Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except Lacey. And believe me, she wishes I didn't. Everyone else belongs to Warner Brothers, DC Comics and all sorts of people that are not little old me.

Five

Lacey wondered just what she had done to deserve this. Of course, several things actually came to mind, but that really wasn't the point, despite the previous thought. All she had wanted to do was go to the museum and look at some art. Was that so wrong?

Considering she was one of three hostages near a creepy looking statue of Death, apparently so. One minute she was thinking about how the statue reminded her of her eighth grade math teacher, the next she had the barrel of a gun jabbing her in the back.

She was not a happy camper. Her two fellow hostages were crying. Wimps. Lacey wanted to snort in disgust, but really, it wasn't their fault they didn't deal with balrogs, orcs, wizards, and other supernatural creatures that made you cry for mommy while hiding in the closet with a shotgun and holy water.

"Hey, are you going to be done anytime soon?" Lacey snapped at their desperate little gun wielders. She vaguely recalled them mentioning something about some painting with a map to the ultimate treasure on it, but she hadn't really been paying attention. "It's Tuesday and I want to watch the new episode of Veronica Mars that I Tivoed before the spoilers start raiding all the message boards I surf on."

One of the more frantic thugs in a mask glared at her. At least she assumed it was glare. Hello? Mask. "Are you kidding me? We have you at gunpoint and you're worried about your tv?"

"Obviously." Lacey shrugged. "I want to know who did the crime in this pod. I've invested two years in that show and I'm going to find out what happens, even if I have to come back from the dead as a brain eating, rotting corpse, with flesh sliding off my putrid body as I moan about eating brains because it makes the pain go away."

The goon gagged. Amateur. She hadn't even gotten to the rancid smell or the actual description of gore.

"Hey, do you hear something?" One of the flunkies asked.

Goon number three shrugged as he looked behind another painting. "It's just your imagination."

Lacey couldn't help it now. She had to antagonize them. She started to softly chant Jason's theme from the Friday the 13th movie franchise. "Ch ch ch, kill kill kill…"

For a moment, it confused them until the shaky one of the group pointed his gun at her. "Stop that! You're freaking me out!"

This time, Lacey actually did snort. "God, you are such a fucking wuss."

Whatever he was about to say in return was effectively cut off, because within a few minutes, a flash of red and blue had taken all three thugs out.

The thugs struggled against their new bindings as police finally entered the building. The other two hostages gushed their thanks to Superman, but Lacey just stared at him. When the cops began leading them away for their statements, Superman turned his attention to Lacey.

His face was a stoic mask as he spoke. "Let me guess, you had a fortune cookie today."

It was Lacey's turn to laugh, and she did, despite the strange looks she got from the cops.