End: Lois Lane Does Not Try To Escape

The moment came and passed. Lois had no idea what lay in that hole. She could be trapped in there, doomed to a long, slow **** by starvation. No, the reporter decided, better to see this through to the end.

So they marched deeper into the earth. Through galleys with high roofs, and passages so low that they had to crawl on the stomachs like snakes. Never did Lois Lane's guards leave the reporter for a moment, ever vigilant of any possibility of escape.

Until they came at last to a very familiar-looking rent in stone.

Lois Lane had seen Sheela-na-gigs in Scotland and Ireland, the small stone figures wrenching their labia open obscenely in medieval stonework. This was like that, but on another scale. The cunt cut in the rock had to be six feet tall...and a warm, wet wind, reeking like a woman's locker room, blew from that dark abyss.

As Lois watched, the torch-flame shook against that breeze...but she could see things stir inside of there. Like snakes, or an octopus, or...and Lois remembered the primitive mural she had seen up above. Thought of the scarred women on both sides of her.

"Hysterectomies," Lois said out loud. "So that whatever came through there couldn't get them pregnant..."

Wolf-head turned and looked at her. He showed no understanding of her words...but he stopped to the floor and picked something up. Handed it to Lois Lane.

A black knife, hammered out of metal, the handle wrapped about with some kind of skin. About a twenty inches long, sharpened on one edge, and tapered in the last to a wicked point. Lois Lane had seen things like that in museums.

He offered it to Lois hilt-first...and as she took it, the wind from the dark abyss grew more intense. Warmer, wetter. Droplets of spray that sent flashes of heat through the reporter's body when they landed on her skin.

Wolf-head pointed toward the gaping cunt, doorway to the abyss. The two women grabbed the reporter's upper arms...and Lois realized, at last, what was about to happen.

"Prophecy," she whispered as she grasped the meaning of the murals. "They think I'm some sort of chosen one!"

The women guided the unresisting reporter toward the dark doorway. Lois Lane swallowed hard. She wished she had some way to talk with these people, to make them understand...but then her resolve hardened.

There was no escape from this. It was destiny. Lois was sure of that. Pre-ordained.

The weight of the knife was comfortable in her hands. Her skin was wet with the breath from the darkness, and Lois saw the things that slithered there seemed to hesitate and recoil as she drew close...and the reporter smiled.

"Alright then," she said as she stepped forward, away from the women. "Let's do this!"

So Lois Lane crossed the threshold. The dark, pale stranger, armed with their only weapon against the darkness. They hung their heads in tribute to her courage...and in hope. What could one woman do against the evil that had lurked in that hole for centuries? What strange providence had guided her here, to fulfill a prophecy of which she knew nothing? And would she end up like all the others who had come before her, who had tried and failed?

When Lois Lane had set out for the club, she had hoped only for a night out, to find some missing women. Now she faced a new adventure in a strange land...and all the machinations of the demon Blaze, who had unwittingly brought Lois Lane to this point, could not foresee what might happen to Lois Lane in Hell.