capeandcowllogs | Are you ready, Are you ready for this, Are you hanging on the edge of your seat

WHO: The Major and Black Mask
WHERE: The darker corners of the City Port
WHEN: Midnight
WARNINGS: The Major and Black Mask exist
SUMMARY: The Major has an arrangement with the False Face Society: they smuggle his vampires into the City, he hands them weapons. Tonight the bosses are overseeing the transaction personally.
FORMAT: Paragraph

“Careful, now!” The Major called out. “He’s still sleeping at the moment. And those who are like him are always very upset when their rest is interrupted!”

The Major was standing atop a shipping container, white suit and glasses faintly glowing beneath bright moonlight. Black Mask’s associates moved around him swiftly and surely, getting the job done with a minimum of noise, light, and time. Smuggling things into the City’s Port had its risks.

Above, a long wooden box was swinging somewhat precariously as it dangled beneath a crane, in the midst of being hoisted out of a small Dolvanian freighter. The ship’s official manifest listed it as having a far more innocent cargo than what had actually been stuffed in hidden compartments and tight crawlspaces. Ten boxes, of a particular size and shape with very particular contents. Coffins.

The swinging of the coffin lessened somewhat as the masked man at the crane’s controls slowly lowered it towards the ground, to join the three other coffins awaiting loading into trucks. There would be ten in all once they were done. To start with, of course. This was only the beginning.

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Black Mask stood atop the container alongside the Major, a cigarette in his gloved hand. The moonlight grotesquely accented the hollows of his skull as he looked down at the activity below.

"If any of the cargo is awakened and, by some miracle, you manage to survive, I will personally see to it that you'll wish you'd taken your chances with what's in the box."

It was impossible to tell the men's expressions beneath their masks, but their increased caution spoke the truth. Roman smiled (or would have been had he lips) and directed his attention to the Major.

"They're such well-trained, lovely boys."

The Major chuckled a little. "The care taken in their discipline is evident in their work. You might have made a good Drill Sergeant, Black Mask." He watched with a warm expression as box five rose out of the ship's hold. The vessel's crew were not present tonight, having found somewhere else to be for the sake of deniability. The operation was entirely in the hands of the False Facers, and so far the Major had no true complaints.

This was not to say he was without worries. He turned his head to the man with the cigarette beside him. "I am curious. Have you any concern about some of your 'playmates' interrupting us this evening? I know you are a popular fellow."

Black Mask chuckled quietly, exhaling a cloud of smoke from his nasal cavity. He gestured expansively to the men below.

"These men aren't just here to move cargo, Major, as obedient and hard working as they are. They can be canon fodder just as well, if not better."

"How lovely to hear." The Major liked a lot of words. 'Cannon fodder' was pretty high on the list. He breathed the fine, cool night air, not minding the smell of Roman's tobacco. "On a fine night like this, I find myself almost wishing for some unfortunate interloper to stumble in. My lads would relish awakening to a bit of sport. To test their strength and training-"

There was a sudden snarl. Box five shook dangerously in the air, wobbling at the end of the crane's rope. A hard thump came from inside. "Hey now, Schutze! Settle down in there!" The Major called. "You are in the New World now. Soon you will emerge and make it your own. Until then, go back to sleep!"

The box was still, and continued being lowered to the ground. The Major sighed, but did not stop smiling. "Ah, it is a long sleep for them. This late at night, with the sun down and the moon out, everything in them calls to wake up and hunt. I would be restless too, to be honest."

Roman look sidelong at the Major in a "what-are-you-nuts?!" type of stare. Of course, truly, he knew the Major was a little lacking in the sanity department, but he didn't like when it implied possible bodily injury to himself and men. The False Face Society were expendable, sure, but they weren't toys. Jesus. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by the movement down belong. He directed his attention to the commotion. Several of the gang members had backed away several feet, their body language hesitant. When one of them turned his head up to shipping container for--what? reassurance? orders?--Roman looked down with a steely, uncompromising glare.

"What kind of damage are we talking about, say one of them escapes?"

He caught a glimpse of the stare and relished what he saw. The Major enjoyed this, the provocation, the aghast reaction of others when exposed to his unique worldview. It was all the better when the person reacting was one like Black Mask, no stranger himself to the world of blood and madness.

"Very little, I would think. They lose control on occasion, but they still obey my orders, even if it means denying their bloodlust. These men were obedient and devoted to me personally before they became undead demons. My research has determined that the original personality of the human is partly preserved after the transformation into the vampire." The Major did so love talking about his work, and he'd had few opportunities to expound while studying, breeding, and training these creatures on his lonely island.

"They were mine in life, and now they are still mine in death. It helps that I control their feeding, of course. They know that without me, they would be abandoned and without purpose, like stray animals. And so by force of will and mind, a human commands monsters." It helped that the Major's metallic, oil-laced blood was distinctly unappetizing to any vampire that might tire of taking his orders, but the cyborg tended to discount that factor. "I would predict one or two horribly mauled corpses at the most, if one of them breaks loose and is particularly hungry or upset."

That assuaged Black Mask's worry, at least a little. Of course, he didn't trust the Major as far as he could throw him; he only felt secure in so far as the pair of pistols holstered under his trench coat. He inhaled deeply, his eyes on the box being lowered to the ground.

"You can't buy that kind of obedience." He nodded, quietly impressed. And secretly envious. He couldn't help but admire the Major's talents. It made him a threat, true, but for the time being, a priceless ally.

"One or two corpses is a piece of cake to clean up. And if one of 'em decides to go rogue...? How easily can he be taken down?"

"With difficulty, but also with great certainty. The weapons your men have are nothing but pea-shooters to these things. However, precautions have been taken." The Major smiled, raised a hand, and tapped the back of his neck near the base of his skull. The chips each vampire had been implanted with were poor substitutes for the techno-wizardy Millennium had wielded in its own universe, but they would do nicely.

"Each of them know that if they betray, there is nowhere they can hide. They will be hunted down without fail." As the Major spoke, the next box was on its way out of the freighter, and the ones already on the ground were being loaded onto the trucks that would take the vampires to their pre-arranged lairs. There were no further thumps or snarls for the moment. The night's operation was well on its way to a successful completion.

Are you ready, Are you ready for this, Are you hanging on the edge of your seat

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