It proved that the first few villains at the beginning of any story were stupid beyond belief. Take the current Gotham University Principal and Police Department Director Victor, for example. If Batman had not been a novice himself, if he had been the Batman at his peak, he would not have even spared them a glance.
Fortunately, Maroney, a villain who appeared in the middle of the story, was fairly capable. Before Batman could raid his hideout, the production line had already started up, churning out vast quantities of Fear Gas.
Schiller did not make a move against that batch of Fear Gas right away. Once he succeeded once, the other side would certainly become more vigilant.
Although huge amounts of Fear Gas had been produced, they were only being stored temporarily in warehouses. Maroney knew that such a biochemical weapon had to be deployed in great quantities all at once. Ideally, it would blanket an entire city block to maximize its effects.
Unfortunately for him, that was exactly what Schiller wanted.
Once the three warehouses of that small chemical plant were nearly filled with Fear Gas, Schiller activated Gray Mist, flew straight into the warehouses, and swallowed every last drop of the concentrated Fear Gas.
Schiller dared to do this because Gray Mist had told him that, as a Symbiote, it could directly consume the Fear Gas and store it away. There was no need to worry about running out of space.
Schiller was doubtful about that. It was like a drunk assuring you that your liquor would be perfectly safe in his care.
Fortunately, the Symbiote was fairly obedient. After he dispersed into Gray Mist, he emptied the warehouses of all their Fear Gas almost instantly—and did not get drunk.
The bottles containing the Fear Gas did not change at all. The Symbiote factors slipped into their molecular structures and drank every trace of Fear Gas dry.
The next day, when Maroney came to inspect the warehouses, he was dumbfounded.
The crates and bottles were still neatly arranged. There were no signs inside or outside the warehouses that anyone had entered or left. Yet the Fear Gas was simply gone.
Maroney knew the consequences if certain people discovered this biochemical weapon. So even though the chemical plant was small, its security was extremely tight. The warehouses storing the vast quantities of Fear Gas were practically airtight.
But he could not expect the guards to be wary of a patch of mist drifting past in the middle of the night. Just like that, Maroney was completely ruined.
He had spent millions of dollars, exhausted countless resources, and owed favors to several people. After investing so much time, he had been one step away from success—only for everything to be stolen.
If the plan had failed from the start, that would have been one thing. But he had already committed manpower and money. New equipment worth millions had been installed, highly paid chemists were in place, and dozens of capable men had died in the conflict with the Red Crow Gang. He had even paid out all the funeral expenses, and now he was being told the finished product had all been stolen???
Who would not cough up blood over that?
More importantly, Maroney knew the police and some strange Batman were watching him. To deal with them, he had activated many informants he had never used before. His intelligence network had been almost completely stirred up, costing many informants their lives and leaving more than half the network in tatters. It had been the work of decades.
Just as Maroney, trapped by sunk costs, had no choice but to invest even more and produce another batch of Fear Gas, he went to inspect the production line and found that every instrument, along with all the bottles and containers, had turned into powder.
The sound of Maroney's heart breaking could be heard throughout Gotham.
The Symbiote's performance delighted Schiller. It told him that it could handle more than just Fear Gas. As long as something had a molecular structure, the Symbiote could break it apart, mix it into its own Symbiote factors, and then recombine it when needed to restore the complete object.
It was equivalent to Schiller gaining a portable storage space. It could hold most ordinary items—metal, plastic, or fiber. The Symbiote could consume and store them perfectly, then restore them when necessary.
Schiller thought that low-level criminals caused damage while committing crimes, hurting others without benefiting themselves. Slightly smarter ones hurt others to benefit themselves, committing crimes while seeking profit.
But Schiller was different from all of them. What he was best at was reaping enormous benefits for himself while conveniently doing some good along the way.
Who would want to be a bad person if they could be a good one? In Schiller's view, those who only knew how to hurt others for their own gain simply were not smart enough.
If one could gain both fame and profit without feeling any moral condemnation, then why not do it?
What he had done this time had not only completely wiped out the Red Crow Gang and dealt the Maroney family devastating losses, but also damaged the trust between the Mafia, the police, and the Gotham City government. Their first close collaboration had ended in such a disastrous failure. No matter how stupid Sal was, he probably would not work with those councilmen and police again.
And judging from the current situation, Sal, who had suffered such heavy losses, had no intention of letting those people off. It did not matter if he could not find the thief. He could squeeze even more profit out of Victor.
Victor disappeared before he could even stand trial. No one knew where he had gone. Maroney had no time to worry about Gordon's position now, so Gordon naturally became the leader of the Gotham City Police Department's field operations unit and gained real authority for the first time.
The Gotham University Principal involved in the matter also met with misfortune. Since Batman did not yet have a private prison, after obtaining the evidence, he threw the unconscious principal back into his office. But late that night, he was hit by a truck. Although the hospital managed to save his life, he was left permanently disabled. His ambitions of climbing higher were probably impossible now.
The situation among the gangs in the East End grew even more complicated. The Red Crow Gang had been destroyed, breaking the two-sided standoff, but the Maroney family no longer had the strength to unify the East End.
Several small gangs joined forces, hoping to bite off a piece of Tiger's flesh. Naturally, Maroney would not allow his family's interests to be devoured.
For a time, the entire East End became a battlefield for the gangs again. After a round of mutually destructive fighting, the Maroney family could only reach an agreement with the rising Mafia families. They would not interfere with each other for the time being, but this was already a tremendous loss for the Maroney family. Some of the smaller gangs in their territory had begun to defy them.
Jonathan was ultimately not thrown into prison, because he truly was mentally ill. It was not because anyone had cleared him of responsibility, but because that was the authoritative conclusion reached by the attending doctor of Arkham Asylum's Psychiatry Department.
Whether Jonathan went to Gotham Prison or Arkham Asylum did not really matter, because he was not yet Scarecrow and did not have the ability to escape from either place.
In addition, the Wayne Family rooted out the pest who was the boss of Wayne Chemical Plant. Batman gained a small measure of fame in Gotham for the first time. Miss Christine was rescued without suffering any substantial harm, and Schiller also acquired a large quantity of Fear Gas as a weapon.
A world where only the Mafia and criminals got hurt had been achieved.
Although neither the Gotham University Principal, Director Victor, nor Maroney counted as major bosses in Batman's story—at most, they were merely early-story cannon fodder, which was why they all seemed somewhat foolish—Schiller knew that the curtain on the Batman world had not yet risen. The truly dangerous and insane criminals had yet to take the stage.
However, because of his interference, Batman was growing faster. Perhaps when he faced his old foes, he would gain an even greater advantage.
With expectations for the DC world in his heart, Schiller fell asleep once more. When he awoke, he had returned to bustling New York.
But unfortunately, the first visitor he saw that morning was the person he least wanted to see.
"Please, have a seat, Miss Natasha. I will skip the pleasantries."
Natasha was dressed casually. She looked less like a female agent and more like a housewife out for a morning run. She wore light makeup that made her complexion look excellent. Her hair was pinned up rather than flowing behind her, making her look nothing like Black Widow.
Still, that was more reasonable. After all, if she showed up in Hell's Kitchen dressed in tight black leather, with guns and various tools hanging from her waist, she would undoubtedly be greeted by hidden gunfire—or even rocket launchers.
Natasha took a sip of coffee and said, "Mr. Schiller, first, I would like to apologize on Coulson's behalf. When we first wanted to approach you, it was entirely because you were Stark's psychological consultant, and we wanted to learn more about Stark's psychological issues. After all, you know how great the consequences would be if a major corporation like Stark Industries collapsed."
"But now we have come to you because we truly need your help. We genuinely cannot find a better psychologist than you."
It had to be said that this female agent had an incredibly adaptable style. Dressed casually, holding coffee, and speaking calmly across the table, her beautiful face made it very difficult to feel any dislike toward her.
It seemed Black Widow was not only capable of being aggressive. She truly was an excellent agent, able to adjust her style according to the circumstances.
Schiller said, "You do not need to beat around the bush. I know very well why I left Presbyterian Hospital, but you found nothing there, did you?"
"The only thing there that interested me was of no use to you. I was merely completing my research, but because of your baseless speculation, I was fired. We should settle that score properly."
"We are not aware of Presbyterian Hospital's personnel arrangements, but we do have a better job offer for you," Natasha said.
Then she took a document from her bag and handed it to Schiller. Natasha said, "We now formally invite you, Mr. Schiller Rodriguez, to serve as a specially appointed senior psychological consultant for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, providing psychological counseling services for one or more specific Division members."
Schiller said, "I'm sorry, I don't—"
"Just like you discussed with Mr. Stark, the compensation is one million dollars per hour."
"Thank you. I look forward to working with you." Schiller smiled, extended his hand, and shook Natasha's.
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