I felt guilty for leaving everyone with such a cliff hanger before I disappear for a week, so here's the next instalment. The rating goes up in this chapter, so if you're not particularly OK with violence and harsh language then I advise you to give it a miss.

Again, please leave reviews!

Nothing was there, not even half a desecrated tower. V's explosions had done more than enough to destroy the symbol of Norsefire's control; the houses of parliament were strewn over a huge area, some parts of Big Ben had even fallen into the River Themes to the delight of the crowd who had gathered there early in the morning.

However, now it was utterly silent. Evey was standing where the tall security fences had been before, but had now been reduced to spindly pieces of green iron curling up to the sky. The blast had destroyed everything, much to her pleasure. He'd reached his dream and she'd managed to be a part of it. Now the people were in control for the first time in years.

She walked around the perimeter, looking for any signs of life. He had told her to wait here for something and she had no idea what it was. Then again, she wasn't getting her hopes up about the impossible. She had seen him die, felt him go limp in her arms. Cringed as warm blood spread out in a puddle around them, soaking through her clothes. That familiar tingly feeling in the corners of her eyes came back but she blinked away the tears as she was making her way around the outside of the ruins. She felt as if she would be letting him down in a way, if she didn't control her emotions. He would want her to be happy, after all.

She ventured into the ruins, stepping over glass and scattered bricks, hoping to God that all of the explosions had in fact gone off and she wasn't walking through a potential landmine site.

…was it really clever to wander off when there was meant to be something for her? Whatever it was, surely it would come to her. He wouldn't risk the message not being delivered. She would wait here for as long as it took.

It was actually quite amazing to wander through a place like this, seeing as she had never been around the parliament area herself, and now it had crumbled around her. She occasionally found something interesting, like a few burnt pages of a book and even a tiny golden cross that was poking out from under what looked like an obliterated statue.

Evey looked around quickly before slipping the little cross in her pocket. It was too beautiful to just leave there in the rubble.

'Hey! I saw that!'

She turned around sharply, instantly on alert. Her stance had changed and her eyes narrowed, looking at the well built man who was traipsing towards her, stepping over rocks and blown apart walls. She didn't move or run away because she was on alert for V's surprise, but admittedly this didn't look very promising at all…

He got to her at last. Taking in the confused look on her face, her shaved head and hands shoved deeply inside her coat, he sneered. He had this one cornered and she had no idea what to do. She was a good foot smaller than him and had to look up into his face. He noticed how hardened her gaze was…well, all the little rats who'd steal anything looked like they could melt ice with one glance.

'Give me that,' he insisted, motioning towards her pocket. Not wanting to cause any trouble, Evey complied and handed the cross over reluctantly. He took it and then turned his concentration back to her.

'What you doing here?' He demanded, right hand resting on the blade of a flick knife up his sleeve.

'Looking. You?' She replied calmly, ignoring all the alarm bells ringing inside her head. This wasn't what she'd expected.

'Same, but I've got the fucking right, haven't I?'

Evey stared at him, suddenly covered in cold dread.

'What do you mean?'

'This is our area now. Don't care if the guy blew it up, it's still the government's property. So piss off back home, little girl.'

She knew she was dealing with a Norsefire supporter here, or even a party member if she was unlucky.

'Norsefire's dead and gone,' she looked intently into his face, his black eyes boring into her own. 'V's destroyed it, and everything to do with it. And don't call me a little girl, I've been through a whole lot more than you ever will.'

With that she turned on her heel and slowly walked away, wanting to seem uncaring but at the same time desperate to escape.

Out of the blue, strong arms were wrapped around her tiny frame, crushing the air right out of her lungs. She wrenched her head to the side to scream, but the sound choked off in her throat as a thin line of coldness was pressed against her neck. Jesus Christ, he had a knife. Please, not now.

'Don't you speak to me like that, bitch. You don't know who I am, what I've done. What I'm capable of doing.' The voice came in a hurried whisper against her ear, his breath hot against the side of her face. It spiralled up into the cold air around them and floated away.

'This country is going down without the government. I've seen what it was like before…the riots, all that shit. I bet you were just tiny then, weren't you? A little baby, so impressionable. Pity you'd rather listen to some coward with a mask than your own country. You make me sick, you hear?'

'He wasn't a coward,' she gasped, the grip around her neck tightening painfully.

'Yeah, well how would you know. Can't even show his face, he's not a real man. I'll show you what a real man is.'

'Get off me!' She sobbed, unaware of when she'd even started to cry. This was all like a repeat of the night when V had rescued her, except that she was alone now. And no one was around. She couldn't be seen where she was…anything could happen.

The man laughed and let go of her neck, spinning her around to face him. He took in her shaved head once more, and she watched as the understanding dawned on his face.

'Ha! You're one of them concentration camp kids. How'd you get out? Must've broke. Can't stand the pressure, eh? Well I've done some work there myself. Torturing and the like. Nothing serious, could never turn down the opportunity to beat the shit out of some little whore though.'

Evey's eyes opened wide in horror. So he was a fingerman.

'I didn't break,' she said softly, head bowed down to the floor. Trying to disguise the look on her face as she attempted to think of a way to get out of this situation.

'You wouldn't be here if you didn't break, kid. I bet someone's dead because of you! How does that make you feel, eh?'

Evey screwed up her face in concentration, then moved slightly closer to him. She rose her head, peering straight into his eyes. His face was ugly and his eyes spoke of death and cruelty. They were like hollow tunnels leading into his mind.

'Like this.'

She brought her shoe down hard on his foot and he grabbed it with both hands.

'I'm gonna kill you! Little bitch!'

Evey shoved her hands down forcefully on his shoulders before he had the chance to straighten up, buried her head into his chest and brought her knee up, hard, between his legs. She actually felt something crack, whether it was her knee cap or something else she would rather find out later.

'Whore,' he groaned, sinking to the floor. 'You're all the same...this country is going to the dogs…'

Evey stood over him, wondering what to do and marvelling at her own strength. He was curled up on the floor, panting and choking back tears as he clamped his hands over his groin.

'What's happened here?

She turned around quickly, her nerves on edge once more. But to her complete surprise, it was Finch who was weaving his way towards her, gun out and a panicked look on his face.

'He tried to attack me…he's a fingerman…I didn't know what to do…'

It's alright, he muttered as he reached her. His breathing was strained from running across the ruins of parliament.

'How did you know I was here?' She asked, puzzled.

'I got a letter,' he whispered, pulling a familiar parchment out of his pocket. 'From him.'

She took it from his grip, holding it with trembling fingers. It said a lot less than her letter did.

'Mr Finch,

Over the past few months, I have been aware of you growing closer with your investigation. I must say, I admire and applaud you. Alas, however surprised I am at your resolve I know that you are acting under orders and not from the heart. I hope this changes after November 5th

I have something to request from you. Evey Hammond, the suspect you have tried so hard to catch for a year, needs to be a part of this revolution. Go to parliament the night after it is destroyed and she will be there. Take care of her.

V.'

'So that's all he has to say…' She whispered. It wasn't even written after the explosion, because he obviously didn't know they had already met from the letter.

'I'm sorry, Finch said, his hand on her shoulder.

'No, get off me…all this says is something I already know. He wanted you to get in contact with me and that's all. I can't believe this!'

She let out a frustrated sigh and pulled away, heading away from the fingerman crying on the ground. She had thought he was alive, in the back of her mind. She had been so sure. And now all her hopes had disappeared, just like him.

She was vaguely aware of Finch running after her, protesting and trying to co operate. But she wouldn't listen. She just wanted to get back to the shadow gallery and forget, forget about everything and everyone for just one night.

'Hey! Come back!' The fingerman yelled. 'You can't just leave me here,' he cried, burying his face into one of his hands while the other clutched his aching groin in agony.

Suddenly a tall shadow appeared over him. He looked up, his vision blurred from tears and pain.

'Thank God…please…help me up…'

Night had almost fallen now and the light was beginning to fade completely. Black shadows stretched over the rubble and the only source of light had almost disappeared. The figure standing so quietly in front of him seemed to be surveying his condition and drinking in his distress. He couldn't see the face…just a pair of broad shoulders and arms resting on a belt around the man's waist.

'Mate, come on,' he growled, 'I'm hurt here. Do something…'

The figure bent down to his level. 'That was no way to treat a lady.'

'Huh? What the fuck are you on about, man? She attacked me!'

The fingerman sat up and a flash of city light appeared across the face of his visitor. But there was no face. Just whiteness and a grinning smile.

'Bloody hell!' he screamed, and lashed out with his fist. It cracked against the porcelain and knocked the man's head back slightly, but the mask kept smiling. However, his knuckles didn't fare quite so well. He curled up once more and tucked his head into his body, cradling his bruised fist.

The figure stood up and peered down at the crumpled heap in front of him. Cocked his head to the side for a moment as he thought about something.

A tremendous weight slammed into the fingerman's back, making him straighten out and wail. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders mercilessly and pulled him up, his feet kicking frantically off the ground. His faced was twisted in pain but he could find no way to retaliate…his arms were locked by his side and he was lifted at least a foot off the floor, staring into the eerie face of Guy Fawkes.

Suddenly he was back on the ground again, so quickly he couldn't even remember when he had fallen. That shadow was on him again, but not like before. It was almost sitting on him, hovering over his body with leather hands squeezing his neck.

'No…help…' he gasped, as he felt the fingertips dig into his skin and cut off his air supply.

'Aah, not quite yet,' said the voice again. It was curiously deep, and calm enough to suggest they were involved in a polite conversation. 'Why rush when we have all night?'

The pressure disappeared from around his neck and he choked and coughed, retching on to the ground beside him.

"And the patrons and the actors too are uncertain if the show is through,''

He heard a knife being unsheathed, the sound ripping into the air like a gunshot.

"And with sidelong looks await their cue…''

The point of a blade poked through the fabric of his shirt and he stared wildly into the grinning face above him, pleading with his empty eyes.

''But the frozen mask just smiles.''

The shriek was muffled under leather hands. Nobody was around to hear or see anything, and half an hour later a shadow slipped away through the rubble, a little golden cross clutched in its grasp.

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Quote 'And the patrons and the actors too are uncertain if the show is through, and with sidelong looks await their cue but the frozen mask just smiles' from V for Vendetta GN, This Vicious Cabaret.