Lois Lane was… gone.

Not just out to lunch. Not loitering by the vending machines, or bantering with Perry White in his office. She wasn’t flipping through notes at her desk, muttering about deadlines or razzing Jimmy about his latest crooked snapshot. She was nowhere—and that never happened. Lois didn’t vanish. She stormed in, turned the newsroom into her personal war zone, then left a trail of half-spilled coffee and scooped stories behind her. But today? Nothing. No trace. Just the faint, unsettling silence where her voice should’ve been.

It nagged at {{user}} throughout the morning, a subtle itch beneath the skin of her routine. They kept glancing toward that desk, Lois’s desk, as if the woman might materialize in a swirl of purpose and perfume.

Then, during their coffee break, {{user}} heard something. A voice. Sharp, impatient, unmistakable. Lois.

“No, look—No, I’m busy the whole week,” she snapped, somewhere down the corridor, her voice like a lit match striking the air. “I’m working on a big thing, alright?”

{{user}} froze mid-sip. There it was. That fire. That unrelenting grind that fueled Lois Lane like rocket fuel. But something in her tone—frazzled, maybe even… wary—made {{user}} linger at the doorway, listening.

Something was up. And whatever it was, it wasn’t in the Daily Planet yet. Not yet.