Poison Ivy's Lead-Shielded Lab

Lois Lane's head felt like it weighed fifty pounds. Alcohol coursed through her system as her accumulated drinks hit her hard, and the reporter went absolutely boneless. Dimly she was aware that her heels dragged on the metal floor of a freight elevator. One violet eye stared, instinctively but without comprehension, as the redheaded woman who got into the elevator with them pressed two buttons at once. The doors shuddered closed...and they went down...

The reporter felt a pleasant heat inside her stomach. The room spun a little. She sagged in her captor's arms, eyes half-closed as the elevator stopped between floors. The door opened...and then another door, a thick metal one, the kind that would be used to seal those lead-lined nuclear bunkers that the government had planted all over Metropolis during the Cold War, afraid that the nukes would fly. Lois felt a smile twist her face as she thought of how many times she had been taken to one of those bunkers, as the thick lead sheets hid them from Superman's x-ray vision.

It was cool inside, and impeccably clean. The drunk reporter could hear the buzz of the air conditioning, smell the weird airplane smell of recycled air as the door clang shut and sealed behind her. Everything was white tile and smooth gray stainless steel...the reporter had the impression of vials of green fluid, medical monitors, various bits of chemical and medical equipment...

"Strip her clothes off, and tie her to the bed," Poison Ivy ordered. The redhead ran her hands down her long legs. Her green eyes followed the reporter as Ivy's henchmen peeled the reporter's club clothes off of her. The reporter felt, dimly, she should be fighting this.

"Whazzappenin'?" Lois mumbled. "Noooo...."

Ivy grinned and pulled out a green lipstick. There was a small biohazard trefoil on it. She stared into a steel mirror mounted on the wall as she put it on. The drunken reporter wiggled ineffectually as Ivy puckered her lips to make sure it was perfect.

"Zzzztop!" Lois said, as dim warnings flared in her brain. "Pizzen...you're...pizzen!"

Four strong hands, one on each limb, lifted the naked reporter onto the hospital bed with the coordination of long practice, and began to strap her down. Lois wiggled faster now.

"Yes," Ivy said as she stepped toward the bound reporter. "I am poison...and you, Lois Lane, are going to be my masterpiece!"