Forks, WA.

It's amazing what people will do for food.

"Remind me why we're here in…"

"Forks." Darren's mentor, aka Mr. Crepsley, interrupted.

"We're here to eat?" Darren asked.

"Yes, of course. We came all this way on five planes, two subway stations, and that trepidation taxi ride where-in I was crammed into the backseat with you and seven other absurd vampires, but mostly you, to consume. So of course we are here to eat!" Mr. C fumed.

"So I was right!" Darren exclaimed.

"No, you dimwit." Mr. C sighed. "Really, Darren. Can you get any more sophisticated? Forks is the name of the town. We are here to catch that rogue vampire."

"Then why name it Forks?" Darren inquired. "Why not name it Spoons, or… or Knifes!"

"Well then it wouldn't be forks, would it?" Mr. C grumbled.

"Actually, the boy has an interesting point, Larten." Vancha quipped. "Try looking at it in his shoes."

"First of all, if you are suggesting I try on his grimy air walks, heaven only knows where they have been, then I am mildly disturbed." Mr. Crepsley retorted. "And second of all, I am not about to hear out someone who doesn't bother to bathe, let alone shave. If you want to have the point of view from a thirteen year old with the i.q of a rock, nothings stopping you. But it will be greatly appreciated if you left me out of it!"

"I could agree under those conditions," Vancha joked.

"I do not doubt it," Mr. Crepsley granted. They had just now reached the hotel they were staying in.