There is an unwritten rule among creatures of the supernatural bent. It's that of non-interference — unless it's for a clear and just cause, it's implicitly forbidden for a race to meddle in the affairs of others. Sure, members of various races cooperate every now and then as they strive to survive in a human-dominated society, but it's far from being the norm.

This had been playing around Carlos' head since the earlier encounter with the sigben. The warning was obviously loaded, but he can't find any reason for it. If the creature was refering to a looming danger, why warn a complete stranger? The sigben were a wily race, with an instinct for self-preservation that rivals even that of the humans with which they easily mingle on a daily basis. They would rather stay hidden, and revealing themselves is almost never an option. So why...?

Then there were two other reasons for races to meet each other. One is during territorial skirmishes, when one race defends its grounds from another's incursions. But the Quiapo area, where Carlos and Alexa were at the moment, has been traditionally designated as neutral grounds. That leaves one other possibility...

War.

But really, war isn't the first thing that flickered into Carlos' mind as the frail old man entered the suddenly vacant 7-Eleven. The man, his long gray hair tied in a tight ponytail protruding behind a Hard Rock Cafe cap, went straight in from the darkened sidewalk and towards the counter. He was wearing a white camiso, with matching faded jeans. His thin shoulders stooped forward as he scanned the array of candy bars and mints beside the cash register. He picked out one, and pocketed it. He then glanced casually at the couple right behind him, both of whom were frozen to the spot.

"Oh, you're still here!"

Carlos' eyes narrowed. There was no question about it, this guy was not human. And yet he couldn't quite place his race. Alexa, on the other hand, stepped back hesitantly. "Uhm, sir, shouldn't you wait for the cashier?"

"Ah, cashier? No, they won't be coming back. At least not for you."

"What do you want with us?", Carlos said, stepping forward in front of his wife.

"You? No, not you," the old man said, flicking a finger as if swiping Carlos off to one side. Suddenly, Carlos' vision swam and he staggered off to the direction of the swipe. "She, on the other hand, I find interesting."

What the hell? Carlos, thought as he struggled to remain on his feet. The old man was slowly moving towards Alexa, who in her turn was rooted on the spot.

"Tell me, darling, why haven't you left yet? Are you planning to fight it out to the death here?" The old man's voice had turned gravelly, sending chills up Alexa's spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alexa responded firmly. Her right foot stepped back unconsciously, and her knees bent slightly as she put her arms out in a defensive posture.

"Oh? I find that hard to believe. After all, we had spent the past few months warning everyone." With this, the old man lunged towards Alexa, his frail body leaping the few feet between them with staggering speed. Carlos, however, was just as fast. With a tackle, he intercepted the old man's path, intending to slam him to the ice cream freezer nearby.

Just as Carlos was a few inches away, however, his vision blurred and the next thing he knew he was barreling towards an aisle of chips. His momentum caused him to crash towards it full force. As his body tangled with the thin metal stand and the whirl of red, blue, and green chip bags, he heard a faint sizzle come from Alexa's direction.