<div class="floatleft">(https://pinimg.icu/wall/0x0/damian-wayne-C2767b9d9656e0c42184e01ac6264e1e3.jpg)</div><strong>NAME:</strong>Damian Wayne<br/><strong>WEARING:</strong>Face Mask (https://ph-test-11.slatic.net/p/6/elastic-windproof-soft-polyester-skull-half-face-mask-facemaskheadwear-for-motorcycle-atv-cycling-intl-6182-18999533-60df71a6a5ce434f6c6da67f5ee8b9b0-catalog.jpg_340x340q80.jpg_.webp)<br/><strong>DAY:</strong>August 15th, 2020<br/><strong>TIME:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>Gotham Alleyways<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong>Wary and slightly bewildered<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>Raven<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Intelligence work was a dreadfully dull affair. Sitting within a black Holden Caprice, fighting off the threat of cramps while attempting to maintain a state of constant vigilance. No sane man could derive even a veneer of pleasure from the job. Yet, it was a necessary endeavor. Since his decision to go solo, a decision driven very much by stubbornness and pride, Damian had been beginning to truly understand the hardships of being a hero. Though he would not readily admit it, he had been enjoying a relatively sheltered life under the wing of his father, merely following in his footsteps on a path tread many times by his predecessors.<br/><br/>His WayneTouch smartphone suddenly flashed alive. Affording a glance at the screen, he saw multiple items of interest. First was that Barbara had sent him a text which he absolutely expected to be a scolding for ditching the Robin costume. The second was a notification of Lois Lane's latest piece on some secre-, well, previously secret US government initiative concerning metahumans. Her piece hadn't actually been published yet. Since Wayne Enterprises owned the Daily Planet, Damian had the privilege of viewing works pre-publication. He knew his father most certainly enjoyed scrutinizing a certain Mr. Kent's work.<br/><br/>The third notification was also surprising. His date for the night, some model for Wayne Fashion, had actually canceled on him. He raised an eyebrow. Then he shrugged and leaned back in his seat.<em>Guess opera's too boring for her</em><br/><br/>Just as he was pondering if that actress he'd been DMing recently would entertain a spontaneous invitation to his penthouse, the glare of flashing red from his laptop alerted him to an area of interest, a place monitored by the motion sensor he'd installed within the stealth drone currently hovering above this area of downtown Gotham.<br/><br/>He'd focalized sensors to specific locations that were areas of interest in his investigation of a local gang of convicted felons that had escaped custody by the GCPD. And at that moment, one of the sensors was recording the movement of multiple individuals. Instinctively sensing an opportunity to collect intelligence on the suspects, Damian saw that he was within walking distance of the spot in question.<br/><br/>Donning casual attire in the form of a dark hoodie and pants, his identity protected by a facemask that also aided him in managing the pervasive smell of the neighborhood, Damian strode out from his car into the alleyways. The alleyways of Gotham were often places of infamy and many crimes were committed in such areas especially in a dangerous part of town like this. In fact, this was one of the no-go zones for cops. Only SWAT or elite detectives ever ventured out regularly into the destitute districts of Gotham.<br/><br/>His eyes perceiving the situation in front of him, Damian maneuvered forward by hugging the cracked brick walls to his side, crouching behind a dark green dumpster. He didn't have to look twice, the sight already burnt into his memory for him to pick apart analytically. The suspects he'd been tracking were all there, that was a positive. And then there was the girl.<em>She's dressed in some sort of...is she a cosplayer perhaps? Probably a prostitute in a kink costume.</em><br/><br/>The suspects were threatening her...not exactly an unusual sight. Hookers were one of the most vulnerable people in Gotham's underworld society. But there was simply no way he was going to let them touch her.<em>No visible protective gear, all carrying melee weapons, no visible possession of firearms...this should otherwise be easy but with the girl there I should avoid violence if possible.</em><br/><br/>Emerging from behind and walking casually toward the group, one hand within his pocket signaling to the thugs that he could have a gun, and, adopting an exotic Eastern accent, he said, "Hey fellas, this bitch belongs to the Triads." Pulling back his sleeves to reveal an Eastern dragon tattoo (a fake prepared beforehand as part of his disguise), Damian's tone immediately turned aggressive, "If y'all know what's good for y'all, back the fuck up."