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>Neither of you talk as you shuffle through the halls.

>The most you exchange are grunts of exertion.

>The whole mansion is aglow in psychic energy. Finding a spot free of it isn't easy.

>You guide Rebecca to what used to be a sitting room. There's no humanoid signatures, so it's at least a little more safe.

>The couch doesn't quite fit her, but it's better than nothing.

>She knocks one of the arms off with ease and lays down. Somehow the thing holds.

>"I don't think that will help much," she says as you close and barricade the door.

>"Better than nothing."

>You return to her when you're satisfied with the door and look her over.

>The injury filter on your scope provides little help; it's hard to tell what's psychokinetic trauma and what's just her.

>You take the PsyScope off with a grunt and pull out your IFAK.

>"What happened to you, Anon?" Rebecca asks.

>Her tail flicks almost lazily.

>"Nothing good," you say. "What hurts?"

>"The burns."

>She flinches when you use the cleansing spray, and tenses when you use the fur-cleaning pads.

>"You sure it's just that?" you ask.

>"They're what hurt the most," she says, voice strained.

>You wipe her fur, watching the red go away.

>You won't need to get it out of her sweater.

>"Tell me, Anon -- where'd you disappear to? After the incident at the range, I never got a summons."

>"It's a long story."

>She's about to respond when you move to her legs. Your touch makes her stiffen, the fur standing up beneath the cleaning pad.

>"I'm in a group that deals with the paranormal," you say, wiping away more red. "You'll be meeting them whenever we get out of here."

>The tigress lets out a quiet chuckle.

>"You're working for the State?" she asks, her voice still tense.

>Damn, do you have a lot of leg to cover.

>"I figured you hated them, Anon."

>"I do. Or, did."

>You hand a cleaning pad to her, letting her do her face and upper chest.

>"They serve a purpose."

>Rebecca snorts.

>"What, 'enforcing Assignment to cover up low anthro birth rates?'"

>You take out the burn spray and chuckle.

>"No. That conspiracy is just a cover. The State… helps keep the supernatural contained.

>You hum, spraying what you can find.

>”Bureaucracy and big government lead inquisitive minds elsewhere," you muse.

>You part her fur around a burn near her rear; the tigress stifles a hiss.

>You don't think it's entirely from the tenderness.

>"Any relief?" you ask, soaking it quickly.

>"Not much."

>You grunt. Might not have been normal flame.

>"So if these people aren’t with the State, who are they?" she asks.

>"Someone above them," you reply, putting the PsyScope back on.

>You take a second look at the burn, cycling filters; it's an extraordinary injury, like you thought.

>The cleanup crew would have a hell of a time with the foyer.

>"Who could be above the Commission?" Rebecca asks as you take the Scope off and rummage around your pack.

>"F.E.R.A.L. First Encounter Recon And Liquidation."

>You find the metal vial of neutralizer; given the tigress' size, you wish you had more.

>Once you're finished with her, you'll have none left.

>"Why don't you tell me what's going on here," you sigh, crouching down by her legs. "I'd rather you not get liquidated."

>Rebecca tenses as your hands draw near, but relaxes when you dab the neutralizer on her burns.

>At least it seems to give her relief.

>She's quiet, watching you intently for a moment before sighing.

>"A year ago, I had a husband. He turned out to be insane."

>You move past her knees, conservative with your anti-psychoseptic medicine.

>"He -- I thought he was dead. Then he -- he showed up, three days ago."

>Her fur rises. Her voice darkens and deepens.

>"He came in the night, quietly. But I heard him. I heard him this time."

>A huge fist clenches.

>"But I still fell for it."

>You pause, reaching her shorts; you'll ignore the burn holes for now.

>"He lured me out into the yard, peeking at me from the doorways. I -- I didn't know it was him, I thought it was just a burgaler. Someone I could scare off."

>Her stomach is soft.

>"The moment I thought I was safe, the moment I decided it was just a hallucination, that's when he -- struck."

>You're nearing her breasts. Just below the hem of her sports bra, somehow still intact, you see more red.

>A deeper red.

>"He -- he killed me, this time," she whispers. "He pinned me to the peach tree in my garden with some giant, ugly spear."

>The tigress gulps.

>"He told me he'd finish what he'd started. Prove he was right. Then he snapped the head of the spear off and left me there."

>She goes quiet. She hardly seems to notice you mover her tattered sweater out of the way to get at her sides.

>"I don't know how I survived," she says, voice a little stronger. "I don't know what happened."

>"All I know is that I'm strong enough now."

>"...There's still a few burns," you say.

>Rebecca snaps back to the present. She stares at you, ears pricked.

>"They're a bit... covered," you say, gesturing to her clothes.

>The tigress' lips curl.

>But she unbuttons her daisy dukes.

>"Don't get any ideas," she says as she pulls them down.

>You say nothing, letting her get them out of the way.

>You're just glad there's nothing near her panties.

>Her little muffin-top hides the top of them.

>You shake your head and prepare the neutralizer. Rebecca stiffens like before when your hands draw near.

>"Your husband," you say, spreading fur and dabbing at wounds, "that was him in the foyer, wasn't it?"

>"Yes."

>"The... people we fought -- his doing as well?"

>"I think so," she says. "He hates anthros. That's why he was in Special Assignment."

>You pull away from her thighs and find her breasts already free.

>"He wants to prove that we're beasts. Monsters."

>They're sizable, even for someone of her proportions. She has to cradle them to keep them from spilling off the couch.

>"Turning them into whatever they are now has to be part of his plan."

>She looks down at you, ears flattening when she sees you hovering between her thighs and chest.

>"Do it," she says. Her grip on her breast tightens.

>It only tightens further when you lay hands on them.

>They're even softer than her stomach.

>...her husband must have been insane...

>"If we leave, I can get back-up," you say. "There's a lot of interference, so we'll need to --"

>"No."

>You feel the rumble through her chest.

>There's anger in her eyes, but most of it isn't at you.

>"I'm not running, Anon."

>"We wouldn't be. We'd be --"

>"This is my fight," she says. "I told you, it's personal."

>You step back as she sits up, pulling her daisy dukes back in place and stuffing her breasts back into her sports bra.

>"I appreciate your help," she says, standing up and grabbing her sword. "But I have to do this."

>Her tail flicks when you step in front of her. She puts on a mean face, and you almost believe it.

>"Rebecca, I've seen this before," you say. "It won't help."

>She snarls.

>You're in the air before you can blink, sent flying across the room. You bump along the floor but stop yourself before you crash into any dilapidated furniture.

>"Shut up," she growls, watching you stand. "You don't know what he did. You don't know what he said."

>"But I know what you're about to do."

>The tigress' tail lashes.

>She smashes through the barricaded door with a single slash of her blade.

>"Don't try to stop me."

>You watch her tail flutter through the doorway. You can hear movement beyond it even now, the thralls of her husband waking up.

>When you go to follow, you freeze at the doorway.

>A busted down door.

>A feeling of power and invincibility.

>And actions that will lead to regret.

>You stand there, stuck in the past.

>Until a small voice says "Go."