Chapter 30: Did you bring it?

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"Quentin Lance?"

Allen Robinson recognized the middle-aged police officer somewhat by accident, only registering him fully after a moment's glance.

'Isn't that Laurel's father?'

The officer was chasing a man in his mid-thirties with an athletic build who was sprinting at full tilt down the street.

The distance between the two was growing fast.

The man being pursued was gaining ground, weaving through startled pedestrians, while Quentin Lance fell farther behind.

Allen stood in the way, just by coincidence.

The running man glanced at Allen for half a second.

The smug grin he shot over looked almost mocking, as if saying, "Step aside, or you're next."

Allen stepped back, as though he had no intention of interfering.

The man's smile widened, thinking Allen was just another bystander too scared or indifferent to get involved, which was typical of Starling City these days.

Citizens here rarely lifted a finger for law enforcement.

It wasn't worth the trouble.

But the moment the man passed Allen, everything changed.

Allen's foot shot out suddenly.

Not forceful, just well-placed and precise.

The man tripped violently, pitching forward like a rag doll.

His face hit the pavement with a sickening thud and he slid along the asphalt for a bit before coming to a twitching stop.

Everything around them fell eerily silent.

No one had expected that.

No one thought the casually smiling young man standing quietly a second ago would intervene, much less so effectively.

Quentin Lance stared for a moment, dumbfounded.

Then he rushed forward, flipping the groaning man onto his stomach and slapping a pair of handcuffs on him with practiced efficiency.

"Thanks for the assist," Lance said, glancing up at Allen with genuine appreciation.

"You didn't have to do that… yet you did."

Allen shrugged, smiling like it was nothing.

"He almost ran into me. It's just Reflex."

He looked down at the bleeding man on the ground.

His nose was bent sideways, blood streaking across the sidewalk.

While Lance was securing the suspect, a woman in professional attire came running up, out of breath and clutching her chest.

She looked like she'd just come from court.

"Thank you, officer, thank you so much," she gasped, addressing Lance.

"There were important legal files in that bag, confidential documents. If they'd been lost or leaked…"

"If anyone deserves your thanks, it's not me," Lance interrupted, nodding toward Allen.

"He stopped the thief."

The woman turned, finally taking in the young man standing nearby. "You?" Her expression shifted from frazzled panic to deep gratitude.

She reached into her handbag and handed Allen a business card, her fingers still trembling.

"Anna Rowling. I'm a lawyer. If you ever need legal help, anytime, anything at all, don't hesitate to call. Seriously."

Allen accepted the card with a polite nod.

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

Then, turning back to Lance, Allen asked.

"Would you mind if I borrowed your phone for a second? I was supposed to meet someone, but this little incident might've thrown off the timing."

"Of course," Lance said without hesitation, passing his phone over.

Allen gave him a grateful look, took the phone, and casually dialed Laurel's number.

After a few rings, a familiar voice answered, clearly confused.

"Dad? What is it?"

Allen's tone was light, almost playful.

"We had plans today. Don't tell me you forgot?"

There was a pause.

"You?! Why are you calling from my dad's phone?" Laurel's voice rose in alarm.

"What did you do to him?! I told you I'd go through with it! You promised not to, "

"My dear," Allen cut in, his voice soft and calming.

"Relax. I just happened to run into him. I borrowed the phone to call you. That's all. Let's meet, okay? Same spot. I'll be there shortly."

He ended the call before she could respond further, then returned the phone to Lance.

"Thanks again."

"No problem at all," Quentin Lance said with a polite smile, pocketing the device.

Neither of them had any idea that the simple phone call had sent Laurel into a minor panic attack.

"Mind if I head out now?" Allen asked with a grin.

"Go right ahead," Lance replied with a nod.

Allen gave both him and Anna Rowling one last nod, then turned and walked away, slipping into the bustling city crowd.

****

Twenty Minutes Later.

At the entrance to the old Queen's Gambit factory, Laurel stood anxiously, eyes scanning every corner.

When she saw Allen approaching casually with his hands in his pockets, she rushed forward.

"What did you do to my dad?" she demanded.

Allen laughed softly, unfazed.

"Nothing. Just ran into him while he was chasing a thief. He lent me his phone."

Laurel frowned.

"Really?"

"If you don't believe me, call him and ask," Allen said, tilting his head.

Still skeptical, Laurel quickly pulled out her phone and dialed.

A few seconds later, her father answered, sounding rushed.

"Is it important? I'm busy."

"No, nothing. Never mind."

"Alright. I'll talk to you later." Quentin Lance ended the call almost immediately.

He went to put the phone back in his pocket, but hesitated and checked the call log.

No unfamiliar numbers. Just his daughter's.

He frowned.

"Did he delete it after the call?" Lance muttered, brushing the thought away and returning to his duties.

Back at the factory gate, Laurel exhaled deeply finally convinced.

"Next time," Allen said casually, "try confirming a little more before rushing to meet someone who used a family member's phone. What if I were someone else? Or worse?"

Laurel looked away, embarrassed.

Allen smirked.

If someone texted her "I, Allen Robinson, money!" she'd probably still show up…

Laurel murmured, "That someone might be less dangerous than you…"

Suddenly, Allen's tone shifted.

"Did you bring the money?" that was what he had put in the paper he handed Dinah.

"Yes… yes, I brought it," she replied quickly.

"Good. Come on." He patted her shoulder and began walking, with Laurel following uncertainly behind him.

****

Ten Minutes Later.

Allen stopped in front of a modest hotel with faded signage and a quiet entrance.

Laurel's expression immediately turned wary.

"Why are we here?"

Allen raised an eyebrow.

"What, you wanna hand over the money on the sidewalk? I don't mind."

Laurel stared at him in disbelief.

"We're getting a room… just to talk?"

Allen smirked.

"You're the one who brought that in a duffel bag. Let's at least have walls when we negotiate."