them.
After briefly thinking, Shiller said, "I think we should form groups: command group, combat group, and logistics group, for more efficiency."
"Makes sense." Harley nodded, saying, "We're a professional villain organization; the key is to be more professional than the Justice League!"
"Being able to sit here for such a long eting already makes us more professional than the Justice League," Pala said, "If you let them write this stuff, they'd jot down things like toilet paper, laundry bags, and toilet cleaner for the coming year."
"Now, let's vote by raising hands." Harley raised one hand and said, "Who wants to join the command group?"
Harvey and Cobblepot both raised their hands, and Harley did too. Victor initially wanted to raise his hand but didn't when he saw Shiller didn't.
"Alright, that's three people in the command group, not bad. So who wants to join the combat group?"
Pala, Waylon, and Deathstroke all raised their hands. Seeing Shiller still hadn't raised his hand, Victor whispered to him, "You want to join the logistics group? Sounds like it would be very busy."
Shiller shook his head, saying nothing.
"The combat group is also three people... and the logistics group?"
Shiller, Victor, and Jack all raised their hands.
"Great, that's three people per group, perfectly balanced. Now let's define each group's responsibilities."
"The command group is responsible for planning and directing operations; the battle group handles fieldwork; the logistics group provides support and manages the base. How's that?"
The others had no objections to this setup. Considering the 500,000 annual salary, everyone was quite motivated. Pala volunteered, "I think we could take a job to help the team gel. Do you have any contacts, Harley?"
"How did you know I've already prepared?" Harley flashed a mysterious smile and said, "Have you heard about the Brainiac supporters?"
"You an that housekeeping company?" Shiller frowned slightly, "They even plastered flyers around the school."
"That's right, but it's not a housekeeping company. How should I say this, it's a heresy."
"Not surprising, but how do you know?"
"Of course, because they contacted ," Harley rolled her eyes and began recounting her experience from two days ago to the others.
Harley studied psychology at university and excelled in her grades, leading her class in almost every subject, and having nearly completed all her credits. So she spent her other campus ti in various clubs.
She joined many clubs such as the painting club, reading club, skateboarding club, music club. But her favorite was the rock club, where she played drums in the band at Gotham University's rock club.
In class, Harley rarely revealed her lively side, appearing quite quiet; but in the band, she showed her rock side. This contrast brought her many admirers, including the bassist from her band.
Harley wasn't interested in romance, so she rejected each suitor equally. But not everyone was as polite and willing to give up after being turned down. The bassist was among the persistent ones.
About two days ago, during band rehearsal, the bassist was whispering secretly with others, excluding Harley.
Such petty tactics couldn't affect Harley. She simply ignored everyone and practiced with her headphones on.
Predictably, he couldn't stand it anymore. The bassist, along with the lead singer, ca over to the drum set and after muttering for a while, the bassist spoke, "Harley, have you heard the news about Brainiac?"
Harley barely gave him a glance, aning "What's it to you?"
The bassist probably felt embarrassed, so he started rambling on about how amazing artificial intelligence was, which annoyed Harley.
So she struck the drums hard, took off her headphones, and said, "There's a performance the day after tomorrow, and you're busy researching artificial intelligence. Are you planning to let it play the bass for you?"
The bassist was taken aback, but seeing the other band mbers seriously rehearsing, he felt ashad and left sullenly.
In the afternoon, a software called "Super Butler Brainiac" beca a global sensation. The bassist walked back in smugly, deliberately carrying his bass in front of Harley.
Before Harley could say anything, the bass started sounding by itself. The bassist smirked and said, "Bet you didn't expect that, the bass can actually play itself. Even without rehearsals, I can outperform you guys. That's the power of Brainiac."
"Young people should chase trends, not be as backward as so old-tirs who don't even know Brainiac," the lead singer chid in.
Harley rolled her eyes hard internally but couldn't be bothered to argue with them. Who hasn't encountered a few idiots in life? A little verbal sparring is enough.
But by nightti, things started feeling strange. After finished practicing drums, Harley wanted to leave, but the door was blocked. The bassist, lead singer, and a few unfamiliar faces were at the rehearsal room door, staring at her as she approached.
"Hey, we're having a party tonight to discuss the proper use of Brainiac. Wanna join?"
"I have plans," Harley wasn't making excuses; she had already decided on a location for the base and had to sign the contract tonight.
"Why are you always so anti-social?" the bassist intentionally stepped forward, "We're inviting you as a courtesy. Otherwise, who'd want to hang out with soone as backward as you?"
Harley took a deep breath and said, "Are you planning to have Brainiac in bed with you? Or maybe you want it to cheer you on from the sidelines? Well, it probably won't perform as intelligently as you imagine. After all, even electronic life can't co up with nice words in just a few seconds!"
The bassist's eyes widened in shock. Others also looked at him strangely, especially the lead singer. He knew the bassist was pursuing Harley, and he wasn't sure if they had ever dated. If they had, then Harley ant to suggest...
No wonder Harley despised him.
The glances from companions completely enraged the bassist. He stepped forward to shove Harley, but she quickly pulled out an electric shock device from her bag and knocked him down instantly. The others scread and ran away.
Harley left the activity room leisurely, thinking that would be the end of it. But before she even left the campus, a car charged straight at her.
Luckily, she reacted quickly, rolled into the bushes beside her. Though unhard, she erged with her hair and clothes covered in grass.
Harley turned to look at the car but saw it was empty. At that mont, the bassist shouted from a window of the activity building, "I'll kill you, you damned bitch!!"
Just before Harley could draw her gun, a pair of hands pulled her into a hallway nearby. Turning back, she saw a blonde woman standing behind her, looking sowhat familiar but couldn't recall where they had t.
"I'm Christine, you attend Gotham University, right? Are you okay?"
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