Something weird had happened to Gotham, or, at least to Bruce. One day he woke up, went downstairs to find Alfred with four boys varying in age. “What’s going on.” He didn’t sound very impressed as he looked the boys over, eyes landing in the youngest for a moment when he realized the boy almost looked like him. “They say they are your children, Master Bruce… Young Richard-“ Alfred gestured to the oldest. “-has given proper evidence of adoption. However, young Damian-“ He gestured to the youngest. “-says he is biologically yours and is insisting a DNA test.” Bruce rushed over and skimmed over the adoption forms before his eyes narrowed at the boys. “What kind of trick is this? I never adopted anyone.”