Seeing as I had little choice in the matter, along with the fact that I truly never did have a woman before, I consented. Only, I did not fully relent—I did have one condition, which must never be breached: my mask. I was and still am very sensitive about my mask. My masks cover all but my chin, lower lip, and lower jaw line most of the time for ease of communication within my estate, but when in public, not an inch of my skin is exposed. She accepted the odd condition, never questioning my rather odd request. She probably dismissed it as a fetish of mine. She probably thought it would be kinky, for all I know.

I asked the nervous girl, for she had to be barely over the age of eighteen, which would make her no less than ten years younger than me, how she found me and why exactly she singled me out. I am, through various aliases and disguises, a major mover and shaker behind the scenes in many areas, most notably those of resistance workers who hide behind their government-sanctioned and "operated" stores and shops. If she was part of the Nose, I would have been in trouble most certainly. Was she wired? I did not know, much less did I know who sent her or why. She answered without really answering, if you can believe it.

"I do not know his name, sir. He only calls himself 'V'. He told me how to find you. He said he had something in store for you." She looked around as if worried that someone might intrude at any moment. "Although I do not know you, I am afraid for you. Every time he 'meets' with someone like this, they usually end up quite dead!"

"Hmm… 'V', you say? Tell me, is he tall and has a fondness for masks in the likeness of Guy Fawkes?" I asked the timid thing.

"Who's 'Guy Fawkes'?"

"Have you never heard the children's rhyme? 'Remember, remember, the Fifth of November; the gunpowder treason and plot; I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.' Ah, another thing the government of the new England has taken from the collective conscience of the mindless cattle that call themselves god-fearing Englishmen. Makes me glad to have been born and traveled abroad throughout my tortured childhood."

I turned around and glared at her through the eye slits of what was my current mask. The effect caused her to cower in fear, just as it did and does to this day for many, many people. "Leave my presence now. I do not care to face a woman with what must surely come. I will send for you when I am ready for both an audience and intimacy. Come, I will escort you to a room. Be sure to keep the door locked after I leave. Now that you have offered yourself to Erik, one must not escape before he is satisfied."

I led her to a little-used room where I kept things of little value, and the occasional "prisoner of war", so to speak. However, looks can be deceptive, especially in my mansion, and this room was no exception. It was escape-proof, solid, and the lock was a false front for a sense of security for any visitor. The lock appeared easy to operate and lock and unlock from inside the room, however, the real lock was pickproof, solid, and could only be operated by my hands.

Having safely ensconced the little vixen in the room without her realizing that it may be a trick, I head back towards my office and don an old Persian cloak that was created specifically for an ancient ancestor of mine who was once known as the "Angel of Death" within the Persian royal court. One can say that my peculiar circumstances run in my family, so to speak. Sure, it has always been a tightly held family secret that few outsiders were told of, and it was, more often than not, tried to be erased from their collective memories.

A breeze from the darkness brought itself and my situation to my attention. Someone has entered my mansion without my permission, and probably through the French doors upon the veranda in my master bedroom, I thought to myself and immediately was on guard. There! Soft footsteps tread upon my Persian carpets lining the hallway outside my door. Throwing my voice, I greeted the voice, startling him out of his stealth.

"Welcome to my home, uninvited guest. I am glad you survived thus far. However, I wouldn't, if I were you, be too proud or haughty about this fact, for you surely won't last much longer." My voice was a low, taunting growl that seemed to emanate from the opposite side of the hallway from where I stood, hidden in the shadows. A laugh responds from the other shadowy figure in the hallway. In the dark, my eyes shone golden, like twin orbs of fire—as if my eyes were two candles, I turned them towards the figure, allowing the intruder to take in my ghostly and demonic appearance.

"Ah, Death, it has been a long time, has it not?"

"You must be the one that calls himself 'V'. What do you want with me? I am no less a villain as dictated by this satirical government which wants to dictate every man, woman, and child's move. I was born this way and 'enhanced' by their cruel experiments. Do you really think that I would cooperate, much less let them dictate my life and fate also? If they knew I was still alive, they would no doubt kill me, just as they would you."

"Kill you? Tee-hee… Hardly. I know you have contacts within the new government that cannot be traced to you."

"And why would you need these services? They do not come cheaply nor free."

"I know. I also know that my time on this Earth is coming to a close, as is my vendetta. When I die, I shall bequeath all that I have kept safe and hidden to your care, along with the assurance of the protection of my successor. After all, an idea has no flesh."

"Agreed."