A recurve crossbow against four thousand Marines was not the ultimate choice, but it was the only one he had. He scanned the crossbow length while he walked in the shadows along Victoria Street. It had a nice draw and force weight for effective high velocity. Plus, the recurve made the weapon silent; crucial for an ambush.

Then the battle at the gate would be easy…

Across from Ten Downing, on the rooftop, V rose behind sniper "A". Steel blade in his hand, he threw with such force the dagger embedded to the grip. The gunman fell at once.

He quietly rushed in behind the dead sniper and targeted the second sniper atop Ten Downing, by adjusting the range in the scope mount. The mask peered through the scope of the crossbow. At the same time, the mark on the other side looked through his own scope at V. A moment before the fatal shot. The silent arrow cut through the air and struck the sniper down behind the roof barricade.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Quaid leaned back in his leather chair and stared at the screen. Perhaps a hesitation before he made a decision. Perhaps he already made the decision and wished to prolong the foreplay. And who would it be? Some unsuspecting government official on the other side of the earth occupied in peace negotiation? The elderly or infirm? Or maybe it's a more personal matter, one that can't be resolved by the mundane apology or pardon.

The general flicked his pinky nail with his thumb. The small snap was faint, yet still audible. He waited a moment maybe two, and then reached forward for the mark button.

A steely ring pierced the silence and a blade pressed at his jugular. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Shhh." V whispered behind the mask that now invaded down in his personal space. "Habit forming, is it not?"

The general's eyes widened. He froze as one suddenly overcome by the finishing move of checkmate. He stayed still, for if he swallowed, it could mean death.

"What do you want?" He finally asked. His terror visible by the tiny beads of sweat that now formed on his forehead. V felt certain that a change of under shorts would be in order as well.

"Where is she?" V demanded. The blade dug deeper.

"If you kill me, you'll never know." A slight smile escaped from that mouth that did not release the secret. The expression changed. He was more comfortable now, more expecting.

"Touché." The blade twisted. A light beam reflected on the white of the general's eye. "Don't think I've come for this little visit with no leverage. Your secrets will be common knowledge once I complete my work. I know all about your hidden agendas in your quest for sovereignty."

His blue eyes looked at V.

The masked man moved in closer and tilted his head. "That's right General."

"You can't prove anything."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so certain if I were you, General." The insignia on the general's uniform: stars encircled the lifeless image of a human profile, the eye a burst of light. V gestured at his chest. "Fitting for one so occupied by the workings of fear. Each time one corrupt government dies, another more lethal one takes its place. This may come as a surprise, but I've been expecting you General. Pity you can't stay longer. You see, I know all about your cleansings and your chemical sprays." V gestured at the Sweep Component. "I know about your plans to assassinate your own president. And who will be there to take his place?" He spoke softly and dug the edge deeper. "You, General?" A thin stream of blood from a small puncture wound oozed down the dagger.

Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed hard into the side of V's neck.

The dagger went flying from his hand. He staggered and pulled out a needle, then dropped it to the floor. The room spun from the effect of the narcotic that now flowed through his veins. Another individual stood back and watch him swirl. V caught a glimpse of legs and feet before he hit the ground face up, where he lay sprawled and motionless.

"Good to see you Doctor." The general breathed heavily and favored the side of his neck checking his hand for blood. "He'd better not be harmed Doctor. For your sake."

"Oh, I can assure you he's feeling fine. Sleepy is the extent of it." Dr. Carl admitted and circled around to the side of the body.

Still stroking his neck, the general stood and gestured. "Let's see what's under his mask." He eyed the doctor.

Dr. Carl adjusted his glasses and kicked the needle away. He looked at Quaid.

"Go on, Doctor."

"Yes sir."

Carl knelt beside the mask; he vacillated, and then reached with both hands.

V grabbed the doctor's throat and squeezed.

Another dagger hit the general in the groin with a thud. Quaid buckled with a groan and fell into the chair.

V rose to his feet and held tight using the doctor to pull his weight.

Dr. Carl struggled for his air supply and grasped at the hand that would not let go. His feet lifted off the ground. Choking noises and gurgling came from his throat. He kicked as his face turned red then burgundy. The doctor's glasses went askew as something popped in his neck. The gloved hand released and the body fell as a marionette cut loose from a string.

V rushed to Quaid and grabbed hold of the dagger handle to suppress any ideas of retaliation. Blood poured onto the floor from the wound. He winced from the pain that ripped into his flesh.

"Now General." The room slanted. V almost lost his footing from the sedative. He shook it off.

A sudden all-important purpose came to mind. Evey. It renewed V with a vibrancy and energy to quell any hope or release for his prey.

The general shuddered.

"You're bleeding internally. That's why you're so cold. " The voice changed from a seething to one that mocked pity. "You're dying."

Then V reached into his tunic. "I have something for you."

General Quaid sighed and watched as V gently placed the bloom in his uniform. A Scarlet Carson. The marine did not yell out or scream, he only panted. His lips had lost some color and his eyes watered.

"One more call of duty before you die."

They turned their attention to the Sweep Component where its bright monitor waited for the next command. The general looked from the corner of his eye and a slight smile escaped his lips.

"Let's do some spring cleaning." V pushed the blade in hard and moved in. "Shall we?"

A grimace escaped the general's sweating face, quickly replaced by the enchanted gaze of one seduced by immeasurable power. "Who did you have in mind?" He toyed.

"Why, your dogs of course." V trifled. "The whole Brigade." He said sternly and dug deeper.

A grunt escaped the general's mouth. He pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes holding back the pain. Then he opened them to continue on the Sweep Component. The general smiled as one intrigued by the task, happy to play with his deadly toy. He hasted the procedure, and keyed in the necessary commands.

Then he hit mark.

The Component collated the information as a band of green flashed across the screen.

Sweep Complete.

Weakened, General Quaid slumped back in his chair. V lifted him by the underarms and dragged him off the chair to the floor.

Face to face, the sneering mask hovered and watched his eyes glaze.

"Where is she?" V whispered again.

A few gasps and then a bright ironical smile crossed his lips once more. "She's in the morgue."

The sweep component beeped. Its exploiter raced out into the darkness undeterred by the component's survival, knowing that its very existence was a component; a small piece of something more encompassing.

Abandoned by his assailant, the general fixed his eyes on the Component. The pupils in those eyes dilated; the blue irises reflected the screen as the ruthless life passed from them.

The lambent blue letters and numbers that lit the screen now waited for the mark button. It blinked and waited for another command of death. It waited, but could not be satisfied.

It read:

Commissioned Military Personnel

IMS code number, 156V8300049H.

Hass.