Between every sentence of conversation, Arthur Brown reached into the bag sitting next to his Laz-E-Boy, grab a few peanuts, crack them open with his teeth and turn the now half shell into his mouth. The retired super-villain's daughter looked on in disgust as he did so. "Seriously, Dad, do you have to keep doing that? It's gross."

"You tell me to quit taking painkillers, so I start smoking again. You tell me to quit smoking, so I start eating peanuts. You tell me to quit eating peanuts, what am I supposed to do?"

"Maybe you could just start by using your fingers or something," Stephanie said.

The father and daughter only barely tolerated one another's company, the years they had exchanged blows ever present in their minds. Arthur's once bright blonde hair was beginning to white as he grew older, wrinkles spread across the nasty scar covering half his face. He owned a tiny, messy two-bedroom house paid for with his lowly stocking job. There was a rhythm to the conversations they shared.

"How's your mom?"

"Fine."

"Husband?"

"Fine."

"Kids?"

"Fine."

"Good… When are you going to let me meet them?"

It had been at this point Stephanie complained about his eating habits, but the question was still fresh in his mind. "You didn't answer me before, by the way."

Stephanie sighed. "When I'm sure it isn't a terrible idea."

"You're killing me, Steph. I've been sober half a decade, been out of prison two years longer than that. You come visit me here to visit a time or two a year."

"I'm a lot more willing to make terrible decisions for myself than my kids, Dad." Stephanie said.

"Yeah, I should say so, considering there was something like a year in there you were apparently dead," Arthur said. "You know I tried to quit robbing places a hundred times for you? You know how often Crystal held that 'Our daughter is growing up without a father' garbage over my head?"

"You think that was garbage, huh?" Stephanie asked.

"Oh sure, model parent your mom was, smuggling pills out of the hospital and keeping them for herself."

"Mom got better," Stephanie snapped. "Don't talk about her like that."

"If you haven't noticed, I got better too," Arthur said. "I got my act together, got the hell out of Gotham and I'm getting everything worked out." He referred to his bag. "You've got me eating peanuts for God's sake. You probably let Crystal see those kids of yours all the time."

"Mom has had plenty of time to earn my trust back," Stephanie said. "She never hurt me the way you did."

"Considering the multiple times you beat the hell out of me, I would think we'd be closer to even." The two went quiet for a few beats before Stephanie rose and walked to the kitchen. "Grab me a ginger ale, would you?" Arthur said.

Giving a refrigerator a look through, Stephanie glared first at its contents and then at her father. "I thought you were sober. What's with all the hard lemonades?"

"I bought those for you," Arthur said. "I thought you liked them after you ordered one at that crappy restaurant last year. There weren't any individual ones, so I had to buy a six-pack."

"I don't think I believe you," Stephanie said, cracking one open with the bottle-opener magnet on the fridge.

"If you want them all, take them. Last drink I had gave me nightmares for days." Stephanie handed him a can of ginger ale before taking her seat again. "Are you even doing anything anymore? Or does your husband cover everything?"

"I volunteer at the kids' school and our church when I feel like it," Stephanie said. "But I think if I have the time, it's best that I spend it with Oscar and Robin."

"I'm sure they just love that," Arthur said, rolling his eyes."Church huh? What's your husband again?"

"Catholic. My husband's Catholic, my kids are Catholic, my best friend is Catholic."

"Thought your best friend was a lesbian."

"Yeah well, she'd tell you they're not mutually exclusive."

"And you?" Arthur asked.

"No. Too many rules for me. I go with my family on Sunday, they let me work their fundraisers and stuff, but I haven't converted. I like being a Methodist just fine."

"I ever tell you about the time I joined a cult?" Arthur asked. "Joined in with some freaks at Blackgate, should still have a badly done tattoo on my lower back."

Stephanie looked on in disgust. "Wait, what? Why the hell did you do that?"

"They liked blonde haired people. The other guys would give me extra food at lunchtime. You haven't had prison food, it's complete garbage and they never give you enough."

"Okay, there you go. One more reason you haven't met your grandkids yet. Anyone else would talk about how they liked to go fishing or what dumb old fashions they dressed in. You, you've got to tell stories about being in prison and joining a cult."

"It is what it is." Arthur said. "What do you want to do for food?"

"I don't know. I don't really care," Stephanie said, sipping her spiked lemonade. "You know this city better than I do."

Noting the bowl he was collecting his peanut shells in had filled, Arthur stood up and walked it to the kitchen to toss them away. "… Speaking of me being in prison… There's talk the Batman has finally come back to Gotham."

Stephanie frowned, but she wasn't surprised, just upset the news had already reached Metropolis. "So?"

"What do you mean, 'so,' you knew him, didn't you?" Arthur asked.

"Didn't you?"

"Don't change the subject," Arthur said. "I know full and well you worked for him. For a while, I know you even played Robin."

"I don't know who this guy is, Dad," Stephanie said. "The Batman I knew died ten years ago. I was there when Nightwing announced it."

Arthur was quiet for a minute or so before he returned to his chair, grabbed a few more peanuts and asked, "You sure about that?"

"What do you mean?" Stephanie asked.

"I was just thinking about it. Back in the day, a bit after you started playing Robin, I heard the news you were dead. Details were hazy, I wasn't totally sure it was you at first… if I knew who tried to do it, I would have killed them."

"You wouldn't have wanted to try that, Dad," Stephanie said. "He's dead now. He's not worth worrying about."

Arthur flashed a glare. "Who was it?"

"Dad…"

"Just tell me. I want closure on this."

"… Roman Sionis. Black Mask."

Arthur heaved a sigh. "I didn't know him. Wouldn't have ever had the chance to kill him." The two went quiet briefly before Arthur continued, "But my point is, you didn't die."

"No. Someone faked it. I'm still not totally sure why. I mean, whether it was to try and do the right thing, or to just prove a point."

"So tell me," Arthur said. "What brought you back to Gotham?"

"A sense of obligation. Mom. The guy I eventually married."

"But you did it yourself? Batman didn't hunt you down?" Stephanie nodded, Arthur stroking his chin. "That's what I was wondering… so the Batman never knew you were alive."

"He'd tell you he did," Stephanie said. "He'd tell you he had a hunch I was still alive. I don't know if it's true or not, it was a tough subject for us for a while. It took me a while to forgive him for that mess." Realizing they had gotten off subject, she asked, "So what's your point?"

"My point is that whether you like it or not, you're the Cluemaster's daughter. You're not stupid, Steph, those giant hoop earrings you used to wear aside." He let the comment sink in briefly before continuing, "Batman, the so called 'World's Greatest Detective' couldn't know for sure if one of his associates was dead or not. So if you could fool him, I'm pretty sure he could fool you."

"I know it isn't him, Dad," Stephanie said. "I saw his body. I saw him in the coffin, no mask on or anything. He's gone, he hasn't come back."

"Didn't he think he saw you? Wouldn't he have gone to far more trouble if he hadn't seen you buried?"

Stephanie's look was notably thrown by this conversation, and it left her briefly silenced before she said, "You've got too much time to work on conspiracy theories, Dad."

…

Just outside the office of Principal Hansen sat two weary fathers, one beside his daughter, the other beside his son, patiently waiting to be beckoned in. The children spoke among themselves, but their fathers, for the most part, keeping their distance.

"… So… Tim… How's Steph today?"

"Fine. Going to Metropolis." He was curt.

"Sure. Sure. Babs is away on some business today."

"Is Mom going to be home tonight?" Sarah asked.

"She shouldn't be too late," Dick said. "You still need to tell me what happened."

"Alan Lemming was picking on Robin," Oscar said. "He and some other bullies called her names and pulled her hair."

"You pull your sister's hair and call her names all the time," Tim said. "He didn't ask you, Oscar, calm down."

"They started a fight with Robin, I was standing up to them. Sarah was just helping me, Uncle Dick. I promise, we just wanted to do the right thing."

"Is all that true, Sarah?" Dick asked. "Did those other kids start the fight?"

"I promise, Daddy." She turned to Tim. "And I promise, Uncle Tim."

The two sat on this silently, both knowing affirming their children's actions would be wrong in a space like the school. After all, how many times had they fought to protect those who had been backed into a corner?

"Am I in trouble?" Sarah asked.

"… I don't want my decision to impact what your uncle decides to do or what Oscar has to be afraid of. We'll talk about it when we get home."

Just on the office threshold the four remained, Hansen still in discussion with the Lemming family. After a few minutes, Dick rose and said, "Be right back."

He navigated down the hall to a bathroom intended for the first grade class and went about his business with some tactical positioning. Though he hated foam soap the poster of a grumbling, anthropomorphic bacteria talking about living under his fingernails convinced him to lather up. With a loose shake he proceeded back to the hall, wiping his hands along his slacks before catching sight of Tim waiting for him.

"Sorry about this," he said. "Didn't want to try and talk about anything in front of the kids."

"I'm just surprised you're trying to address anything with me at all," Dick said. "What's the occasion?"

"… With Steph going down to see her dad and the kids in Sunday school and things like that, I've been thinking about forgiveness, you know?"

"Forgiveness, huh?" Dick said.

"Yes… I don't know if I can forgive you for the position you put me in… but I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't try."

"Wow, that's more than I've gotten out of you in years, Tim."

"Look, Oscar and Sarah have a soccer game next weekend. Why don't you and Barbara come over to our house when it's all over? Have a few drinks, catch up… give us a chance to all act like family again."

"I haven't gotten to do that since Robin was born'" Dick said. "We'll be there, of course."

Despite Dick's smile being earnest and Tim's being forced, neither could internally deny that they hoped desperately this meeting would go well. For the moment, however, they had to return to their punished children.

…

Miles away, Barbara adjusted her glasses, glaring out the window of Commissioner Sawyer's police cruiser. "When's the last time you were here?" Sawyer asked.

"A long time," Barbara said, handing Sawyer her ID to be handed off to the guard running the security booth. Tim's investments had made little difference. Underneath coats of fresh paint, the new concrete covering the road and what were surely countless technological advancements within, it was all still exactly the same.

Arkham Asylum: Hell on Earth.

…

[[Author's… Note? Nah, more like confession:

I really hate to do this at this point in the story, especially as I move towards some of the meaty bits, but this project is goi g on the back burner for just a little bit. I'm not saying updates won't come, I'm just saying they won't be a priority for the rest of November.

Some of you may know November as National Novel Writing Month… I'm not using it as that, but will be using it as "MJTR ends some stories" month. I currently have five other projects that were supposed to be short and small I have severely been neglecting, and will be using November to try and knock as many of them out as possible. If you've been enjoying this piece, I would encourage you to check out some of my other works, since they all have a similar cadence but explore a lot of different ideas.

When these are done attention will return to this piece and the true sequel to Angel of the Bat. I look forward to resuming this with you guys soon, just gonna go tie up some loose ends first.]]