The Universe's Mixer

Lois needed a story, and fast. So far she'd covered the rally for Gaius Baltar, which had been bumped to the middle of the paper while the rally for Jack Heart had made the first page thanks to some hubbub over a swordfight. Then there was the story about the skinwalkers that she'd been force to set aside for the moment. She was still looking for that pack, but she couldn't publish an unfinished story. And until the rest of the pack of she-dogs was arrested or at least prevented from harming others, publishing anything would be irresponsible.

You're only as good as your last headline, and she hadn't had a headline yet since her arrival in the City. She was in danger of getting forever stuck in the basement at the rate she was going.

What she did have was an assignment from her editor to do a series of profiles of some of the more unique residents of the City. Which was nice and vague, as she hadn't been assigned a subject yet.

She supposed she could have asked Oliver for an interview, but hitting up her ex for quotable lines felt a little bit too much like taking the easy way out.

So instead she took to the streets. Quite literally. In a place where the buildings and streets moved around at random and, from what she'd read in the news archives, strange things happened all the time, she figured that if she walked long enough she'd eventually find a story. Or a story would find her. One of the two.