Ten seconds later a secretary, short, plump, and forty-ish with a bad dark-hair dye job and glasses, walked through the open door carrying a file. Her professional demeanor suddenly cracked when she caught sight of Anastasia. The file slipped through suddenly nerveless fingers and fell to the floor, and she stopped dead in her tracks, letting out an audible gasp. “That...that’s...that’s a kitt...” she started to say. All talking ceased when Anastasia abruptly launched herself in the direction of the secretary and pinned her against the wall. Her left hand held the hapless woman as she thrashed around while claws slowly extended from her right hand. At two inches in length, they had the ability to slice through skin and muscle as easily as a buzz saw through wood. Leaning over to shove her face one inch away from the other woman’s, Anastasia laid down her challenge. “If you’re thinking of calling me Miss Kitty,” she hissed, “then don’t. Get out!” With a terrified squawk, the secretary left, and Anastasia, shaking with anger, retracted her claws, walked back to the desk and hopped on top.
