The League

Chapter 15 - Jethro

Phoenix went downstairs when Tara texted him that she was here. He had three copies of his report—two prints in a folder and the file in a flash drive—just in case. He kept the folder in his hands and shoved the drive into his pocket as he climbed into her Jeep.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready."

It was early in the evening, and the sky was overcast. The next few days were predicted to be chilly and cloudy. Phoenix rolled down the window and felt a single raindrop hit his face, and he couldn't help but think, what fitting weather to travel to Jethro.

He'd done some research last night. Jethro was founded as a village by Puritan settlers in the 1600s, and over time, its population surged. Now, it was a bustling metropolis. There were rivers cutting through it, bridges to go over them, and a harbor facing the Atlantic Ocean. All of that, Phoenix was neutral about; he lived in New York City, after all. What made Jethro special, as analysts across the nation said, was its ridiculously high crime rates. The city was infamous for drug lords and corruption and murder, not to mention the heroes. It wasn't common anywhere in the world for them to go around like they did in comic books, saving people and waving at crowds, but Jethro had known heroes like Nightwalker and Hydro, and even they scrambled out of the spotlight anytime they were in it.

Phoenix tapped his fingers along the window rim. The city was situated in the south-central shore region of New Jersey. Depending on traffic, it would take either two hours or three to get there. He watched the cloudy sky turn shades of orange and then gray, and it was dusk when Tara took the exit off the parkway.

The last stretch of the drive began as a straightforward road sidelined by trees. Then the trees became sparse as the road branched into offshoots toward the suburban towns in the area, but they kept going straight. The city, formerly a speck in the distance, grew bigger and bigger.

"Have you ever been here?" Tara asked.

He shook his head. When they entered the city limits, they passed a sign exclaiming, Welcome to Jethro! It would've felt friendly if there wasn't graffiti that wrote Hell over Jethro.

"It can be a jarring experience if you're new," she admitted. "I'm sorry to drag you out here, but it's best if you give your report to the director herself. Then you won't have to worry about it getting lost or discarded in processing."

Phoenix nodded, but he wanted to know more. If the report was for Hazel Diop's eyes only, then why hadn't Hazel Diop herself told him that? If he hadn't run into Tara at the park, he would've gone to headquarters and given his report to whoever was at the desk.

He would ask Tara, but they were already in the midst of the high-rises and urban traffic. She changed lanes a million times to avoid speeders, jaywalkers, and potholes, and even after Phoenix closed his window, he could hear the noise.

She slowed to a stop by a curb. "This is it!"

He blinked. They were in front of a laundromat. "Director Diop's in there?"

"You don't have to speak to the attendant. Just go straight into the hallway and knock on the second door on the left."

He got out of the car and looked up at the sign. Lucky Day Laundry, it said, with off-brand characters dancing around the faded letters. It was a long way from the sleekness of headquarters.

"Thanks," he said, leaning down to the Jeep window. "Have fun at your aunt's."

Tara smiled and drove away, and Phoenix went into the laundromat. Clothes sloshed around in the active machines; the others had their doors gaping open. The attendant was reading a magazine at the counter. She did look up when he approached the hallway, but she didn't stop him.