Masky muttered angrily to himself as he walked down the abandon subway. "Go to Britain he says! It will be easy he says! The target is an easy target! That's such bullshit! There is no such thing as 'easy' when it comes to government officials and killing them. American or British." Mask sighed hearing an almost silent set of footsteps behind him, following him; he stopped and spoke. "Few people can seek up on me like you, I'll have to give you credit for that." He turned around see a man in a Guy Fawkes mask. Masky tilted his head at the man. "Guy Fawkes, huh? Not going to blow up Parliament are you?" the man chuckled in a deep voice. "Are you planning to stop me?"

"Oh god no, stopping you is more of a hassle than I need right now unless you plan to stop me."

"What are you planning to do?"

"Kill someone, someone who deserves it."

"I don't doubt, us masked men usually have our reason for killing someone, but may I ask what did this person do?"

"Raped his 7 year old daughter and when his 10 year old son found out he beat his son within an inch of his life." The man nodded. "I see, may I ask why you are on such a mission?"

"It's what I do; may I ask why you're planning to blow up Parliament?"

"As you said 'It's what I do.'" Masky chuckled at the man. "Who are you?"

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

"I noticed."

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

"I see your point."

"But on this night, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace soubriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona. Voila! In view 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, van guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.
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.
Verily this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V."

"'V'...interesting if you die young my boss might give you a job offer, I suggest you take it."

"Your boss sound like an interesting person."

"You suggest he's a person." V tilted his head. "Don't worry about was he is until you meet him." V nodded "may I ask what to call you?"

"Those who live to tell the tale of meeting me call me Masky." V nodded before the both turned their head up hearing the clock tower chime midnight. "Well I'm off I've got a monster to kill." V chuckled "not all monsters deserve to die via another's hand." Masky chuckled. "And not all who die via another's hand are monsters." The men nodded to each other in a moment of mutual respect before V spoke. "One last thing Masky?"

"Yes?"

"Remember remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I know of no reason why gunpowder, treason
should ever be forgot." Masky smirked under his mask and nodded before they both turned and left.