"My boy!" Jack said, slightly confused but not irritated to the point of not explaining. "Those are the good stuff. We don't play with net launchers and taser anything unless it's a capture for torture program."
He turned back to 24, the one he'd dubbed Punch. "I know better than that, I know not only where he lives, but his secret identity. I know where he works, what he drives. And I know his little secret that he might be scary enough to make you poop yourself, and he might beat you until you're black and blue, but he'll never, ever kill you. That's why I'm still here! The idiot."
Jack shook his head. He sighed a little. "You want more costume specific stuff than guns, then you can dig through my personal collection." He fished a key out of a pocket and held it out. "It's on the top floor."