When you walked into the police station, you grimaced. The atmosphere was heavy and could make anyone uncomfortable.

The waiting room was large and had chairs lining the side walls. Only two or three were taken, a couple sobbing loudly in the corner. You gave them an empathetic smile, lips pulled into a tight line.
I wonder what happened to them.

You approached the front desk and placed your hands on the counter. It was taller than you expected and out of instinct, you stood on your toes.

The policewoman sitting behind the desk looked up, her face falling to seem bored. "What do you need kid?" Her voice was pitched low and she gave you a mild sense of laziness.

You were taken aback at her lack of emotion and cleared your throat. Dismissing the part where she called you a kid, you asked, "Is Bart here?"

Her eyebrows peaked but she still looked dull, bringing an arm up to rest her face on her fist. "Yes. Now, what do you need?"

She went back to her computer and slowly typed on the keyboard. You had a feeling she wasn't paying much attention to you.

"I need to speak to him."

More typing and another careless glance your way before a man rounded a nearby corner. He was chubby and short, his face covered in dark facial hair.

"I got your message, Melissa." His voice was higher than you expected and it cracked multiple times. He looked nervous and out of place in the dim setting.

No wonder Diego was able to threaten him, he looks beyond scared.

"Hi," you said, stepping away from the desk. Your chin was high with determination. You had to get answers. "I need to look at some files."

"Uh, k-kid I can't let you do that," he stuttered, shakily reaching out to you as you slid your way past him. I don't know where I'm going, you thought, doing your best to look like you knew where you needed to go.

"Hmm," you hummed, flicking a hand back at him. "Diego told me you could help."

You didn't have to look back to know he stumbled over his feet. The sounds of scuffing filled your ears and he was at your side in an instant, eyes wide with fear and lips pulled into a pained grin.

"R-Right," he choked out. Clearing his throat, he took the lead and showed you down a hallway, taking the first door to the left.

"T-This is the records room," he said, flicking the light on. It revealed a small room with rows of storage. Boxes and papers stacked up to the ceiling.
"What are you looking for?"

"Um..."
How do I ask this?
You clenched your fists at your sides. "I'm looking for information on a certain person, but I, uh, I don't really know anything about them."

You threatening demeanor seemed to crack and Bart didn't look as nervous anymore. He gave an unsure look your way before walking over to the rows of cabinets. "Well, what do you know about them?"

"His name's Rob."

Another unconvinced look was sent your way before Bart moved to the side, sliding his hand over a couple of files. He pulled out a box and set it down by your feet with a huff.

"Here, these are all files with the name Rob involved." He stood, back cracking in a way that made you contort with discomfort.
That's gotta hurt.

"Thanks," you said, looking at the box with widening eyes. It was huge and filled to the brim. How were you supposed to find Rob in all of this?

He left you alone in the dark and desolate room.

You turned from the door and back to the box, dumping all of its contents out onto the floor.
Here we go.

—————

It must've been hours you spent searching through that onE BOX! You had taken multiple breaks along the way, slumping back against the wall and letting exasperated sighs fall from your lips.

"Who is he," you repeated over and over, sounding like a broken record.

The files you scoured through were nothing close to what you were looking for. Files on dumb serial killers and stupid cannibals really weren't in your focus.

You tossed them away with a blank stare. You had almost given up on your task, but when you gave another mindless swipe of your hand, you knocked the box over and one more file slipped out.

In bright red ink, it said 'Commission'.
That gained your full attention.

Flipping through the folder, you stopped at the case description.

Missing Persons Report
Case: Unsolved

Name: Rob Maronova
Missing Age: 25
Assumed Death Age: 32

Sex: Male
Height: 5'8
Weight: 168 lbs
Race/Ethnicity: Russian/American
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Brown

Date of Last Contact
June 13th 1965

Circumstances of Disappearance
On June 13th 1965, Rob Maronova was said to be missing from his home. Days prior, Maronova's wife had tried contacting him multiple times.
She reported the uncharacteristic silence after five days.
She said they had talked on the phone about her work -who had sent her on a trip- and his last words were, "There's this light, I'm going to check it out.".
He was never seen since.

Description
Maronova owned a car shop and often gave low-priced fixes for the people in the city.
People close to him said he was a good and fair man, but he acted paranoid at times.
"He always talked about time travel... I thought he was mad."
They noted he would often talk about 'not belonging in the current time space' and that he was 'meant for the future'.
Other than that suspicion, there were no clues as to what could have happened to Rob Maronova.
After seven years, his wife allowed the city to pronounce him dead on December 23, 1972.

The picture under the name matched the face of the man who tried to kill you multiple times. His face was younger but still recognizable, brown eyes more lively and his lips pulled into a smile.

You let out a huge breath of relief and clenched your hands to your chest. Laughing lightly, you stood from your sitting position and stared down and the file.

I did it.
I found something.

You felt accomplished. With a proud smirk, you picked up the file and discarded the mess you made. You walked back through the station, not bothering to hide the file and carelessly walked out of the building.

You found something that you could use the next time Rob were to come after you. But, you thought with a quick inhale, I still have questions that's need answered. It was a great weight lifted from your shoulders but you still needed to find the truth.