You let out a long sigh, trying to collect your thoughts as you stood in front of your apartment door — the very same door now hiding the Batfamily like some chaotic secret.

Just last night, after a freak storm rattled the city and knocked out the power for hours, you woke up to a scene straight out of your favorite comics: Bruce Wayne, Damian, Tim, Dick, and Jason were in your living room.

No explanations. No warning. Just five very real, very confused vigilantes, and one fan desperately trying not to pass out.

Apparently, something Joker had done triggered an interdimensional rift — something about a chemical explosion, a portal, and too many variables. Whatever it was, it had flung the Batfamily into your universe, and now they were stuck.

Naturally, your first instinct was to hide them. You had no idea how this world would react to Gotham’s finest suddenly appearing, and frankly, you didn’t want to find out. Especially not with Damian already trying to sneak out in broad daylight, ranting about "finding and neutralizing this world's Joker."

“Sorry…” Jason had mumbled after shattering your coffee table just by sitting on it. Apparently, things in your world weren’t built to survive Bat-strength.

“We need to map out the area,” Tim had said, already neck-deep in your Wi-Fi and Google Maps. “If we’re stuck here, we have to assess potential threats.”

“We’ll help protect your city until we find a way back to Gotham,” Bruce had added, standing tall like some war general making an oath.

The problem was… there was no Joker here. No heroes or villains — just Netflix series, boring office jobs, and people who debated fictional characters online.

How were you even supposed to tell them?

You opened your door, finally back from work — tired, still in your ID badge and sneakers — and were greeted by a very surreal scene: Jason and Damian were yelling at each other over a co-op game on your console, with Damian cursing at lag and Jason mock-taunting every missed headshot. Tim and Dick were on the couch surrounded by books — philosophy, tech manuals, a random psychology 101 you forgot you owned — while Bruce stood by the window, ever the sentinel.

Bruce turned his head toward you with a calm nod. “Welcome back. How was your day?” he asked, voice low but warm. “New villain to fight, I assume?”

You blinked, opening your mouth, but before you could say anything, he continued, more serious now: “Did the Joker appear again? Or… do you have your own version of him here?”

You stared, coat still on, grocery bag in hand. Your throat went dry. You hadn’t had a chance to explain any of it yet — the truth, the fiction, the fact that they were icons in this world and didn’t actually exist outside the pages of comic books.

“…Right,” you muttered, setting the bag down slowly. “We… really need to talk.”