Find Who The Bottle Belongs To And Shove It Up Their Cunt

No time for bra or panties. Clean pants, clean shirt, same jacket, same heels. Bottle ziplocked and stashed in an inner pocket. The cab was waiting for Lois by the time she made it down to street level, and they were off.

Rage boiled through Lois Lane. Yet it was the cold, simmering rage that left her mind clear. The kind of anger that could drive her through the night, despite the aches and pains in places it would take her three mirrors to see. The interlude with the giant sperm had sent her spiraling into some new, strange territory. While not normally a violent person, Lois Lane knew exactly what she would do with this glass bottle when she found whoever had left it there on the altar for her to pick up. It wouldn't be pretty.

She knew where to find them.

Back at the club. There would be clues there, something that would point Lois toward who was responsible for this outrage. At the moment, Lois Lane was barely thinking of the missing women. Her concern was eclipsed by the one, all-consuming ambition in her life right now:

****.

The cab dropped her off a block from the club, and she walked back. There was a line out front, the bouncers screening the clubgoers. Lois ducked down an alley...and saw a young woman outside a door, smoking, watching her phone, utterly distracted. Red hair, fishnet shirt, too-small skirt, the glint of nipple piercings...a name came to the reporter's mind.

"Maria," Lois said, when she was a foot away. The young woman started, shocked to see her...and then she made her critical mistake.

"Lane!"

Lois snarled as she grabbed Maria's arm and twisted it, forcing her to drop her phone. The reporter had never given the barmaid her name. Instincts kicked in as Maria tried to twist free, but she had no training. Roughly, Lois shoved the young woman up against the wall, pinning her right arm behind her back in an armbar. The noise of the club music drowned out the young woman's brief scream.

The reporter took the glass bottle out of her jacket. She slid the tip up under the lip of Maria's miniskirt.

"I've got a glass bottle, Maria," Lois whispered in the young woman's ear—and the barmaid froze. "I've had a bad time tonight, and I'm going to shove this up some bitch's cunt. Yours, if you don't tell me what I want to know. Were you the one that planted it there?"

"N-no!" Maria said. "It's my boss! Miss Blaze! She does all this Satanist shit downstairs! I just pour the drinks...when she tells me to pour the special drinks...."

Lois remembered the grey cocktails.

"You've done this with others, haven't you? Other women?"

"Y-yeah," Maria said.

"What happens to them?"

"I don't...I don't know! They just...they come back and...they look fucked up, and the boss takes them downstairs to be...milked."

"Where is your boss right now, Maria?" Lois said, barely able to contain her fury.