Fang and Boston Black

I approached Fang while he was watching TV.  Nothing in particular, he was just channel-surfing. Fang is a fairly short guy. I think that Maggie is the only Mask he's taller than.  The back of his hair is cut fairly short, but his bangs are pretty long.  He's constantly making small tossing movements with his head to keep it out of his eyes.  The guy also tends to favor black clothing a lot. What type of clothing it is tends to vary, but 90% of the time, it's black.

"Fang, right?"

"Benjamin."

"Right, sorry, Benjamin."

He looked at me.  One thing that bugs me about him is that he acts so disinterested in everything around him. He's always speaking in a soft, "sure, whatever" tone of voice, and always gives you a sort of "can I help you" look.

"Black Dog, right?"

"That's right."

I paused.  "You know, I know someone else being chased by the Black Dog. Do you know Edwin Canis at all?"

"Other than the fact that he's the cop stalking you? No. No one here knows Canis as well as you do."

"Right, sorry.  So, um...what's your story?"

He looked back over at me and gave me a look that felt like it was intended to make me feel like an idiot.  "Black Dog, Kenny.  Fear of your secrets being revealed? You're really expecting me to just open up like that?"

"Um...I guess not? Sorry."

"Yeah, sure." He waved me away. "That counts, right? You can tell Last you've got me out of the way now?"

"I...haven't learned anything about you, though."

He shrugged, not looking away from the TV.  "You will, provided we both live long enough. Later, though. I'm busy."

My luck with Boston Black was a bit better, if you could call it that.  He spends most of his time in his room, which is littered with all sorts of spare parts for projects he's working on.  He's got long, shaggy black hair and a sort of intensity surrounding him.  He's not the kind of guy you want to mess with.  Though that might be the wifebeaters talking. I've never seen him wear any other type of shirt, so his muscles have always been on pretty good display.

"Here to do your homework for the bossman?" he asked as I entered. The room was dim, lit mostly by florescent lamps he was working by.

"I guess you could call it that.  You do machines, then?"

"Oh, ha ha, a fuckin' Ninja Turtles reference. Never heard that one before.  You want a Coke?"

"Sure?"

He went over to a minifridge he had plugged in and looked inside.  "Shit," he muttered.  "Only one left.  Sorry, kid."  He cracked the can open and drank it in a single go.  "So yeah, I 'do machines' or whatever.  As these stupid gimmicks go, it's pretty useful."

"And what's your Fear theme again?  Your name's a bit...less obvious than some of the others, really."

"Christ, I gotta spell it out, dude?  It's the Empty City. Boston Black.  You know, like Boston? That one city?"

"Still, why Boston? And what's up with the 'black' bit?"

"Because it doesn't fucking sound retarded, okay?  No one said I had to chose a name that didn't sound at least halfway badass."  There was the crackling of electricity as he did something at his workstation.

"What are you working on?" I asked.

He turned around and gave me a...somewhat disconcerting grin.  Almost hungry or manic, I'd say.  "Taser gauntlets."

"Taser gauntlets?"

"What, did I stutter or something, man?  Fucking taser gauntlets. Gauntlets with tasers in them.  It's not that hard."

"You...have fun with that," I told him, backing out of the room.

So now I've had some one-on-one time with all the Masks.  We'll probably be going soon.  Last says he needs to get in touch with some of his contacts before he tells me when and where we're taking off, but it won't be long now.

We'll be on the move again.