Later, on the roof of the Daily Planet, the three of us sat in the sunset. Superman had a black eye. Lois had a broken nail and a triumphant smirk. I had a cold coffee that I didn't even care about.
"Uh, guys?" she said, her face paling. "I just got a ping from STAR Labs. Someone broke into the Kryptonian archives last night."
"—and another thing, your heat vision is crooked! Clark's is a precise scalpel. Yours is a microwaved burrito!" 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’s when Lois did something insane. She grabbed a fire extinguisher, ran to the edge of the rubble, and sprayed the clone directly in the face. He coughed, sputtered, and punched Superman into the planet's globe, which wobbled dangerously. Later, on the roof of the Daily Planet,
"A clone?" She laughed, a sound like dry leaves skittering on a coffin lid. "Honey, that's not a clone. That's a revenant . Someone stuffed a dead Kryptonian template with the rage of a hundred lost souls. The big guy in blue can punch it. I have to unravel it."
"Or maybe," I yawned, "Metropolis needs to update its eye-scan security." I had a cold coffee that I didn't even care about
Lois punched my arm. But she was smiling.
Lois turned the phone around. On the screen was a security photo of a vault—empty except for a single item tag that read:
"And that's why you're the real one," I said, raising my cold coffee. "To the original."