The League

Chapter 2 - Always Check

"What do you want?" the old man asked.

"Same thing as always," Phoenix said with a shrug. "Temporary company. And can I pet Goldie?"

"Sure. Whatever. She likes you, anyhow."

As if she understood, Goldie got out from underneath the bench. Phoenix reached over and rubbed the dog's head. "Thanks."

"Don't you have anything better to do than walk around here every day?"

Phoenix twisted his head around to look at Tim, keeping his hand on the dog. "I haven't been here in a few days, and no, I don't."

This was the sixteenth time he had come across Tim on the bench. It was day-four when he'd worked up enough nerve to ask to pet Goldie, day-six when he and Tim had an actual conversation, and day-eleven when Tim realized that this was becoming a routine.

But Tim never, ever told him to stop or to go away. Phoenix took that as a sign that the old man enjoyed his company, despite the scowls and ridicule, so he never took the insults too personally.

"I should get going," he said, giving Goldie one last pet.

"Hold on." Tim shifted in his seat. "There was someone here yesterday asking about you."

Phoenix froze. "About me?"

"Yes. I'd tell you what she looked like, but, you know..." Tim gestured to his sunglasses. "Blind. It was a woman, though, said she worked for the government. My nephew said she had the badge to back it up."

Phoenix had never met the nephew, but he considered sticking around until he ran by to ask him if the badge she'd held was for the League. "What did you tell her?" he asked quietly.

"What could I tell her?" Tim scoffed. "I only know your name, and I told her that you swing by and talk to me every few days or so. That's all."

She already knew that, Phoenix thought. Why else would she have asked you about me?

Tim cleared his throat. "You're not getting into trouble with the authorities, are you, boy?"

"What? No! I—no." Phoenix stood and backed away before he could make himself sound any guiltier. "I have to go."

Tim's hands tightened around his cane. "Alright."

I'll see you tomorrow, Phoenix thought, if I don't get taken into League custody.

He walked away. He didn't know what he was doing; there was nothing to be done. There was nothing to fix.

"Hey."

He stopped dead in his tracks. The hey could have been for anyone, but he knew it was for him. He turned his head, dread slowing the movement. A woman was leaning against a tree, arms crossed over her chest. She was tall, taller than him, and she was wearing the trademark black boots. Clipped to her belt was a badge; it was folded closed, but he didn't need to see it to know what it was for.

"You see that kite over there?" she asked, pointing.

Phoenix followed her finger up to the branches of another tree, where a drone was hovering quietly. If she'd called it a kite out loud, then she didn't want to make a scene, but it didn't change the fact that there was a League drone in Central Park.

"I see it," he said quietly.

"Good." She straightened off the tree.

Phoenix swallowed. She'd approached him differently than the others had; she'd directed him to her instead of following him and getting him somewhere alone. What did that mean, if the League was changing tactics? Two trackers in two days...it couldn't be good.