Chapter 11 by Zeebop

What Does Lois Have To Do?

Walk The Walk

Confidence. That was the key. Most people, Lois Lane knew, were inherently insecure. When confronted by someone that wasn't, who projected calm confidence, they tended to bend around that purpose. So when Lois left the restroom, she did so with her head held high and shoulders thrown back. Her eyes coolly scanned the crowd, pivoting slightly, letting that throb or tug in her womb direct her where to go next...and when she saw the door with the woman in the suit and the shades standing stiffly in front of it, she walked towards him with determination.

She was taller than Lois, dark hair close-cropped around her head, eyes hidden. No makeup, no jewelry. The hands were gloved too, but Lois could see the bulge of muscles beneath the suit, and the wide-legged stance screamed military. This was a professional.

"Blaze sent for me," Lois said, before the guard could ask who she was or what she was doing. Without blinking, Lois stared into those shades...and in her abdomen, her stomach throbbed and pulsed, as if a second heart beat with her own. "To check on the women."

There was a moment's hesitation as the guard weighed Lois Lane's words...but only a moment.

Then she stepped aside, and opened the door. Through the corner of her eye, Lois saw the barest hint of a smile...but she stepped through smartly, as if she belonged there. Right into something that looked like a college dormitory for a coven of witches. At a glance, Lois took in stained wooden floors covered with half-erased pentacles, black candles, and empty beer and wine bottles; black walls covered with photos of Aleister Crowley, Anton LaVey, H. P. Lovecraft, horned goats, and polaroids of naked young women. A large monitor exactly opposite the door was showing some horror movie, and four naked young women were lounged on beanbags, eyes glued to the screen.

Then the door closed behind her. And locked. Deadman and any other help was locked on the other side of that door.

The hackles rose on the back of the reporter's neck...but she was in. Time to say hello.