Batavia Downs

There was a round table, with four chairs, and in front of each spot were six cocktail glasses with a familiar grey-white cocktail inside of them, the rims dusted with some green powder. Two guys occupied the chairs at Lois Lane's left and right were a slim, young black man with smooth-shaved head, wearing a basketball shirt and shorts that showed off his dark tattoos and broad shoulders and well-developed calves, and across from him a wiry, tanned man with dark tousled hair wearing a T-shirt advertising a greenhouse; Lois noticed his red-rimmed eyes, the grubby dirt between his fingers with the yellow stains that suggested tobacco or maybe cannabis. They both grinned up at Lois as she took her seat, setting the drink she was carrying down on the ground by her feet...and the green-haired girl with those amazing green eyes sat down across from Lois.

"So, I'm Aimee, and this is Mac," she pointed to the black man, who flashed a toothy smile, "and this is Jorge." Tousled hair smiled shyly and nodded.

"Lois," the reporter volunteered.

"If you haven't played Batavia Downs before, it's a race game," Aimee said. She had the energy of youth, and her thin arms swept out in expansive gestures. Lois noticed that even her fingernails were painted green. "You and I start by drinking a glass as fast as we can; when we're done, we have to put the glass upside down on the table. Then the person to your left does the same. And so on. It's a race to drink as face as you can. If anybody can't finish their drink, or misses putting their glass back down, they lose! Simple, right?"

Simple way to get shitfaced, the reporter thought.

"Sounds good!" Lois said, and hoped her liver was up to this...but then again, there were signs that these three had already been drinking. There was a bit of perspiration on all of them, a sense of tension. "What happens if you lose?"

The trio paused, as if they hadn't thought that far. Lois sensed an opening.

"Losers have to answer any question honestly," she said.

Three smiled broadened, grinned. Lois smiled back. Now all she had to do was hope Aimee would keep up with her.

"On your marks!" Mac said to her left.

"Get set!" Aimee's hand wrapped around the stem of the cocktail glass nearest her, and Lois repeated the gesture.

"Go!" Jorge said, a bit too loud, voice nervous.

Automatically, Lois lifted her arm and bent the elbow. This was like her sorority days...

Not far away, Poison Ivy smiled. It was all going exactly according to plan.