It was more paranoia of times gone by than anything else that haunted Arkham Asylum. Barbara had to continue reminding herself that most insane individuals were not actually violent as she wheeled herself a few steps behind Sawyer through the atrium. The inmates who met her glances seemed to share her paranoia, confirming they were more afraid of her than she was of them.

At the end of the atrium stood two security officers in deep blue uniforms, standing guard over an elevator whose signs stressed constantly it was not for personal use. "Commissioner Sawyer," one of the guards, a tall, stern looking Asian man, said in welcome. "I'm Officer Nguyen, I was instructed to lead you and your guest to the maximum isolation sector."

"Lead the way then," Sawyer said.

The other gruff looking guard pressed the button and called for the elevator, Nguyen scanning his key card against the wall and calling the four down to the fifth basement floor.

"… Spooky stuff goes on down here, you know," Nguyen said. "I mean, I figured you'd know that already. The people down here, they're… they're not pleasant."

"I figured as much," Sawyer said. "I was there when a lot of them were arrested, you don't have to worry about me."

"Well then I didn't mean to try and scare your guest."

"I've seen some things myself," Barbara said. "And I've met the man we're going to see."

Silence took the four for a few minutes before the elevator finally came to a stop. Nguyen looked out at the open corridor, checking first left, then right, as he stepped out of the lift.

Instantly he slipped and fell onto the floor, shouting in pain and irritation. Barbara and Sawyer both glared down the hallway as a horrible, shrill cackle came echoing down.

"Beautiful, Officer Nguyen! Just beautiful! Right on your ass! You should have seen your face!"

As the figure came bolting down the hallway, Sawyer pulled her gun, raised it and said, "Freeze!"

"No!" Nguyen said as the figure came into view. It took everything Barbara had to not rush to meet him.

In the years since Batman's death his bright green hair had begun to gray. His eyes didn't seem to open as wide anymore and all color seemed lost from his lips. But there was no denying The Joker when you saw him.

"What are you doing out of your cell?" Sawyer demanded.

"Oooh! Lookie! Miss Maggie came down to visit me! I haven't seen you in ages, old girl!" He said excitedly as he offered Nguyen a hand up.

"What are you doing out of your cell?" Barbara said, louder and more fiercely than Sawyer had.

"Neither of you give him any attention," Nguyen said as he was helped to his feet. "Sometimes he gets out, we've just accepted it." He looked down and angrily at the banana peel beneath his shoe. "He likes to pull pranks on us, is all." He laid a hand on The Joker's back, patting him a few times as he led him away. "Come on, let's get you locked back up."

As the pale man turned back around to look at the guests from the outside, a tiny part of him recognized Barbara in her chair. He pulled Nguyen's hand off of his shoulder and turned to look her in the eyes. "Gordon? Ol' Jim Gordon's daughter? Is that you?"

Having grown accustomed to his presence, Barbara gave him a glare. "That's right."

"I was the one who put you in that chair, wasn't I?" Barbara said nothing, just holding her glare. "Sorry about that."

This managed to break Barbara's glare, causing her to double take. There had been an air of sincerity to the way he had said it. He had meant it, but from parenting, she couldn't shake the thought he sounded like a child who had spilt a glass of milk. Apologizing for a mistake that wasn't so significant in the grand scheme of things.

Nguyen returned a few minutes later, still apologizing profusely. "What kind of asylum are you running that the most dangerous criminal in Gotham's history can just slip out?" Sawyer demanded.

"You don't understand, ma'am," Nguyen said. "His cell is designed to be escapable. We give him stuff like banana peels and whipped cream every now and again so he can play pranks on the guards."

"Why the hell would you do that?" Barbara asked.

"Anymore, J's like a puppy," Nguyen said. "He needs to constantly be stimulated or else he'll be destructive to himself and others… I mean… sort of. He hasn't tried to kill anybody in years. We tried just having him upstairs with the other inmates if he wasn't really going to hurt anyone. But as you can imagine, having him joy-buzz schizophrenics and blow air horns at patients with anxiety just didn't work out. If we let him just have his fun now and again, he just makes harmless practical jokes."

Barbara and Sawyer exchanged looks of disbelief at Nguyen's summary as he led them down the corridor. A single door sat at the end of the hallway, six doors on each side leading there. They bore no windows and no identifying features save for the tiny metal plates that bore a single letter and a line of numbers. Barbara was sure Prometheus himself was contained at the end of the hall, and could only hazard guesses at what the other rooms contained. At least until she rolled past the room marked "K.6614" and she could hear the light sound of metal hitting the ground.

"ORACLE!"

The three came to a freezing halt as they turned towards the door the shout had come from. A pair of maddened, bloodshot eyes behind a pair of glasses with whitening hair falling over them was visible from where the identification plate had been pushed out from. His voice was shrill and unsteady as he tried to slip bony fingers through the tiny slot.

"I knew you'd come," he said through bouts of mad giggling. "I knew you'd come down here."

"Son of bitch," Nguyen muttered, going for his radio. "This is Nguyen. Kuttler managed to damage his cell again."

"I knew I'd see you again," he continued to giggle. "I told you, didn't I, Oracle? I wasn't going to let anyone get in my way. Not Batman. Not that brat back in the tower. No Robins or Batgirls or Angels are going to save you when I get out." At this point he was pressing his lips to the slot he had made. "I'm going to kill you, Oracle! I may be stuck on the inside now, but someday I'm going to finish you off, once and for all!"

Barbara shared a stare with the madman as he continued to rant and rave and laugh before turning again towards the door at the end of the hallway and rolling onward. "DON'T YOU DARE IGNORE ME, BITCH!" Kuttler screamed. "I WILL END YOU!"

"You must have quite a history with that one," Sawyer said.

"Who the hell is Oracle?" Nguyen asked as he slipped out his keycard for the last of the doors.

"No one. Hasn't been anyone for a long time," Barbara said. At last the door at the end of the hallway was opened, leading to a small, sterile white room with a low ceiling. It housed a small bed, a flat, square table directly in front of it and a toilet attached to the bed's end, a bottle of hand sanitizer hooked into the wall. Above the bed and toilet there were a pair of brass bars. Sitting up and before the table was an aging man with snow white hair, a long beard and scars running all over his arms and upper face. A sly smile came across his face.

"Hello, Barbara," he said, addressing her as one does an old friend. "I've been so excited to see you again."

"I'll bet you don't get a lot of company down here," Barbara said, rolling towards the opposite end of the table. Nguyen and Sawyer followed a few steps behind, but the old man raised his hand, motioning they halt. "Stay back," he said. "My business is with her."

"The man who was responsible for nearly a hundred deaths in a single night is going to give me orders?" Sawyer asked. "I don't think so."

"No, do as he says," Barbara said. Nguyen double-took, though Sawyer just scowled, as if she had expected that reaction. "He won't cooperate if it isn't on his terms."

"The whole room is under twenty-four hour surveillance," Nguyen said. "You know full and well you aren't really alone."

"I like the illusion." Prometheus said. "She said it herself. I'm not going to take to either of you. I just want to talk to her."

Sawyer and Nguyen exchanged their own looks before the commissioner knelt down to speak on Barbara's level. "You've got your radio?"

"I do."

"If he so much as looks at you funny, you let me know."

"What am I going to do, poison her with the hand sanitizer? You switched me to non-toxic for a reason."

With looks of anger and bitterness, Sawyer and Nguyen both stepped out of the white room, leaving Barbara and Prometheus alone on opposite ends of the table. The old man grabbed ahold of the bars hanging over his bed and pulled himself up, facing Barbara as she said, "Someone is out in Gotham in a batsuit delivering martial law."

At this, Prometheus's smile grew all the wider. "And you think I had something to do with it?"

"Did you?"

"I don't know, Barbara. If I tell you I did you're going to start demanding information. If I tell you I didn't you're still going to demand answers. But if you don't know one way or another, then you're going to have to play with me." With that, he pressed a button on the underside of the table. The previously black top was suddenly lit, revealing itself to be a touchscreen. "Every year I go without an incident they install a new game on my table. Which would you like to play?"

Barbara's frustration began to show. "You really think this is the right time?"

"What better time will I ever have?" Prometheus asked. "I only get to play by myself."

Barbara sighed. In the years since she had discontinued her life's work, she had forgotten much of the bizarre dynamic exist between heroes and criminals. If she wanted answers, she'd have to cooperate. "… You know I'm a mother now. Do you have Candy Land?"

"I can already see through you," Prometheus boasted. "Asking for a game that minimizes metal effort in order to concentrate on the task at hand. No, I don't have Candy Land." Barbara had to raise an eyebrow. She hadn't actually asked for the reason he suggested at all. Her question had been genuine.

Her eyes scanned over Go and Othello before deciding it was best to be typical. "Chess, then."

"I was hoping you would be more creative. Mancala is right there." Prometheus said, pointing.

"I chose chess."

"Fine, fine, fine." Promethus said, pressing a finger to the table and brining up a digital playing field. "Do you play black or white?"

"What kind of question is that?" Barbara asked.

With a nod, Prometheus selected white and made the first move. "So, you want to talk about a killer, let's talk about a killer."