Chapter 35 – (Wo)men of Honour

Evey Hammond looked out over the streets of London. She had found high ground on the roof of an abandoned supermarket. Its windows were smashed, its stock long looted. Some attempts had been made in the past year to breathe new life into some of the less hospitable quarters of the city, but this street had definitely not gotten a makeover yet.

Evey was prowling, in a way: looking for a criminal stupid enough to cross her path. She was well aware that her rekindled interest in patrolling the streets had a lot to do with her anger. Her anger, which was well-contained, but very much alive.

It wasn't even that she was angry at V. He had given her no real reason to. If she was honest with herself, she knew that V had acted pretty much according to expectation. Even now, he was trying to protect her in a way she did not appreciate. He deliberately kept her at arm's length, shielding her from the horrors of his past, but inadvertently also pushing her away. But that was nothing new. She wanted to be angry at him. Instead, she was mostly just frustrated that they were both trapped in this seemingly never ending dance around each other.

When V had gone up with Gordon to have their man-to-man talk, she had considered eavesdropping. She had considered insisting on being included. But she had done neither, respecting their privacy. Briefly she wished that she had less solid morals; that she cared a little less about things such as respectful conduct of personal honour.

This was not the case, however, which is why she was now sitting on top of a roof, feeling alone in the world again.

It was well past dusk already. The evening air was cold and she was thankful for the protection that her cloak gave her. She'd been sitting there for two hours, maybe more, when she did in fact spot some suspicious behaviour.

Two teens, suspicious by the very act of trying to look casual, flanked an older woman. One of them "bumped" into her. Evey could see, even in that brief moment, that he had removed the woman's wallet with expert agility. By the time the woman reached for the pocket of her coat, noticing something was missing, the young men were almost at the end of the street.

This would not take lethal force, Evey thought, merely a lesson in manners. She aimed a smoke bomb at the two boys. It landed just in front of them, blinding them, slowing their pace.

Evey jumped in between them, first expertly stealing back the woman's wallet.

"Hey!" one of them yelled.

Evey moved her daggers into her hands.

A ripping noise could be heard.

"What the hell" the other juvenile cried out.

More ripping noises followed, accompanied by the sound of daggers moving swiftly in the wind.

"Get off me!"

rip rip rip

"Psychopath!"

crunch crunch

"Heeeeelp!"

snikt

"You'll pay for this!"

Those last words were yelled, getting no reaction or reply.

The smoke cleared. Evey Hammond was long gone. The only two people standing there were the young thieves, wearing nothing but their underwear and their sneakers. Their clothes were scattered across the asphalt, cut into dozens of little shreds.

– – –

Two streets further, Evey was already returning the wallet to its proper owner, who thanked her cordially.

As she tried to move back into the darkness of an alley, becoming one again with the shadows, she heard footsteps. Footsteps, of course, were not uncommon in a city such as London. However, these specific footsteps belonged to about half a dozen men and were circling around her – she was being surrounded.

Her first instinct was to throw knives at those who threatened her, but something stopped her. There was something on the wind, a scent that was pleasant…familiar.

"Finch…," her voice echoed in the alley, "you really need to lay off that aftershave if you want to sneak up on people."

A figure moved closer until it was illuminated by a street lamp. Seeing the man's face, Evey could tell it was indeed Eric Finch.

She turned to see what was moving behind her, only to see another familiar face. She took off her mask, making eye contact. There was no use for it anyway – they knew exactly who she was.

"Ah, officer Stone, Evey greeted Dominic, "you have changed since last I've seen you. Dare I say that maturity becomes you?"

She was aware of the patronizing tone of her voice; a byproduct of being unpleasantly surprised by two men she thought could be trusted.

In the dark, she could discern four more policemen who were observing her every move. She could see they feared her, yet they remained in position diligently. Evey moved back to look at Finch.

"You realize I could kill you all where you stand and still be home for supper?" she hissed.

"I know," Fich said, "but I was hoping you'd come willingly. There are some matters that need to be cleared up."

Evey sighed. For a brief moment she contemplated slitting their throats. It would be so much easier. Not nice, of course, but it would be a lot less hassle. But she pushed the murderous thoughts from her mind and lifted up her arms in surrender.

"Well, take me to your leader then," she said, her voice laden with sarcasm.

– – –

Hours later, Evey Hammond was sitting in the unpleasant flickering neon light of a police interrogation room.

Finally, Dominic walked in.

Evey looked straight at him.

"Have you come to charge me with something?"

"Yes….No. I'm sorry, it's complicated, Miss" the young man managed.

"What's complicated? Either you charge me or you do not."

"Well, "Dominic started, "you little performance on television is legally problematic, but inspector Finch is working on that."

"He's working on it? Could he not work on it while I am not sitting in an interrogation cell?"

It was at this point that Eric Finch himself walked in and answered the question himself.

"Of course I could have. But, you see, an interrogation cell is actually one of the safest places in this city."

"I do not need protection," Evey remarked, still containing her anger, "Certainly not protection by a few policemen who fear my very presence."

"The men who were with me tonight were good men, Evey. Honourable men. Despite your doubts, I trust them with my life. And so does your guest."

"My guest?"

"Yes," Finched sighed, "and may I please request you to keep the hostility at bay."

The door squeaked once more. A feminine figure in a blue cloak entered. The figure's face was invisible, but Evey could tell by her gait that she was quite young. Her voice confirmed Evey's suspicions.

"Is it safe?" the girl in the cloak asked hesitantly.

"As safe as it will ever be", Finch replied.

When the figure revealed her face, Evey's mouth actually dropped. What she could see was a blonde woman of about her own age, who was looking at her intently. The thing that really amazed Evey though, was that she knew this face. She knew it very, very well. She had seen it maybe a hundred times on television. It unleashed a sense of patriotism in her that she did not know she had.

"Your Highness?" Evey stammered, feeling stupid for not getting up and curtseying… or something.

The young lady nodded.

Evey's guest was indeed none other than Queen Zara, officially still monarch of Great-Britain. When Norsefire had put her on the throne when she was only 12, the people quietly started calling her The Puppet Queen. Yet despite the silent mockery, no-one really hated her. Most people actually pitied her. She had been a young girl who was used in a political game that she herself had no control over. Many even still saw her as a symbol of England: a remnant of a more glorious age, linked by blood to the rulers of better times.

In any case, the woman in front of Evey looked nothing like the 12-year old who clumsily rose to the throne and could barely carry the weight of her crown on her head. She looked stronger now, independent and determined.

"I will make this brief, Miss Hammond," the young monarch spoke, "I have seen your little television performance. Charges have been made, but we shall simply say you have been fined for the matter and wrap it up elegantly."

"Why?" Evey asked.

"While I question your methods, Miss Hammond, I am no fool. You have assessed the danger correctly. Last night, a threat has been made to my life. I'm purposefully keeping it out of the news. Last thing we need is that the people get influenced by fear. That only gives our enemies more power."

The Queen toyed with the button of her cloak, showing the briefest of emotion before regaining her composure.

"I have seen these fanatics make my parents disapprear," she continued, "I kept my silence, because I wanted to live. So I allowed them to use me for their purposes. For this, I shall be eternally ashamed. Even my age was no excuse. However, regret does not change the past, but we can influence the future. I have let them take over this country once. I do not intend to let it happen again."

"Well we are in agreement there, Your Highness, but I fail to see what you want from me?"

"You're a symbol, Miss Hammond, you could lead people if you set your mind to it. With you running for office, Norsefire would not even stand a chance."

Evey could not believe her ears.

"I'm not a politician."

"No-one really is until they become one. And the good ones hate the job."

The Queen took a deep breath.

"I must go now. This conversation is completely off the record, off course. You do not have to make your decision now. But I implore you to consider it."

With that, she hid her face with the cloak again and slipped out.

"Well, that was unexpected," Evey said to Finch, "when I asked to take me to your leader I did not think you'd take it literally."

"Evey….just think about it?" Finch asked.

"I will," she said.

Finch was moving to the door to leave, but Evey stopped him.

"While I'm here anyway…I'll need a phone call. And a favour."

Eric Finch sighed, his posture radiating dread for the request that was about to come.

But Evey knew him too well.

He would not refuse her.