"You're overthinking it," Penguin said, waving his umbrella like a pointer. "I'm not asking you to take 'em down. I just need you to swipe a little dirt. That's it! Every one of those rich psychos in the Court of Owls has skeletons in their closets — enough dirt to bury 'em ten times over. Once I've got it all, bam, leverage. I make 'em play nice."
Selina practically laughed in his face.
"No. No no no. Hard pass. I actually like breathing, and I'd prefer to keep doing it in Gotham, thank you very much."
She turned to leave, not even sparing him a backward glance.
Penguin scrambled, trying to sweet-talk her back. "You're not thinking big enough. Imagine it — once we have the blackmail, you could run the Court. Think about it, Selina! Gotham in the palm of your hand."
Naturally, one of his goons stepped up to block the exit.
Selina stopped short, turned, and gave Penguin a look like he'd grown feathers on his face. "You've completely lost it."
She crossed her arms, disgusted. "You really think you can threaten the Court of Owls and walk away with a win? With what? A few files and your bird-shaped ego? Black Mask was at the top of his game and he never dared cross them. You? Please."
"You got Joker gas in your brain? That'd explain all the fumes and the crazy talk."
From his hiding spot, Max winced. He was pretty sure this was way above his pay grade.
"Okay, nope," Max muttered. "This is definitely one of those 'accidental witness gets murdered to tie up loose ends' kinda conversations. Awesome."
He didn't know a ton about the Court of Owls, but he knew enough. And even that made his skin crawl.
Meanwhile, Penguin took the insult like a champ. No yelling. No threats. Just that smug little grin.
"Selina," he said smoothly, "you really think I'd go poking the Owls alone? You forget the big guy in the cape?"
Selina's eyes narrowed. "You wanna drag Batman into this?"
"Drag? No no no, that's so negative," Penguin said, twirling his umbrella like a villain in a musical. "I just think Gotham's self-appointed dark knight should know there's a bunch of lunatics running secret experiments on orphans and crazies under his nose."
"Let's be real — Bats doesn't care about your money. But he will care about this."
Selina hesitated. She hated to admit it, but… yeah. He had a point. Batman wouldn't let that slide, no matter how obvious the bait.
She exhaled sharply. "Fine. Who are the targets?"
Penguin didn't hesitate. "The Bowers family. The Moyas. And the Elliotts. I've had shady deals with all of them. They're knee-deep in the Court."
Selina mentally filed the names away. "Alright. I'll look into them. But first — let him go."
"Him?" Penguin blinked innocently, then laughed. "Oh, the kid! Don't worry. He's in good hands. Safe as can be. Once the job's done, he's free to go."
Selina paused, then shrugged. "Fine. That little gremlin's got his weird sci-fi watch thing. He'll probably bust out on his own. Honestly, staying here for a bit might be safer than tagging along with me. Especially after my hideout just exploded."
Without another word, she turned and walked out — no guards moved to stop her this time.
That was... easy, Penguin thought, a little annoyed. He was hoping to use the kid as a bargaining chip for round two of negotiations. "Tch. I knew she's got a thing for Bats. The way she jumped on this job? The kid's just some accessory, not her little sidekick. So much for leverage."
His goons chuckled among themselves, throwing each other smug looks.
Max, still huddled in his not-so-cozy closet, scowled hard.
"Really? You're gonna say all that loud enough for me to hear it?! You want me to punch you in your penguin nose?"
He took a deep breath and glared at the glowing green device on his wrist.
"Okay, dumbwatch. I know you're not the brightest bulb in the box, but if there's any brainpower in there at all, now's the time to give me something useful. These guys are bad news, and I need out — now. Got it?"
The Omnitrix blinked in response — a soft green pulse, almost like it was nodding.
Max raised the core, didn't even spin it, just slammed it down.
"FWOOOM!"
Green light exploded out of the storage room like a mini-sun.
"What the hell was that?!"
The room bathed in emerald for a split second. Every head in the warehouse whipped toward the storage room.
"The kid!" someone shouted. "The light came from where the kid's locked up!"
"You eight, go check it out!" Penguin barked.
"Yes, sir!" they shouted in sync, sprinting to the room.
They peered through the barred window, and—
Nothing.
Empty. Not a single soul inside.
"Boss… he's gone."
"What?! THEN WHY ARE YOU STILL STANDING THERE?! FIND HIM!"
"But, uh… boss," one of them stammered, "the room's untouched. No broken locks, no smashed walls — nothing. Kid just… vanished."
Penguin limped over quickly, his uneven gait making him wobble side to side.
When he peered inside the storage room and found not even a scratch on the place, he was stunned.
A full-grown kid… what, did he turn into a fly and buzz out through the cracks?
...
At that very moment, beneath the floor of that same storage room, a very blocky humanoid figure was furiously digging away with his unstoppable right hand.
Max had used the Omnitrix to transform into a terrifying—no, insanely terrifying—being.
That being's name? Steve.
(Yes, Minecraft Steve. Brown-skinned, purple eyes, wearing that iconic teal shirt and indigo jeans—our beloved blocky hero!)
He's got a whole roster of titles: the Realm Walker, Dragon Slayer, Speedrunner, Master Digger, Block Whisperer, Insomniac, and World Breaker!
His legendary right hand? Nothing can resist it. Anything it touches turns into blocks. Pulverized. Collected. Boom.
Steve's strength? Ridiculous. He can dig through five tons of material per second, haul it all effortlessly, and build himself a fortress ten thousand meters underground if he feels like it.
And that's not even his final form—he can craft anything he wants from the blocks he collects. Honestly? "God-tier" might be underselling it.
Right now, Tian Xiaoban was Steve.
Too bad the transformation wouldn't last long.
"I need to chill out—seriously. Don't want to accidentally punch through the planet." Tian muttered to himself, trying to tamp down the chaos in his head.
"Omnitrix finally gave me a solid one! Gotta make it count while it lasts. First, escape. Then build myself a proper shelter—something bomb-proof. Nuclear-proof, if I can manage it."
In Steve's view, the world had shifted. Everything around him was now pixelated and square—the good old Minecraft vibe. Even his lower HUD had hotkeys! All he had to do was think, and he could use the items in his bar.
He'd already tunneled a path, collecting 37 dirt blocks in the process.
As he dug downward, he even took the time to refill the hole with blocks, restoring Penguin's warehouse floor. That's why no one noticed anything wrong.
Under the concrete was dirt and gravel. With every powerful swing of Steve's right hand, the terrain shattered, transforming into floating dirt blocks ready for pickup.
Steve didn't need to bend down—just walk past, and the blocks got sucked into his inventory automatically.
"Okay, dug five blocks down, then 35 blocks away from the warehouse… Backpack says I've got 40 dirt blocks now. Time to dig up!"
He smashed through the dirt above him, creating a staircase tunnel to the surface.
When he popped out, it was morning already.
Considering he'd only been digging for ten minutes, he must've been knocked out for a while before he transformed.
He looked around… and all he saw were trees.
Trees everywhere!
You know what that means?
It's time for Steve to rise.
"First rule of block life—punch trees to get rich!"
The eternal truth of Minecraft, written in the DNA of every seasoned player.
"Time is money! No idea if I'll be able to turn into Steve again. Gotta make the most of this!"
With motivational mumbling and the fury of a true survivalist, Steve raised his right hand and smashed through tree trunks.
Chunk by chunk, the wood fell away, the leaves and branches floating in mid-air like some surreal art installation.
Armed with enough raw material, Steve quickly crafted a crafting table, wooden axe, and pickaxe.
Then, more tree punching. Storage chest? Done.
Once the chest was ready, he dumped all his dirt blocks inside and got back to work—stone now.
Every exposed boulder in the forest was fair game.
Stone broken? Check.
With a full toolkit now including a stone pickaxe and a furnace, Steve took a deep breath.
Clock's ticking.
Building a house? Not enough time.
But digging out a whole underground shelter? Oh, that's doable.
With tools swinging fast and true, Steve carved into the exposed rocky cliffside.
He dug 20 blocks inward, then widened the space.
Back and forth, back and forth—until he had a 420-square-meter underground chamber.
(He even reinforced it with support walls, just in case, making sure it wouldn't collapse after his transformation ended.)
With the cave complete, he placed the workbench, furnace, and storage box inside.
420 square meters. Not bad at all.
"Doo-doo-doo… doo!"
"Oh shoot—time's up! Should've built a door!"
As the transformation ended, the blocky world around him began to round out, reshaping to fit Earth's logic.
The crafting table and furnace? No longer magical. Just regular old furniture.
The storage chest? Yeah… that thing burst open like a piñata, stuff sticking out everywhere.
Thankfully, he hadn't loaded it too full. Otherwise, the whole base might've caved in on itself.