ARKHAM FILES: ORACLE

CHAPTER EIGHT:COMPOSURE

Alfred's eyes scanned the bulletin board, taking in the array of pictures and yarn threads. "Ah, an excellent start, Tim," he said, nodding in approval. Bruce, seated beside him, remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the board. Grayson, leaning against the wall, whistled softly. "Looks like we're dealing with a real puzzle here, folks."

Barbara, seated at the edge of the group, prayed silently that her own research wouldn't be discovered. Meanwhile, Tim continued to add to the board, pinning a picture of Aaron Cash to the mix. "And don't forget about Amadeus and Mayor Quincy," Alfred added, pointing to the central figure on the board.

Grayson's brow furrowed in frustration as he wrote on the sticky note, "What's the motive behind the black hoodie?" before sticking it to the board. "But that still doesn't answer our question," he muttered. Tim shook his head. "Aaron is being tight-lipped. All he's said is that there's a 'gift' that will bring chaos to us." Alfred nodded and headed towards the research area, Bruce following close behind. "Ah, yes, Master Grayson," Alfred said, "I'll run a biometrics scan on all the individuals we've identified. Maybe we'll get lucky and find a fingerprint that matches our mystery villain." Bruce snorted in disgust. "If these idiots don't think when it comes to fingerprints..."

Barbara slipped out of the room, her eyes avoiding the rest of the team as she made her way to her bedroom. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, that they were all waiting for her to slip up so they could pounce on her. She needed to get out of there, to clear her head and focus on what she had to do.

She quickly changed into a black hoodie, the one she had been using to sneak around at night. As she dressed, she muttered to herself, "Okay, Joker, why are you playing with my head? Why do you always have to make things so complicated?" With a deep breath, she made her way to the window, where she had carefully planned her escape route. She climbed out onto the fire escape, careful not to make any noise as she made her way down to the ground.

Tim's frustration was palpable as he scrutinized the footage of the club incident. "There's nothing!" he exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table. "These guys are too good, they're not stupid. They're covering their tracks." Alfred and Bruce walked over to the screen, Alfred's eyes scanning the data. "Ah, yes, Master Drake," he said, his voice filled with concern.

"The fingerprints are matching. But... why are they using the deceased's fingerprints?" Bruce's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? Why would they use dead people's fingerprints?" Tim's frustration was palpable as he scrutinized the footage of the club incident. "There's nothing!" he exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table. "These guys are too good, they're not stupid. They're covering their tracks."

Meantime, Barbara soared through the night sky, as she navigated the dark alleys of Gotham City. She landed on a rooftop with a soft thud, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. But instead of finding the usual crime scene or abandoned warehouse, she was met with an unexpected sight: a sleek, unmarked helicopter landing on the rooftop.

And standing on the edge of the helicopter, his shirt tight and showing off his muscles, was the Joker. His hair was slicked back, giving him an air of sophistication that Barbara had never seen before. But it was his grin that really caught her off guard - it was wider and more menacing than she had ever seen.

"Looking nice for me?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How cute." He took a step closer to Barbara, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Now is not the time to fool around. You need to tell me what the fuck is going on. Why is Crane and Hugo working for you?"

Barbara's eyes narrowed, her grip on her grappling hook tightening. "I'm walking a thin line right now," she said, her voice firm. "Don't mess with me, Joker. I'm not your chew toy."