I am a native of my country

Chris, startled, abruptly stood up and looked behind him.

A shadow had appeared behind him at some point, coldly observing him in the darkness.

The menacing aura emanating from the figure made him feel a primal fear, as if facing a natural predator.

"You've been investigating me all along, haven't you? Mr. Journalist, surely you recognize me?" Eric took a step forward, emerging from the darkness into the faint moonlight.

In the dim light, Chris saw Eric's face and recoiled a step.

"Eric Kent?! How did you...?" Chris stammered.

"Come in without triggering the alarm?" Eric interrupted, holding up the shattered infrared sensor he had crushed in his hand. "These things meant to deal with petty thieves, unfortunately, have no effect on me."

Ignoring Chris's alarmed expression, Eric continued casually, "I thought you were simply hired by Lex Luthor, but it seems you have a more... avian nature."

"W-What?" Chris feigned ignorance, taking a step back.

But the next moment, a gust of wind passed over his face.

When he realized, his face felt cool!

Touching his face, Chris found the owl mask missing.

Looking up at Eric, he saw the mask in Eric's hand.

Ignoring Chris's shock, Eric examined the patterns on the owl mask and said nonchalantly, "I've heard a Gotham nursery rhyme: 'Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.'"

"Legend has it that some of Gotham's oldest and most influential families formed the 'Court of Owls,' controlling the city's politics and using assassins known as 'Talons' for their bidding."

After a moment's pause, Eric continued, "I thought it was just an urban legend, but instead of seeing Gotham's owls, I've encountered the owls of Metropolis. Quite surprising!"

"I don't understand what you're talking about!" Chris continued to feign ignorance, stepping back.

But the next moment, a laser shot from Eric's eyes, piercing Chris's heart, ending his life instantly.

"What's happening? Did we get hacked? Why did the communication cut off?" Inside the Council of Owls, the gentlemen and ladies panicked, unable to contact Chris, their demeanor of sophistication replaced by frantic murmurs.

"Calm down! Quiet down!" The robed man who acted as the chairman banged the table, signaling for silence.

After a few knocks, the noise subsided, and he prepared to say something.

But the remote video call suddenly reconnected.

To the surprise of the council, the person on the other end wasn't Chris but instead, a figure with a face obscured in shadows.

"Who are you? Where's Chris?" the chairman demanded.

"He's dead," Eric replied in a gravelly voice.

"Did you...?" the chairman started.

"It seems that way," Eric confirmed.

"You have no idea what kind of entity you've provoked!" the chairman's voice seethed with anger and hatred. "Wherever you flee, the owls will pursue you, watch you. Even as you lay in bed, they will take your head!"

"Now, tell me your name, Punisher!" the chairman demanded.

Eric shifted slightly forward, revealing the lower half of his face (his chin).

"I am Homelander."

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