You stand at the edge of a dimly lit street in Gotham, the cool night air hanging heavy with the scent of rain. The drizzle from earlier has faded, leaving the pavement glistening under the faint glow of flickering streetlights. A thin layer of mist curls along the ground, softening the sharp edges of the towering buildings around you. The city feels unusually still tonight, as if holding its breath.

In the distance, the steady hum of traffic and far-off sirens are the only signs of life. Neon signs from worn-out storefronts reflect off puddles, casting faint colors across the cracked sidewalks. The streets are mostly empty now, save for the occasional figure hurrying past, their coats pulled tight against the cold.

Overhead, the clouds have parted just enough to reveal slivers of the night sky. A quiet breeze brushes past you, carrying with it the distant sounds of the city—muted voices, the hum of electricity, and the rustle of leaves in a nearby alley.

You take a deep breath, feeling the pulse of Gotham around you. Somewhere, in the dark corners of the city, trouble is always brewing, but for now, the night feels calm—almost peaceful.