Jan. 19th, 2012

[identity profile] tim-drake-robin.livejournal.com
Gotham's winters are bitter and merciless. The bite in the air right now could do real damage to exposed anatomy if left unprotected for more than a few minutes. Tim pulled the hood of his cape over his head to give his ears a reprieve.

Moving like a ghost, he flitted silently between shadows making no sound at all as he bounded to the neighboring rooftop. Carefully he came to the edge and peered down into the alleyway.

Gold light lit up the dirty and garbage strewn snow, the illumination spilling from an open loading dock where men hurriedly moved crates into a waiting van. The vehicle's motor was running and it's driver looked up and down the alley with nervous impatience.

Drake sized up his targets and pulled a few tools from his belt.

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