Hey everyone, I'm back! Exams are now out of the way and holidays are here so I'll have plenty of writing time (yay!) I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I had lots to think about...anyway enough rambling on from me and here you go :)

IX

"Are you sure that this is the place?"

"Absolutely."

"And you know that they won't find us here?"

"I am sure, my dear Vanessa, that if they do find us here, they won't have anything to report back to the Chancellor." V's voice was one of satisfaction as his black gloved hands gestured towards the front of his cloak. Where, I knew, his swords were.

Standing in front of the large, white brick wall, which nearly glowed in the moonlight, I took a step back and looked at it. I shut my eyes, trying to make a picture, anything, come to mind. But when my eyes flickered open, the wall was as solid and white as ever.

"Are you going to do anything?" I asked V, hoping that he would give me something, anything, to work from.

He laughed, quietly. "Oh no. You're the one with the talent of illustration, and cans of spray paint." Reaching inside his cloak, he pulled out a can of red spray paint, and handed it to me. I took it carefully, willing myself not to drop it on the ground.

"Right." I muttered, scrutinizing the wall again, feeling a flood of desperation well up inside me.

What the hell am I going to do if I can't figure out what to graffiti on the wall? A little voice inside my head voiced my biggest worry. I want this to be big, something that people will remember for the rest of their lives. I don't want to let V down either. And here I am, staring at this stupid wall, with no idea what on earth I'll do to make that happen.

"V," I began, still facing the brick wall, "I can't–I mean, the thing is, I don't know what to do."

A couple of seconds later, he spoke. "Of course you do. It's simple."

"No, that's not what I meant." I gripped the can of spray paint more tightly. "You, and the rest of the rebellion, are relying on me to spray-paint this amazing picture of something onto this wall. When I don't have a bloody clue what I'm supposed to be doing!"

"Really? I thought that you had lots of ideas."

The only ideas I had had weren't even mine. I'd spent a lot of time poring over the Banksy book, looking at pictures of children with bombs, two policemen kissing, and a Mona Lisa soldier holding a gun. Sure, I had to admit that I did like the pictures, but I couldn't exactly copy them.

"V," I was starting to get frustrated. "The only thing I know for sure is that hundreds of people are getting black-bagged, interrogated and shot every day. And you're expecting me to spray-paint over a brick wall, call it art, and think that it'll make everything better?"

"Not exactly." He swept over to the wall and turned to face me, looking like a dark stencil against the white background. "Every revolution begins with a spark, Vanessa. And right now, it's up to you to make it burn."

"But do you really think that it'll make this country a better place?" I asked, fleetingly remembering a time in V's kitchen when I had asked that same question. How long was it ago? It seemed like years.

V stepped closer towards me, his movements changing, becoming more ardent. "Don't you see, Vanessa, that this will be a symbol? A symbol of the revolution, a symbol of fire, passion and strength, a symbol of change?" I felt his gaze sweep over me, as if he could see right into my soul. "For now, you must think of Valerie, and Ruth. Think of Patrick, and of Evey, and above all, think of all those whose lives have been ended, or changed forever for the sake of this government. And above all, you must feel what you feel."

Was it my imagination, or did his voice break ever so slightly at the mention of Evey's name?

I stood there, as different thoughts rushed through my head. Valerie's letter. Chancellor Sutler, raising his arms up as black and red Norsefire flags swirled around him. Evey pepper-spraying the guard at Jordan Towers. The image of V in my head, surrounded by flames. The expression on Patrick's face when the two of us were trapped on the train. And all of a sudden, I was furiously angry. Angry at the officers of Larkhill, at Delia Surridge and Bishop Lilliman. Angry at every single member of the government. But most of all, I was angry at Chancellor Sutler.

With a shaking hand, I grabbed the can of black spray paint out of V's hand, and stood in front of the wall.

Thank you, Chancellor. I thought, watching as the black sprayed out of the can and formed itself into the picture I wanted. It looks like you've given me more than enough kindling to start this fire. Which, frankly, is just what I need.

I sat down in front of the TV the next morning and watched as it blared into life. Watching the morning news had become an almost daily routine for me, as well as visiting Patrick to exchange news. I would go and visit him later, I told myself, later in the afternoon. The Fingermen weren't likely to be about in broad daylight. But for now, there lay another matter at hand.

"….police are attempting to find the latest leads on an overnight criminal activity." The news reporter stared into the camera in a blank, serious manner. "A graffiti artist has taken to the streets to deface a brick wall as a sign of defiance against our government. The incident is believed to have taken place overnight."

And there, bold as anything on the white brick wall was my graffiti picture. V, in his mask and cloak, holding a can of red spray-paint and spraying his own 'V' logo onto the wall.

There, I noted with satisfaction, is my piéce de résistance.

"The area has since been roped off," she continued, "and extra security will be stationed around this area for the time being. Any member of society who attempts to follow this example of rebellion will be–"

"Apprehended and questioned fully by authorities." I quoted, muting the TV, surprised at the feeling of elation I felt spreading through me, though slightly tinged with nervousness. For all I knew, I wasn't sure if this really could be the 'spark' I was hoping for.

And if it was, was I ready for it?

"Very good work, my child."

I spun around and nearly fell off the sofa at the sound of V's voice. "Oh. Hey."

"I apologize for startling you." he said graciously, though remaining standing.

"No, no, it's fine," I replied. "Did you see it?" I gestured towards the TV screen.

"Of course." he noted, a hint of a smile working its way into his voice. "And I must say, you have created a spectacular piece of work."

"Thanks." I gazed at him for a couple more seconds, then asked the question that I had been wondering about since last night. "Do you think that this is the spark that I–we've been looking for?"

He thought about it for a moment, then slowly, shook his head.

"This is not simply a spark, Vanessa. This is the start of a blazing inferno."

That afternoon, after muttering to V about where I was heading, I went to visit Patrick. V didn't attempt to stop me, or even question me about where Patrick was hiding. He seemed to have something else on his mind. I didn't know what, but I had the sense not to pry.

After I ventured cautiously down the street (where, thankfully, there were no surveillance cameras), I tentatively knocked three times on the green door, then pushed it open. "Patrick?"

I heard his footsteps approaching from the living room, before I glanced up and saw him in the doorway, his blue eyes smiling at me.

"Top of the morning to ye, Vanessa. You haven't been found yet, have ye?"

I laughed. "Of course I have. That's why I'm here."

Patrick grinned at me, then his expression sobered up. "I've been listening all day on the radio, but the reception's getting worse. I think that it won't be long now." He led the way into the living room and sat on the floor, with me sitting opposite him. "Soon, it's all going to happen. Everything's going to come to a head, and then–" He didn't bother to finish his sentence.

I watched him, nervously, not knowing how to tell him about the 'blazing inferno' that I seemed to have created overnight with just a can of spray paint. It must have shown on my face, because Patrick seemed to notice that I had something on my mind.

"Something's wrong." He ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression slightly concerned. "Vanessa, what is it?"

I took a deep breath, then decided to tell him. So I did.

I told him about how it had felt, standing in front of that wall, anger surging through me as I sprayed my picture of V onto the wall. I told him about how, after I had finished, I had stood looking at my picture for a few minutes. It was like someone else had created that picture, not me.

After I had finished, Patrick looked stunned.

"You did all that?" He seemed at a loss for words. "I did hear something this morning on the radio about it. But the reception was terrible and I didn't–" He fell silent.

I nodded, my gaze straying towards the ceiling, finding it hard to think of anything to say. Finally, taking a deep breath, I asked quietly, "Do you think that what I did is going to go, well, further than a brick wall? People are going to start rebelling, and they're going to do things that the government aren't happy with. And everything's going to change."

"The rebellion has officially started." Patrick's hand traced lines along the wooden floor, then his expression became one of a fierce determination. "And everything's changing already. I have an idea, but I'm going to need your help, Vanessa." He met my eyes; blue gazing into green. "Please?"

Woah...what do you think Patrick's plan is? All will be revealed next chapter, I have to admit that I kinda like them together, hehe. Anyways thank you so much for all your reviews (you're all inspirational, did you know?)