Searching for the Laurences
The Black Knight's engine, not fully cooled, roared back to life.
Roque pulled out of the parking lot with the girl named Elizabeth buckled into the passenger seat. Since she insisted she was human, he'd start by tracking down her parents.
If she really had parents, he could just hand her off to them. If not? He'd keep her a few days, then ship her to an orphanage—or dump her on Kaylee.
While Roque gripped the wheel, the girl huddled in the passenger seat, knees drawn up tight. She peered out the window at Midland's unfamiliar streets with a wary hunch, like the sights unnerved her. Her expression stayed blank despite the posture, leaving her thoughts a mystery.
The Black Knight tore through downtown with its two mismatched passengers. Elizabeth kept stealing glances at Roque, fingers fidgeting. Her eyes drifted to the radio. Then a small hand crept toward it, sneaky as could be—like she was trying to flip it on without him noticing.
But that level of stealth couldn't slip an Aura Master's sharp senses. Without a word, Roque reached over. Elizabeth flinched back.
"…?"
His hand powered on the radio. Static crackled briefly, then a gritty orc ballad blasted out. Like all orc ballads, it rode heavy guitars and pounding drums, singing of burning heavens, winged Valkyries, and the Einherjar's endless fight.
Roque glanced at the girl as the music filled the car. Elizabeth stared at the radio, blinking—not quite like when she'd heard rock back at the apartment.
She turned to him and said,
"Something else."
"…"
Roque cleared his throat pointlessly and switched channels. Fine, maybe not kid-friendly.
Synthpop kicked in—synth's eerie electronics blending with machined vocals. Only then did Elizabeth bob her head, eyes shifting back to the window.
Midland's sky, brightening with the rising sun moments ago, had clouded over into gloomy gray. Thick, rain-heavy clouds cast a dim pallor, like a gray filter over the world.
The Black Knight sliced through the monochrome gloom, its black armor untainted even by the overcast heavens.
They wove through boulevards and alleys to a seven-story concrete slab. Roque parked at the curb and headed for the building, Elizabeth trotting close behind.
His target: third floor. He climbed along the rough, unfinished concrete walls until an iron door stopped him. A small wooden sign hung beside it: 'Real Estate, Used Cars, and All Transaction Brokerage.' Matches Philip's office.
He hit the buzzer. A shrill ding echoed, followed by a tinny voice.
"You already saw everything on the security cams. Open up, Philip."
The iron door clanged open moments later. Roque stepped inside, Elizabeth trailing with wide-eyed curiosity.
At the end of the short hall stood Philip, forcing a smile that screamed fake welcome.
"W-whoa, come on in. Didn't expect you first—what brings you? Not here to slice me with that Aura Blade, right? On account of that bad job last time. Haha…"
Roque stopped and stared silently. Philip's grin wilted under the gaze, his lame joke dying fast.
"…You're not, right? We've got history. A few botched gigs don't mean—"
"Don't make me sound like a psycho, Philip."
"Ah, uh… sorry."
That's when Elizabeth peeked out from behind Roque. Philip's eyes lit up at her sparkling gaze. He glanced between them, stammering.
"No way, you don't mean—"
"Not mine."
Roque brushed off the question and flopped onto the office couch. Elizabeth scampered to the one beside him, perching and scanning the room's crammed cabinets.
Philip said nothing as they made themselves at home. He even hustled to the corner fridge, setting drinks in front of them—plus snacks for Elizabeth—before sinking into the opposite couch.
"So, what's up? If it's work, might take a bit. Business is rough lately…"
"I know your business sucks. Word's all over North Street."
"…Yeah. Nothing spreads like bad news."
Fatigue etched Philip's face. Roque's rep must've scared off every merc looking for gigs. No mercs meant no clients, and his side hustles were tanking too.
Not Roque's problem. He got to the point.
"Find someone for me."
"Someone?"
"Her parents."
Philip's eyes flicked to Elizabeth at Roque's nod. She crunched happily on the cookies he'd set out, still eyeing the office.
"Hmm, parent hunt. Really not yours? Hair, eyes—you're a dead ringer match."
"Cut the crap. How long?"
"Pin down name and traits, Midland locals? Two, three weeks tops. Citizenship? Tomorrow. Hiding or overseas? Multiply that."
Philip shrugged it off like no big deal. Roque nodded and turned to Elizabeth.
"Kid, you said human parents, right?"
"Elizabeth."
"What?"
Elizabeth slurped her drink and continued.
"Not 'kid.' Elizabeth. And you said call me Lije."
Roque sighed faintly, nodding vaguely.
"Right, Lije. Tell that guy your parents' names."
"Daddy's Dr. Robert Lawrence. Mommy's Dr. Hitchiko Lawrence."
Roque turned silently to Philip, who blinked before grabbing pen and paper to jot it down.
He paused and asked,
"Anything else besides names?"
"Daddy had blue eyes, light blond hair. Mommy was Japanese originally—black hair, black eyes."
"Blue eyes… black hair, Japanese… Midland citizens?"
"Dunno. Probably not."
Philip nodded like he got it.
"Got the parents… okay, Lije. So your full name's Elizabeth Lawrence?"
"Just Elizabeth. And mister never said call me Lije."
Philip's face fell again at her firm tone. He shot Roque a look, but got only a shrug.
"Why her name?"
"MLPD might have a missing persons. Speeds things up…"
Roque downed his drink and stood, ignoring Philip's pout. Lije hopped up too.
Philip panicked a bit.
"W-wait, the advance…?"
"Advance?"
Roque paused, looming down. Philip forced another grin under those dark eyes.
"…Kidding. On the house. I owe you."
"Keep it quiet. Might be risky."
"Huh? Risky? Why?"
Roque ignored him and left. Philip called after.
"Hey, Roque! We're square now, right? Next time, take a real job! Something solid—"
The iron door slammed shut, cutting him off. Lije had closed it. She met Roque's gaze evenly.
"Front doors need proper shutting."
Roque chuckled despite himself as they headed down the hall. Lije followed.
Outside the concrete block, Lije overtook him with quick steps, yanking open the Black Knight's door and claiming shotgun before he arrived. Her 'hurry up' stare made him saunter slower on purpose.
Then police sirens wailed from the main road—ear-piercing. Patrol cars raced by, MLPD aerodynes streaking between buildings. Trouble nearby.
As Roque paused to peer out the alley—
"Hey, Roque?"
He turned slowly. Warm brown hair caught his eye—ponytail last time, loose now.
She approached, smiling.
"Roque, right?"
"Emily."
She beamed as he named her.
"You remembered."
"Hard to forget. We had plans to meet again."
Emily from the Change Diner looked worlds apart from her uniform days. Loose hair spilled over her flight jacket; blue jeans and canvas shoes screamed casual chic.
She grinned fresh and bright.
"What brings you here?"
"Meeting someone. You?"
"Just off graveyard shift, grabbing a friend. What a happy coincidence."
Roque softened into a smile at her warmth. It was nice for him too. As Emily opened her mouth to continue—
The Black Knight's window slid down smoothly. Lije's blank face peered out. Emily startled at the girl staring up.
"Oh…"
She glanced between them, flustered.
"M-married…?"
"Not mine."
"…She's not?"
Roque fumbled for an excuse.
"Niece."
"Ah, niece…"
"Elizabeth."
Whether she bought the cover or not, Emily nodded. They chatted briefly—rain coming, chilly weather. Lije propped her chin on the window sill, eyes darting between them.
Talk turned to her ride home.
"Subway. No car."
Roque checked the passenger seat before offering a lift. Would Lije behave? She was already in back, peeking over.
"On the way. Hop in."
"Really? You don't have to…"
He opened the door silently. Emily blushed faintly, nodding. Soon the Black Knight rumbled out with three aboard.
The radio reignited with the engine. Same channel—now a stiff announcer's voice.
Lije, in back, tilted her head at the lack of music. She eyed Roque to change it, but shut her mouth as he chatted with Emily. Instead, her pupils gleamed with odd rings of light. The stiff news dissolved into smooth pop.
Roque paused mid-sentence but resumed smiling seamlessly.
The pleasant drive ended at Emily's stop. She tucked hair behind her ear.
"So, dinner next weekend?"
"I'll be there."
She flashed a grin.
"See you, Roque. You too, Elizabeth."
She waved to Lije and stepped out. Roque watched her in the mirror—lingering a moment before turning away.
Lije wriggled forward to shotgun, fiddling the radio. Pop faded to rock band riffs. Arms draped out the window, she bobbed her chin to the beat—face blank as ever.
Roque just eyed her curiously, saying nothing.
Later, they stocked up at a nearby mart and hauled groceries back to the apartment. With Lije sticking around a few days, Roque couldn't stomach pizza or instant meals every time. And he sure as hell wasn't touching year-old egg powder.
As Roque filled the fridge, Lije silently hit the sink, tackling dishes. First impressions aside, she was sharp—observant, cunning even.
Roque shook his head at the thought. Then the living room TV audio blared—the same rock from the car.
He shot Lije a darkened look. She rinsed plates, tapping her foot carefree to the tune.
He crossed his arms to speak as the fridge clicked shut—
The doorbell rang.
It kept going, insistent. The visitor pounded next, desperate.
Lije glanced from the sink. Roque held up a finger.
"Stay quiet."
She nodded. He approached the door. More pounding, then a shout.
Roque tilted his head at the door. MLPD—cops. But only one voice.
He unchained the bolt but cracked it slightly. A blond man flashed his badge through the gap.
"MLPD Detective Daniel. You're Roque? The merc 'Ronin'? Cooperate, please…"
Daniel's face twisted with exhaustion, anger, grief, anxiety, desperation—all at once.
Roque's reply was flat and curt.
"No warrant? Beat it."
"Wh-what? Wait! Just—"
Clang. Door shut.