Title: Musings of an Inquisitor Intern

Author: Krys

Email: firerebellion@yahoo.com

Category: Chloe humor

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: If I owned Smallville, then Chloe would be the star of the show and be together with Lex. But since it's pretty obvious I don't, I'm just going to sit here at my little computer and pout.

Author's Notes: Just so no one's confused, I envisioned the Inquisitor to be located somewhere in the Luthor mansion. Whether I'm wrong or not, I don't really care. The story is more fun this way. I've been in the mood to write humor recently, so here you go. A second installment of the "Musings" series. Will there be a third? Perhaps. I would need some reviews to convince me though (hint, hint). Enjoy… or not. Once again, feedback is more than welcome.

Summary: Sequel to "Musings of a Daily Planet Intern". Chloe is interning for the rest of the summer at the Inquisitor, and gets locked in Lex Luthor's closet.

*

 Who knew that epiphanies could come to one while they're locked in the closet of the Inquisitor? Okay, so maybe it wasn't the Mother Theresa type of an epiphany -- considering that mine had to do with far less-than-innocent thoughts -- but an epiphany nevertheless. Anyway, my epiphany would be much more fun, especially since it would be at someone else's expense. A particular rich playboy who got me into this mess in the first place, to be exact. Oh yes, he was going to pay.

 I mean, all I ever wanted was a little interview. Is that too much to ask? Okay, fine. So maybe I shouldn't have been following him around secretly (I refuse to call it "stalking"), and just maybe I shouldn't have gone through his computer files (I refuse to call it "snooping"). I mean, was it my fault the laptop was just lying there, taunting me to open it? No. It's not like Lex's office was locked or anything. Well, if you count a little one in the doorknob. Okay, okay – the damn thing was dead bolted from top to bottom! Hell, the freaking Nazis wouldn't be able to get through it. Lucky for me though, I happen to have had a lock pick on hand. You know, just in case.

 All I was doing was looking for a little tidbit of information. Just a tiny, microscopic fact or two that would have every newspaper in the country after my reporting skills. Future headlines flashed before my very eyes:

 "Smallville Reporter Discovers Lex Luthor to be Alien"

 "Inquisitor Intern Uncovers Billionaire's Evil Plot to Take over World"

 "Former Daily Planet Intern Begged to Return After Luthor Expose"

 Have a nice ring to them, don't they? I thought so too. Key word here being thought. I'm not so sure now after being stuck in this small, dark closet for what must have been hours. All night even. Hell, it's probably the middle of next week for all I know.

 I press the glow button on my watch. It reads ten-thirty. Hmph.

 I sigh and lean against the wall. Lex sure keeps a lot of Armani suits in here. Well, fine, maybe I can't exactly see if they're Armani or not, but I have a feeling they all are. Call it reporter's intuition. While trying to read the label on the back of the jacket with my handy watch light (and having no success at that), I accidentally knock it off the hanger. I apologize to it, then slap myself across the face. You know you're losing it when you begin talking to an Armani suit… no matter how interesting it may seem.

 I begin to drift off to sleep, despite the situation I'm in. I guess I was so tired that I didn't even hear the door to the office opening. But I did hear the voices rather loudly outside the closet door. I mean, sheesh. What does a girl have to do to get some sleep around here? I was just about to yell at them to quiet down when I bit my tongue. That probably wouldn't be a good idea. Besides, I don't think I'm exactly in any position to make demands right now.

 I silently pray that it isn't the guards who locked me in here earlier. Oh, you're probably wondering how Lex Luthor is responsible, huh? Well, if he had been ever-so-kind as to give me an interview in the first place, then I never would have had to resort to such undignified means to get a scoop. See? Cause and effect. Take that, Luthor.

 Oh, wait. I'm the one here locked in a closet. Plan did not work out as planned. Must resort to Plan B: revenge. Lex is so going down when I get out of here, I assure you that. I'm thinking front-page news at the Torch come school year. No, scratch that. I'm thinking third-page news at the Smallville Press. No, wait. The Daily Planet's gossip column. Argh. Maybe Plan B needs some more work.

 I press my ear against the door, attempting to hear what the guards are talking about. They better let me out, or they're going to have one major pissed off investigative reporter on their hands. Not a good thing, I guarantee you.

 All of a sudden, I feel my heart stop. My eyes widen at what I refuse to believe I am hearing. No. No, no, no! Oh for the love of god, no! Please do not be happening. Please? Pretty please? With sugar on top?

 An audible moan reaches my ears, and I cringe in horror. Why, oh why, do I seem to get myself into these things? Things that only seem to happen to Chloe Sullivan? Maybe it's that Wall of Weird. Bad karma or something.

 It's now that I'm wishing it were the guards in Lex's office, not two lovesick employees using Lex's office for their own enjoyment. I mean, c'mon. Get a room people. A motel can't be that far away. Leave already before I become emotionally scarred by this experience… if I'm not already, that is.

 Then a thought hits me like a jolt of lightening. This is Lex Luthor's office, located in the Inquisitor area that's closed off at night except to Lex Luthor, and I'm pretty sure no one but Lex Luthor has the keys to all thirty seven locks on the damn door. Putting two and two together, I bang my forehead against the door in agony. Then I silently hope that they didn't hear the thump that cause. The way things seemed to be going, I seriously doubt they would have heard a nuclear explosion go off.

 Well, Lex might. After all, he has his precious ego to protect. An explosion might be linked to LuthorCorp. Bad publicity. Wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?

 Me? Bitter about the non-interview? Now what would give you that idea?

 A "Yes, Lex, yes! Don't stop…" reaches my ears, interrupting my silent rant. A mental image of a woman rubbing Lex's shiny bald head appears in my mind before I force it away. I think I'm going to be sick. Could my life get any worse?

 Apparently, someone up there doesn't like me, for it gets worse.

 I hear footsteps getting louder, definitely approaching the closet.

 Backing away from the door as quickly as possible without tripping over any more Armani or Armani knock-off suits, I say over and over in my head 'Please don't open the door. Please don't open the door. For the sweet love of Jesus, please don't open the door!' like a mantra.

 And what happens?

 He opens the damn door.

 So much for that interview, huh?

THE END