End: Lois Doesn't Smoke

A strange half-smile graced the narrow, crimson face at Lois Lane's refusal.

"As you would. Tonight, though, it saved your life, didn't it?"

"Who are you?" The naked reporter asked. Still on edge, but feeling nauseous as the adrenaline quickly metabolized.

"One of Superman's enemies, of which he has many," the red woman with the horns said. She touched the opening of the pack and drew out a cigarette, not by pinching or pulling, but simply by holding her finger near the filter and drawing it back, without ever touching it. The cancer-stick hung in the air, without visible support. Black sparks erupted along her horns, and the tip of the cigarette flared to life. "I saw you enter my club. I was intrigued when you took the bottle. Why did you do that?"

Lois swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Her body began to shake as she saw the lit cigarette hover there...and then float up to the demon's lips, so that she could suck in a quick puff.

"I...I was drunk," Lois said. Her knees began to wobble, nerves frayed. "And curious."

The woman took the cigarette out of her mouth and breathed out. The smoke moved in a solid cloud that seemed to engulf the reporter's head, and she fought the desire to cough.

"Curiosity killed the cat," the demon said. "And nearly had unfortunate consequences for your kitty. Still, this has been...fun. I think perhaps we will play another game sometime, Lois Lane. Until then...something to remember me by."

Another plume of smoke. Lois Lane closed her eyes as they teared up. She coughed and waved her hand to try and dissipate the cloud, tasting the nicotine and ash in her mouth, knowing the smell would cling to her hair.

When the reporter finally was able to open her eyes again, the red woman with the horns was gone. A few drops of blood on the carpet and the broken glass door to the balcony remained...and on the corner of the bed, an open pack of cigarettes.

Lois shook her head. It had been a long night...and in any other circumstances, a traumatic one. She went into the kitchen and opened her laptop on the table, determined to write this all down before she forgot any of the details...and then she noticed, at her left hand, the open packet of cigarettes. The same packet she had left on the edge of the bed...and a shiver ran up Lois Lane's spine, her skin seemed to creep.

Something told her that the demon's games had just begun. Somewhere out there, the mutilated Scarecrow vowed ****. While Lois Lane's night out would end here, she knew she would face the consequences for many nights to come.