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“Cool bike,” says Robin. “How old d’ya have to be to own one of these?”
She crashes the bike. Robin squawks “Hey!” as they crash into the bushes. “You okay?” he asks, as if she needs taking care of, and that does it. She’s mad.
“Sure,” she bites out, ripping off her cowl—no point in wearing it when Boy Wonder already knows what she looks like. She’d hoped a brick to the head would bench him for longer. “Just great. What do you want?”
Robin squats next to her. “Love the mask,” he says, like an asshole.
“Load of good it did me,” she mutters. “How did you find me?”
“A little detective work,” Robin says smugly, “and a lot of luck. You were part of Cluemaster’s gang, right? Were you there that night to try and save him?”
She laughs at him. “Why would I want to do that?” she asks, still pissed. Robin thinks he’s so smart all the time. He usually is, so she’s happy to prove him wrong just this once.
“Because he’s your father,” says Robin, as if that explains why she would want to protect Arthur Brown.
“You know about that, huh,” she says wryly. “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know. I was there to try and make sure nobody got hurt. But you had to go and chase me.” She laughs a little, and stands up, brushing the dirt from her hands on her tights. “God. Why would I want to save him? I hate his guts. I have to have a world-class psycho for a dad.” She picks up her bike. “I’d like to see him rot in jail.”
Robin cocks his head. “Oh. You’re the one who came up with the clues.”
She shoves her cowl back on. “Boy, you are a great detective, Einstein!”
“Enough to know that there’s a strong possibility that your father is still alive.”
She freezes. “What?”
“Batman and I think Arthur Brown Sr. may still be alive.”
She takes a deep breath. This doesn’t change anything. “If he is, I’ll find him,” she says calmly. “He’ll still be in Gotham and ready to take down a big score.”
“Castleland Park, right?” Robin asks.
“Maybe you’re not so dumb, birdboy,” she allows with a grudging smile under her mask.
“You’re going to need help nailing him,” he says, and she knows he’s right. So. There’s not much else to do but let him climb on the bike behind her. At least he asks this time.
“What do you call yourself?” Batman asks.
“Well,” she says, “the Spoiler.”
Batman nods. “I like that,” he says. Which shouldn’t mean anything.
She’s spent two years growing out her hair and now she’s finally got curls reaching down her back. It’s worth it, even if it makes her look more like her father. People always said she was his spitting image when her hair was short, so she doesn’t think it matters anyway.
She’s sixteen. Mom is off the wagon and Dad’s back from jail. All she’s got is a skateboard she paid for, a bike she stole, and her neighbor’s hand-me-down girl's clothes.
Robin calls her father Arthur Brown Sr. because she’s supposed to be Junior, but later she quietly tells him her name. Somehow, if Robin called her Junior, that would be one step too far.
“Okay, Stephanie,” Robin replies easily, like he isn’t the first person to ever call her that.
Dad goes back to jail. Mom’s still off the wagon.
She’s got two new names, though.