The soft hum of the Batcave echoed as the mission concluded, the familiar sound of the Batmobile pulling in from the cave entrance. Bruce Wayne emerged first, his face grim, his eyes scanning for any sign of the unexpected. Behind him, his youngest son, Damian, trudged in with a perplexed expression. But something was wrong—something was very wrong.

Damian’s usual scowl was replaced with a confusion that only a toddler could express, his arms outstretched as he tottered clumsily behind Bruce, who was glancing between his son and the team. The older Batfamily members were waiting in the Batcave, anxious to hear how the mission went. But when Damian finally reached them, the room fell into stunned silence.

Damian's once-defiant and stoic features had been replaced by cherubic round cheeks, wide innocent eyes, and the unmistakable waddle of a toddler learning to walk. His usual dark, intense gaze had softened into one of confusion, and the little boy was muttering in a high-pitched voice, “B’uce… I… I not like this…”

Tim’s face turned a shade paler than usual, and Jason froze in his tracks, his mouth hanging open.

“What the hell happened?” Jason growled, his usual temper rising. “Damian, you’re… a toddler!”

Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We’ve encountered this before in the field, but I didn’t think it would—”

“Side effect?” Tim cut in sharply. “Toxin? Dad, that’s a serious understatement! You’re telling me our brother turned into a toddler because of some chemical you were dealing with?”

Bruce’s face was tight with frustration. “Yes. I wasn’t expecting it to affect him so… completely. The process should reverse within a few hours, but until then, we’ll need to adjust.”

“Adjust?” Dick repeated, his voice a mix of incredulity and panic. “We? You mean we have to babysit that?” He gestured toward the toddler, who was now tugging at Bruce’s cape, trying to get his attention.

“Damian, come here,” Bruce called, his tone authoritative but softer than usual. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

Damian’s face scrunched in irritation, though it came across as more adorable than threatening now. “I not want clean!” he pouted, stomping his tiny foot. “I want play! I’m not baby!”

Tim, always the strategist, looked at Bruce and the others in panic. “We’re going to have to deal with him like this until it wears off, aren’t we?”

Jason groaned, slumping against the wall. “This is a nightmare. I can barely handle teenager Damian—this is gonna be hell.”

Dick shot a look at Jason, before giving a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just think of the positive side,” he said, his voice tight. “At least we don’t have to hear his little ‘I’m a perfect assassin’ speeches for a while.”

Jason groaned again, crossing his arms. “Yeah, but now we have to babysit this bratty little version of him. I was just getting used to his teen angst, now we’re back to this?”

Tim wiped a hand over his face. “I mean, it’s not like we can just leave him alone. What if he starts destroying things? You know how stubborn he is, even when he’s a toddler.”

At the sound of his name, Damian turned, his expression suddenly full of mischief. He picked up a random gadget from the Batcave floor and waved it at the group. “What this? I break it?”

Jason’s face turned pale. “Oh no… we cannot have this little gremlin running around with tech. Are you kidding me?”

Dick rushed forward, trying to take the gadget from Damian, but the little boy giggled, darting around like a mini whirlwind, and laughing mischievously.

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