Gotham was a trial, a proving ground as it were. On the surface, it sounded so simple. Toe the line. Prove himself in his father's city... Batman's domain. Yet the actual experience left Damian constantly adapting with each new encounter. Aside from one encounter with the Scarecrow, he'd yet to make any sort of mark on the criminal element. Thus far, his performance record seemed woefully inadequate.
But that didn't mean he wasn't learning. Damian'd left his micro cassette recorder some place safe and secure. Having it in the field was a liability, one the Red Hood had exploited. He'd added throwing knives to his boots and hidden lock picks in his gloves... both were necessary but also seemed so marginal in comparison to his father's resources.
At least he'd managed to secure his father's banner, after a fashion. He was still wearing Todd's old tunic layered over his usual attire, although Damian had covered by a dark cloak and hood to cut down on the obvious color scheme. Hood hadn't been happy but he also hadn't demanded it from him. Damian figured it wouldn't be long until Cassandra turned up again to demand it in turn. Until then, he had work to do.
Damian was perched on a rooftop with binoculars held up to his eyes. The area was a known turf for one of the local gangs and there'd been in an increase activity as of late. At the moment, there were two lookouts at each door. Something was going down.