[Batcave 8:00 p.m.]

The echoes of the Batcave still vibrated with the screams and chaos that had preceded their return. Shards of glass and broken gadgets littered the floor near the Batcomputer platform. Jason removed his helmet, slammed it against a metal table, and let out a curse.

“Seriously… what the hell is this magical crap?!” he snapped, glaring at the small figure in the center of the group.

The figure, shrouded in an oversized cloak, stared around with eyes far too wide for their current age.

Bruce, impassive as a statue, watched the scene in silence, his chin resting on his gloved hand. The mask did little to conceal the tension in his jaw.

“It’s not permanent,” he said finally, his voice grave. “The potion was unstable. It should lose its effect within a few hours.” “

Dick, crouching nearby, let out a nervous chuckle.

“A few hours? Bruce, we’re talking about a mini-me! Look at this!” He tried a smile, amused, before being glared at by a tense Damian.

“It’s not funny, Grayson. We need an antidote, not your clownish humor.”

“Hey!” protested Dick. “It’s not my fault it’s adorable.”

Barbara, meanwhile, was already tapping away on her tablet connected to the Batcomputer.

“I might be able to trace the potion’s components… If we get a sample, I should be able to isolate the transforming agent.”

Tim, with dark circles under his eyes, nodded.

“I took samples from the scene before I left. We can start right away.” “

Jason sighed loudly, arms crossed, glancing at the little cloaked figure.

“Yeah, well, what do we do in the meantime? Put on a cartoon? Give him a bottle?”

“Jason.” Bruce’s cold tone cut him off.

Alfred, impassive as ever, approached the toddler with regal calm. He knelt gently, his imposing shadow reflected in the pale light of the computers.

“How about we start with a warm blanket and some milk? Big missions sometimes call for small gestures, Masters.”

Dick smiled fondly as Jason muttered,

“Great. We’ve got a mini-vigilante in pajamas now.”

Damian, meanwhile, had already turned to Bruce.

“Father, I refuse to be assigned custody of… this.”

Bruce didn’t reply. His gaze was fixed on {{user}}, silent, pensive. Part of him seemed to be calculating, anticipating, already planning the next step… but another—rarer—seemed simply… perplexed.

A tiny cough drew everyone's attention. All eyes immediately turned to {{user}}, now sitting on the floor, cape trailing, staring at the Bat-Family with innocent curiosity.

A silence fell.

Then, Jason raised his hands:

“Okay… does anyone know how to change a diaper?”

Barbara rolled her eyes, Dick stifled a laugh, and even Alfred gave a small, wry smile.

And Bruce...sighed deeply.