To Score Some

"Look, while we're here, I've got to see somebody," Maria told Lois in the hallway. The reporter let the young woman lead the way, clutching her belly absent-mindedly, as if to reassure herself that it was there.

"Who?" Lois asked.

"You know that stuff I gave you in the bathroom?" she said.

"The venom," Lois remembered.

"Right. I got it from him."

"He's your dealer?" Lois said, slightly aghast.

"Just be cool, alright?"

With that admonition, Lois was led through a nondescript door and down a flight of stairs. She strove to memorize the twists and turns as they rounded several corners, carefully avoiding what Lois took to be the main hallways in a complex far bigger than the reporter had imagined...and came, at last, to a kind of small, dingy janitorial office. A young Hispanic man sat there, in a white labcoat, reading a comic book.

"Hey José," Maria gave a smile.

"M," he acknowledged. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Joanne," Maria laid a friendly hand on Lois Lane's shoulder. "She's cool. We, uh, had a taste earlier tonight and were wondering if you were holding?"

José put the comic down. He stood up—taller than Lois expected, but lanky.

"Yeah? I know what you want, M. What about you, chica? What do you want? Lot of ****, not so good for the baby." He poked a hard finger into Lois Lane's exposed midriff.

Lois mulled over her responses. She wasn't sure she wanted anything that might endanger the babies. But at the same time, she could feel maria's eyes on her, pleading with her to say the right thing, to be cool. The young woman was obviously looking to score, and Lois needed her help if she was going to find the missing women. Besides, just because she got some **** didn't mean she had to take them. A line floated into her mind from a movie, and Lois delivered it smoothly and naturally:

"I would like a nice, powerful, mind-altering substance. Preferably one that will make my unborn children grow gills."