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The screen blinked rapidly, white and pink, white and pink, strobing so quickly that Lois could see the colors even with her eyes closed. Lois Lane shivered in place, muscles around her spine seizing up, fingers digging into the armrests on the chairs so hard that her hands and forearms hurt. Something was flowing from her nose over her upper lip, and her mouth tasted like bad pennies... It hurt to breathe, hurt to move, hurt just to exist, and through her one good nostril Lois Lane could smell plastic burning.

Somewhere far away a siren sounded, but by then all Lois could feel was her heart beating inside her chest. It was slowing down. Beat...beat...beat...

For a while she knew nothing. Not like being asleep or dreaming, but just lights out, as though she were a computer and somebody had pulled the plug.

When the lights came on again, Lois opened her eyes wide. She blinked rapidly, staring around at her surroundings, herself, trying to get her bearings.

It appeared to be a small, cramped three-sided room full of medical equipment. She was on a hospital bed, dressed in a patient's gown, leads and electrodes on arm, chest and head hooked up to various monitors that were beeping away. In a chair next to the bed was a familiar face: John Henry Irons, dressed in blue jeans and workboots, and a plain white v-neck t-shirt too small for him, the thin fabric stretched taut over his bodybuilder physique. He sat up immediately when she shifted.

"She's awake." he said to someone else in the room. "Lois? How are you feeling?"

Shakily, Lois moved herself into a sitting position on the bed. She turned to the foot of the bed, to see who he was talking to—and saw the familiar frown of Lex Luthor, bald head gleaming as though freshly waxed. He was dressed in a white labcoat, examining some sort of computer tablet.

"She's fine," the mad scientist said, his tone confident to the point of arrogance. "Sensory overload caused a minor cerebral blackout. No worse than if she'd had too much to drink. A night's sleep and she'll be good as new."

"Luthor? John? What...what's going on?" She stammered. "I...I remember...I was in a chair...and we..."

The black man reached out a hand, and Lois grabbed it with her own. He gave her a squeeze. "Yeah, we did."

"What is going on is that the two of you have trespassed on LexCorp property and inadvertantly inserted yourselves into an entirely legal experiment in couples fertility therapy, meant to help overcome psychological barriers to conception," Luthor's tone was dry and withering.

"But...the club...Maria..." Lois stammered.

Luthor ignored her and poked at his tablet. "Her biometrics are fine, the two of you can leave whenever you want. As it is, the data provided from your 'session' should prove useful."

Lois jaw dropped as Luthor's implication. "You recorded that?"

"Of course. It's an essential part of the process. I can assure you that no one will ever see it...unless I find you snooping around again." He bent down and placed a paper bag at the foot of the bed. "Here are your clothes. The nurse can show you to the nearest exit."

Without another word, Lex left, pulling a curtain across the open space as he did so. John Henry Irons and Lois Lane looked at each other, now that they were all alone.

"You had better get dressed," he said, standing and turning his broad back toward her. "I won't look."