Alfred Pennyworth, the indomitable butler of Wayne Manor, strode through the grand halls with purpose, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors. It was a typical evening—or so he thought—until he rounded the corner into the main foyer.

What he beheld left him momentarily speechless. Everywhere he turned, chaos reigned supreme. Furniture was overturned, paintings askew, and shards of broken glass littered the floor like confetti. It was as if a whirlwind had torn through the stately manor, leaving destruction in its wake.

Alfred's normally unflappable demeanor faltered for just a moment before he regained his composure. With a heavy sigh, he set about assessing the damage, his mind already formulating a plan to restore order to the once pristine abode.

It didn't take long for him to deduce the culprits behind this mess—the batkids. They were a spirited bunch, to be sure, but sometimes their enthusiasm led them astray.

As Alfred navigated through the chaos, he encountered each of the batkids in turn. Damian, with his stubborn determination, was attempting to repair a shattered vase with little success. Tim meticulously cataloging the damage with a furrowed brow. And Dick, the heart of the family, was offering apologies left and right, his contrition evident in every word. And then there was you who was somehow stuck on the chandelier..

"Master Bruce will not be pleased," Alfred remarked, his tone a mixture of disappointment and resolve as he looked around.