Batman's interruption was devoid of anger or urgency, seemingly a simple declaration of understanding.
"Have you ever lost anyone?" Shiller asked.
"My child, what about you?"
"Perhaps my mother." Shiller gave an elusive answer: "She was my nurse."
"In contrast to the doctor?"
"Yes."
Then Shiller elaborated: "It's fascinating how paternal love and maternal love are two completely different things, neither can be absent. If only one exists, imbalance is inevitable, even in fantasies."
Batman appeared deep in thought. Shiller remained silent, both sitting quietly by the window. Yet, it was evidently clear that they both deepened their understanding of each other.
This tranquil ambiance was astonishing considering they had known each other for only two days. Their level of familiarity didn't align with the absence of awkwardness during moments of silence in their conversation.
Shiller sipped his drink intermittently, soon draining his glass. He didn't pour himself another drink, but put down his glass and rose from his seat. Batman stayed put without glancing at him.
Shiller moved toward the center of the room and sat on a large couch, opened a laptop on the table, and started typing softly. Batman turned his head to ask, "Are you writing a case record?"
"No, a research paper."
The room once again grew silent. It seemed Batman accepted Shiller's explanation, or perhaps he could see the content on the laptop. After around ten minutes, Batman asked, "Something about psychology?"
"The American Journal of Psychiatry."
The lengthy silence resumed. The only sound in the room was the "click, clack" of keys typing. As the jazz music faded, Batman's breathing became more audible.
"If it's bothering you too much, you can bring the child that's troubling you here. You must first ascertain whether the issue is due to neurological abnormalities, then consider psychological treatment and emotional relief," offered Shiller casually while typing.
Shiller continued in a seemingly casual tone, "I am drafting an article on adolescent psychology. It might be of help. I'm referring to being beneficial for him."
"You want me to use my child as your research subject." It was a fact-finding sentence melded with a sprinkle of mockery and absurdity.
"Trust me, many would be grateful for the opportunity," Shiller responded confidently and arrogantly.
Another bout of silence enveloped the atmosphere, intensifying the startling "boom" that followed several seconds later.
Both men were instantly alert but surprised to realize they were not suspicious of each other. Their instincts told them that the other person couldn't have been responsible for the sound.
This revelation astonished both of them. It suggested that they had truly relaxed, not considering the other person as a potential adversary for even a single second, devoid of all caution. This could indeed be deemed unbelievable.
However, currently, the origin of the sound was a bigger mystery. Shiller, the first to look up to the second floor, removed his hands from the keyboard and rose to approach the staircase. Batman did not stop him.
Shiller moved near the window on the second floor, overlooking the Gotham River. He leaned slightly to look out of the window.
The next second, a "crash" echoed as the glass shattered. A fist broke in, followed by a burly figure leaping into the room.
Shiller stood by the window frame, quietly observing the intruder. However, Batman could not stay calm. As he looked up, he saw a bright red hood slowly emerging from the darkness.
Batman was about to facepalm.
"Hello sir, I think there is a problem with the design of your uniform. The eye holes are too small, which might make it difficult for you to distinguish where the doors are. Should you consider making another entrance following my advice?" Shiller asked in a joking, playful tone.
However, the intruder, not understanding Shiller's gentlemanly humor, bluntly turned his head and said, "Shut up, turn the culprit over to me!"
"I urge you not to move forward," Shiller maintained his gentle tone, "One more step, and you'll see something you fear the most."
"Are you trying to scare me?"
The intruder stepped closer without any consideration, at this angle, he could see Batman standing on the first floor through the balustrade of the atrium, looking up at him.
With a "whoosh", he withdrew the step he had just taken. Like a freeze frame in a game, the intruder who broke in was thrust back to the edge of the window, his hands held onto the windowsill. Even behind the mask, it was evident that he looked as if he had seen a ghost.
"I warned you," said Shiller.
"Stay away from him," Batman's voice echoed from the first floor.
The teenager in the red mask spread his hands in disbelief, "What the hell? Batman? Shouldn't you be patrolling the other side of the river right now? And who is he? Why should I stay away from him?"
"He was speaking to me." Shiller took a silent step back, appearing to be in fear, but actually opening the path to the first floor for their intruder.
"Well, whatever you guys are up to, you better hand over that damn assassin that ran in here!" The voice of the other man was extremely hoarse, his articulation laced with a kind of street-violence undertone, simply put, he was good at playing the East Coast card.
"Who's the assassin you're talking about?"
"Of course, it's the damn lunatic who tried to assassinate the city council speaker, Miguel Guadalupe! After hacking at him, he ran away, but ran into me. He thought he could hide here, but he's got nowhere left to run!"
"Keep away from him." Batman repeated the sentence again, but this time he obviously wasn't talking to Shiller, though the one being warned didn't understand. He glared menacingly at Shiller through the mask.
"Sir, I'm afraid I must correct your terminology. A failed murderer is not called an assassin, let alone a serial killer."
"Why are you being so adversarial?"
"Because this is my house."
"But you can't use it to harbor criminals! Tell me what you saw! Even with Batman here, you can't hide anything about the case I'm investigating, otherwise you'll regret it!"
"Alright, since that loud noise, I've only seen you, because your red hood is too conspicuous. I would guess the murderer saw it the same way."
"What did you say?!" The other man raised his voice, convinced that Shiller was mocking him. He raised his fist and banged it hard on the railing of the atrium. "Crack!" The railing broke off.
"See that? Your neck is going to be like this if you keep provoking me!"
Shiller seemed a bit helpless as he took another step back, a pose that could be seen as timid, but Batman briskly ran up to the second floor and stood at the turn of the atrium.
"Step back!" Batman said in a deep voice.
"What?"
Red hood let out a gasp because Batman was addressing him. Shiller flashed a smile and said, "The fire in the fireplace isn't as warm as it used to be. I think we should add more firewood to make it hotter. It would benefit everyone."
After saying this, he turned around to go downstairs. Batman, looking at his retreating figure, said in a warning tone, "Stop. Come back!"
Shiller stopped. Batman turned to Red Hood and said, "Go back to where you came from, and don't make me repeat myself."
"So, you plan to harbor this criminal with him? Batman, are you already desperate to admit that you're a coward?"
Red Hood always spoke harshly, his tone and words making people uncomfortable. Just as Batman was about to speak, Red Hood cut him off abruptly, saying:
"You clearly heard me say there was an attempted assassination on the city council speaker, but you're not in the slightest bit worried. You still want to reason things out. Get out of my way. No matter how stubborn he is, I can break him!"
"Where did this guy come from?" Hal, looking at the screen, asked with some confusion, "He rampages around Gotham just like that and still lives to this day? Could Batman be his sugar daddy?"
Barry's face cracked, but he was still desperately holding back. A hand fell on his shoulder, taking him by surprise. He turned to look at Bruce's expression and swallowed.
"I can't say." Barry covered his mouth tightly, "Or my future self in this universe would be in deep trouble."
"You don't say it and you'll be in hot water now." Bruce asserted with conviction.
"He seems to know Batman, but there seems to be a significant age difference. Could he be his adopted son?" Clark wrinkled his brows and started to reason, "But I've met Dick. He's a very polite boy, very much like Bruce. How could he talk so rudely?"
"I don't think he's adopted." Diana disagreed, "The Wayne family, for all its faults, could never raise a street urchin."
"Perhaps you often hear of a great family's children rebelling and refusing to do anything proper, but the misbehaviors of rich kids are completely different from those of street-urchins. Their dispositions are entirely different. Clearly, this guy in the red mask is a low-born hoodlum who has nothing to do with the luxurious life of the Wayne family."
Hal and Constantine found this highly credible, and nodded in agreement. Constantine supported his head with his right hand, saying, "I guess, Batman probably saved him, some street urchin framed on a rainy night, rescued by the great Dark Knight. From then on, he walks the path of righteousness, taking it upon himself to deal with criminals. Hover crude his methods, his heart is in the right place."
The others nodded in agreement, finding Constantine's detailed scenario highly persuasive. After all, up until now, there haven't been many strangers appearing, let alone ones with masks. If there was such a person in Gotham now, they would surely know him, at least Constantine, who roamed the streets daily, should know him.
At this point, the expression on several faces changed. First was Harley, who opened her mouth in shock, not because she had deduced from behavior and speech, but simply because her hearing was a bit more acute than the others and she found the voice familiar.
Next was Jason, who, as the figure of the red mask walked forward into the light, recognized the familiar mask, slight alterations notwithstanding.
And lastly, it was Bruce, who suddenly had a bad premonition. The hand he had on Barry's shoulder tightened, and just as he was about to open his mouth to stop Barry from uttering that name, Barry relented and surrendered to fear.
"Jason Todd- it's Jason, he's the Red Hood!"