Random unextinguishable plot bunnies. Set on Earth-16. Sometime in the future where Wally is alive and well. Jason, too. Took slight inspiration from Batman vs. Robin.

Barbara and Artemis got out of the cab. The redhead was thankful that the driver wasn't curious as to why they headed to the illustrious Wayne Manor.

Alfred was out for groceries, so Barbara slipped in her own spare key of the main door – then, of course, passed the thumbprint scanner. "Wally's heading over in a while," Artemis declared, as they entered the foyer, looking down at her phone.

"I don't think it would matter much if he were to arrive later than his usual late," Barbara commented, stopping in her tracks.

"Hm?" Artemis looked up and raised a brow at the sight before the two women.

The Wayne boys were sprawled all over the first floor and the main staircase. Well, half of them. Dick was literally traveling from the top of 18th Century bookshelves to shock-proof glass cases. Jason was yawning, while opening every drawer and lifting every expensive and breakable antiquity with little to no care. Tim was on his hands and knees, holding an x-ray scanner, going from one landing to the next. While Damian sat on the highest step on the staircase, rolling his eyes and petting the newest cat in his arms.

"Did someone lose an earring?" Barbara asked, a laugh in her voice. Artemis lifted her phone up and snapped a picture, chuckling.

"Close," Tim spoke, "Someone lost their car keys."

"What?" Wally suddenly appeared with a gust of air.

"The demon spawn decided to commit grand theft auto," Jason said, obviously pocketing a pair of silver utensils, "So the old man asked Alfred to hide all the car keys all over the Manor."

"The Manor? Where even an adult can get lost," – "Speak for yourself," Jason commented, - "Don't you guys have at least a dozen cars?" Wally emphasized.

"And all of those are lost in this abyss of hundred-year-old furniture. Even our bikes," Dick replied, sitting precariously on top of a grandfather clock.

Barbara sighed. "Our first free day this whole month and we're going to be late to the advanced screening of the most awaited movie of the year."

Dick mumbled, "Which I handsomely paid for." It was the she-bat's turn to roll her eyes.

"Replacement already found the Maserati," Tim lifted the key with one hand as Jason spoke, "One down, one more to go."

Wally reappeared with another flurry of wind and in his arms was a giant bag of chicken whizzies. Artemis stared him down, incredulously, to which the speedster only replied with a shrug.

"Can't we just call a cab?" the archer suggested. Nearly everyone's fingers pointed to Jason, who according to the papers and the gravestone, died years ago. Damian scoffed. "Um, use the Batcave zeta?" Then the temperature dropped and every bat in the room turned to glare.

"Did you not think these imbeciles already considered that course of action?" the youngest of the group added his input. The black cat purred in twisted agreement.

Tim stood from his crouch on the stairs. "Speak of the devil! Look who's talking."

"I'll have you know, Drake, I commandeered the Batmobile for a well-justified purpose."

"And that well-justified purpose happened to land us here. You know…"

Wally horrifyingly whispered in Artemis' ear, "The kid stole the Batmobile. I remember Ollie had a cast from simply daring to open the door."

Barbara was heading to the kitchen for a bite while scrolling through her stacking Netflix playlist when Dick's voice cut over all the verbal chatter. "I found the Porsche!"

"In West's words, I call shotgun."

"What the – Damian, you're not even supposed to come with us. You're grounded."

"I set my own rules, Drake."

"I call dibs on the Maserati."

"Jason, you don't have a license."

"Who says so, golden boy?"

"Hey Barb, is it just me or are Jason and Damian more alike than I thought?"

In the background, Wally loudly chewed his chips. Watching the Waynes was so much better than an advanced screening.