Disclaimer: I do not own V for Vendetta the graphic novel. I do not own V for Vendetta the movie, either. I do not own any of the characters therein and am in no way affiliated with either version. Just wanted to make that clear. This is a work of fiction by a fan.
Creedy
"Not so funny now, is it, funny man?"
Creedy raised his nightstick and viciously walloped Deitrich in the face, knocking him to the floor. He watched as his men grabbed Deitrich, put the black bag over his head, and dragged him out of the room. He felt little emotion, only cold enjoyment of this man's capture.
He realized that he should be more than satisfied with this night's work.
Yet he was not satisfied at all.
Creedy was outraged by the pure nerve of that fool. The way he had mocked Sutler on national television like that… who did he think he was? What did he think he was getting into? Did he think he was only going to be fined for what he had done? People like him had to be made example of. You couldn't have these people getting too bold, or before you knew it, there would be a dozen other rebels just like that V terrorist who was causing Sutler's regime so much trouble.
Then there was the matter of Inspector Finch.
Creedy could remember his conversation with Finch as if it were yesterday. He especially remembered how he had informed Finch- against orders- of Sutler's suspicion that V had an inside man in the highest levels of England's government. It had been a scare tactic on his part, but Creedy found himself wondering whether Finch might suddenly turn traitor. The man had never really shown much approval of Sutler's regime. But what worried Creedy more was Finch's unrelenting investigation into St. Mary's. Creedy had been sure his men had destroyed all the evidence that he was the one behind it, but they could have always overlooked something.
If Finch did find out, or even suspect, what had really happened… he might have to be taken care of. It was too dangerous these days. With V on the loose, there was no telling who he might try to convince to betray Norsefire.
Creedy brushed those thoughts away and returned to the present.
Undoubtedly that fool Deitrich would be executed. There could be no forgiveness for such a disgusting antic as his. Creedy had taken so much pleasure in smashing the man's face with his stick, he wished he could do it again.
Creedy was even more astonished when his men, who had searched the house, found a copy of the Qur'an in the basement.
Now the man really would be executed, thought Creedy. Hopefully he would be tortured first, made to really regret what he had done.
Creedy hoped the execution was made public, so that the lesson was beaten into everybody's skulls: if they messed with the Norsefire regime, this was what they would get. In times like these, one could take no chances. Deitrich and everybody like him- foreigners, homosexuals, dissenters- had to be taken care of. It was like that guy who called himself "The Voice of London" always said: people like that had to go.
They all had to go.