Chapter Eight: The Flexible Skeptic

"Hmm..."

Observing this, Superman let out a suggestive hum, waiting for his colleague—whose family history was a convoluted, ancient mess—to offer an opinion. But the latter had a wealth of experience in pretending nothing was happening and acted as if he hadn't noticed Superman’s urging gaze.

After waiting for a long time without a response, Superman had to take the initiative. He looked at the computer screen, pensive, and said, "He has an adopted son, though at the moment, the relationship between father and son doesn't look too good."

That was putting it mildly.

In the footage, every time the two were captured on camera, they appeared to be the picture of filial piety and paternal kindness; one couldn't even imagine how they managed to coexist under the same roof on a daily basis.

However, his partner, Batman, had various reasons for being reluctant to comment on the matter. He simply stated, "He also has an adopted daughter. 'Found on the side of the road'... where in the world can you just pick up a child on the side of the road? A war zone? Not necessarily; it could be a figure of speech."

"I'm more concerned about the latter part," Superman said. "'Nobody cares, and anything can be used for a deal.' What kind of deal did he make, and with what? And what is his relationship with the guy who broke into Morgan Edge's office this morning?"

Batman: "You mean..."

Superman: "I mean..."

Batman blurted out without hesitation: "They obviously cannot be the same person."

"I think so too!" Superman said happily. "It seems we are in agreement. Having red hair and blue eyes doesn't mean anything. The skull structure of that 'intruder' doesn't belong to a human at all."

A flicker of confusion crossed Batman’s mind. A voice belonging to his own rational self whispered in the depths of his heart: *But facial features and bone structure can be disguised. There is absolutely no evidence to prove they aren't the same person.*

However, as he shifted his gaze to the freshly printed newspaper report and caught sight of the high-definition photo of the "intruder" taken by the reporter, this doubt, under some unknown influence, vanished in an instant like snowflakes under a warm sun.

Batman completely forgot what he had originally intended to say and, with inexplicable irritation, remarked, "The person who wrote this report is Lois Lane—your colleague at the Daily Planet? She even gave your criminal a codename: 'Necrolight'."

The headline of the Daily Planet’s upcoming front-page news read:
*In Broad Daylight, an Intruder at Galaxy Communications! CEO Morgan Edge: "He is a super-criminal! Like a guiding 'Necrolight'."*
There was a small subtitle: *However, there may be hidden circumstances; see the following content for details.*

Superman grinned. "I gave Lois a few insignificant suggestions. Don't you think it’s fitting? Besides, I must correct your choice of words: 'Necrolight' is not necessarily a criminal."

The rational voice in the depths of Batman’s heart said: *Ha! A moment ago it was 'definitely not the same person,' and now it’s 'not necessarily a criminal'? What a flexible skeptic.*

But his surface consciousness didn't hear it at all. Instead, he changed the subject: "You believe Elias Esposito’s trading partner is 'Necrolight.' He paid a price in exchange for the protection of a non-human entity."

Superman nodded.

According to Morgan Edge, he had ordered his men to ambush Elias the day before, and the next day, he was approached by "Necrolight." The deduction held up logically.

Superman watched the video again, imprinting the appearance of Elias and the black-haired, blue-eyed boy beside him into his memory. "Their stance is unclear. I can observe for a while."

"We should ask for the opinions of other Justice League members, especially Green Lantern," Batman vetoed. "You said there were three yellow power rings on Necrolight. The League needs to guard against this being a precursor to a Sinestro Corps invasion of Earth."

His tone was so certain that Superman couldn't help but ask: "So, you know why others only have one ring, while the intruder at Galaxy Communications has three?"

"..."

Batman replied with an expressionless face: "I don't."

He also offered his teammate a friendly suggestion: "Fly out of Earth, take a left, and go ask Sinestro."

***

Elias woke up with a start in his single bed in the middle of the night.

He threw off the thin blanket and sat up. The old bed frame creaked at his movement. The room was permeated with the smell of damp, rotting wood. A window by the bed had fallen into disrepair and wouldn't close properly, forcing a small gap to remain open. The humid, hot wind blowing from the West River, which encircled the New Troy district, let out a sharp, lingering whimper whenever it squeezed through the slit.

But none of these were the things affecting Elias’s sleep.

He tilted his head, listening intently. There was a rustling sound wandering from his left to his right, and then back from the right to the left. The sound paused from time to time, making the night seem suddenly much quieter, only to emerge again just when Elias thought it had disappeared. The tail end of the sound was drawn out, continuous, and eerie in tone, sounding as if something sharp was being dragged forcefully across the wall.

Mysterious? It seemed quite mysterious.

Terrifying? It also seemed a bit terrifying.

However, Elias frowned and thought for a moment, soon pulling himself together. Feeling speechless, he turned on the light and went to the next room to knock on Ophelia’s door. "Philly, are you awake?"

Philly was the nickname Elias had given his adopted daughter. In truth, their relationship hadn't progressed to the point of enjoying father-daughter warmth; it was just that the name "Ophelia" was hard to pronounce, so Elias saved effort where he could and unilaterally decided on the abbreviation "Philly" without consulting the person involved.

The sound of a lock turning echoed from the bedroom. Ophelia quickly poked her head out, looking as if she had just opened her eyes but was very alert. She whispered, "What’s wrong, Dad?"

Elias signaled for her to listen to the strange noise in the room.

After listening silently for a long while, Ophelia hesitated and shook her head.

She lowered her voice to a whisper: "We’ve never had rat poison in the house, Dad."

"..."

Yes, that was correct.

Elias had just thought during the day that the house might have been infested by a "Jerry," and at night, he heard said Jerry running amok in the space between the floorboards and the wall panels. He didn't know if this was due to his own sound reasoning or if the prophecy effect of the Book of Destiny was once again manifesting without him realizing it.

Regardless of the reason, the rats were now preventing Elias from sleeping, and there were no tools in the house to deal with them. He sat in the living room for a while, hoping the uninvited guest would leave on its own or walk into the light so Elias could deliver physical judgment, but the rat clearly wasn't stupid; it only hid in places neither he nor the Book of Destiny could reach.

After a while, the rat continued to scratch at the wall panels. Elias finally, and reluctantly, opened the front door, intending to go to a 24-hour convenience store to see if he could buy some effective rat poison.

For someone who didn't like going out, his frequency of outings lately was truly a bit too high.

To ensure he had a relatively friendly face when pushing open the convenience store door, Elias stood at the threshold and breathed in the fresh air to calm his mood, lest the store owner mistake him for a robber.

Ophelia had been sent back to bed by him. The streets of Suicide Slums were quiet, and the warm yellow streetlights shone down from above, blindingly bright.

...Is the Metropolis municipal government that rich? They dare to install high-wattage bulbs in the slums? Aren't they afraid they'll be uninstalled and sold to a second-hand shop the same day they're put up?

Elias couldn't help but squint, looking toward the source of the light.

—There was no streetlight there at all.

A "person" was floating in mid-air.

Or perhaps one should call it a mutant or an alien.

In today’s society, the creatures on Earth were becoming increasingly varied, and Elias wasn't quite sure. But he could be certain that it was definitely not any of his ordinary human neighbors from any direction, because they wouldn't have red skin and turn themselves into a flying yellow lightbulb.

"Elias Esposito," the 'lightbulb' spoke. The language was quite polite, delivered in a rigorous, meticulous tone. "It is a pleasure to meet you... I am Sinestro. You should have heard my name from the power ring."

As he spoke, he gradually flew a bit closer, and Elias could finally see his appearance clearly through the impenetrable light.

It was a middle-aged man with deep red skin, golden-yellow eyes, hair slicked back meticulously, and two comical thin mustaches on his lips. He was currently holding his hands behind his back, watching Elias with a contemplative expression.

He was wearing a black-and-yellow bodysuit with a special emblem on his chest identical to the pattern on the ring that had been harassing Elias for the past two days. As he flew in the air, yellow light extended from the ring on his left hand to wrap around his body, like a brightly colored human-shaped outline.

Or, to put it another way, a halo outside of a lightbulb—in any case, it was more or less the same thing.

Now, Elias was being cornered at his own front door.

He had brought a gun when he left, but he had left the useless ring at home. He carried the Book of Destiny with him at all times, but overall, he was not well-prepared; he only held the weapon as a precaution.

The intelligent life form before him, however, was clearly prepared and harbored ill intent.

...

The air fell into a brief silence as both parties scrutinized each other.

Although Elias still had the mood to mock Sinestro’s outer halo for being so bright and dazzling that it made one want to pull the plug, in reality, this was the first time since becoming Elias Esposito that he had felt such an intense threat.

When facing Superman earlier, Elias had expectations, and no matter how powerful Superman was, he was a superhero who did not kill. The worst outcome Elias could have faced at his hands was prison.

But Sinestro was different.

He had uninvitedly stood before the door of the only place Elias had to stay these days. The more peaceful and friendly he appeared, the more intense the evil and coldness flowing from his eyes and temperament became. Elias had no doubt that his hands were covered in blood and that he almost never repented for the crimes he committed.

"What is it?" Sinestro observed Elias’s expression and asked with great interest, "Do you rarely see an alien like me?"

*God, you love to talk nonsense. Why do you think Earthlings are called Earthlings and aliens are called aliens?*

Elias kept a straight face and did not answer the question. He recalled the events of the night and connected them to the noises in his room earlier, saying with a flash of realization: "The rats in the house."

The rats that had been making enough of a fuss in the middle of the night to keep him awake were actually organized!

"It seems you discovered him a long time ago."

Sinestro was, in fact, also on guard—the yellow light that hadn't dimmed from start to finish was the evidence. At this moment, while contemplatively watching every move Elias made, he slowly descended to the ground.

"As expected. He just reported to me that this house is as if it were alive, consciously preventing him from entering."