Disclaimer: Guess who doesn't own Hellsing? Just guess. (If you chose "Baron Hausenpheffer", then congratulations; you're a master of the obvious.)
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The Secret Meeting
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"Dock! Dock, it is time for der secret meeting!"
The pudgy little Nazi had entered the lab rubbing his hands like a little boy in a candy store; it was obvious that Major Montana Max was really looking forward to something. The mad doctor in question was busy investigating a rotting corpse and seemed reluctant to look up from his work.
"Oh... is that so, Herr Major?" the tall man asked with a hint of dread in his voice. "Then, do you vish for me to assemble the officers?"
"Ja, ja. You know how much they all look forward to this," he replied jovially.
"Don't ve all?" Dock mumbled with a hint of sarcasm.
Luckily, the Major was far too excited to notice the quip. "Ah, yes... The joy of fellowship with one's commander, a fellowship that the troops on the ground do not, cannot share. I remember it vell... My superior, General Kurtz, often took me on guided tours of areas the lower ranks were not allowed to see. Dachau, Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen... such vonderful memories."
"Kurtz, Kurtz, Kurtz... Oh, ja! I remember now!" exclaimed Dock. "He was the one you shot for cheating during a card game! Hahaha!"
Major Max couldn't help but laugh as well. "Hahahaheeeeheeha! Ah, ja... I forgot about that. Good times, good times..."
Clearing his throat, Dock said, "Vell, I suppose I'd better round them up. Ve'll meet in the courtyard at 6:00, just like usual?"
"Just like usual," the Major echoed, stepping outside.
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"All right, men!" Dock barked. "You all know the importance of vhat you about to experience, in particular the priority the Major puts on it, ja?"
Rip, Schrodinger, Zorin Blitz, and the Captain reluctantly nodded.
"Wery good," the mad doctor said grimly. "Then you vill behave this year? Ve don't vant any repeats of last year's fiasco."
"Spare us the lecture, Dock," Zorin snapped. "Ve'll behave already."
Rip hung her head slightly. "Let's just get this over vith. Even I have principles, and this wiolates every last one of them."
"Oh, you're a bunch of spoil-sports!" Schrodinger chuckled. "I always have a blast at the secret meetings."
Before any of the afore-mentioned group could strangle the young werewolf, the Captain's eyes went wide and he snapped to attention. Knowing what this signaled, the entire group scrambled to follow suit. Sure enough, the shadowy figure of Montana Max was standing in the doorway. In his hands were several dry-cleaner bags, and his face bore an unnerving smile.
"Sorry to interrupt, but there vas something I simply had to show you," he said, his apology belied by his shark-like grin. "I thought that such a rare occasion deserved a little more than everyday clothes."
Walking down the stairs and handing the bags out, he added, "Get dressed quickly, vill you? They don't like to be kept vaiting..."
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The chauffer turned and whispered something to the Major, who in turn mouthed something back.
"Hans says ve vill arrive wery shortly," Max informed them. "Now, let us perform a quick check. Identification?"
The Millenium gang all cast a quick glance at the emblem on their clothes. "Check!"
"Properly groomed?"
"Check!"
"Veapons locked und loaded?"
"Check!"
"Wery good, then... It seems ve are 'good to go', as the English say," the Major chuckled. Just then, they felt the limousine come to a halt.
"A final vord of varning..." Major Max advised them. "Vatch yourselves. The men whom ve are about to pay homage to are much mightier than ve. Don't forget that."
"Yes, Sir!" they all shouted, saluting before exiting the vehicle.
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"Man, what a dull day..." Jack muttered, straightening a pile of pamphlets. "And here I thought this job would be fun..."
"Ahem... excuse us..." a slightly nasally voice whispered.
"Yeah? You guys want some tickets, or... Whoa!"
Jack stared in astonishment at the group before him, marvelling at their incredible costumes. They were all wearing matching black and maroon outfits and carried mock phasers at their sides. In addition, several of them were sporting personal touches that must have taken hours to recreate. The tall, older guy had perfectly pointed ears, the tattooed chick's costume sported lots of "Borg"-tastic hardware, and the short, pudgy fellow (who appeared to be their leader) had his hair combed in imitation of the great Captain himself.
"Wicked awesome costumes, guys!" the adolescent chuckled, trading them passes for their cash. "The L.A. Trek-Con welcomes you!"
Ignoring his mortified subordinates, the Major beamed at Jack, made a "V" with his fingers, and exclaimed, "Liff long und prosper!"
THE END
Heh, heh! I can sort of imagine the Major as a Trekkie, can't you? I probably won't write many (if any) more stories involving Millenium; I tend to prefer the anime, and it's hard to portray such dark characters in a comic way. Nonetheless, I thought this awesome group deserved at least a moment in the spotlight, and I hope you enjoyed their appearance.
I'm hooked on feedback, and I don't intend to go to rehab for this problem any time soon. (author casts a crazed glance at readers) Feed my addiction and review!