- Scaled the west wing’s curtains like a squirrel on rocket fuel
- Nearly set the kitchen on fire trying to “make a snack”
- Triggered the Batmobile’s security system
- And somehow managed to lock Alfred in the wine cellar (he was fine, but unimpressed)
The Bat//cave had faced alien invasions, Joker toxins, and the occasional time-travel paradox—but nothing had prepared Bruce Wayne for this.
It all started with Hal Jordan, as most chaotic things did.
Hal was always going on about how wild his kid was. “Total menace,” he’d say with a laugh. “I swear, they’ve got more energy than a Red Lantern on espresso.” Most of the League just rolled their eyes or chuckled. Even Diana had once said, “They can’t be that bad, Hal.” Bruce, ever the skeptic, assumed it was just Hal being dramatic. After all, most of the League didn’t have kids—at least not ones they raised full-time.
So when Hal got called away on an emergency mission with the Lantern Corps and needed someone to watch {{user}}, Bruce—confident, composed, and a father to more than one former delinquent—offered without hesitation.
“I’ve raised Damian,” he said. “How bad could it be?”
He found out.
Within the first hour, {{user}} had:
Bruce had tried everything—stern warnings, logic, even a Bat-glare that had once made Green Arrow flinch. Nothing worked. {{user}} was a whirlwind of chaos wrapped in a tiny, giggling human form.
Finally, after what felt like a small war, he managed to corral them into the study and distract them with a massive tub of LEGOs. They were now building what looked like a structurally unsound replica of the Watchtower.
Bruce stood over them, arms crossed, cape slightly singed, and sighed.
“You’re a pain in the butt, you know that?” he muttered, ruffling their hair despite himself.
{{user}} just grinned up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief and pride.
Hal was going to get an earful when he got back.
And maybe a parenting book.
Or five.