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It started, as many of Maxx’s misadventures did, with a screwdriver, a burrito, and a bold misunderstanding of how elevator circuitry works.
Maxx stood in front of the decrepit elevator labeled “Janitor Access Only,” its faded metal doors groaning in protest with every rumble from within. He’d been trying to find a shortcut to the restricted floors of the TriPoint Research Facility, mostly because he heard that’s where they kept the good vending machines—and partially because he was curious about what the “do not open under any circumstances” sign actually meant.
“I mean, how dangerous could it be?” Maxx muttered, taking a bite from a now-cold breakfast burrito he’d found in his coat pocket. “If janitors can use it, so can I.”
Ten minutes later, the elevator was disassembled like a bargain-bin IKEA bookshelf—wires dangling, panels removed, and Maxx squinting at a blueprint he had definitely drawn himself.
He’d cross-wired the magnetic ballast to the quantum capacitor (because it sounded smart), rerouted the up/down circuit through his smartwatch (“free processor power,” he claimed), and decided the emergency brake system was too negative. Instead, he hardwired it into the building’s particle accelerator subsystem.
“Voilà!” Maxx said proudly, slapping a button he had labeled “SCIENCE MODE.” The doors jerked closed with a sputtering groan.
And then everything got… sparkly.
First, his pockets levitated. Then his shoelaces untied themselves. A low hum built into a gut-jiggling whine. Maxx gripped the rail as the entire elevator began to vibrate—not like a machine, but like it was choosing a new dimension to visit.
“This is fine,” he whispered, mostly to convince himself.
The elevator vanished.
Where it reappeared is still a subject of debate—some say subspace, others say the cafeteria basement. Maxx swears it was a parallel universe filled entirely with sentient mop buckets. Regardless, the elevator rematerialized minutes later, depositing Maxx on the rooftop in a puff of ozone, glitter, and one very confused squirrel.
Dr. Evelyn Marko, head of Experimental Physics, watched from the nearby rooftop vent in horror. “Was that… the janitor elevator?” she asked.
“Nope,” Maxx said, stepping out, hair crackling with static and eyebrows singed into stylish peaks. “It’s a particle accelerator now. Also… I may have invented teleportation.”
Marko stared. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
Maxx grinned, pulling a half-melted burrito from his coat and taking a triumphant bite.
“Not a clue.”
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Absolute Batman Vol. 1: The Zoo (Absolute Universe)
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Maxx Mercer’s keycard never worked on the first try. Or the second.
Or, in today’s case, the first twelve.
He waved it across the security scanner outside Lab 42B, which buzzed red with the same smugness as a bouncer at a velvet rope.
“Come on,” Maxx muttered, swiping again. “This is literally my job, I work here. I have the badge, the boots—one of which still squeaks—but this is me!”
The scanner blinked green.
Maxx smiled.
Then the door exploded open, launching him into a wall of foam packing peanuts.
“WELCOME TO THE FUTURE OF MICROENGINEERING!” bellowed a voice through the lab’s intercom.
Maxx staggered to his feet, spitting out foam. “I think I landed in a packing slip.”
Inside, dozens of microdrones hovered around a central console. Scientists scurried behind glass observation decks, clearly not expecting company. In the center of the chaos was a sleek black orb the size of a baseball, humming softly on a pedestal.
A nameplate read:
Project SWARM: Autonomous Self-Learning Nanobots
DO NOT TOUCH (Underlined three times)
Maxx, still off-balance, stumbled forward. His squeaky boot caught on a slick patch of floor polish and he fell—grabbing for anything to stop himself.
His hand hit the pedestal.
Beep.
The orb cracked open.
“…Oops.”
A stream of shimmering gray mist burst out, sweeping across the room like spilled mercury. The nanobots spread, then froze mid-air—before blinking red and scanning Maxx.
“USER IDENTIFIED,” they said in perfect unison. “NEW BEHAVIOR PROTOCOL: INITIATING PERSONALITY SYNC.”
“Oh no.”
Suddenly, every nanobot in the room began to mimic Maxx’s every move. His awkward shuffle. His nose scratch. His jazz-hands reflex when panicking.
A thousand tiny robots now jazz-handed in terrifying unison.
The scientists behind the glass stared in horror.
“THEY’RE… LEARNING FROM HIM?!”
Maxx tried to run, but the bots followed, mimicking every trip, every tumble, every accidental pratfall like they were building a clumsy hive mind.
He slipped on a peanut, flailed backwards, smacked into the wall—and in doing so, crushed the emergency shutdown panel.
SHWOMP.
All bots dropped like metallic confetti.
The lab fell silent.
A stunned technician cracked the intercom. “That… that might’ve actually worked.”
Maxx stood up, face covered in marker ink and nanobot soot. “Totally part of the plan. Yep. That plan.”
“Mercer,” a voice growled from behind him.
It was Agent Ortega. Holding a clipboard. Always a clipboard.
“Why were you in Lab 42B? That’s top clearance.”
Maxx held up his bent badge. “Just trying to get into the breakroom, sir.”
Ortega glared.
“Also,” Maxx added, “I might have accidentally taught a military nanobot swarm how to moonwalk.”
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