Batman had imagined countless times what he would say if he ever saw his parents again someday. But even in the warmest version of that possibility, he had hardly pictured the three of them sitting around the fireplace at Wayne Manor, chatting.
Now it seemed reality was even a little "warmer" than he had imagined. Not only were his parents here, but so was the old butler who had always been by his side. The only problem was that the topic of conversation was somewhat different from what Batman had expected.
"Bruce, come sit down. There are some things we need to talk to you about." Thomas waved Batman over and pointed at the sofa opposite him.
Batman's lips moved, but he still could not bring himself to say, "Call me Batman," to his biological father. It was not that he did not want to say it. The problem was that Thomas had brought a gun today.
Batman walked over and sat down. From beneath his mask, he looked at Thomas, then at Martha. They had aged considerably, but not as much as Batman had imagined. Mainly because anger made people look much younger. The two of them were practically glowing with rage.
"Little Bruce, there are some things we need to discuss with you seriously. What exactly have you been doing lately? Why are you interfering in your father's and my affairs?"
Batman opened his mouth, but he had not expected Martha to ask that question. Thomas soon looked at Batman as well and said, "You neglect Wayne Enterprises, yet you have time to meddle in all those scraps between gangsters. I just asked Alfred and found out that you do not even care when the Robins do not come home!"
"I..."
In the few seconds before this, Batman