On a weekday, during what should have been school hours, Silo and Tim played together all day long.
This behavior seemed very unlike Tim, yet very much like a teenager. Boys of this age in America are always rebellious enough to give people headaches—even a boy as well-behaved as Tim had that side to him.
When the two parted ways, Silo was still a bit reluctant to leave. Tim was simply too interesting, and Silo was more than happy to spend time with him.
"See you tomorrow!"
"Tomorrow's the weekend—did you forget?" Tim fiddled with his phone, glancing sideways at him. "I'd rather not go to school on a non-school day."
Silo instantly looked like a big dog drenched in rain, shoulders slumping as he said pitifully, "So we can't play tomorrow?"
Tim was about to say something when he saw Silo adopt a thoughtful expression. Whatever was going through his head, he quickly reasoned it out on his own and said, "Well, I guess you need rest too."
"See you later, then!" The very Silo who had just been reluctant to part turned and left without a trace of hesitation.
Tim, who hadn't managed to say anything: "…"
Yeah—moments like this really showed that Silo's socialization training was clearly lacking.
Tim found it a little amusing. He set down his phone, got back in the car, and returned to Wayne Manor.
As he walked inside, Tim was deep in thought. Bruce had a gala tonight, and since he'd worked a bit of overtime during the day due to his nighttime activities, he should still be catching up on sleep in his bedroom. Secondly, Tim had properly requested leave, and his reason was legitimate. His attendance this month had been fairly consistent, so the teacher wouldn't contact his guardian over this level of attendance.
So Bruce wouldn't know about his skipping—er, his leave—and therefore wouldn't pay any unnecessary attention to his subsequent actions.
All he had to do was avoid Alfred.
Tim rolled up his sleeves and spotted Alfred tending to the garden vegetation. His eyes curved into the obedient smile that elders loved most. "Alfie? Need any help?"
Alfred looked at him, still holding those sharp—garden shears, and smiled. "Thank you very much, but I don't wish to play golf in the garden at the moment, Master Tim."
Tim's face flushed, and he couldn't help muttering, "That was an accident last time!"
He could tell Alfred was mocking him for falling asleep while helping out last time, nearly leveling the garden with his modified trimming machine.
Alfred simply held the shears up and looked at him, as if he already knew Tim had more to say. So Tim rubbed his cheek sheepishly, his gaze drifting. "…Alfie, those cookies you made for me today—could you make another batch? I'm meeting Sunlight in Metropolis tomorrow, and he really likes your cookies…?"
Alfred was always enthusiastic about giving the children of the house more healthy, ordinary everyday experiences. When Tim said this, Alfred was visibly more than a little pleased. He said cheerfully, "Of course, Master Tim."
Given Alfred's dedication and habits, he would start preparing the cookies from kneading the dough, so for a while afterward—the Batcave would be left with only Tim.
Taking advantage of no one being around, Tim slipped silently into the Batcave. He stood before the Batcomputer, his blue eyes reflecting the glow of the screen, carrying a cold and detached hue.
He typed two keywords into the computer.
—Metropolis, Sunlight.
He wasn't really deceiving Alfred. He was indeed going to find [Sunlight] tomorrow—it just wasn't Silo Sunlight.
Tim wasn't a fool. If even Gotham Black Gang thugs could sense something unusual, he certainly wasn't oblivious to it either.
But the gangster Silo had threatened would naturally lean toward malicious and dangerous interpretations. Robin Tim, on the other hand, chose to see the better side.
His decision today to leave school with Silo wasn't without the intention of observing.
And this outing had confirmed quite a bit of information for him.
Silo Sunlight had spent a long period in a hospital-like environment.
He was unfamiliar with normal social structures.
He had no knowledge of entertainment or games.
He had abnormal boundaries.
He was accustomed to being directed by others.
…
Tim recorded the inconsistencies he'd noticed, one by one.
Though each point seemed to have a reasonable explanation—being unable to go out in an environment like Metropolis due to UV allergy, being in the hospital for so long that he didn't understand corresponding entertainment, and lacking peer interaction so he had no sense of boundaries or distance.
Everything could be explained, but there were too many coincidences that defied logic for Tim to ignore.
He had seen the better side of Silo, and so rather than suspecting Silo Sunlight—who seemed more like a "victim"—Tim harbored far more suspicion toward the "parents" Silo had mentioned.
His earlier investigation had been cursory at best—he'd only looked into Silo Sunlight after arriving in Gotham, without paying much attention to his life in Metropolis. But now, with a clear goal in mind, Tim began investigating the Sunlights of Metropolis.
He hadn't investigated before, but once he did—the thin layer of false pretense was peeled back with ease.
Whether it was Silo Sunlight or the Sunlight couple, their identities were too "standard." Too standard to be plausible.
"Looks like I'll have to make a trip to Metropolis tomorrow." Tim narrowed his eyes and murmured.
But just then, Tim's phone rang. He snapped back to attention and looked at the vibrating device.
Dick's contact name appeared on the screen.
Tim didn't notice the smile that had crept onto his face as he answered the call. On the other end came Dick's familiar, lighthearted voice, accompanied by the roar of rushing wind: [Hey, Timbo?]
Tim replied with a smile, "Hey, Dick."
Silo's original plan for tonight had been to deal with Black Mask and hunt for Kryptonite on the side. But now he was somewhat distracted.
He didn't like staying in overly quiet environments, so rather than lying on the couch at home staring at nothing, he preferred to wander outside. Besides, the sun had already set—it posed no threat to him.
Silo stared at the spot where the sun had gone down. His features, unadorned by a smile, no longer seemed gentle or harmless. Instead, they radiated pure arrogance, like a deity looking down from on high to pass judgment on humanity.
Gotham and Metropolis were vastly different, but Gotham was hardly unfamiliar to Silo.
In the beginning, Lex had forbidden him from going out—especially to Gotham. So Silo had snuck off to Gotham anyway, and it was there that he met his first—and only—friend.
The world was evil. No one would show kindness to a stranger without reason. Even relatives bound by blood offered love only because of "the value a child would bring them in the future."
The love they were willing to give existed only because the child was completely under their thumb, with no ability to resist—so they doled out affection they could retract at any moment.
He'd become friends with Richard only because Richard couldn't beat him in a fight, and Silo had no answer to the Blue Kryptonite in Richard's possession.
Also, Richard had been in his rebellious phase back then, harboring suspicions about Nightwing.
Two rebellious teenagers met, found common ground in making life difficult for their respective elders, and started hanging out behind their guardians' backs.
Silo kicked a stone on the ground. He'd appeared in this world exactly one month ago.
That day, Silo had crashed into the outskirts of Metropolis—at high noon, when the sun was at its strongest. Unprepared, he'd lain sprawled on the grass he'd cratered, trembling. The weakness and agony of being fully exposed to sunlight made it impossible to lift even an arm.
He'd landed right in front of the Sunlight couple.
—And it was at that moment Silo confirmed that even if the sun rose in the west and set in the east, even if left and right were swapped, this world was fundamentally no different from his own.
The moment the Sunlights saw him, they recognized that face so similar to Superman's, and greedily began calculating how much a "weak, incapacitated Kryptonian" could sell for.
But they'd misjudged Silo's abilities. They assumed sunlight would restore his powers and foolishly moved him into the shade.
That gave Silo the chance to recover. Once he was back to full strength, ordinary humans could no longer pose any threat to him.
Quite the opposite—from the moment they'd encountered Silo, the Sunlight couple had already become victims with no means of resistance.
In truth, Silo didn't think the Sunlights had done anything wrong. Back home, everyone would do the same. Wasn't acting in one's own self-interest perfectly normal?
Before he could feel offended, Silo had already noticed that Kryptonite was exceptionally scarce in this world—and that this world already had its own lord.
A Justice League similar to his home, disguised as selfless saviors, controlling the world through gentler, more subtle means. Without humans ever realizing it, everyone willingly placed their trust in them, gladly surrendering their territory and their lives.
Aside from being a bit slow in conquering Earth, there were almost no flaws.
Even Silo found it terrifying—and worth learning from.
He'd threatened the experienced Sunlight couple into creating a new identity for him, disguising himself as a human to observe this Earth.
In the end, thanks to a kind-hearted contact in the Middle East, he'd chosen to come to Gotham.
Whether in his home world or this one, the first thing Silo always felt was threat.
If he weren't perfect enough, Lex wouldn't have chosen him—he would have been destroyed the moment he failed. If he weren't strong enough, Richard would have slit his throat with a weapon without hesitation. If he weren't smart enough, Ultiman would have disposed of him the instant they met. If his reflexes weren't fast enough, the Sunlights would have used him for money.
Silo lowered his gaze, his expression indifferent.
He had had friends before. Richard had been more than adequate in that regard—strong enough, interesting enough, and even his betrayals were so agile and wicked that they seemed almost elegant. His only flaw was dying too soon.
But he had never encountered someone as strange as Timothy Drake. Silo couldn't figure out Timothy Drake's motives, and that sparked both curiosity and interest.
The dead held no value; they weren't worth remembering. Silo didn't even understand why he was suddenly recalling the deceased Richard. Perhaps it was because Tim had brought up "friends" today?
The small stone he had been kicking bounced into the road due to his momentary lapse, and a black-and-blue motorcycle speeding past crushed it, leaving it still in its place.
Silo dismissed the stone he'd been using for amusement without a second thought and continued walking. He paid no attention to the adult motorcyclist passing by, nor did he hear the helmeted young man's voice, tinged with a smile.
He said: "—Hey, baby bird?"