Tzich was sitting on the pavement, still and watchful while the warm crackle of Carly's power dissipated from his veins. That had been a kick he wasn't expecting: a blow to the gut like he'd put a crack in the Hoover dam. Her claws glinted black.

It was clear where this was going. Tzich crawled slowly to his feet, just as the dumpster banged like a drum and the dog crumpled and skittered angrily among food wrappers and boxes. She could tear that thing to pieces -- and he could care less if she did, except that the farther she fell down that hole the harder it would be to drag her back. Once that dam broke, there would be nothing stopping her from ripping [i]him[/i] apart -- and anything else that moved.

He hadn't realized before just why he had been chosen for this job. He knew what it was like deep down in that darkness, savage and bloody and mindless. He knew what it was to wake up and realize the nightmares were real.

"Carly." he snapped, his voice loud and firm. "Breathe." This was no longer a game, and he was no longer smiling. "This isn't a dogfight. You're a hunter, not a pit bull. You can feel the power now, it belongs to you, so [i]use[/i] it. Control, Carly."

Her name would be important, from now on. As long as he could remind her of who she was, she would be fine. He hoped.