Lightning in a Bottle
The air smelled wet as dark storm clouds billowed overhead. Thunder rumbled far away, a herald to the might of the storm that would smite its lightning down and cast its rain upon the world. In response to the distant rumble, the wind blew a tremendous gust across the figure that stood on a rooftop whilst everyone else down below hurried to find shelter ere the storm broke. He lifted his mask to the sky to watch the black clouds frothing amidst the heavens. He felt like he had no soul for he had bared himself completely -- a love that had transcended beyond the mere mortal plane of reality. Such Truth had ultimately betrayed him and thought that by ignoring him that he -- a mere figment -- would go away. That was not how the nature of problems worked. Ignoring them only made the persistence of their existence more absolute and certain in their hauntings. A piece of himself lay obscured in the immense clouds that grew angrier and more wrathful by the second. Perhaps that was why he found himself gazing at the sky more often lately. His body felt tired, a husk wearied by the constant strain of thinking, plotting, and planning. Anger had certainly left its terrible charred mark ingrained on his insides this time. He did not take betrayal lightly. Whatever torture came from his emotion would be well worth it in the end, maybe not for others ...
V would not settle his restless last inch upon the unwarranted justice brought upon by offing a couple fingermen. No. Not this time. He would go straight to the heart of the matter but all in due time. There were five months left still before the Fifth and there was much planning to be had ere he made his first move upon that mental chess board. She already told him how she wanted to play; she set up the rules. The choice had ever been hers and it would remain that way. He felt it a last dram of respect and politeness juxtaposed to her bestial demeanor. He would be the saint and she the villain, no matter what would happen upon that fateful night. He was ready for anything.
The rain washed down in a torrent. V bowed his head in reverence, drops pouring off of the wide brimmed hat, a silent prayer in his mind as God rained down upon him. He lifted his ivory face up and beheld the violent lightning snaking and flickering across the black sky. Lightning in a bottle -- that was what he was. And the bottle was scarred with deep crevices and cracks. The wind howled and moaned, swishing and pulling his black cloak and pulling at the strands of his wig. V felt he were in the presence of power manifested by the storm as it grew in wrath and strength. Whether before God or Satan, V didn't care. There was a viper loosed upon the world that was in dire need of being beheaded, if not defanged and he would delight in doing both.