“My name is JC Smith,” he whispered to himself “JC Smmmith…, James Calvin Smith, JC, Mr. Smith, Smith.”

He sighed. The words sounded strange and repeating them didn’t particularly help give them any more meaning. In fact just the opposite. Why was he doing this? No that was the wrong question. How did he feel about doing this?

He was worried but that natural and easily appeased. In fact he was here as an appeasement to the larger worry. The worry just had to be recognized and it quieted.

He felt angry and vengeful toward having to move and felt dismissive toward that angry. Looking past that back toward the anger, all he could do was promise to survive out of spite. Not a lot but the anger settled down into a disgruntled ball of annoyance.

There was the relief and hope. It was holding him up but the worry reared again, reminding him not to rise too high. Luckily the hope was okay with not being naďve. After all, a city this big would still have a vampiric society and that meant interacting with that society. A whole group of people that had the feelings of the Beast. Even now he could almost see it. Like a pacing great cat growing more and more impatient for a meal. It wanted what it always wanted. To survive. And it didn’t care for the more human explanations that there was more to life than surviving.

He sighed again. He assured the Beast that a hunt would occur soon but that didn’t really appease it. Till then “My name is JC Smith.”