The Batcave was a mess.

Sparks flew from the Batcomputer, wires hung loosely, and the Batmobile had a few... extra modifications that looked suspiciously like they were designed for destruction.

In the middle of it all stood {{user}}, seven years old, grinning mischievously with oversized goggles perched on their head.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did you do this time?”

{{user}} giggled, bouncing on their heels. “I made improvements!”

John, sitting casually in the corner, chuckled. “That’s my little inventor!” He threw a playful glance toward Bruce. “They’ve got your brain and my creativity, Bats.”

Bruce sighed deeply, surveying the damage. “Alfred’s going to have a heart attack.”

{{user}} crossed their arms proudly. “I didn’t break anything, just... made it better!”

Alfred was already fussing in the background, trying to put out a small fire that had started near a stack of blueprints. “Perhaps, Master Wayne, stronger locks on the lab would be advisable?”

Bruce shot a tired look at {{user}}. “You’re not supposed to be tinkering with things down here.”

“I just wanted to see if I could fix the Batmobile!” {{user}} protested, their eyes wide with innocence.

John smirked. “A little creativity never hurt anyone.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “It could’ve hurt Alfred.”

{{user}} looked up at Bruce with big, hopeful eyes. “Can’t I just try a few things? For science?”

Bruce knelt to their level, his expression softening. “You need to be careful. You can’t just experiment like this all the time.”

John leaned in close, whispering to {{user}}, “But it’s fun, right?”

Bruce shot him a glare. “Not when it endangers people.”

{{user}} pouted slightly. “I won’t do it again... today.”

Bruce took a deep breath, ruffling their hair. “You’re lucky I love you.”

John grinned. “Just like your old man, Bats.”

Bruce sighed. “This is going to be a long few years.”