La Catrina wiped her knife on her jacket. "See? Ghosts just want to be remembered. Even the ugly ones."
"You owe me, Olsen," she said, cracking her knuckles. Her fingers glowed with a pale, necrotic light. "That story you didn't run about my abuela's ghost-taco truck? We're even." 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. La Catrina wiped her knife on her jacket
"SHUT UP!" the clone screamed, his perfect face cracking like porcelain. " she said