I don't own the DC or Vertigo Comics Character, I'm not making any money…so please don't sue.
This is a crossover between the DC Comics Character The Question and Huntress and Vertigo's V…is an elseworld so no actual references will be made to current comics, animated series or V for Vendetta movie storylines, however if have not seen the movie I hope you wait until you do to read this fan fic.
It's set in London and it's influenced by the 1982-85 original vendetta Warrior Comic Strip.
Please be patient with me…they're intense and complicated characters.
Enjoy
Remember, Remember the Fifth of November
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot
I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot
The Old Bailey, 11:58, November 4th.
People choose to stay inside their warm and comfortable houses tonight, away from the trouble of dealing with the infamous detectives of the state police known as "the fingermen", yellow warning had been issue since 11 o'clock everyday for the past 20 years, and everyone caught outside their houses can and shall be detained and processed for possible treason or sedition depending on the case. Most of them never come back anyways.
The once beautiful London has become gray and the spirit of the once great city had vanished into darkness and oblivion, Lewis Prothero the ex-colonel made by the Norsefire Party as the TV most recognizable face has just finished his late night show called "The voice of London" bashing the gay and Muslims communities outside Great Britain, little did they know that their comfortable retreat into emptiness was about to change.
A shadowy figure lurks around the old buildings close to the Old Bailey; he just appeared protected in a cloak and a mask, he didn't come alone bringing along a girl that seems to be alarmed, startled yet a little fascinated with the whole surreal situation, just a couple of minutes ago she was saved from being raped from three of those apes with badges.
He showed up and proceed to beat them with savagery I never seen before, yet he was comfortable and elegant doing it… he said things I didn't quite heard or understood and then he approached me with a pleasing stride… She didn't know what to say… Only she could asked was…who are you?
Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is it vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding 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.
-Are you a crazy person? Asked the girl really scared.
-I'm quite sure they'll say so- V replies cheerfully.
He looks ecstatic and begins to dance without waiting for a song that almost immediately starts to play in the megaphones strategically placed across the street(since he has a newfound audience in the young girl) while watching the lady justice, the statue that stands on top of the Old Bailey, the Supreme Court Building.
-It is to Madam Justice I dedicated this concert-
They were playing 1812 from Tchaikovsky.
Meanwhile a racket comes from the street wakes an unusual fellow tonight, he is an American with an attitude, the designer of broken conspiracies and crazy patterns, a detective on leave…giving himself the well earned vacation… a couple of days with the girlfriend to the old country they said at the league; he feels her warm body beside him, the kisses her back, she smiles and there lies a beautiful Italian looking girl named Helena… she didn't seemed to listen to the sound that comes from the street… he looks around and find his wristwatch, he opens his eyes an is 11:58 and some crazy dude is listening to period piece… God I hate London.
He stands up looking for the boxers he happily took off some hours ago, he is wearing no mask now, since he is on rest and recreation… he looks out the windows, the song at first pissed him off, but eventually started to grown on him (beats the crap out of Britney Spears songs to be honest) he takes some time off, away from the invisible enemies that prowl in the night…his fingers go around this temples…it's getting louder but incidentally now the music was getting him relaxed and he started to remember…when he was just Vic Sage….10 years ago.
Originally I was just a television reporter for Hub City's KBEL network, and started to grow frustrated as the corrupt political officials I've investigated remained seemingly untouchable. My Sisyphean crusade, however, took a turn thanks to my friend, the now late Dr. Aristotle Rodor, the inventor of a skin-like substance called pseudoderm that, when used in concert with another of the doctor's inventions—a saffron gas capable of changing the color of one's hair and clothing—created a featureless mask that affixes tightly over the wearer's real face. Later I found out that the mask gas had psychotropic side effects, if I wear it for to long I will become permanently paranoid, the logical step was to finally include my name to my unseen but ever present enemy. Only I have the formula to the blending mask. I was now able to take a more direct approach to his investigations while preserving my anonymity Sage disappeared into the viscous smoke, leaving only the Question behind.
When the Justice League approached me 2 years ago and asked him to join their organization, I said yes without a thought. After all, I mused, they would have been suspicious of me had I said no. Have to face it I'm a muckraking conspiracy theorist seen as paranoid and crazy by my peers, even if I haven't make much progress in my theories this faceless man has nonetheless excelled as the League's resident private investigator, possessing detective skills and computer expertise roughly on par with Batman, (if I may say so)
He moves from the window in the room to the balcony, there is something wrong, I can feel it… the music does not comes from an apartment, it comes from the street.
I have a neck for trouble…
The guy with the white mask is dancing to the sound of the music… he seems to be both happy and excited… then he stops and with a dramatic pose and looks as the statue representing a scorned lover he starts a monologue.
-! Very well so you stand revealed al last. You are not longer my justice. You have his justice now, now that you have bedded another! -Two can play that game-
(He mimics the statues voice) –Sobbing who is she?-
-Her name is anarchy and she taught me more as a mistress than you ever did-
She has taught me that justice is meaningless without freedom; she makes no promises, and breaks none. He moves back and then spins around.
-Wonder why you could never looked me in the eyes…-now I know – throwing a red rose in front of the Old Bailey.
So goodbye my dear lady, I would be saddened by our parting, here is a gift I leave it as a separation souvenir.
And now without further to do I present you the crescendo of our song tonight.
The blast knocked him almost unconscious and threw him back to the bedside… Helena quickly woke up and like a cat move to the other side of the bed, she took Vic's overcoat since she was naked underneath the sheets…shards of glasses were everywhere and a sulfur smell filled the room… Vic swiftly got his pants on and making sure Helena was right nodded at her and was ready to leave when…
-What happened? - Helena asked without fear.
-Something blew up – Vic gave an automatic response. –Close and powerful was the explosive-
- Really Sherlock! - Helena now looking displease, she hate it when he patronizes her.
-Helena, as much I would like to keep up this debate…people can be hurt – He said getting to his shoes, leaving the room and going downstairs.
-So can I - Said Helena suddenly feeling an indescribable sadness… why things like this always happened to them? Why couldn't they be more normal? 3 months planning this and we only get two days, she knew that their vacation was over…
She just didn't know how over…