I. An Old Friend

He had one of those infuriating half-smiles that told you he had already decided you were not worth taking seriously. His lip twitched upwards mockingly, showing a flash of tooth that shone through his scruffy beard. His deep brown eyes matched the smirk, filled to the brim with...amusement?
No, Mencken thought, this isn’t how this should be going. A tower of rippling muscle and bulging veins, nothing stood in the way of the hulking bodyguard wrapping his meaty fingers around Mr. Enthelion’s much punier neck, save for his smart two-piece suit and the smaller man’s mahogany briefcase, both restraints and vital pieces of diplomatic armour. He couldn’t let this end in fighting. Much as he would like it to, The Boss would be pissed if he got blood in the fur carpet, or shattered her precious stained glass window. Those were hard to replace. Especially in a skyscraper. And making The Boss mad was reserved for lunatics and gods. Still, he had to show the weaker man who was in charge somehow. Mencken puffed out his chest and tilted his chin towards Enthelion, a show of bravado that he hoped would serve as an adequate response to his adversary’s belittling countenance. “I already told you, Mister Enthelion”, he growled, stressing the other man’s lower status, “You don’t get to see the boss till you show us the dough.”
Enthelion seemed unfazed by Mencken’s aggressive posturing. In fact, his amused grin grew wider. “Please, just call me Tobias. Less syllables. Might be a bit easier for you to pronounce.” The mockery in the man’s voice was accentuated by his southern accent. Brighton, maybe, or Horsham. As much as Mencken would have loved to surge forward at Enthelion’s patronising tone, even a beast such as himself could see when he was being goaded. Thus, with an intense effort, he forced a wave of sanguine rage back into his gut, where it coiled and thrashed. Soon, he counselled himself, the punk’ll be painting the walls soon. He just don’t know it yet. Shoving his fists into his pockets (as if the tiny layer of fabric could restrain his boulder-sized paws), Mencken gritted his teeth and allowed Enthelion to continue. “As for this”; the smaller man nudged the briefcase with the toe of his boot; “That’s not gonna work. How do I know you won’t just take the money and bash my head in?”
A fair point, Mencken had to concede, but still. “Look, pipsqueak, I’ll make this real simple for you.
You don’t –”
“Whoah there, “pipsqueak”? You’re just ticking all the boxes for a generic henchman, aren’t you? I’m surprised you’re not dramatically taking off your jacket and cracking your knuckles.”
Fuck it, he’d tried. Mencken’s control fractured and he prepared to do just that, tearing his tightly-bunched hands from his pockets, a snarl marring his face. How much effort it had taken to keep that staunch, immovable expression. It felt good to let the Animal out to play. But before he could cut loose on the prey in front of him, a crisp, London-accented voice, devoid of all urgency, floated down the hallway. “Stand down, Carlos. There’s no need for that.” Mencken froze, his hands half raised and poised to crush the air from Enthelion’s throat. He glanced over his shoulder. Walking toward the two men, in no particular hurry, was a shapely woman in faded denim jeans and a plain black top. Her equally black hair, a single purple streak shot through her messy bangs, swished free behind her as she took each step, canvas shoes padding soundlessly on the soft carpet.
The Boss. The look on her face was unworried, lazy even, but Mencken had been forced to learn - quickly - that that look of apathy was a dangerous one. The Animal quailed and slunk away, and Mencken’s hands fell numbly to his sides, his fingers uncurling from the claws they had been. Even a beast like him knew to recognise a bigger predator, even if that predator was only twenty-seven. “Y-Yes Boss,” he stammered, even those short words stumbling over themselves in a bid to escape. He hastily stepped back, allowing The Boss to approach Enthelion. Throughout the exchange, the younger man had watched, the amused smirk never leaving his face. “Well shit, if I’d known it could’ve be this easy, I would have worn my Halloween costume,” he said, taking in the new arrival. Seemingly as an afterthought, he turned to Mencken. “Carlos, huh?” He returned his eyes to The Boss. “First name basis already? You can be so cruel.”
Mencken braced himself for the young man to be obliterated. Funny, really. Not a second ago he’d been ready to tear Enthelion’s throat out himself, but now, it seemed, they were both in the same boat. In the place of feral rage, a kind of begrudging pity welled up within him. Talking that way to The Boss? Suicide.
For this reason, Mencken’s astonishment at The Boss laughing at Enthelion’s jibe and moving forward to embrace him couldn’t be overstated. She giggled, giggled, and wrapped the man in a tight hug as if he were the loveliest thing in the world. The whole display was mind-bogglingly alien.
After many seconds had dragged by, The Boss released Enthelion, smiling. A genuine smile, Mencken dully registered, not the dark grimace he was accustomed to, the one that preceded terror and death, but a true, genuine smile. “My god, it’s you! I’d never have thought they’d send you, Tobias!” The Boss’ voice positively sang with happiness. Enthelion returned the smile. “Well, I couldn’t really miss seeing you, could I?” He cocked his head toward Mencken. “Besides, if Genesis had sent anyone else, well…”
“Yeah”, she interrupted, “Things might be a little less...civil.” She turned her eyes toward Mencken too. He hastily drew himself up, doing his best to exude an air of respect. “Leave us, Carlos,” The Boss said, her tone becoming slightly clipped, “Go get a sandwich or something.” Mencken started.
“But Boss, shouldn’t I, uh, you know, make sure this guy doesn’t -”
“Go.” That one word shut him up immediately.
“Y-yes, Boss, of course. Sandwich. Got it.” Mencken turned away, hurrying down the hallway toward the lift. Enthelion grinned as he strode past. “Bye, Carlos,” he whispered. Mencken ignored him. Any other day, and the kid would’ve been in tatters on the floor. Maybe still could be, some other time. Yeah, one day, Tobias Enthelion would dig himself too deep a hole to claw his way out of. That hole would be his grave. And Mencken would personally bury him. But that wasn’t worth risking The Boss’s fury. He would wait. Bide his time. He was patient. He was a predator. He was the Animal.
Mencken grinned, a grotesque parody of mirth that revealed his jawful of massive, jagged fangs.

“So, Emma,” Tobias said over the rim of his coffee mug, “You’re employing minions now? Where’d you find him?” The two of them sat side by side at a great oak dining table in Emma’s private suite, on the top floor of the building. Before getting down to business, Emma had insisted they catch up, Tobias’ mahogany briefcase lying momentarily forgotten against the wall a few metres away. Tobias had no objections. He hadn’t seen his friend in years, and the fact that Emma’s coffee was second to none certainly didn’t hurt.
Emma’s steely grey eyes crinkled playfully at Tobias over her own mug. “You mean Carlos? Oh, I found him at a seedy little gambling den a year or so back. Old US army vet, he tells me. he’s my sweet little puppy dog.” Tobias pictured the mountain of a man and had trouble making the connection. “Puppy dog? Rottweiler, more like. How in the hell do you keep him in line?”
“Well, you know. I...hinted to him that irritating me would be bad for his health.” They grinned at each other. Tobias had learned that particular lesson many years ago. Though small and unassuming, Emma was, in actuality, one of the deadliest fighters he had ever seen. She was ruthless. She was efficient. Perhaps that was what Genesis had liked about her. “Well, you are terrifying,” he only half-joked, “And while we’re on the subject, your puppy, as you call him, he’s a Manifested, isn’t he?” Tobias searched his friend’s slate-like eyes for any sign of surprise, but to her credit, Emma didn’t appear concerned. “Maybe,” she replied. Though her expression remained amiable, Tobias thought he could detect a guarded tone rise in her voice. “How do you figure?”
“Little things. He was unarmed, for one. Not really appropriate for a bodyguard, but he still looked at me like he could smash me flat, which tells me he had an ace in the hole. Also he grew fangs. You know. Tiny hints like that.” Emma’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Tobias knew he had hit home. “Clever, Toby. Yeah, Carlos has a Manifest. Makes him like a wild animal.” Tobias raised an eyebrow.
“So he is a Rottweiler.”
“Sure, if you wanna call him that. Tradeoff’s kind of a bitch, but I managed to work around that.”
“He’s unstable, then.” Tobias took a deep gulp of coffee.
“He can be a little feral, but nothing a healthy dose of fear can’t fix.”
“Still, doesn’t that make him a loose cannon?” Now it was Emma’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
“Have you forgotten that’s what Genesis called you when you Manifested?”
Damn, Tobias thought. He was hoping they could avoid this subject, but Emma’s snapped comment told him he had clearly struck a nerve. Oh, well. Friendly catch-up time was over. Down to business. “That’s actually why I’m here, Em,” he said softly, trying to brook the subject as gently as possible. He knew how Emma felt about Genesis. He was truthfully still amazed she had even agreed to this. “The organisation’s hit a dead end. You know how we usually operate - we maintain global surveillance on common areas of Manifestation, so if a person of interest like Carlos reveals themselves, we can be the first to make contact.” Emma cut him off.
“Carlos isn’t going anywhere near Genesis,” she snapped with considerable heat.
"Whoah there, take it easy. That’s not why I’m here. If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll do you a solid and not mention his part in our meeting.” Tobias had to do everything he could to stop their business from going south. Thankfully, this seemed to calm Emma down a little. She sighed, and laced her fingers together on the table. “Fine. Go on.”
“I’ll get right to it. In the last month or so, nothing’s shown up on our scanners. Not a single Manifested in that time, and you know that we’re used to three or four a fortnight.”
“Did you check your satellite feed?”
“Yep.”
“Security Cameras?”
"Yep.”
“What about Ernest?”
“Asked him. He says he hasn’t sensed anyone.” Emma folded her arms.
“So why are you here? If a man whose whole shtick is sensing Manifested turned up nothing, what makes you think I’d have anything?” Tobias reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Because, Em, you are the single most talented information broker I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. You’ve turned up more dirt on Manifestation since you went independent than you ever did in Genesis. If anyone can get what we need, it’s you.” Emma abruptly stood up, her chair skidding across the floor behind her. She paced to the far side of the room and refilled her mug from a fancy-looking espresso machine, taking a large swig of the scalding liquid before speaking. “Why should I help you? Sounds to me like you just need better equipment.”
“You’re forgetting Ernest couldn’t find anything either.”
“And a better psychic.” Although he never expected this to be easy, Tobias couldn’t help but let a little impatience creep into his voice. “Emma. Believe it or not, I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”
“Well, you’re failing.”
“Apparently. Listen, it’s nothing wrong with our equipment.”
“I don’t think Ernest would appreciate being called “equipment”.”
“Damn it, just let me finish!” Tobias didn’t mean to shout, but this conversation was already going about as well as he expected. He needed to get his friend on board. To his credit, Emma fell silent after his outburst. Taking a deep breath, he continued. “It’s not our equipment,” he repeated, “It’s the Manifested themselves. We have reason to believe they’re disappearing. Even from territories like Africa; where we were used to finding the greatest concentration of readings in less developed countries, even they’re bone dry.” Tobias could clearly see the scepticism on Emma’s face. She voiced as much. “Well, you’ve seen the news,” she argued, “I mean, things are improving in the third world. Just last month, China flew in food, water, building materials. Sudan’s already begun the construction of a proper metropolitan city. Couldn’t it just be an improvement in circumstance?” Tobias was ready for this. “We thought that too at first. We know now that Manifestation is linked to strong emotions in people, meaning a large number of people in poverty-stricken countries developing powers. No shortage of strong emotions there - hopelessness, fear, pain. But we’ve ruled out improved living conditions as a possible cause of Manifestation decline. That’d take bloody years. This circumstance turned up in the last couple of months.” Emma frowned. She was clearly wavering, her insatiable curiosity driving her to Tobias’ side. He knew her well. But she wouldn’t just let this go without a fight. “I guess that’s pretty odd. But suppose you’re right. Suppose gifted people are declining or disappearing or whatever. Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, Genesis is hell-bent on finding and...testing every Manifested they can get their hands on. You know I don’t agree with that. Wouldn’t it be easier if we could all just stop?” Tobias went to sip his own coffee, but found it was empty. He got up and walked to the espresso machine, where Emma still lingered. He refilled his cup, then set it down. He moved up to Emma and softly wrapped his arms around her. She tensed momentarily, but relaxed and rested her head on his shoulder, returning the hug. “You know I can’t ignore this, Em,” Tobias whispered. “I understand your feelings on Genesis. I do. I remember what they did to me. But they’re not the bad guys. If people like me are in some kind of danger, I have to do something. I have to try.” Emma began to shake.
“I can never forgive them for what they did to you. They might not be the bad guys, but they’re definitely not the good guys.” Tobias felt hot tears soak into his shoulder.
“Hey, don’t cry,” he soothed, “I’m not asking you to forgive them. I’m asking you to help me. Just like old times.” She sniffed, then abruptly straightened up, breaking the embrace. Her grey eyes shone like polished silver, vibrant and determined. “Alright,” she said, her voice husky, “For you. Just this once.” Tobias gave her a sad smile. He hated seeing Emma like this. “Thank you,” he said. It seemed woefully insufficient. Weak. He turned away, crossing the room again and retrieving the mahogany briefcase, leaning neglected against the wall. “This should cover any expenses,” he told Emma, “About twenty grand.” She nodded numbly. The two of them stood awkwardly for a moment, before Tobias broke the spell. “I’d better be off,” he mumbled.
“I guess you’d better,” Emma replied. “I’ll get some of that cash to my contacts. Should loosen their tongues.” She had recovered a semblance of her former cheeriness. “And Toby?” Tobias paused at the door.
“Yeah?”
"It’s been wonderful seeing you again." She smiled a soft smile, full of warmth. He returned it.
"The feeling’s mutual, Em. It’s been too long." He turned away and walked through the door, but was gone only a few moments before he stuck his head back through, long, sandy blonde hair flopping over his face. "Sorry, which way’s the lift again?" Emma laughed, a powerful, ringing sound.
"You haven’t changed. You’re still a bloody pillock!" Tobias offered a sheepish grin. "Down the hall to the left," she finished, giggling. "Oh, right. I’ll be in touch." He disappeared again, striding down the hall. He still wore his smile, but inside, he was frowning. He couldn’t help but feel guilty at dragging Emma back in again. Hopefully it wouldn’t be for long. Locating the lift, he stepped inside and hit the button for the ground floor, seventy stories below.

Emma sat alone at the table, wringing her fingers. Toby was a good guy. He didn’t deserve to be working for an organisation like Genesis. Those men in suits were often scarier than the monsters they claimed to hunt. But that wasn’t the only thing. There was something Emma hadn’t told him. While Tobias may not have changed, she certainly had. Five years of hate and quiet brooding would do that.
She lifted her hand, splaying her fingers as wisps of shadow danced between them, flitting and curling like tiny black serpents. "You’ll both just be hurt again." Emma turned as her apparition walked up to her. It wore a near-perfect imitation of her own body, excepting the whirling ebony maelstroms replacing her steely grey eyes. "It’s what Genesis does. Hurts people." 
"I know," she whispered back, "It does. But I’m with him this time. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again."
"You can’t be sure of that. You’re going to wound yourself. Break. Shatter." The voice was pure malice.
"Enough," Emma hissed, curling her fingers into talons and slashing the whipping shadows at her double. The twin abysses in its face widened as the darkness tore through it, and it dissipated with a gasp. Emma glared at the spot the apparition had stood. "You’re not me," she growled, "And you will never be me!" Somewhere in the gloom of the ceiling high above, something chuckled, and vanished, leaving Emma alone. She groaned and slumped back into her seat. It was getting worse. More frequent. "Jesus Christ," she whispered, as if he could hear her.