For some time now, I've been turning over a question that often comes up in the fandom:
Did Silco exploit minors for labor?
I debated whether this was worth analyzing, but I’ve learned that if an idea lingers in your head like Ellie's cordyceps, you eventually have to face it. So I began to dig deeper—mainly into the lives of Zaun’s children and teenagers, both before and after the events of episode three in season one.
The first kids we meet are Vander’s group.
What more can be said about them that hasn’t been said already? Still, I’ll mention it. Despite their young age, they wanted to fight, to strike back at the people above, refusing to accept Zaun’s oppression. From the exchange between Mylo and Vi, it’s clear they started long before we saw them on screen.
Mylo’s words to Vi—
You were twice the person at half her age
—make that obvious.
But I don’t want to highlight their resistance or determination despite their age. The truth is, in Zaun there is no childhood as we know it. Everyone is forced to grow up fast, especially those who’ve lost their families. And there are more of them than we’ll ever know.
Much like Vander’s four, Ekko lived in similar circumstances. It’s never explained what Benzo was to him, but they treated each other as family. Benzo gave the boy shelter, work, and belonging. When Ekko first appears, he’s repairing a clock despite being so young. He minds the shop in Benzo’s absence—he even serves Jayce when he arrives.
These are just a few examples, but the point is clear:
Zaun’s children are not helpless innocents without agency.
Remember that when you argue with me later.
And here—although I’m not sure where to place it chronologically—young Viktor deserves mention. We see him playing with a mechanical boat while other children swim carefree in the water. Polluted, full of oil and waste, yet they laugh as if it were a paradise. Joy matters more than poison, at least in that fleeting moment.
And there he is. Pale, fragile, walking with a cane even as a boy. He plays alone, in the shadows.
What does this show us? Exactly what is on screen. Zaun is toxic, its children pay the price—disease, frailty, lives cut short. And that’s the point: it doesn’t matter if it was before Vander, during his 'rule', or after Silco rose to power. Zaun was always poisoned. Someone always suffered. And someone always fought back.
So let’s move to another group: the young adults who weren’t raised in Vander’s circle.
I mean people like Deckard.
He didn’t leave the best impression, did he? Aggressive, restless, spoiling for a fight. From his clash with Vi’s group, it’s obvious they knew each other—this wasn’t the first encounter. Deckard embodies that part of Zaun’s youth who either don’t see a way out, don’t want to, or actively choose not to. Maybe for him, joining Silco’s ranks felt like the only option. A gang instead of a family.
Among Silco’s thugs, Deckard carved out a place for himself. Was he just like the others? Perhaps. But one thing is certain: he had his reasons. Whatever they were, he still chose that path—and I will repeat that to the end.
Deckard represents those who saw no other survival than to embrace crime—for a roof over their heads, for coin, for food. Maybe even for a sense of belonging. Zaun is full of such young men and women. Let’s be honest: crime thrives there. Maybe some joined Silco out of hunger, maybe out of anger at Piltover. Maybe because poverty left them nothing else. The answers are many. The questions are endless.
And then there were others. Teenagers making their own reckless choices.
After Silco’s rise, another group emerged—the Firelights.
They too sought safety for Zaun, but fought in their own way, against their own enemies. Not Piltover, but Silco and the barons. They gathered around Ekko’s tree, building refuge, creating a different answer to what the Lanes offered. And it was their decision to be there. Some even risked their lives to destroy Shimmer.
When Jinx reappears on a ship, one Firelight is a girl. Her age and hair make Jinx mistake her for Vi. That’s because she remembers her sister as a teenager. This girl wasn’t a child anymore—but she wasn’t fully grown either. She’s the kind of figure I focus on now. And we can safely assume her fight against Silco was her own choice. Of all people, Ekko would never force anyone to follow him.
Still, what I’ve just described concerns mainly the young who were searching for direction—those who lost their families, or were cast aside by them. But Zaun isn’t only them.
One image lingers with me: a little girl, much younger, face smeared with grime, but smiling. She reached out to Heimerdinger for a toy, only to be quickly pulled back by her mother. That brief glimpse reminds us—Zaun isn’t made up solely of disillusioned teenagers. But who will this child grow up to be, if she survives? Will she leave her family? Or inherit their world? Her future remains untold. And perhaps that’s the point.
So what am I showing here?
A glimpse into the lives of young people in Zaun, because even though many would like to, you can't blame Silco for everything. Assuming that the quality of life for youth collapsed the moment he took over is simply wrong.
I call them young people because they’re far past childhood but not yet fully grown adults. They had the misfortune of being born on the wrong side of the river.
In Zaun, childhood doesn’t exist—not as we know it. They were forced to grow up faster than necessary. Whether they had a family, became orphans taken in by someone, or had to fend for themselves and chose the darker path, what seems inconceivable to us is everyday life for them.
I’ll repeat that for emphasis:
Kids in Zaun had to grow up fast to survive.
That’s why their paths, choices, and mistakes are the consequences of actions taken by minds older than their years. Decisions—that’s the word I want you to remember as you read on.
Okay, but I promised you another discussion about Silco, and I’m still talking about teenagers.
Let me get to the point.
I don’t believe Silco exploited minors for labor.
By 'exploited', I mean forced.
Let’s start with Silco’s attitude toward them.
The first interaction we saw was with Deckard. From the very beginning, it was clear that he was just a pawn, the smallest cog in the business. If he fell out, no one would go looking for him.
During the interrogation, when the boy failed, Silco’s men clearly threatened him with violence—showing that if they wanted, they could hurt him much worse. A game of cat and mouse. Brutal? Yes. Necessary? Probably only to maintain fear and respect. But it’s obvious that Silco didn’t care about Deckard himself.
After obtaining valuable information, Silco gave one order:
Give him a meal. But keep him off the streets.
He was completely indifferent to the boy—only the information mattered. A meal as a reward sounds absurd, but perhaps not when poverty reigned in Zaun. A clever move that kept Deckard around longer, or so I think.
Using him as a test subject for Shimmer wasn’t even about morality. It wasn’t about him at all. Anyone could have been chosen at that moment.
Silco did what he does best: he got inside his head. Maybe he had heard of him, maybe he checked who he was. By giving his speech about power, he gave Deckard a vision: If you want to be someone, reach for it. And in that moment, Shimmer could give him the strength he craved.
Did Silco manipulate him? I reluctantly admit—yes. But he didn’t force it down his throat. He left the choice to the boy, though he probably sensed what his answer would be. Silco waited for Deckard to make the move, simply offering the drug. Morally dubious and manipulative, yes—but the final step was Deckard’s. Knowing it could kill him, he still reached for it.
No, I am not blaming the victims of addiction here in any way.
I just want to show there was no coercion in Silco’s behavior toward them. Manipulation? Yes. Tempting them with dreams? A better life? Absolutely. But not coercion. Because coercion doesn’t win loyalty. Immoral, but undeniably clever.
Silco didn’t see them as teenagers, but as adults. Probably because he had to grow up quickly himself, raised on the streets. He knows this city doesn’t forgive, doesn’t reward—it only takes away. Only those who can endure survive. And those like him rise higher: the ones unafraid to reach for more.
Silco didn’t coddle them. Since they chose to join his ranks, they were treated like everyone else. No special privileges because of age. No patting on the head or indulgence.
He behaved similarly toward Vi.
When she came with Mylo and Claggor to Vander, Silco was waiting with his men, ready to fight—anything to stop Vander’s escape.
And Vi stood her ground. With her adoptive father’s gloves, she faced the thug we all know. She knowingly stood against an older, stronger opponent. She knew what she was doing, buying time for the others. She was attacked without hesitation—with a knife, with the clear intention to kill.
Because to Silco, she wasn’t Vi, wasn’t a child. Maybe he forgot she was Felicia’s daughter, or maybe no one thought of it when writing the series. In that moment, she was simply an enemy. An obstacle to be removed to complete the plan.
In his gaze as he watched Vi, there was focus, assessment. He didn’t underestimate her just because she was a child. No—she was Vander’s ward. He knew she could be dangerous. And she exceeded his expectations when she almost knocked out her attacker.
When he went outside after Vander fell from the building like a ball of fire, he looked for Vi. Knife in hand, he searched for the one who had thwarted his plans. Seeing Powder by Vander’s body, the only thing he asked was where her sister was.
Was it to eliminate her for good?
Or to bring her to his side?
Good question.
But he definitely saw her as a threat. Not as a child.
What am I getting at? What I said at the beginning. From Silco’s behavior and interactions, I’ve gleaned this awkwardness in his dealings with younger people. It’s as if he doesn’t see their age, only their potential, their threat, or their usefulness.
And if you think this is far-fetched, that I’m twisting things to defend a character I’m unhealthily obsessed with—I get it. But I’m just trying to look from every angle and chew it over.
As I mentioned earlier, putting all the blame on Silco for the exploitation of minors only shows how much focus he gets—and how little thought is given to the other barons. They could have been doing the same thing, yet I don’t hear anyone talking about Margot employing minors to serve her clientele.
Silco wasn’t alone.
He is portrayed as a cruel tyrant. A ruthless mafioso who will stop at nothing to achieve his goals. I don’t dispute that. I know what he did. I know what he was capable of.
But no matter what I think, one thought gnaws at me at night like my cat wanting to play.
We all know the factory scene at the end of the season. I’ll get to that in a moment. But before that, it’s time for Jinx.
Specifically, one particular scene with her.
After the Firelighters’ attack on the shimmer shipment, Jinx has her moment in Silco’s office when she explains what went wrong—why the cargo was lost. Silco doesn’t go easy on her either, saying:
Today’s screw-up will set us back weeks.
He doesn’t accuse her directly but lays out the consequences of her actions. His daughter, the child he took in, wasn’t patted on the head or praised. No—he calmly pointed out the mistake and the price she’d pay if it happened again.
But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.
I’m doing this for us, Jinx. All of us. The sons and daughters of Zaun deserve more than their runoff.
That one scene kept me awake at night.
Because it clashes with the image of a criminal who would force others to work. This man, for whom loyalty was worth its weight in gold. I can’t—I don’t want to—believe that someone saying those words, with that expression, with such conviction and desperation for Zaun’s independence, could be the same man who chained others into labor.
No. What I see is acceptance of young people working for him, but not under duress. That’s why I suspect those handling shimmer were in fact paid. I can’t see it any other way.
In Zaun, where survival often meant grabbing income wherever possible, many would willingly take on dangerous or shady jobs. That’s not unique to Runeterra—it’s something we know from our own world. So what about Zaun, where morality worked differently?
Hazardous, illegal labor probably offered a salary tempting enough to draw in many—young people included. Shimmer production was still a niche then and needed hands. And what’s more tempting than money? A willing worker is always more useful than someone forced.
And then we sink to the very bottom—where Renni’s son’s body fell.
What do we really know about him, besides the fact that he died? I have my theories.
As her son, he wasn’t a manual laborer. Renni loved him—that much is clear from her reaction when she found him. He was better dressed, cleaner, and seemed familiar with the factory’s workings.
When Jayce stormed in with the enforcers, he raised the alarm instantly. That suggests a role higher than production-line work.
I believe it was a deal between Renni and Silco that placed him there. Maybe through him she kept an eye on Silco. I don’t believe she would’ve sold her own son into near-slavery when she herself had influence in Zaun.
When Jayce looks over the people gathered after the factory fight, two shots stick in my mind. One wide, with the enforcers guarding the detainees.
And more importantly—a close-up of the younger workers’ faces. Exhausted, hollow, lifeless. Waiting for arrest without protest. They don’t argue, don’t cry, don’t beg for mercy. They don’t even try to run or claim they were forced. They just wait. With the weary acceptance of someone who’s been caught.
I find it hard to believe these are the faces of people locked in a basement and let out for twelve-hour shifts.
Silco didn’t act morally in using that labor force—offering money, maybe drugs, in exchange for work. I don’t deny it’s manipulative. I’m not excusing him.
But I keep insisting:
I don’t believe he forced anyone to work for him.
Not Silco, who valued loyalty above all else.
And now we move into the controversial second season.
If it weren’t for episode two—and my favorite song, Sucker—this rant would never have been written.
What am I talking about?
That one shot, that one image: the hunt for children. It haunted me. I couldn’t rest knowing the answer was so close and yet just out of reach.
The people in that scene? Chross’s men. Their clothing and other shots from the sequence give it away.
These children—much younger than anyone I’ve described before—were simply kidnapped. Dragged from the streets as if they weren’t people but objects.
And this isn’t a metaphor, though I wish it were. Isha too was hunted. I don’t even want to imagine what happened to those kids. Forced into shimmer labor to keep Silco’s legacy alive? That was Smeech’s territory. Maybe there weren’t enough workers, so they targeted those easiest to control—children. Or maybe the goals were darker still. Worse than becoming Margot’s playthings?
That will remain unanswered.
But I’ll leave you, and myself, with one question.
Since the first season never shows what we later saw in season two episode two—doesn’t that mean that under Silco’s reign, children were spared at least that fate?
Did Silco, knowing exactly how cruel the other barons could be, keep their impulses in check? Was he the only one who truly did it for the sons and daughters of Zaun—making sure the city’s future wasn’t simply sold out?
Yes. I want to believe so.
That Silco, for all he was, kept the kids safe from being trafficked.
