Astor smiled as the black cat nuzzled against his leg, purring softly. With some focus, he had been able to calm the frightened stray and gain its trust. His psychics influence came easier each time.

"That's a good kitty," Astor said, scratching it behind the ears. The cat leaned into his touch, eyes half-closed in contentment.

Just then, Astor heard the voice again:

> "Congratulations, [Astor Bracken]! You have reached Level 2 Psi user!"

No new abilities came with this level up, but Astor still felt a flush of accomplishment. He was getting the hang of his powers without hurting anyone.

The cat bumped its head against his hand, demanding more attention. As Astor stroked its back, he wondered if he could train it to aid their group, maybe even fight. A psychic attack cat could be a huge asset.

But the thought made Astor feel uneasy. He knew Ms. Minx wanted him to practice ethically, not weaponizing animals. And his friends were already so on edge around his abilities. Would they accuse him of going too far?

Astor sighed, lifting the cat into his lap where it snuggled contentedly against his chest. At least this innocent creature didn't judge or fear him. The cat just enjoyed his company and the feelings of calm he projected.

For a moment, Astor allowed himself to relax and take simple pleasure in bonding with the animal. It was nice forgetting the chaos and danger around them.

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But he couldn't shake the nagging guilt. With so much suffering and death, was it right to find any joy in his powers?

Maybe he should go back to focusing them just on scouting and defense, not companionship. Either way, Astor resolved to stay on the ethical path Ms. Minx laid out. His friends were depending on him, and he refused to let them down again.

Mitch stood watch by the barricaded window, trying not to obsess over whether his dad was alive or dead out there. Since the attacks started, there had been no word from him. Mitch didn't even know what town he'd been working in that week.

Lost in thought, Mitch didn't notice the goblin until it was almost on top of Astor. The scrawny boy was distracted playing with that stray cat he'd adopted.

Mitch's first instinct was to leave him. Let the goblin tear apart the creepy weirdo who'd messed with his mind and made him feel weak. A large part of Mitch wanted revenge.

But as the goblin leapt at Astor, Mitch knew he couldn't stand by. No matter his anger at Astor, he wasn't a stone-cold killer.

With a yell, Mitch charged forward and tackled the goblin mid-air. They crashed to the ground, the goblin hissing and swiping razor claws at Mitch's face. He clenched his jaw, punching the creature repeatedly until it lay still.

Panting, Mitch looked over to see Astor crouched against the wall, staring wide-eyed. The cat had run off.

"You okay, man?" Mitch asked gruffly, getting to his feet.

Astor nodded shakily. "Yeah, thanks to you. I'm really sorry about everything, I know you still hate me-"

"Let's just call it even for now," Mitch cut him off. He turned away so Astor wouldn't see the conflicted emotions still raging inside him.

Part of Mitch did want to hate the pathetic nerd, lash out and make him pay. But he also had to admit that when Astor's powers had briefly soothed his anger, the peace of mind had been addictive. The temptation to feel that again scared him.

So Mitch stayed wary of Astor, keeping him at a distance. But he wouldn't abandon a teammate to die, no matter their history. He had to cling to that last shred of decency for his own sake.

"We should reinforce the back barricade," Mitch said gruffly. "In case more get through."

Astor hurried over to help, seemingly surprised but grateful for the truce. As they worked side by side, Mitch silently prayed his dad was alive out there somewhere too. And that he would still recognize Mitch as his son when they finally reunited...if his own rage hadn't twisted him into someone unrecognizable by then.