Author's Notes: This story is based on V for Vendetta, but not the movie. I haven't seen the movie yet, but I read the graphic novel version and it was awesome. I recommend it.
"Anarchism has but one infallible, unchangeable motto, 'Freedom.' Freedom to discover any truth, freedom to develop, to live naturally and fully."-Lucy Parsons
Chapter Two
Mimi
The leader, still holding the knife to the flesh of Yamato's face, snarled at the answer. "You're a fucking lunatic, woman." His countenance twisted into an unpleasant scowl he nodded at the other two Spartans. "Take care of it."
The two men advanced on the woman, who was just standing still, making no move to flee. On closer inspection, Yamato who had stopped noticing the knife now that it had stopped moving, saw that she let out a long, deep breath, relaxing her body as it exhaled.
The blonde gasped as the man above him drove his knee into his stomach, hard and sharp pain coursed through his entire chest. Unable to take any more abuse at the current moment, Yamato wretched forward, his mouth opening and spewing bile all over his tormentor's expensive suit.
"You son of a bitch," the man screamed, jumping away from Yamato. He frantically started wiping at the evidence of the would-be drug dealer's agony, dropping the weapon in the process. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!"
Before he had a chance to make good on that threat, a wrenching sound of a man screaming in close proximity to them tore their full attention back to the woman. The man with the club had tired to overpower her, charging at her like a bull, but unfortunately for him that meant getting close to her…
…and the dagger she had just stabbed straight through his throat. The man staggered back, the blade poking through the back of his neck, clutching at his throat, unable to make any sound save for an odd gurgling noise. That was around the time he made his second big mistake: he wrenched the dagger out of his body.
The second the dagger had been torn out, blood gushed from the wound in a spray. He collapsed to the floor, struggling and failing to breathe, as the sound of him chocking on his own blood filled the enormous space. His body jerked in a desperate attempt at life, but finally rested for good, dark eyes rolling up back into his skull.
"You killed him," whispered the other Spartan, blinking in shock. "Sweet Mother of God, you actually killed him."
She gave him cold eyes, blank eyes, that spoke to everyone still living in the warehouse: he was a bastard. He had it coming. I'm not guilty. The second grunt screamed, high and wordless, rage and pain too strong to speak of, and foolishly ran at her, apparently not learning a thing from his partner's death.
He arched his left arm back, his fist going so powerfully that it would knock the more delicate woman unconscious…It never connected. His great, meaty fist swung at the air where the masked woman was simply not standing there anymore.
He stood there blinking stupidly before turning around and getting kicked square in the face. The force of the attack hefted the much taller, larger man off his feet entirely and through the glass window behind him.
The glass shattered into thousands of tiny projectiles that struck the fallen man. His skin was torn by scratches, his face was completely torn up by the combination of the shards and power of the kick, and his head connected with the alley wall. He slumped on the trash-strewn, wet alley ground and stayed there, not so much as breathing.
The woman turned on her heels, focusing entirely on the last of Yamato's assailants. Now standing alone, stripped off help, and the full weight of the woman's gaze upon him, he gulped, terror seizing hold of his actions.
"Please…please…don't…"
He trailed off abruptly as the woman held up a hand for silence, mask hiding any hint of what she was feeling. Finally after a moment that stretched for an eternity she ordered, "Run." Not needing to be told twice he dashed forward, running faster than ever before, but she caught him in the chest with her arm.
"What-,"
She cut him off once again and spoke casually as though not having disposed of two men much more physically imposing than herself. "Tell them that it's over. I'm coming for them."
And with that she picked him up with one hand as though he weighed no more than a rag doll and flung him across the room, towards the door. His feet hit the ground and he took off, the large metal door slamming behind him, cutting them both off from the outside world.
Yamato propped himself up on his elbows and observed silently as she retrieved the dagger, pulling out a red handkerchief to wipe the blood off the blade. "Who are you?"
"A woman wearing a mask."
"I know that!" he yelled indignantly as she, now finished cleaning the dagger, hid it once again in its hiding place under her coat. "But who are you?"
Her lips twitched upwards in an amused smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Asking a woman wearing a mask who she is as pointless as standing in a dessert and waiting for rain. Disappointing too…"
But Yamato was not about to let the subject drop, no, he was never someone to just let things go easily. "Okay…than what's your name?"
But his hero was obviously either extremely playful or was really a closet sadist. With a dramatic flick of her hand, she whipped out a deep red rose from the inner folds of her coat. She breathed in the aroma and recited, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet."
She turned her back on him, not noticing the startled expression he made, and bent down to the man she had stabbed. Still not paying any mind to the injured young man behind her, she placed the rose on the dead man's chest, its red color blending well with his blood.
"A rose…but roses went extinct after The War!"
"Now you must ask yourself the question how roses could have gone extinct if I grow them." He glowered and she titled her head back with a way too pleasant smile. "And you are..."
"Ishida Yamato," he said before glaring at her for still not telling him her identity. "And what the fuck's with you? Do you just go around, looking for people to save?"
"Oh much more than that."
His contempt only grew. "You're a save the day hero. All good always wins against evil and the rest of that crap. I can't stand people like you."
"Such a charmer. I'm really glad I saved your life, Yamato."
"Sorry." He grimaced as his right leg screamed with the pain of trying to hold up as he stood. "I'm being a bastard."
"Yes, you are," she replied rather bluntly. He stumbled and she wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him. "But luckily for you I happen to be a bitch. So don't worry about offending me." And she giggled at that like it was the funniest thing in the world.
"…you're fucking out of your mind."
"That's what they tell me." A pause and she rested her head on his shoulder, her hair touching his cheek, and he tensed up. "Now would you like to come with this crazy person who you just so happen to owe your life to?"
"Go where?"
"A tribute…to justice."
The next ten minutes after that wonderful little conversation was a blur of images and sounds to Yamato. He was sort of aware that the slender, delicate looking woman was carrying him over her shoulder, not caring about his injured masculine pride, and at the same time was jumping from building to building.
His ocean eyes were shut tight against the wind and pelting rain and his hands were balled into fists against her back. The air pressure was forcing his ears to pop painfully and his teeth were grinding against each other to the point where his entire mouth was softly aching.
And just as soon as it started it stopped. She dropped him unceremoniously on his ass on top of a cold roof, turning deaf ears to his groans, and leaned her upper body over the edge.
"You see that building across from us? Do you know what it is?"
He followed her gaze to study the tallest building against the Tokyo skyline; it was the uniform drab, joyless grey and was utterly unremarkable in and of itself. A large black banner was draped across it, depicting the symbol of VulcanForge: a large scarlet letter V in front of a letter F.
"Yeah, that's the Spartans' headquarters."
She sighed, rolling her eyes up to the heavens. "Yamato, you just don't get it…but you will. You will…"
Her attention shifted from him to the building and he leaned in closer to her, close enough to hear her whisper, "I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or the time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?"
"What are you talking about?"
She didn't give him a verbal response and instead gestured at the building as a thunderous explosion rocked it. Yamato was thrown back by its force, feeling the heat from it, and it partially collapsed, kicking up a huge amount of dust.
Another explosion occurred and the building imploded in on itself; completely deteriorating into a mass or ruble. Huge flames flickered up to the sky as it fell through on its legs, and the rain was being absolutely no help in impeding their path, consuming everything and threatening to spread to the other buildings surrounding it.
When Yamato was sure he had regained speech he asked, "You did that, didn't you?" His voice was surprisingly calm given the subject matter.
"Yes."
"But…you…how…" His face was drained of its natural coloring and he shakily grabbed onto the roof's edge, not sure if he could manage not to fall off and kill himself.
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. Remember that Yamato."
He blinked, turned his face to the wreckage where a crowd of people was already forming, and started at her again with one golden eyebrow arched. "You really did that?"
"Auh huh."
"…wow…just wow." His lips formed a secret grin which she made not of and he commented, "I always wanted to do that. Sons of bitches..."
Her smaller, warmer hand slid into his larger one, catching him unawares, and she pulled him forward. "C'mon…let's get outta here before more Spartans come."
"I still don't know what your name is."
"Tachikawa Mimi. Not that it really matters."
Footnotes
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet." -Romeo and Juliet, Act Two, Scene Two.
"I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offenses at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or the time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?" –Hamlet, Act Three, Scene One
"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."-Hamlet, Act Two, Scene Two
Author's Notes: What do you all think of this chapter? I'm not sure if I did it very well…Please read and review.
