The League

Chapter 2 - Always Check

"That kite is equipped with response tactics you don't want to see," she said, coming closer with her hands shoved into her pockets. "So don't try anything with me."

Her tone was cold, rigid. It was surprising. Every tracker so far had been gentle, because as far as they knew, he was a harmless kid who had to be registered into the system. She was treating him like he was a criminal on thin ice.

Because that's what they think I am.

That realization hit him now when it should've hit him months ago. He gave them every reason to think he was a criminal. Difficult to catch? Check. Strange circumstances surrounding every tracker that went after him? Check. They didn't know why he was doing it; they couldn't possibly know that he meant no harm.

"I need you to come with me," she said.

Phoenix hesitated, trying to come up with a response that said 'no' in a way that didn't make him seem like a felon. "I...can't."

"Why not?"

He backed away carefully, eyes glued to the drone. It didn't approach, it only hovered peacefully where it was. He understood that it was only here in case he attacked her—and he wasn't doing that, but he was still afraid of it.

"I can't go with you," he said.

He waited for her to pull her hands out of her pockets, revealing some sort of a weapon to take him down with, but she didn't.

She only narrowed her eyes and said, "I'll see you soon. I promise."

To anyone listening, what she said made it sound like they were friends making plans for later. To him, it sounded exactly like what it was: a threat. He stood there, frozen, and watched as she left, the drone rising into the sky and racing off in a different direction.

Even with her promise, he couldn't believe she'd let him go. For now, he thought, but it was still strange.

Sunlight and noise weren't going to fix this, so Phoenix headed home. He gave the lobby man a smile that betrayed no worry, but it slipped off his face as soon as he was out of his view. The same question repeated itself over and over in his head: how soon is soon?

Phoenix went up to his apartment and sat down at the table, fidgeting with a pen and trying to understand her tone. Telekinesis wasn't exactly the mildest of powers—if the League truly thought he was a criminal, then he would be marked as a dangerous one. They knew he was sending the trackers back but didn't know why, and that made it worse. How would he explain himself when it got too far? Would it be better to turn himself in now and get it over with?

There was movement behind him, and Phoenix jumped in his seat before twisting around to see. The woman from the park was standing right there.

"You should've checked all the rooms," she said simply.

Soon meant very soon, apparently.

Phoenix's fingers tightened around the pen in alarm. She was right; if he was cautious, he should've searched the entire apartment to make sure no one was inside.

She stood on the opposite end of the table and placed her hands on the back of a chair. Her fingers were rough and calloused, the skin around her nails bruised and peeling. She still had the boots on, but now she was wearing a tactical jacket, too. Everything about her screamed that she was someone who knew how to get things done quickly, and with force, if necessary.

Even without the threat of the drone, he wouldn't get rid of her so easily. He could tell.

Phoenix put the pen down. He was sure she hadn't followed him here, and that could only mean one thing. "You already knew where I live," he said. "So why meet me at the park?"