“The town shivers as fear turns friend against friend. Before they regroup, we shall strike our final blow!”
“Ooh,” Raven says, bouncing up and down on the lid of her coffin, “is this where we perform an ancient ritual at midnight during a full moon and the spirits of our vampire ancestors descend like locusts?”
The Master sighs and pinches the bridge of his dessicated nose. “No.” He points to a phalanx of handsome men, eyes glazed with vampire thrall, wearing cheap suits and carrying briefcases.
“Door-to-door salesmen?” Raven asks sourly.
“Offering high-wattage full-spectrum lightbulbs and handy travel-sized crucifixes!” the Master cries.
“So…we’re just going to hand over the tools they need to defeat us?”
“Sell them the tools! At demonically overinflated prices! And skip town before someone calls the BBB!”
“Pure evil.” Raven pouts. “I was so looking forward to cruelly chasing a fleeing human through the streets.”
“When you get your share of the profits, you can hire someone to flee from you.”