"How about we play a game?"
Adrian leaned back slightly, his face once more cloaked in the darkness. His voice dropped to a low rasp, deliberate and unsettling. "A game of hide-and-seek. Let's see who finds who first."
The distorted tone, combined with the eerie glow of his orange eyes cutting through the shadows, sent a chill across the members of the Owl Council. For all their wealth and power, in that moment, they felt like prey. Owls cowering beneath the gaze of a hawk circling high above.
"No one dares to speak our name. No one dares to disrespect us!"
The Black-Robed Speaker slammed his hand against the table, fury leaking into his voice. "You will pay for this—Punisher! The price will be more than blood can repay!"
Adrian's chuckle was void of warmth. "Good. I look forward to it."
He leaned closer, his words carrying the weight of a storm. "But remember this: hide well in your low-walled attics, because when I find you, your ambitions will crumble, your riches will belong to me, and your precious 'Owl Council' will disappear like dust in the wind."
His tone sharpened, cold and absolute. "You've deluded yourselves into believing you rule Metropolis. But you're nothing more than shadows. Dust. You've never controlled this city. And you never will."
The connection cut abruptly.
The Council chamber, lit only by the dim glow of chandeliers, descended into uneasy silence. Nobles in ornate masks looked at one another, their anger barely concealing the fear creeping into their eyes.
Chris had been eliminated without resistance, their communication system breached, and a figure powerful enough to mock them openly had declared war.
The Speaker broke the silence. "It's time. The existence of the Council has been challenged, and this city has caught a disease. The only way to deal with disease…" He raised a single owl feather, its pale quill trembling in the candlelight, "…is to cut it out. This Homelander—whoever he is—must be an enemy of the Court. We must purge him, and all who stand in our way."
Reluctant at first, the nobles eventually raised their own feathers, one by one, until every hand in the chamber signaled agreement.
The Purge Plan—long prepared but never activated—had finally been set in motion.
Adrian, of course, wasn't present to hear their vote. But if he had been, he would have smirked. Because this was exactly what he wanted.
He had provoked them on purpose. Drawn them out of their comfort, forced them into the open. His super-vision still lacked the reach to cover the whole of Metropolis; finding their nests by force alone was impossible. Better to make the owls scatter, then hunt them down one by one.
After sweeping the apartment with his vision, Adrian collected every suspicious item: notebooks, coded documents, hidden drives. Once the room was clean, he stepped out into the cool night, the faint light of Metropolis glinting against his boots.
---
Meanwhile, at Luthor Manor in Smallville, Lex sat with a glass of Paloma in hand. Across from him, Victoria lounged comfortably, her posture elegant, her smile sly.
Lex stared at his phone, the number "Reporter K" flashing on the screen. His frown deepened as the call failed to connect.
"You look distracted," Victoria purred, tilting her head. "Something wrong, Lex?"
Lex's lips curved into a half-smile, though his eyes stayed sharp. "I'm fine. Just… some things aren't going according to plan."
"That doesn't sound like you. I thought you always had the upper hand."
He swirled the glass in his hand, watching the liquid catch the light. "No one wins every battle, Victoria. Even Napoleon learned that the hard way."
"Oh? Since when are you interested in history?"
"I'm not. I'm interested in men who conquer the world before the age of thirty."
Victoria's laugh was soft, teasing. "Relax. You still have a few years."
Lex leaned back, his voice lowering. "Did you know the Luthor family traces its roots back to Dutch ancestry? Scholars, doctors, missionaries, politicians. Like any empire, the family grew bloated—too large to function, too burdened with… obligations."
Her eyes glimmered with amusement. "Is that why you tried to pressure my father into siding with you? To break free from your own family's shadow?"
He shook his head. "That thought was just a tangent. What I wanted to say is this—when a family is old enough, legends cling to it. Whispers. Stories of hidden powers controlling a city's lifelines. An unseen hand, always watching, like owls perched in the dark."
Victoria arched a brow. "I've never heard my father mention anything like that."
"Of course not. Sir Harry deals in international trade. His world is different. But Metropolis? Metropolis has its own nightmares." Lex's lips tightened. "At first, I thought the Court of Owls was just another urban myth. Until I met a reporter—Reporter K. The more I worked with him, the more I began to wonder if there was truth to the whispers."
"And why not call him by name?"
"Because when I assign a code name," Lex said evenly, "it means my trust in that person is almost nonexistent."
Her lips curved in a mischievous smile. "And what about me? What letter am I in your phonebook?"
Lex smirked. "Sorry. Confidential."
The game of words between them hung in the air like smoke, both knowing more was left unsaid.
---
Elsewhere in Smallville, Adrian returned home. He had barely stepped into his room when there was a knock at the door.
"Adrian?"
He frowned. Clark's voice.
Adrian glanced at the clock. Why would Clark come to him now, at this hour? Did he… see him leave earlier?
____
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