So, I have been going through a massive Hugo Weaving phase and I utterly love that man. But V for Vendetta was the first film of his that I ever saw and was the reason why I initially fell for him. I watched it for three nights straight and finally decided I would like to try my hand at writing something for it. Now, I have never read a comic before, this will be completely based on the movie world. There is also no guarantee as to regular posting because I am a bugger that way, but as I upload this chapter two is already well on it's way to completion. I hope that all who read this have the patience to bear with me.

Starting from the night they meet, I shall be following V through the story as well as afterwards. Of course, I wish for V to live. Most of it shall be told from V's POV but when it is called for, I shall switch to Evey. I really hope people enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Bear in mind that this one is mainly based off the movie, some will be close to the story given whilst other chapters will be purely me.

Without further ado, let us begin.

The night air was pleasantly warm for the fourth of November; he could feel it creeping through the mesh which covered the eyes and small gap in the mouth of his mask. It was this slight breeze that combined with the speed of his stride to whip his cape up behind him with each step he took. He travelled through the streets of London making no sound other than the occasional echo of his booted foot landing on the pavement. When he wanted to, which was on most occasions, the masked man could be so light on his feet that he would make no sound at all. But tonight he was more interested in getting to his destination than going unnoticed. A few fingermen would be no match for his superhuman strength and agility.

It was sometime past eleven and he still had some distance to travel. He had left early to make sure he was definitely in place to watch his grand spectacle at the stroke of midnight, a whole array of unforeseen circumstances could get in his way. Little did he know that fate was planning a little trick on him, a trick that would change the course of his life for his remaining days. All it took was a scream in the dark.

He could hear the commotion long before he saw it; he wasn't sure it was just curiosity that caused him to follow the sound. He paused just before an archway and took a peek around the corner. He counted three fingermen surrounding what looked to be a young woman. She seemed to be threatening them with pepper spray but it flew from her hand when she was grabbed from behind, a rod held up against her throat to keep her in place. As if he didn't know their objective already it was confirmed for him when the apparent leader of the group unzipped his trousers. This action was accompanied by a comment from the skinniest man.

"Spare the rod, spoil the child."

If he did nothing now this girl would end up being raped and even though it did not fit in with his plans he could not allow that to happen. Drawing his cape closed around his body he stepped out into the middle of the arch.

"The multiplying villainies of nature do swarm upon him."

"Bugger off!" The moustached leader had turned just long enough to shout at him. In response the masked man pulled a knife from the six attached about his waist, the steel shining in the light of the alleyway.

"He has a knife!" The skinnier man hissed.

"Disdaining fortune with his brandished steel, which smoked with bloody execution." These halfwits seemed to struggle with such words. The leader zipped up his trousers and finally turned to face him, flipping open his badge.

"Back off mate, we're fingermen."

Oh, he knew who they were, a formal warning made no difference. With a swift slash of the blade the lower half of the badge dropped to the ground. The look of confusion and shock on the man's face amused him but instead of allowing him to react he turned the blade so his hilt was directed towards the fingerman. Using the hilt of the blade he punched the fingerman so hard he went flying into the wall behind, slumping into a motionless heap on the ground. That was almost too easy.

The second fingerman tried to pull his gun but the masked man was far too fast, hooking his knife through the gun and pulling harshly. The action sent the gun scuttling across the ground towards the archway from which he had just come. The look on this one's face was priceless so instead of just dealing with him he decided to have some fun. He slit the top of the man's trousers open and the grimy man whimpered.

"Oh.." He was greeted with equally grimy tighty whities.

Another move as fast as the speed of light had his knife hooked around the back of his neck, with a sharp tug he was on the ground with a heavy thud. It was at this point that the third and final man threw the girl aside and charged at him with the rod. He parried two blows before disarming him with ease, pressing the tip of his knife against his chest. "Aha!"

In another astounding feat he sheathed his knife, grabbed the fingerman by his throat and slammed him bodily into the wall to his right. He dropped the motionless body to return to the crawling man whose trousers were still around his ankles. He was crying and scrambling towards the gun so on his approach the masked man picked up the discarded rod. He stopped the fingerman with one boot on his trousers, the coward turned up to face him, begging for his life.

"We are oft to blame in this, 'Tis too much proved, that with devotion's visage and pious action we do sugar o'er the devil himself."

"What does that mean?"

He smirked behind the mask, he was taking a sick satisfaction from teaching these fingermen a lesson. He raised the rod high above his head and spoke firmly.

"Spare the rod." One sickening crunch ended it all and he dropped the rod to turn to the young woman.

Now that he had the chance to finally look at her he could see the beauty of the girl whom the men had cornered. Well, she wasn't a girl, a young woman that had initially taken his breath away. Simply laying his eyes on her had stirred something deep within him that he had not felt in a long time.

Of course he was able to appreciate the beauty of the women he saw in his day to day life, they were usually on screen or an image formulated in his mind from reading books. But this woman was different. She had captivated him so much that he realised he was just staring. When he took a step forwards she scrambled to pick up her pepper spray.

"I can assure you I mean you no harm." The woman was pressed against the wall behind her, looking at him with all the fear he expected.

"Who are you?" A slight smile curled his lips at her question and he inclined his head.

"Who?" He questioned softly. "Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am in a man in a mask."

"Oh, I can see that."

"Of course you can. I am not questioning your powers observation, merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is."

"Oh, right." For a moment he was worried that his words had confused her but she seemed bright, far more intelligent than those idiots who had tried to attack her. He attempted to answer her question in his own way.

"But on this most auspicious of nights permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet to suggest the character of this dramatis persona." He lowered his head then suddenly spread his arms wide.

"Viola! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition." He had been acting throughout his entire speech but now he could feel his passion getting the better of him. He drew a knife and slashed two long lines through the poster on the wall.

Strength through unity, unity through faith.

The lines formed the letter V and he once more sheathed his knife, taking a moment to breath and calm. When he spoke again it was soft. "The only verdict is vengeance, a vendetta held as a votive not in vain, for the value and veracity of such…shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous."

A slightly manic laughter took over him and he clasped his hands before his mask. A glance at her small figure made him realise that he may be frightening her, he had let himself get lost in his excitement.

"Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose. So let me simply add that it's my very good honour to meet you and you may call me.." He removed his hat and bowed like the gentleman he was, the hat clutched to his chest. "V."

"Are you like a crazy person?" He should have expected such an observation but in truth it just made him smile. Which was of course missed behind the giant fixed grin of his Fawkesian mask.

"I am quite sure they will say so." He replaced his hat upon his wig. "But to whom, might I ask, am I speaking?"

"I'm Evey."

He didn't know how to describe how that name affected him but it struck him right to his very core. She was so close to him; it didn't matter to him that it was just a name. To him it was a sign. Of what he was not yet sure but he knew that he had to offer her this option. But first he had such an urge to say her name aloud.

"Evey.. E-vey. Of course you are."

"What does that mean?" He caught confusion in her eyes and tilted his head slightly.

"It means that I, like God, do not play with dice and do not believe in coincidence." He extended his hand to her. "Are you hurt?"

He could see her eyeing his hand before she took it. Her fingers spread warmth through the leather of his gloves and into his own fingers, scarred as they were. She gripped them tight and he pulled her to her feet. "No, I'm fine. Thanks to you."

"Oh, I merely played my part. But tell me, do you enjoy music Evey?"

"I suppose." He could see how uncertain she was but so far she had chosen to trust him at every step.

"You see, I'm a musician of sorts and on my way to give a very special performance."

"What kind of musician?"

"Percussion instruments are my speciality but tonight I intend to call upon the entire orchestra for this particular event and would be most honoured if you could join me." He found himself holding his breath in anticipation for her answer.

"I don't think so; I think I should be getting home."

"I promise you it will be nothing like you have ever seen and afterwards you'll return home safely." This was the ultimate test of her trust in him. Would she choose to come with him or stick with her word and return home? It didn't even cross his mind that she might have been heading to a prior engagement when the fingermen cornered her.

"All right."

Such a little acknowledgement had his mood lifted to dizzying heights. This night would prove to be far more enjoyable than he could ever have considered. He had long ago picked out a rooftop from where he could get the best view of this evening's activity and it wasn't too far away. The only difference was that he would now have a companion on that roof; he just hoped that she would enjoy the show.

The pair walked side by side in a comfortable silence, Evey was just a step behind as he led the way. She never once questioned where this show was to take place and why it was beginning so late. In fact, she had not questioned anything. She just followed him. He could feel her trust in every step they took together – she quite literally had enough faith in him to blindly follow him. But he would not lead her wrong.

He stopped at an empty building and opened the door for her. She hesitated a step before entering no doubt fearing there was someone or something harmful inside. But such fear was short lived when he took charge once more, leading the way up several flights of stairs until they finally reached the roof. From here they had a spectacular view of the city around them but as she admired their surroundings he snuck a glance at her. The light breeze was ruffling her hair but she hadn't seemed to notice.

"It's beautiful up here."

"The more perfect stage could not be asked for." He finally turned to look out over the cityscape.

"I don't see any instruments." Once again he smiled under his mask.

"Your powers of observation continue to serve you well. But wait." He drew a conductor's baton from under his cloak and gestured to the Old Bailey before them. "It is to Madam Justice that I dedicate this concerto. In honour of the holiday she seems to have taken from these parts. And in recognition of the imposter that stands in her stead. Tell me, do you know what day it is Evey?"

"Umm, November the fourth."

As if on cue the chimes of midnight rang out behind them, echoing over London. "Not any more. Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder, treason and plot. I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot."

He tapped the baton against a pipe beside him and a pleasantly light chime sounded. He started to move the baton as if he were conducting an invisible orchestra. He started to sway ever so slightly from side to side at the music that was playing in his head – the music about to sound throughout the darkness.

"First the overture. Yes, yes, the strings. Listen carefully, do you hear it?" He moved closer to the wall as he continued to conduct his orchestra. "The brass."

"I can hear it!" She gasped behind him and before he knew it she had rushed past him and was leaning over the wall to look down into the street. People were moving into the streets as Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture played over the speakers which had previously been spouting nonsense about the curfew. "How do you do that?"

"Wait, here comes the crescendo!" Now this was going to be a surprise for her. As soon as the music changed the statue atop the Old Bailey exploded in a shower of fireworks. His excitement started to get the better of him as he broke out in peels of uncontrollable laughter. "So beautiful is it not?"

The red fireworks shot up to form a 'V' in the air whilst one more firework exploded to form a circle around the letter. The fireworks lasted for several minutes but eventually it died down, as did the music. When all was calm he lowered his arms and stowed the baton back under his cloak. She was looking at him.

"Is something bothering you, Evey?"

"Bothering me? You just blew up the Old Bailey! I.."

"You what?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "Did you not enjoy my performance?"

"That isn't the point! You can't just blow up a building!" Despite her protestations she had yet to flee, yet to try and alert the authorities.

"I believe I can, for I just did. Now there is the matter of a promise I made. To get you home safely. Would you allow me the honour of escorting you home?" He extended his hand and she observed it for a moment.

"I think I can manage alone, thank you."

He inclined his head and withdrew the offered hand. "Very well. I wish you all the best, Evey, and be safe." He took the hat from his head and bowed politely once more.

"Goodnight V." She walked back down the stairs they had used to access the roof and he watched her move through the street below, leaning his weight over the brick wall.

He looked down at the people who had gathered below but only for a brief moment, he had to get away, back to his shadow gallery to prepare for the next stage of his plans. He swept down to ground level and moved through the streets like a ghost – unseen by all. But he could not get her out of his head, her name off his tongue.

"E-vey.."