Epilogue: Stir Crazy

The appointment for the ultrasound had been set at eight weeks. Lois had counted the days. It would be the first time she had been out of the Amazonian embassy for a month.

Her stomach had continued to expand, little by little. Lois had felt like a stereotype when the cravings for pickles and ice cream came, but the Amazons on staff humored her every wish...except for one. The most important one.

Freedom.

Technically, Lois wasn't a prisoner. But she didn't have the authority to access most of the building, and she barely managed to go anywhere beyond her shared living quarters with Diana, the gymnasium, the baths, and the small embassy library. When her sister Lucy had come to visit to help plan the wedding, Lois had been allowed to meet her in the lobby...with an escort.

Even with her work all being online now, it was driving her nuts.

Oh, the women at the embassy worked hard to keep her sane. She had a tutor that was teaching her Greek. A personal fitness instructor that was making sure she didn't turn into some fat blob for lack of exercise. A massage therapist who liked to sing songs to her and talk about growing up on Themyscira after a lengthy workout session. A dietician that made sure her meals were healthy and balanced, and talked with her about nutrition and pregnancy.

Lois learned their names, birthdays, favorite flowers. She asked about how their days went, what they wanted to do with their lives. Tried to be friends, if only to distract herself. Yet in the back of her mind, she was still a prisoner, a songbird in a gilded cage.

Now, hanging off her fiance's arm, Lois finally stepped foot outside the embassy walls. She lifted her face to the sun, tasted the air. The doctor's office was right down the street, and Lois had insisted they walk. Diana had humored her. Dressed in civilian clothes, they could have been any pregnant couple walking to the doctor. To hopefully find out exactly how many babies she was carrying.

It was a discreet office in a building set back a little way from the street. They rode the elevator to the second floor. Colorful murals were painted on the wall, half-recognized cartoon characters in some fantasy landscape. The waiting room was empty except for the receptionist, a slim, toned woman with a blue streak dyed in the bangs of her jet-black hair. The paperwork only took a few moments; Diana sat pensive, staring around at the empty waiting room, the racks of new pregnancy magazines. The security cameras in the corner. A flatscreen television showing some home repair show.

"Go right in Miss Lane," the receptionist said with a smile. "The doctor's waiting for you."

The electronic lock on the door next to the reception desk opened with a buzz and a clunk of bolts. Lois got up, and Diana stood up with her. The receptionist frowned.

"Ma'am, if you would like to sit down and wait..."

"Can I go with her? I'm her fiance."

"The first part of the appointment is a routine check-up—height, weight, bloodwork, a urine sample, and a few personal questions," the receptionist said. "We prefer the patient to handle that on her own. We will call you in for the ultrasound."

Wonder Woman's face was set in a grim line. Lois placed a hand on her fiance's shoulder.

"It'll be all right, Di. This is just normal stuff. No surprises."

Past the door, Lois found herself in a little corridor. Only one door was open. She stepped toward it, and recognized a perfectly normal doctor's office. Ultrasound monitor, one of those mechanical chairs they could raise and lower, a combined height-weight scale, cabinets full of syringes and other supplies. A figure in a labcoat was staring at a monitor, back hunched like a vulture's, back turned toward Lois. The hair was curly, dyed green...

"Doctor?" She said, reaching to tap him on the shoulder.

The figure that turned to face her smiled. Not the kind of smile that is disarming, calming. It was a maniac grin, stretching almost ear to ear, little scars at the corners of the mouth showing where the skin was split. White greasepaint covered his face, but it was like in an old house, where the old paint had started to flake and instead of scraping it off they just put another layer on top. Lois saw the flaking at the edges of the eyes, near the hairline, the ears. Her heart jumped into her throat as she recognized him.

"Jok—"

His gloved hand came up and covered her mouth. Lois automatically struggled not to breathe, but a chemical taste filled her mouth, burning in its intensity.

"My my, Lois Lane!" His smile didn't falter, but it didn't reach those green, sickly, blood-shot eyes as his hand clamped tighter. As her head began to swim, and Lois daring not even to scream, he **** her into the chair. At the push of a button, mechanical shackles came up at wrist and elbow, cinching so tight that they pinched her flesh.

Lois tried to pull her head away, but he was watching her carefully, operating the chair by foot pedals. Her head dipped back, her legs spread...and then with he stuffed the chloroform rag into her mouth and tied it shut with a belt. He did it with such practiced ease that Lois couldn't even bite at his fingers.

Now with both hands free, he produced a scalpel. Flipping her skirt back with a theatrical flourish, he cut away at the reporter's panties.

"I am afraid, Lois, that this is not your run-of-the-mill ultrasound. This is a robbery," he produced, form under a cabinet, a strange device that looked like the narrow attachment on a vacuum cleaner. Lois Lane paled. She had done an interview once at an abortion clinic. She recognized one of the tools they used to vacate the womb.

"It turns out that there are quite a few people willing to pay quite ridiculous sums of money for Amazonian embryos. Getting them from Wonder Woman herself is a tall order, but you..." The Joker gave an elaborate, vaudevillian shrug. "...well, look at how you're dressed! It's like you're practically asking for it."

He brought the ultrasound monitor close and turned it on. Humming to himself, he sanitized the insertable portion of the device, and then pressed it against her lips.

She was dry. The Joker used no lube. Lois grimaced, her lungs burning. Soon, she'd have to take a breathe, and then the chloroform would knock her out. Her vision was already blurring at the edges. The screen flickered, grey images moving too fast for Lois to see as the spike stabbed deeper into her birth canal.

Then it paused. Lois felt sick, nauseous, a chemical burning in her throat. She glanced at the monitor...

It was like a great dark cave, limned in grey. Inside, small bodies. Tiny, precious, like shrimp with oversized heads, curled up into the fetal position. So many...Lois lost count at ten or eleven.

"I've struck the motherload!" The Joker whispered.

Lois wasn't sure what happened next. There was a crash, a blur of movement. A smear of blood across the monitor...and then the Joker was just gone, and Diana was there, blood on her hands, ripping off the shackles, the gag, and Lois remembered pointing one shaking hand at the monitor.

"Look, Di," she said. "Our babies."

Then the world went black.