Chapter 6 by Zeebop

Does Lois decide to trust Tyrell?

Lois Listens To What Tyrell Has To Say

The reporter's instincts warned her that something was wrong—but curiosity compelled Lois Lane to stay put, at least until she had heard Tyrell out. With a wary smile, she allowed Tyrell to lead her away from the dance floor toward the tables...and, as luck would have it, they found an empty one, covered with empty glasses and a full ashtray.

Lois took the chair opposite him, every sense alert now, eyes wide and using her peripheral vision to keep track of the people moving around her. A waitress without a shirt, just black tape across her nipples, came by and bussed the table. Tyrell held up two brown fingers and she nodded. Once the woman was out of earshot, Lois leaned over the table.

"Who are 'they'?" Lois insisted.

The Black man loomed in. Both hands on the table. She studied his face—and he hers. He had an easy smile...but the brown eyes were intense, meeting and matching the reporter's gaze.

"I'm MPD," Tyrell said. "Undercover. Investigating a human trafficking operation. Young women get doped, taken into the back. Disappear."

The hair stood up on the reporter's neck. Instinctively she knew that Tyrell wasn't telling her everything. Yet if he was Metropolis Police Department...an undercover cop...that would explain things. Maybe. If he was undercover, he wouldn't have a badge or other proof of his identity. Lois chewed that thought for a moment.

"What color is the boathouse at the Metropolis Police Academy?" Lois asked.

"It doesn't have one," Tyrell said, automatically.

Begrudgingly, Lois nodded her head, just a little. Lots of people might know that factoid, not just cops...but it was something.

"You still haven't told me who 'they' are," Lois said.

Tyrell opened his mouth...and then the waitress appeared, with a pair of those grey cocktails. The Black man took them with a smile, passed some worn green bills to the waitress, who disappeared. Lois sipped her slimy drink, to wet her dry throat...and Tyrell smiled, knowing the more of Blaze's aphrodisiac the reporter drank, the easier his job would be.