Perched silently atop a weathered gargoyle, I scanned the darkened streets below with vigilant eyes. The once bustling neighborhood of Park Row, now a ghostly remnant of its former self, was bathed in the eerie glow of flickering streetlights. I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in my gut, a sixth sense honed from years of patrolling Gotham's most dangerous corners.

Oracle’s voice had crackled through my comms just moments ago, her tone urgent yet controlled. “Red-flag alert in Park Row, Dick. Be careful.” It was all she needed to say. I trusted Barbara implicitly, and if she was concerned, it meant something was seriously wrong.

I dropped silently from the gargoyle, my movements fluid and purposeful. Landing without a sound, I melted into the shadows, a dark wraith in the night. Every sense was on high alert as I made my way through the narrow alleys, my mind racing through possible scenarios. An ambush? A trap? A gang war? Park Row had seen its share of bloodshed, but this felt different.

The air was thick with tension, the kind that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I moved with practiced stealth, my eyes darting to every shadow, every movement. The faint sounds of distant sirens, a barking dog, and the occasional clatter of garbage cans were the only disturbances in the unnerving silence.

As I rounded a corner, a sudden flash of movement caught my eye. I froze, my muscles coiled like a spring, ready to leap into action. But it was only a stray cat, its eyes glowing eerily in the dim light before it scampered off into the darkness. I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down, not even for a second.