When they returned to the base of the Luminous Alliance once again, the atmosphere had changed somewhat. From the outside, nothing seemed amiss, Stark was still focused on sifting through the potential routes, with Steve standing beside him, arms crossed.
"I guess... this is the one," Stark said with a furrowed brow. Steve wasn't sure if he had discerned some pattern, or if he was just going on instinct, but he chose to trust Stark.
Another abrupt Blink brought them to an open field, where they both looked upward in unison. Above them towered an endless High Tower.
At that moment, Stark's posture fell, as though he'd lost all his strength. Steve covered his face with his hand, saying, "Thank God, I knew it... I knew it... It wouldn't be this easy..."
"Wait, " Stark, with a frown, spun around, looking upward. "Why is it so quiet here? Where is Shiller? Where is everyone?"
Steve remembered his first visit to the High Tower when it was filled with people, teeming with Shillers in the corridor. Now, the tower was much quieter, though he could still spot some figures up high; the corridors below seemed completely deserted.
Both Steve and Stark were hesitant. Professor X had repeatedly warned them that certain rooms within the High Tower were incredibly dangerous. Considering Shiller's past abnormal behavior, they deemed the warnings prudent.
Despite this, they had no choice but to explore. Both ascended from the ground level to the first floor, which stood vacant. Closed doors surrounded them, and the corridor was shrouded in darkness.
Neither Steve nor Stark had explored this first layer in detail. Even when they visited as game-playing members, they were instantly transported to the upper-floor guest rooms.
As they climbed the stairs, they found the first layer of the High Tower to be rather crude. The floor was cement, not wooden boards, and the walls seemed old and worn. Even the paint was peeling off. Unlike the densely packed rooms above, there seemed to be no rooms at all on the first floor.
Just then, Stark heard some noise in the corridor ahead. He quickened his pace. Steve followed and just as they turned the corner, they bumped into something that went "thud" and fell over.
The little shadow got up, rubbed its forehead, and stared at the two. Its face was of shock, as if it couldn't understand why they were here.
It was a young version of Shiller, quite small, dressed in ordinary children's wear. Stark watched him for a while, then squatted down to pat his head, asking, "Shiller? Where are the other yous?"
The young Shiller blinked, shaking his head. Stark asked, "You don't know, or you can't say?"
The young Shiller shook his head again. Stark fired a series of questions, but the young Shiller stayed mute. Steve approached and patted Stark's shoulder, "He seems unable to speak."
Stark got up and watched as young Shiller turned to leave. Frowning, he commented, "The good news is Shiller is likely still alive. The bad news, there seems to be a peculiar situation... part of his personality is missing... we need to find him."
With that, Stark followed in young Shiller's footsteps. Steve brought up the rear, the young Shiller seemingly unconcerned with their tagging along. He continued down the corridor.
In the hallway, Stark noticed a considerable discrepancy. This hallway was unlike the ones he'd seen in the high-level floors, it seemed like a very old stairwell. The cement floor bore signs of patching, the peeled-off wallpaper revealed the bare, decaying walls, the messy web of electrical wires, a speckled array of mailboxes, layers of flyers...
Steve stopped near the flyers, full of strange written characters. He asked, "These are in Chinese, right? Do you understand what they say?"
"Rent, lock-picking, document processing..." Stark translated with a fluent English accent. Steve's eyebrow shot up, "You speak Chinese?"
"I can speak almost all languages in this world," replied Stark. He navigated his way over the obstacle course of junk in the hallway, following the young Shiller.
The hallway, although dilapidated, was reasonably tidy. They quickly arrived at the only door there, which was a deep blue iron door with a square lock and keyhole.
Young Shiller struggled a bit to unlock the door and went inside, switching his shoes with a pair kept near the shoe rack at the entrance.
Once he changed his shoes, he wandered into the room. Steve and Stark, standing outside, scrutinized the interior of the house.
"This seems to be a typical residential apartment in China," Stark deduced. "My company employs Chinese staff; they have photos from their parents' generation. The layout of the rooms is like this."
"They have a large living room and a separate kitchen with a door. A frosted glass door etched with flowers, and the word 'fortune' pasted on their bedroom door..." Stark dictated, pointing towards the interior while Steve removed his shoes.
He opened the shoe rack, inspected the shoes inside, and commented, "This must have been a family of three, based on the shoes. Man, woman, and child..."
"These are probably Shiller's childhood memories." Stark also changed into a pair of male slippers. They entered the room together, where young Shiller was sprawled on the sofa, watching TV.
"It doesn't seem right to turn a stranger's house upside-down," Steve hesitated. "Given the peculiar circumstances, we need not be so typical," Stark was firm. "Our goal is to save Shiller, so gathering some intelligence here is reasonable."
Steve finally gave a nod, and they split up to investigate the clues in the room.
Stark, who was searching in the living room, was first to notice a picture frame on the TV cabinet. It was a golden frame with European-style patterns. Stark picked up the frame and saw a family of three in the picture with young Shiller standing between his parents.
This was a full-length photo, so the faces were not clear. After Stark put the photo down, he began searching the books on the shelf. Meanwhile, Steve called out from the master bedroom:
"Tony, come quick! Look at this!"
Stark quickly stepped inside and saw Steve holding a photo album. They flipped through the album, which primarily showed pictures of the family of three. Stark commented, "An ordinary, happy family. It seems Shiller had a pretty good childhood."
However, Steve suddenly paused his flipping through the album. Stark looked at the photo at which Steve was staring - it was a man holding a baby. Steve furrowed his brows then said, "No, his father is not just ordinary."
"Why? What makes you say that?" Stark asked.
Steve pointed with his fingertip to the hand closest to the camera in the photo, saying, "Look here, a gun callus."
"His father could have been a soldier or an agent, and a veteran one at that." Steve deduced from his vast experience.
He flipped a few pages back in the album, scrutinized the details in the photos, then said, "His mother isn't particularly ordinary either. Judging by her muscle tone and low body fat percentage, she has obviously had professional training…"
"So, it looks like his parents were in the military." Stark shrugged, not minding, as he began to look for more clues.
After opening drawers and shuffling the assortment of books on the shelf without a clear direction, a few sheets of paper fell from a thick history book that Stark had pulled out.
Stark picked up the sheets of paper and, after unfolding them, asked with some confusion, "Sensory training?"
Steve leaned in and Stark pointed at the sheets, saying, "This is a record of sensory training. Typically, sensory training is meant for children. Look here, it mentions sensory dysregulation, and the cause is... autism? Was Shiller autistic?"
"Well, that's hardly surprising; I recall him mentioning he has Asperger syndrome." Stark commented, stroking his chin.
He flipped a few more pages of records, and finally, he read: "According to this record, as the sensory training progressed, the subject's motor coordination improved significantly. The child began to speak and his language skills were progressing rapidly…"
Stark turned the page. On the back, it documented with a ballpoint pen, "July 24, able to call a toy by its name… August 19, can tell a story… December 2, consciously called mom and dad for the first time… April 6, can clearly express which storybook he wants …"
Steve commented somewhat sentimentally, "It seems that Shiller's parents loved him very much. They made great efforts in his treatment and even wrote down the progress of him learning to speak."
"Wait…" Stark furrowed his brows. Looking at those notes, he said, "By April, he was already able to clearly identify which storybook he wanted, which is no different from the language ability of a normal child, but…"
Stark turned to look at the living room, then put down the papers and walked swiftly toward young Shiller. He began to ask young Shiller some questions to try and engage him, using both words and gestures. However, young Shiller just stared at him but said nothing.
After a while, Stark stood up and told Steve, who was walking toward him, "He really doesn't speak. He can understand what I am doing, but he isn't saying anything..."
"If the treatment was successful, why doesn't this boy, who represents young Shiller's memories, speak?"
Stark turned around and picked up the family photo again, starting another round of examination.
Just then, light from outside the window began to dim. Stark suddenly realized that this room experiences day and light just like outside.
The young Shiller, who was sitting on the sofa watching TV, suddenly stood up. Stark and Steve followed his movements with their eyes, watching him walk into the bedroom. Stark shrugged and said, "It seems, he's accustomed to going to bed early."
"Alright, go to sleep, kid. We can look for more clues somewhere else…"
Just as Stark was about to leave the bedroom, he saw that young Shiller was not going to his bed to sleep; instead, he walked into the wardrobe.
He opened the door, climbed up on a compartment about his height, curled up holding his legs, and then closed the doors.
Stark saw that through the crack between the wardrobe doors, young Shiller was peeking at him with his eyes.