That left me. Jimmy Olsen. With a broken camera, a half-eaten donut, and a terrifying idea.
"That," I said.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing in the back of a lowrider hearse, parked outside the Nexus Spire. The driver's seat held the most terrifying woman in Metropolis: , aka Elena Diaz, the punk-rock bruja of the Barrio Below. She wore a lace skull mask, combat boots, and a leather jacket painted with marigolds. Mis aventuras con Superman 2x3
Not with a crash, but with a soft, almost polite shatter . A figure floated in. He was wearing the blue suit. The red cape. The perfect jawline. But his eyes were the color of old mercury, and his smile was… wrong. Too wide. Too eager. That left me
The clone turned, his mercury eyes narrowing. "Lois Lane. My database indicates you are 'the one who got away.' Correction: I will now catch you." "That," I said