2012-11-26: I believe these are yours.

Another round of x-rays at Gotham General are now over. Wesley Dodds is still wearing the plastic and nylon that start at the shoulder and create a sling for his arm. In reality the apparatus is for the shoulder. Holding the arm still means no tearing in the area that needs to be healed. The nurses help out with his suit and the restraint. Today's suit is a dark green jacket, black pants and a button up black shirt with no tie. Pulling out a familiar business card from inside his pocket, Dodds reads the address before walking out of the hospital doors.

Hailing a cab, Dodds rattles off the address and tries to not look impressed at his destination. The Gotham Broadcasting Center is a massive building that looks expensive as it towers with other large buildings going to shoulder with them. Walking into the building like he owned it, instead of Alan Scott, Dodds walks to the front desk. "Tell your boss the friend he made from the recent socialite event gone wrong is here," before the guard can assure someone he thinks is crazy, Dodds is flashing the very real looking business card of Alan Scott.

Seeing the card, the front desk man calls up to Alan Scott's secretary on the top floor, "There's a man here wanting to see Mr. Scott, claims they're friends from that unveiling gone wrong. He has a business card. What should I do?" the security guard explains eyeing Dodds who is giving a confident smirk.

"Send him up." is the answer that comes back and the guard directs Dodds to one specific elevator. It's the only one that goes up to the top floor and needs to have that button unlocked either from the security desk or from above. Once he gets to the top floor, the secretary rises and escorts him to Alan's office, Once he enters, she closes the door behind him and returns to her desk. "Welcome." Alan says once the door is closed. He stands and gestures to a chair on the other side of the desk.

Smiling, Dodds gives a slight nod before sitting down. "Nice building you have Mr. Scott. And I think you for whatever you or our mutual friends did to my shoulder. The doctors are mystified and are on the verge of calling the healing a miracle," he says with a smirk, "It's becoming hard to deny their assessment. Sadly, to keep up guises I have to." Staring toward the blond CEO, Dodds rises and offers his hand, "Wesley Dodds by the way. Thank you for pulling me out of the fire. So to speak."

Alan sits back down and taps a couple spots on his desk, making the windows to the main office darken. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dodds. But if you're healing more quickly than normal, look to others who were there. I don't do miracles." he says, smiling. "You are welcome though for safeguarding your items. I think you must have given them to me by mistake."

"I did. I was meaning to give them to the lovely Miss that was cutting off her dress. She left something of hers at our previous encounter. My hope was to leave under my own power and give it to her. Sadly, that was not the case," Dodds confesses looking to Scott. "How did you get caught up in that mess anyway?"

"I was invited." Alan answers simply. "And I do like charitable events. Plus, I must admit, one hosted by one of the biggest mob bosses in Gotham was just too interesting to pass up. The rest, as they say, is history."

Smiling, "Always looking for the story?" Dodds asks in a matter that's not condescending.

"I leave that to my reporters." Alan says, returning the smile. "Though when one comes my way, I'm not going to pass it up. Catching the Batman on camera as well as anew vigilante or two was a plus. May I ask what name you use?"

Staring at the man, he gives it some thought. "I'll give that if you honor a quid pro quo arrangement. A name for a name," Dodds asks looking to the CEO with a raised brow.

"I stood there taking pictures with my camera." Alan points out. "I'm not sure why you think there's something more than that." He taps a couple more times on the built in keyboard and a section of wall to his right rises, revealing a wall safe with an old fashioned tumbler lock. "I would have thought your public name would be the one you would keep secret." he notes, standing and walking over to the safe.

Looking toward Dodds, "You can use the codename. However, the guest that was tearing her dress. I require her name. Again I have something of hers and thought, Gotham's best reporter would have known some information on the girl. I mean your company is about reporting the news, but if your station cannot help me maybe I should ask reporters at Galaxy Communications," Dodds gives a shrug, keep his eyes locked on the safe.

"Ahhh. Someone else's name. I'm not a reporter." Alan points out. "I just own the company. I also didn't recognize her so you're welcome to continue your investigation wherever you can if you want to find her. I'd assume she has money so it shouldn't be too hard to track down." Opening the safe, he extracts one mask and one gas gun plus ammo. He closes the safe then takes the items over to the desk, placing them by Dodds. "Yours, I believe. An interesting firearm."

Smirking to the man, "But like you said if the story is there you would report on it. You were the only reporter there. Plus it's been a few days and that means guests have to be identified." Dodds looks over his arsenal. Inspecting the mask and gun, he gives a nod to no one in particular. Holding back the desire is great, but Dodds manages.

Alan sits back down and regards Dodds. "You can get that information just as easily as I can. And I don't see a story here anyway. A wealthy, attractive woman at a charity event can throw knives. I don't think she's appreciate making that kind of headline any more than you would. Unlike some, I think Gotham's vigilantes are needed and I wouldn't want to do anything to make that more difficult."

Sighing, "I won't argue with this because one day you will probably be preserving my anonymity. Publicly you can call me Sandman, you have my consent. Who I am out of the mask is off the records. As for the knife throwing woman, she thinks I'm a threat due to research on an individual you would love to find out what I'm trying to prove. On one hand I'm trying to clear my name with a potential colleague. On the other, I need her advice. Getting shot three times tells me the Dick Tracy routine only goes so far. It's time to up my game and I want her to help," everything is laid out on the table before the CEO.

"Sandman is news. Wesley Dodds is not." Alan agrees and nods. "I understand. But I truly did not recognize her though it's possible I've encountered her before at events if she's native to Gotham City. We've never socialized with each other however. As for you, I'd suggest ballistic cloth. I hear it's all the rage with paranoid people fearing they'll be shot at. I don't think it's bulletproof but it's better than nothing."

"A good start at least until I can figure out what someone like Batman uses. Gotham is a cruel mistress mixed with a bit of Edward Hyde. I knew she has a dark side, I've seen it. She just has some really sharp teeth and I forgot this during the party."

Alan shrugs a shoulder. "Bullets can be found anywhere. I'm just happy the chance I took paid off and I didn't get shot as well. But his bodyguards were being careful not to fire until most of it cleared out so..." He shrugs again. "No guts, no glory they say. I'd like to know who that guy in black and gold was who attacked them. Obviously, not someone the Batman considers to be on his side."

Thinking back on the mask and the rapier, "Trained. He was weaving too well between the bodyguards. If I were to guess some type of paramilitary training mixed with an extensive fencing. The way his blade weaved means fast and elegant. The wiring of the speaker system points to a knowledge of electronics. Striking the room shows gutlessness and overconfidence at the same time."

"Definitely trained." Alan agrees. "I'm sure we'll be hearing about him again, especially since he missed his target. He probably wasn't expecting so many other vigilantes to have been there though."

Nodding in agreement, "What worries me is escalation. He'll be plannig for everybody plus five more for safety's sake. This will be the test of his resources."

"Well, that's for the police to worry about. Or the Batman. Or you." Alan adds, with a bit of a grin at Dodds. "Though personally, I'm not so certain I'd try too hard to stop him given who his target was. Still, I suppose we shouldn't condone vigilante executions."

"Am I saying 'The Roman' doesn't deserve it? 'No.'" All of the confidence that exudes in Dodd's voice dies as he becomes serious, "It doesn't make us better if we treat him like he's treated so many others. Him and others like him are standing on a mountain of corpses. These people deserve to see him get more than just a simple bullet or sword."

"Which is a fine ideal until you run up against the fact that so far, the alternative to a simple bullet or sword is getting away with it." Alan points out. "Tell me... If more people are killed or ruined by him because you and the others kept him from being killed, do you bear any guilt?"

Taking taking his clips and pocketing them, Dodds gets up making sure the rest of his items are in place. From there Dodds starts to walk toward the elevator, "Whether you ask that question to get the story, to fulfill some journalistic instinct you claim not to have, to get a rise out of me or all of the above, I don't know. While you can write about victims, see their names pile up on a list, I've seen the victims. Not for long periods of time but long enough to know the Roman deserves something more than a quick stab or gunshot. Before you make a comment about 'Seeing Dead People,' know that I can. Some powers are a gift, mine's a curse for me and a gift for the victims. I'll die from my heart stopping about twenty years from now. Or I'll destroy my internal organs in thirty years if my heart somehow survives what I put myself through. My regret is not getting to the Roman before he got away. And know every victim you write about will haunt me as much and as often as their families," Dodds says as he moves toward the elevator. He presses the elevator button, "Thank you for your kindness."

"Or maybe I ask because I just don't know the answer." Alan counters quietly but makes no effort to halt Dodds. "You have my number if you need anything. Keep in mind, a news story can do things that more direct action can not." The elevator doors open.

"And know if someone just sits at the sidelines without getting their hands dirty, will be equally responsible for letting someone like the Roman slip by," Dodds enters the elevator that he held open then hits the door close button once inside. Floors whisk by and Dodds gives a nod to the security guard before making his way out.