Smallville Big Bang, Mad Love, Chloe-centric, Batman Begins Crossover
Title: Mad Love
Author: plucky15
Beta: eklipsed
Art: eklipsed
Word Count: 19 616
Rating: pg-13
Pairing/Genre: Chloe-centric, action, Batman Begins/The Dark Knight Crossover
Spoilers: Doomsday
Summary: On the heels of Clark’s departure, mysterious murders in Metropolis which implicate the Batman send Chloe to Gotham. There she comes face to face with the horrific results of one woman’s unlikely obsession.
A/N: Thank you so much to eklipsed and the mods for all your help. I'm so glad I was able to participate, and I really hope everyone enjoys the story. And look at the beautiful art!
Part One
Chloe was alone.
Jimmy was dead and buried. Clark was gone. Ollie, Bart, Dinah were nowhere to be found and Victor and A.C. had yet to return any of her emails.
Lois was missing.
Of that, Chloe was the most painfully aware. Lois hadn’t walked away, hadn‘t been impaled by a psychopath. Chloe unleashed a monster on Metropolis, in her misguided crusade to both save Clark and help Davis, and her cousin was a probable casualty. Her heart clenched with guilt.
Chloe’s only comfort was the way the sunlight shone through the stained glass windows of the Watchtower. Greens and yellows slanted across the papers piled on Chloe’s desk as she clacked away at her keyboard and squinted at her computer screen.
Weeks had passed since Jimmy had first revealed this place to her, and despite the bloodstain that still marred the floor, Chloe saw the loft for what it could be. Her sanctuary, her centre of operations, and eventually, a symbol of hope. She had her things from the Talon, and the equipment from Isis, moved there following Jimmy’s funeral and immediately got to work tracking the missing members of the Justice League.
“And just why are you staring so hard at a picture of a blur in front of the Eiffel Tower, Chica?”
Chloe jumped, and swiveled around to face the intruder.
“Rojas!” Chloe exclaimed as she clutched her hand to her chest. “What are you doing here?”
Chloe met Andrea Rojas three years ago, when she was a reporter at the Daily Planet. Andrea was timid and unassuming, and so Chloe had hardly paid her any attention. That changed when she and Clark discovered that this was simply the woman’s cover for her true self, the Angel of Vengeance. Andrea eventually decided to drop the dual identity, and enter the hero business fulltime.
“Checking up on a friend, considering her tendency to be at the centre of any major catastrophe that hits Metropolis.”
The Angel of Vengeance gave Chloe a wry grin and leaned in to study the picture displayed on the computer screen.
“Looks like the red and blue blur has finally moved out of my territory. So, does this mean Clark . . ?” she trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question delicately.
“Is gone,” Chloe clarified. “And Metropolis imploded about a month ago, why so late on the check-up?”
“Not all of Metropolis’ heroes have been on vacation for the past month, Sullivan. With the blur gone, I’ve had to extend my focus beyond the slums.”
Chloe winced at the reminder of Clark’s desertion. She knew that she would forgive him for leaving her, probably already did. She always pulled herself together in the end, and so the absence of Clark’s comfort, although hurtful, was not debilitating. Chloe would survive, and eventually she’d regain her smile, if not slightly more dim than before.
Clark’s desertion of Metropolis, however, was unforgivable. To both herself, and Andrea, judging by the disgusted lilt to the woman’s voice.
“I’m sorry, Sullivan. I know how close you were, and it must be hard not having him here at such a hard time for you. Olsen and Lane were good people, and Metropolis will miss them.”
Chloe frowned, and replied, “Thank you, but don’t mourn Lois just yet. She has the habit of popping up when you least expect her. I’ve got a lot of time on my hands at the moment. No job, no life really. If she’s out there, I’ll find her.”
Andrea rested her hand on Chloe’s shoulder, a show of silent support.
“I saw the posters around the slums. She’s been missing since that monster tore the city apart?”
Chloe nodded. “Servers at the Daily Planet state she was logged into her computer that morning.”
“And no one’s seen her since?”
“ No one. When I went to her apartment, her bed was still unmade and there was coffee left in the coffee pot. None of her things are missing, she just disappeared. The Metropolis PD have their hands full with cleaning up the city, and don’t have the time to look for her, not that their search could unearth anything I haven‘t already. J’on says that if nothing’s turned up by now, either she doesn’t want to be found, or . . .”
Chloe couldn’t finish the sentence. J’on Jones, with whom Andrea had been acquainted once he joined the Metropolis PD, had been delicate when reasoning with her, but Chloe did not even want to consider her cousin’s death as a possibility. Not with Jimmy already dead and Clark gone. Not with the rest of her life in shambles.
“I know you don’t want to hear this Sullivan, but John knows what he’s talking about. He’s been helping people a lot longer than you or me. You’ve done what you can to help your cousin, and it might not feel like it’s enough, but you can’t lose yourself in this search. You’ve lost a lot of who you are over the years I’ve known you Chloe, and Lois would be devastated by what her disappearance has done to you. As much as you love her, there’s nothing you can do for her now that you haven’t already. You need a break, something to get your fire back. Then you can return to the search with fresh eyes.”
Chloe smiled to cover the tears that began to well up and wiped them away quickly.
“Did you just come by for the pep talk?” Chloe asked, hoping to divert the conversation to less emotionally-charged topics.
Andrea laughed.
“No, actually. I was hoping I could get a certain reporter to do some research for me.”
More comfortable with the direction the conversation began to take, Chloe remarked dryly, “So this is what you meant by taking a break? If you haven’t noticed, I’m not a reporter anymore.”
“Chica, once a reporter, always a reporter. I even catch myself grilling perps like interview subjects, and composing exposes in my head from time to time. The instincts never leave you, in fact they come in handy in the hero business.”
At this, Chloe rose from her chair to look Andrea in the eye. “Well, if you’re still an ace reporter, why don’t you do your own research? If you haven’t noticed, my hands are full at the moment. I have a cousin to find and a nomad best friend to keep an eye on.”
“Ordinarily, I would,” Andrea admitted, “but the Bat doesn’t take kindly to other heroes nosing around in his territory.”
“The Bat?”
“Gotham’s answer to the Angel of Vengeance.”
“But not the Blur?” Chloe asked.
“Let’s just say Gotham’s dark knight is a little more morally ambiguous than the big red and blue.”
“And you’ve been known to teach the bad guys a lesson or two before you turn them in,” Chloe teased. She grimaced then, and admitted, “He would not be the first hero I’ve dealt with who has the tendency to blur the lines of Justice.”
“Don’t tell me one of your super-powered groupies took things too far?”
Chloe thought of telling Andrea the truth about Lex’s death, but decided against it. “You know what? I’m sorry I brought it up. I have enough problems of my own at this point, I really don’t want to start delving into those of others.”
“Alright,” Andrea relented. “But I knew there was a reason I didn’t trust that league. I’ve seen what vigilantism does to people, how it can turn them. It would have happened to me if I hadn’t met you and Clark.”
“I was just doing what I do best. Hero support, and all that.”
“Hero support? Chica? What garbage have they been filling your head with? You’re an investigator. You uncover things that help me keep Metropolis safe. You’re not my support, or my sidekick. You’re my partner, a hero in your own right.”
And there it was. Everything Chloe didn’t know she needed to hear, and looking into the eyes of the woman in front of her, she saw that it was coming from a friend. Without thinking, Chloe wrapped her arms around Andrea.
The Angel returned the embrace awkwardly, but gave Chloe a reassuring smile when she released her. “Sorry, I’ve been a little emotional lately. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”
Pulling herself together, Chloe questioned Andrea about her proposal.
“OK, so Batman’s methods are questionable. But Gotham’s known for it’s shady dealings. A tough town needs a tougher hero.”
“Normally I wouldn’t worry, as my main focus is Metropolis just as the Batman is wholly focussed on Gotham. Or so I thought. Two of Bruno Manheim’s men were killed last night, and not low level thugs either. Two of his inner circle.”
Bruno Manheim’s power over Metropolis had intensified after the events of what had been dubbed Metropolis’ Doomsday. Emergency services had been with clean up, and so the mob took control of everyday dealings. People in the slums turned to Manheim for protection from thieves and crooks who tried to profit from the aftermath of the disaster. In return, he received loyal followers, who would accept the rule of the mob in the slums.
By doing so, as well as greasing the palms of a few of Metropolis’ finest, Manheim had successfully established his reign as Metropolis’ newest and most powerful mob boss. People would not cross him, and the law turned a blind eye.
“Ok, but I‘m still not seeing the connection.”
“I found these on their bodies.”
Andrea threw down two bat shaped, black metal cut outs. Chloe reached out to examine one, but quickly withdrew her hand in pain. She’d sliced her finger on the sharp edge of what she could only assume were some kind of throwing star.
“Hence the Batman connection,” Chloe observed as she applied pressure to the cut. It was at times like this when she really wished her healing ability hadn’t disappeared post-Brainiac possession.
“I did some talking to my contacts in the slums, and these aren’t the first bodies that have turned up with that calling card. Drug dealers, prostitutes. Victims nobody misses, and so the deaths are kept quiet, but it has the people of the slums scared. The last thing we need in the slums right now is panic, all hell might break loose. Not to mention the mob war Manheim will bring to our doorstep if we don’t figure out what’s going on. He figures the Gotham mob is trying to move into his territory. Thinks they recruited Batman, or something equally insane.”
Chloe swallowed. Metropolis had always been a thriving city. Bright and resolute, the Daily Planet proudly displaying what the city held dear: truth and justice. A mob war this close after Doomsday would destroy the city. It would never return to it’s former glory. After everything she’d lost in the past month she wasn’t going to lose her city too.
“Count me in,” Chloe announced to her friend. “So, what exactly do you want me to do?”
“I thought you’d never ask, Sullivan.”
* * *
Although she decided years ago that she was destined to be a fulltime hero, Andrea Rojas had kept in touch with many of the contacts she’d made as a journalist. Vicki Vale at the Gotham Gazette was one of them.
Thanks to Vicki, a successful photographer at Gotham’s most prestigious daily, Chloe had an air tight cover to explain her presence in Gotham: Gazette intern. If anyone asked, not that she thought she would get close enough to the people here for anyone to care, Chloe had taken the job to get away from Metropolis and the bad memories it held. However, she wasn’t ecstatic to be back to working the phones and proofing obits, but as an intern she’d have access to all of the paper’s resources and would, hopefully, fly under the radar during her investigation of the murders in Metropolis.
As she looked around the bullpen at the Gotham Gazette, Chloe was haunted by Andrea’s final words to her.
“Chloe, there’s something else you should know about the murders. The corners of the victims’ mouths were sliced, to make them smile in death, that, and those bat-shaped blades, are the only links between them.”
Against her better judgment, before leaving for Gotham, Chloe had pulled the coroner’s reports on the victims at the Watchtower, as well as the pictures that accompanied them. Nine victims had smiled grotesquely at her from the surrounding computer monitors.
They were images Chloe would not soon forget.
Her desk was located on the second floor. Much brighter than her previous basement dwellings at the Planet, but no less crowded. Other would-be cub reporters moved frantically around the floor, from their desk to the copy room and back, some occasionally grabbing their coats and running for the exit. They were undoubtedly chasing the story that would take them up to the news floors.
Fortunately, Chloe’s desk was situated in the corner of the room. With her back facing the wall, she could safely research without impeding the traffic of the other staff, and also ensure that her true purpose for being there remained concealed. It provided a vantage point to observe the floor, which is why Chloe was not surprised when Ms. Vale approached her desk.
She had yet to meet the infamous photojournalist, knowing only that Andrea trusted her. When she’d checked into her hotel in Gotham, which Andrea had graciously agreed to pay for, although Chloe had no idea through what means, she received a hand written note from the woman informing her to be at the Gazette Monday morning at 8:30 am.
When she’d arrived, the receptionist, after taking her name, had called down another intern to take her up to her desk. The boy, who looked no older than 17, seemed annoyed in having to perform the menial task, and so was not a talkative escort. This was fine with Chloe, since she had no intention of forming any relationships with the staff at the Gazette, professional or otherwise, unless it was pertinent to her investigation. After everything that happened in Metropolis, Chloe had no intention of involving anyone else in her fights. If that meant closing herself off from the world, well, at least the staff at the Gazette didn’t seem opposed to the idea. They took the elevator up to the second floor, and Chloe was swiftly deposited at her desk, seemingly to await Vicki’s arrival.
“All settled in?” The blonde woman asked as she approached.
She smiled brightly for someone who had witnessed so much brutality. Vale, who was in her mid-thirties, was known for her uncensored photography of the cruelty that was found in the Narrows, Gotham’s version of Suicide Slums.
“As much as I’ll ever be,” Chloe replied. She stood up and offered her hand to the woman, “Chloe Sullivan.”
The woman’s smile brightened, if that was possible, as she shook Chloe’s hand firmly. It was a no-nonsense hand shake, and Chloe suspected that it betrayed more of the character of the woman in front of her than her cheery expression.
“Rojas didn’t tell me why you were in Gotham, but she promised me that you wouldn’t be running down the streets, with destruction in your wake. I expect you to keep that promise, understand?”
Vicki required no answer, as she continued, “She did hint that your presence had something to do with the Batman. I’ve been following his exploits for a while now, and like to consider myself a bit of an expert on him, actually. My editor, however, wants nothing to do with the story after Dent’s murder. So, you see, I really don’t have much use for this.”
With a flourish, Vicki dropped a large manila envelope on Chloe’s desk. “Everything I’ve collected on the Batman. Articles, eyewitness accounts, my own photographs.”
“And you’re just handing it over?” Chloe asked incredulously.
“In Gotham, honey, when your editor tells you to drop the story, you drop it. Otherwise you get stuffed in a van on your way home from work, and no one hears from you again. I’ve made a name for myself, kid, and as such, I’m watched. I choose my battles, and this is not one I want to fight.”
“But the Batman story is a journalistic holy grail? Why give it up?” Chloe asked suspiciously. It was extremely odd for a journalist to willingly give up on a story, even at the request of an editor. Maybe Vale had some connection to this Batman?
“When you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you realize that journalism isn’t about making a name for yourself, it’s about bringing to light the injustices in the world so that they can be righted. Batman does good work in this city, excepting Dent’s murder, so I’d rather chase the drug lords and crime bosses in the Narrows.”
“Why was this Dent guy‘s murder such a blow to the city?” Chloe asked. She was slightly ashamed she didn’t recognize the name. Unfortunately, after her dismissal from the Daily Planet, Chloe had found it hard to keep informed on important events around the world, when she was constantly trying to stop global destruction and keep Kryptonian villains at bay.
“It’s all in the folder.” With that, Vicki reached into the inside pocket of her suit jacket, and handed Chloe a card. “In case you need to get in touch,” she explained. “I’ve also written my cell and my home phone number on the back. If you run into any kind of trouble, don’t hesitate to call me.”
“Thanks,” Chloe said.
“One more thing, Sullivan,” Vicki said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Be careful who you trust here. Half the city is owned by the mob, and an even bigger portion of this paper.”
Chloe looked around at her fellow interns. The average age of the staff couldn’t be over 20 years.
“Don’t let their age fool you,” Vicki warned, knowingly. “They’ve all got family in the hospital, tuition they couldn’t pay, or got mixed in with the wrong people. That’s how the mob bought them, and you or me are of no importance to them. They’d hand us over the moment they received word. Be careful who you trust.”
Vicki’s bright smile was back again, and she gave Chloe a little wave before heading towards the elevators.
Chloe collapsed into her desk chair as she watched Vicki leave. Vale was a force to be reckoned with, the kind of strong, female journalist Chloe had once yearned to be. Straightening up in her chair, her hands greedily picked up the folder Vicki had left for her.
Before she could open it, however, a stack of papers was unceremoniously dumped in front of her. She looked up to see a young female intern, glowering at her. For what, Chloe had no idea.
“Boss wants you to proof these and bring them to his office,” she announced and then walked away. Unfortunately the questions of what boss, and by when, would go unanswered.
Chloe sighed. She did not miss proving herself as an intern, but she supposed the faster she showed her worth, the faster she’d be given the freedom to chase some leads, and get her research done for Andrea. The folder, unfortunately, would have to wait.
She threw it into the bottom drawer on the left side of her desk, which luckily possessed a lock, the key for which, she saw, was on the key ring they’d given her at reception along with her key to the supply room, and her security access card.
Once it was safely tucked away, Chloe thumbed through the papers she’d been given. “Great,” she groaned. “Obits.”
* * *
The hotel she was staying at was a lot nicer than she’d expected. It was probably the most upscale hotel Chloe had ever been in. Andrea had made the reservation for her and given her the address before she left. If Chloe hadn’t been greeted as Ms. Penelope Payne as she checked in at the reception desk, she would have been convinced there was some mistake.
Sleek gray marble covered the floor and the reception desk of the lobby. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and a modern seating area was located behind her that opened into a large dining area, which, Chloe was assured, was a four star restaurant that serves the best filet mignon, “you have ever had in your life”.
Chloe brought with her a hefty suitcase for the trip. In it she’d packed the Kevlar suit Ollie bought her when she signed onto the League fulltime, which she had previously refused to wear due its snug fit. To say it left nothing to the imagination was an understatement, but Chloe thought it would come in handy given Gotham’s lawless reputation. At least Oliver had decided that her role as a researcher and spy for the league merited a slightly less conspicuous suit, colored a dark violet, opposed to the bright colours that clothed the other members.
She’d also packed her taser, her personal GPS, and a military grade flashlight, borrowed from Lois’ things. Luckily, when she finished check in, she was greeted by a Bellboy, who was much to eager to help with her bag.
The suite was composed of a small seating area and bedroom, with an en suite bath. The seating area was outfitted with a coffee table, two chairs which matched those in the lobby, and a writing desk in the corner. Chloe was thankful for the space, which she could use as her centre of operations. When checking in, Chloe requested that her room not be cleaned for the duration of her stay. She did not plan on being in Gotham too long, and any person who entered her room would jeopardize her investigation.
Although it intimidated most people, Chloe worked most efficiently when all information was displayed before her. This is why Chloe had constructed the Wall of Weird in high school, and liked to be surrounded by monitors while working as Watchtower. Before sleeping the night before, Chloe had drawn the silk draperies in the sitting room and bedroom, shielding herself from the probing lights of Gotham city, and posted what she had collected on the murders, and rumours about the Batman she‘d come across during her preliminary research. She’d had to take down an ornately framed painting from the wall to make room.
Done reminiscing, Chloe used her key card to enter the room, which was located on the eighth floor of the ten-story hotel. Her first day as an intern in over a year had been exhausting. She set her purse and the key card down on a small side table in the entry-way, and toed off her heels. Walking to her bedroom, she stripped herself of her trench coat and business suit, and pulled on a pair of well-loved Smallville High sweatpants and a tank top. Her hair was pulled into a tiny ponytail at the back of her head, and Chloe replaced her clothing in the armoire, where she had also placed her suitcase, and all of the equipment she’d brought, the night before.
A quick call down to room service, with the instructions to knock when they arrived and to leave the food outside of the room, and Chloe was finally ready to delve into the folder that had plagued her thoughts for the entire day.
Unfortunately, an intern’s day in Gotham was no slower than one in Metropolis, and Chloe had been kept busy proofing obits and personals, working the phones and acting as a slave for the senior reporters. All this had left no time for Chloe to take a look at what Vicki’s folder held. The busy newsroom, Chloe supposed, was not the best place to commence her research anyway. Chloe had no desire to betray herself to her coworkers as anything other than an eager intern.
A welcome knock interrupted her musings, and Chloe happily gathered her food from outside the door. She set it down on the coffee table in the sitting room before grabbing her purse from the entryway, and a pillow from one of the chairs, to sit beside the table.
Chloe took a few rapid bites of her meal to calm her groaning stomach, then placed her fork down and hastily unwound the closure on the folder. She carefully pulled out a collection of newspaper articles, press releases, photographs and CDs that had been labelled and dated. Greedily, Chloe began to sift through the papers, setting the digital media aside for later. Unfortunately, noting the dates, the papers did not seem to be in chronological order. She forgot about her meal on the table as Chloe began to read through the information.
She read about Batman’s emergence in Gotham, his kidnapping of Jim Gordon’s family and murder of Harvey Dent, the doctor from Arkham Asylum that had used a fear toxin to assault Gotham, the Joker’s first confrontation with Batman at a party held by Bruce Wayne, the madman’s fevered search for the vigilante. Chloe chuckled to herself when she read of Batman dragging a corrupt Chinese businessman back across the Atlantic. The death of Rachel Dawes and attempted murder of Dent at the hands of the Joker impressed upon Chloe the possible consequences for those who chose to fight the corruption in Gotham City.
When Chloe read of the Joker’s twisted attempt to test the morality of the people of Gotham by rigging two ferries with explosives, she frowned. Victims who had been kidnapped and held in a building by the pier testified that Batman had saved them, and the Joker was left hanging from the building for the authorities. Batman had saved countless lives, and yet it was that same night that he had supposedly kidnapped the family of Commissioner Gordon and murdered the man who had been declared Gotham’s White Knight. It just didn’t make sense. Why fight so hard to save Gotham, only to then destroy yourself in the eyes of all its citizens? And why victimize Jim Gordon, when the press had made the officer out to be the only link between law enforcement and the Batman?
There was a noticeable difference between articles written about the Batman in the past, and more recent pieces. After his supposed murder of Dent, reporters that had once heralded him as Gotham’s saviour, villianized the vigilante. It seemed the Batman no longer brought hope to the citizens of Gotham.
Her stomach grumbled, reminding Chloe that she had neglected it. Chloe set down the papers she had been reading, picked up her fork and began to eat the forgotten food.
It was stone cold by now, but she was starving. When she finished she stood up, and stumbled a bit. Her legs had gone numb from sitting cross-legged on the floor. Stretching big and tall evoked a yawn from Chloe, and so she scampered over to a coffee machine set up next to the writing desk in the corner, and ripped open a bag of coffee grinds that smelled wonderful, but doubtlessly cost more than what she spent on coffee in a week. Chloe was again thankful that Andrea had volunteered to pay for this trip, although it still mystified Chloe how she could afford it.
Deciding not to dwell, Chloe pulled out her laptop from the bag she’d left sitting on the floor, and booted it up. She’d get a look at the files on the CDs as she waited for her coffee to brew. There were two in the packet. One, as indicated on the label contained audio files of the interrogation of Carmine Falcone, the other housed video files of the Joker. Chloe was curious how Vicki had managed to obtain video footage of the madman, and so grabbed the CD, and slid it into place.
There were three files on the CD. Chloe clicked on the first.
Suddenly a window popped up and loaded the file. The video began to play, and Chloe saw a man she recognized as Brian Douglas, who impersonated Batman while pursuing his own ambitions of fighting crime. A sickening voice began to taunt the man, who was bound to a chair, still wearing his Batman costume. She watched in horror as the Joker toyed with his victim, until he finally showed himself on camera. As he demanded that Batman turn himself in, Chloe studied his face. She paused the image so she could look more closely. Chloe gasped when she saw the scars at the corners of his mouth, angrily covered by what she imagined was red face paint. They were identical to the marks left on the victims in Metropolis.
Chloe leaned back to ponder what she had discovered. It was possible that the Joker had a hand in the murders, but all sources indicated that he was securely locked up in Arkham Asylum, not that the institution’s reputation of retaining its patients was any better than Bellereve’s. The Joker was also notorious for his rivalry with Batman. Perhaps he was framing the vigilante for the murders? But why in Metropolis, of all places, where people had their own heroes to occupy their thoughts?
Chloe mentally tucked those questions away, as she poured herself a cup of coffee. So she had found another link between the murders and Gotham, which she intended to exploit thoroughly. A visit to Arkham Asylum would have to be made, to establish that the Joker was indeed locked up at the time of the murders, and ensure he did not have any visitors who could carry out the dirty work for him.
Chloe picked up her laptop once again, and proceeded to watch the remaining files. One was a recording of the Joker’s interrogation by Gotham’s police force when he’d been apprehended following a deadly car chase, and the last was a video of what Chloe assumed was an initial assessment of the Joker by a doctor at the asylum. His makeup had been washed off his face, and his scars were red and inflamed.
Through out the video, the Joker systematically ignored the questions asked by the doctor and instead preceded to tell the person operating the camera that she looked awfully unhappy. He insulted her appearance and demeanour through out the video until he told her she’d be a lot prettier if she smiled. Suddenly there was a knife in his hand, and he pounced at the camera, his face contorting into his maniacal smile. Static followed, and Chloe shivered when she imagined what probably happened that day.
She found no other mention of the attack in Vicki’s files, nor when she searched online for information. It seemed the incident had gone unreported, and Chloe had to wonder how Vale had managed to get her hands on this recording.
The wealth of information Vicki had provided was impressive, but Chloe expected no less from a celebrated journalist.
Chloe yawned. Satisfied that she’d caught the scent, a glance at the clock confirmed that it was indeed time for bed. She shutdown her computer, and left the clippings were they laid, scattered on the floor. She’d post them tomorrow when she had a chance.
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