12737/Searching For Dear Old Dad

Searching For Dear Old Dad
Date of Scene:	10 September 2022
Location:	Batcave
Synopsis:	Bruce offers advice while Stephanie searches for her escaped convict father.
Cast of Characters:	Stephanie Brown, Bruce Wayne

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Stephanie Brown has posed:
The Batcave is usually fairly dark. Illumination in the places needed, but not excessively. At the moment the Batcomputer's platform is mainly lit by the multitude of screens conveying the high powered processor's output.

Caught in that light is one Stephanie Brown. The blond-haired coed is leaning forward, intent on keeping track of a number of things running on the screens at once.

A set of windows are zooming through security camera footage at high speed, doing facial recognition. Another set has a gradually updating list of surveillance on a number of people.

An icon flashes red to get attention. Stephanie selects it and a telephone tap comes up. She listens to the small-time hoods. Former associates of her father. They are smart enough not to say anything openly incriminating over the phone, but if Arthur "Cluemaster" Brown was involved with them in some way, they still might drop a clue to that effect.

The call ends though without anything being revealed beyond, "Sounds like we should do an extra patrol through Chelsea tomorrow," she comments aloud, making an entry where whoever is available for the patrol that night can pick it up.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Bruce had been nearby while Stephanie conducted her search. When a member of his team had a case of their own, he often kept from commenting on it or providing advice. Every night was a training exercise, and despite any conclusions he may have already drawn about the Cluemaster, he had opted to keep them to himself. There was no danger of Brown leaving Gotham - this was his stomping ground, after all - and if he was planning something, then he'd poke his head up eventually.

The evening's patrol was done. His case notes had already been logged and now he had finished changing out of his uniform, emerging from the armory in a grey long-sleeve UnderArmor shirt and a pair of similarly-hued leggings. He moves towards the training area, rolling his shoulders as he warms down from the night's exertion.

"It's your case. You should allocate the patrol to yourself."

Stephanie Brown has posed:
"I'll take it if I'm able," Stephanie says, though she's leaning forward towards the screen, attention focused on watching the camera footage fly by as if wanting her own eyes to back up Barbara's search algorithms.

That can only go on for so long though and Stephane leans back, rubbing her eyes and then the bridge of her nose before letting out a sigh. She swivels the chair to refill a coffee cup. She's always taken it with cream and sugar, unless she's just going for maximum caffeine and alertness. The dark black of the liquid she sips confirms that is what is going on.

"He's better at this since that shrink worked with him," she says. Her voice carries notes of so many different emotions, jumbled together one atop the other.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"Better, but still flawed," Bruce explains, clutching one shoulder as he begins a series of stretches, "A fatal flaw he shares with Nygma, though in him it's more egregious. He thinks he's smarter than he is. It breeds overconfidence, and through that breeds over-extension. He'll decide he wants to flex his intellect at some point, and then you'll have him."

He's never had sympathy for Cluemaster. Despite the familial relation Stephanie has to him, he's made it clear he's never viewed Arthur Brown as a major threat. In truth, he makes it clear that he feels he's broken the man's motive and modus operandi down to their component pieces.

"You seem reluctant to take the mission," he adds after a moment, "Do you think you'll falter? Or are you concerned you won't pull your punches?"

Stephanie Brown has posed:
Stephanie Brown's fingers on the console flex and rub against each other. Briefly a fist forms unconsciously as she glances over at the entry in the things to be investigated. "I don't falter," she says, eyes on the screen still. The relentless optimism is still there, but over the last year, plus, her self-doubts have grown fewer.

"Maybe a little of the latter," she says, letting her hand relax. "Mostly I just want to find him," she says. "Mom keeps asking me to make sure he hasn't shown up in my life somewhere," she says, finally managing a wry chuckle and a shake of her head. "I'm more worried about him showing up around her," she says.

There's a ping and Stephanie looks over to the screen as the video pauses and zooms in on a face. Face positive though, not him, though close in resemblance. It doesn't take his daughter more than a glance to be sure it's not him in some disguise, and she sends that hit to the reject pile.

Stephanie swivels in her chair, eyes going to Bruce. "It's even worse, the how he got out," she says.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"You all falter," Bruce chides, stretching out his hamstring as he does, "It's an inevitable side-effect of what we do. The point isn't to be an impregnable edifice, but to be able to shore up any cracks in the facade as soon as they form. Your fiance would tell you that, it was one of the first lessons we learned together. You know the parable of pride and the fall."

He's silent again for a moment as she explains, giving no sign that he's even hearing.

"Bane. Seems to have gone quiet again. Disconcerting, given that I didn't get a chance to investigate his motives. Seems to be a typical attempt to fill the Falcone vacuum, except by applying strategy rather than brute force or terror. Regardless, he's not there yet and most of the escapees have been mopped up."

Stephanie Brown has posed:
"Mostly just familiar with the fall part," Stephanie quips of her long-standing battles with gravity. She bites her lip and taps out a few more commands. Setting some searches going of financial records. She's done all of the searching that is most likely to find him, and by now she's investigating people who have mostly had periphery levels of interaction with Cluemaster, hoping one pays off.

"Most," she agrees, though her tone self-condemning that this one hasn't been. "I don't think Bane was trying to free him intentionally. Probably would have rather Amygdala got out. More useful to him. I have a hard time seeing... Dad... working alongside Bane though. Even if he did cause the escape to happen."

She gives a frustrated sigh and pushes back from the computer console a little bit, the gesture expressing the lack of progress she made tonight in doing more than eliminating some places he isn't. "He's going to want to prove himself on his own I think," she says. "But I just can't figure out where, or how."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Bruce nods mid-front shoulder and chest stretch, staring off into the middle-distance as he takes in what Stephanie has to say.

"No connection between them. Like you said, Brown escaping was likely just a side effect of a divide and conquer strategy. While we're busy picking up the pieces, Bane uses the distraction to his advantage. But he's overplayed his hand. Waited too long."

"Cluemaster," he carries on, "Isn't a team player. The academics and pseudo-academics rarely are. They see themselves as the spider in the center of the web. They won't share the spotlight.

"Have you considered baiting a trap?"

Stephanie Brown has posed:
The young woman gets a speculative look. "I hadn't," she says thoughtfully. "He seems to have just gone to ground. I'd have to come up with something that would be too good for him to pass up," she says slowly.

Stephanie chews her lower lip as she thinks. "Thanks Bruce," she says, blue eyes lifting to the man. "I'll give it some thought and see what I can come up with." She brings a foot up, perching it on the edge of her chair as she rests her head on her knee. "You know," she says. "You did a good job with Dick." Stephanie looks back up towards Bruce. "He's... you did good," she says, giving Bruce a smile.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"You'll think of something."

Bruce doesn't seem interested in providing suggestions beyond that. After all, it's a learning experience. Finishing his stretches, he moves towards one of the sleek treadmills arrayed against the wall and steps onto it. Immediately he begins to jog, pressing two fingers against his throat before letting his arms fall into their rhythm once again.

"Dick's his own man. He's the way he is because of John and Mary. All I did was make sure that when he got set on the same path as me, he chose the right fork in the road."