As the saying goes: The more you eat, the more you poop!
After a delightfully relieving session on the toilet, all that energy from the food had completed a perfect digestive cycle in Max's belly—and then, guided by gravity, peacefully departed into the toilet bowl.
Max felt an unprecedented sense of blissful clarity—as if he'd been scrubbed clean from the inside out.
When he stepped out to wash his hands and looked up, he nearly went blind from the sheer handsomeness of the guy staring back at him in the mirror.
"Holy crap! Who is that stunningly gorgeous dude? Who?! My eyes! My poor eyes!!"
In the mirror, a ridiculously good-looking young man was covering his eyes dramatically, wailing like a clown.
Once Max came to his senses and looked hard at the heartthrob in the mirror, he blinked in disbelief. Sword-like eyebrows, dazzling eyes, sculpted features—it was absurd how handsome he was.
"Th-this is… me?! Damn, when did I get this hot?! Wait a second—!"
He glanced at his watch with awe. That beat-up thing actually worked miracles—it not only optimized his genes, it came with built-in beauty enhancement?
If he had known stuffing his face would make him this attractive, Max would've hit up every all-you-can-eat buffet during his thieving days!
Now that he had a face like this, great things could happen.
He could probably live off his looks from now on.
After all, it's not like Batman is the only rich guy in DC—Max distinctly remembered Lex Luthor had a sister, didn't he? Heh heh heh.
The man in the mirror flashed a radiant, dazzling smile.
…
Jason had just finished his second steak and was starting to feel stuffed. He shook his head in disbelief. "Max is such a pig. How does he eat that much?"
He looked toward the restroom and grumbled, "What's taking him so long? Did he get lost?"
Honestly, with how massive Wayne Manor was, Jason wouldn't be surprised. He'd gotten lost himself the first time, circling for ages before he found the bathroom.
Seeing Jason wasn't planning on eating anymore, Alfred began clearing the plates and said with a faint smile, "Maybe he's constipated. He did eat a ton of bread this morning, and then even more just now…"
"Fair point! Wait, Alfred, Max came this morning? Was he here to see me?"
"Yes, but not to see you. He came for Master Bruce."
"At the time, he had turned into a chubby little creature and flew to the gate with tiny wings to ring the bell. Quite adorable, actually," Alfred chuckled.
"Wait, he came to see Bruce? And he transformed? Wow, he's gotten even more interesting. Was that magic?"
Alfred explained, "According to Mr. Max, it's due to the strange device on his wrist. He said it lets him transform into aliens using gene-based technology."
Just then, light footsteps approached.
Both Jason and Alfred turned toward the sound—and immediately tensed up.
The person approaching was wearing familiar clothes… but the face was completely unfamiliar!
Jason had already drawn his baton, while Alfred discreetly retrieved a pistol from beneath the table.
"Who are you?! How did you get in?! Why are you wearing Max's clothes?! Speak, or we'll take you down!" Jason shouted, brandishing the baton threateningly.
"Wait, don't hit me! I surrender! Look—this is the one and only Omnitrix! I'm Max, I swear!"
"No way—you can't be—there's no way you're… this tall and hot!"
Max slicked back his black hair with a smug look. At 5'5" (165cm), he now towered over Jason.
"My genes have been upgraded. I'm basically the perfect Earthling now! Of course I'm hot!"
"But you were just a little runt a few minutes ago! How the hell did you… suddenly become taller than me?!"
Jason was flustered, struggling to make sense of it all. The world felt like it had gone completely insane.
Max understood. Even he was stunned by the transformation—let alone everyone else.
"Ahem. Jason, don't overthink it. This is how I was meant to look. If I'd had this kind of food growing up, I would've been this handsome ages ago. Thanks, Alfred!"
Thinking about his rough life before, Max almost teared up. The life of the rich? He was absolutely here for it.
Alfred, now convinced of Max's identity, smiled and holstered his pistol. "You're most welcome. Would you like anything else?"
"Yes please—more steak, Alfred!"
"Is that from your watch? Can I try it?" Jason was still hoping. He refused to accept that his younger "brother" was now taller than him.
Max gave him a cheeky grin. "Heh, that's impossible. The Omnitrix is gene-bound. It looks like a watch, but it's basically a part of my body now. Without specialized gene tools, it's impossible to remove."
As Max dug into his next steak with a steak knife, Jason—who had been full—suddenly found his mouth watering again. He glanced at Alfred.
"Alright. Alfred, one glass of milk, please. I will grow taller and catch up!"
"Suit yourself," Max muttered, already devouring another bite.
He downed five more steaks. Only when the hunger vanished entirely did Max finally stop. He probably wouldn't eat this much again anytime soon.
…
"Come on, let's go check out those creeps you brought in!"
"Oh yeah—they're total monsters!" Jason boasted. "Blunt force doesn't work. Slit their throats and they come back. You chop off their arms and they still bounce around! And get this—they all have Joker's face! But none of them could take me—I wiped the floor with them!"
Max nodded, thinking to himself. That kind of regeneration… sounded an awful lot like the Talons from the Court of Owls.
With his optimized brain, his memories of childhood comics and movies—especially from his past life—became clearer.
The Talons were bio-weapons created with a rare liquid metal known as "Dionysium."
But why were they mixed up with the Joker? That really didn't match his memories.
They soon returned to the hall. Batman and Zatanna were nowhere to be seen.
The Joker-faced Talons were still grinning and wrestling with the air.
"This is Talon armor! They are Talons—from the Court of Owls!" Max exclaimed.
"What?!" Alfred's pupils shrank.
As a Gotham native, he knew that eerie nursery rhyme all too well:
"Beware the Court of Owls,
That watches all the time,
Lurking in the shadows,
Behind walls and in the grime.
They see you in your house,
They see you in your bed.
Don't speak their name aloud—
Or Talons will come for your head."
When ghost stories turn out to be real, they become true childhood trauma.
"Strange…" Max frowned. Everything—Jason's description, the outfits—it all matched the Talons. But clearly, the Joker had gotten to them.
He crouched down and forced open one of their mouths, finding the special molar tucked in the back.
He yanked it out.
The Joker-faced Talon froze… and collapsed, dead.
"No doubt about it. They're Talons. Tools the Court uses to clean up Gotham and eliminate threats. And this—" Max held up the tooth, "—is how they do it."
Jason and Alfred both shook their heads. It was clearly fake, but obviously important to these regenerating freaks.
Max explained seriously, "This thing contains diluted 'Dionysium'—the substance that makes them immortal.
"It heals them almost instantly. Turns the living into undying tools. Even revives the dead.
"But this stuff? It's super diluted. The real deal can raise the dead and grant eternal life!"
Hissssss— x2
Jason was stunned—eternal life?! If he had Dionysium, he'd be unbeatable!
Alfred, meanwhile, looked horrified. He could already imagine what would happen if the lunatics in Arkham ever got their hands on it. Master Bruce would go insane trying to deal with it.
Max tossed the tooth to Alfred. "It's in their mouths. Pull them all out. These guys are just reanimated corpses—they have no will of their own.
"Give the teeth to Batman. He might find a use for them.
"Speaking of—where is he?"
Alfred coughed awkwardly. He knew exactly where Bruce was—nothing in the Manor escaped his gaze—but he couldn't tell these kids.
So he replied solemnly, "The Joker hasn't been caught yet. Master Bruce is likely still pursuing him."
And then quickly changed the subject. "Master Jason, time for your lessons."
"Wait, what?" Max smirked. "Jason? Studying? That's a first!"
Back when they were learning about luxury cars under their shady old boss, Jason would always pick the easiest diagrams—like wheels—just so he didn't have to read too much.
He was not a fan of studying. He preferred hands-on work.
"Hmph." Jason rolled his eyes. Just because he didn't like studying didn't mean he couldn't. He learned fast.
Besides, Alfred's combat lessons? He picked them up instantly.
"Wanna train together?" Jason slung an arm around Max. But his tone wasn't so much inviting as it was threatening.
Max beamed. "Sure! I'm a genius—I'll pick it up instantly. Just don't get insecure, alright?"