Master?
Did she just call him…'master'?
V's brain stalls for about two seconds before it burns rubber into high gear. Things finally start to fall into place and he mentally curses himself for not only not seeing it before but also playing into the role of 'master', even unknowingly. With a sigh, he gets down on the floor with her, puts his hand under her chin and forces her face up, ignoring the shooting pain that goes through his back.
"Look at me," he gently instructs and a shudder runs through her body as she complies. "I won't hurt you, I promise. How long have you been a slave?"
"Nine years," she softly answers
"I have a variety of questions to ask you, but for now it must wait," he states as releases her face and he flows to his feet. "The hour is late and I have things that need tending to. We will continue this discussion later. For now, you may take your guitar to your room if you like or you can play it in here. The choice is yours; you're a free woman now."
"You've destroyed it?" she asks from her spot on the floor, hope in her eyes.
"Destroyed what?" he asks back as he extends her his hand.
"My ownership papers," she answers as she lets him help her to her feet.
"I don't have them," he replies.
"Then who does?" she inquires, fear returning to her eyes.
"I'm not sure," he states.
"Then I belong to whoever has it," she whispers, her shoulders drop in defeat.
"You are free," he insists.
"No, I'm not," she whispers as she less then elegantly sits back on the chair.
With a swirl of what's left of his cloak, he sweeps out of the room. He's frustrated beyond words at this point. What is wrong with this woman? She's free now and all she can do is worry about a stupid piece of paper.
He stomps into the kitchen, grabs the medical kit and heads for the bathroom. Once he's safely locked in there, he carefully disrobes from the waist up and examines his injury in the mirror. He makes a sound deep in his throat that's akin to a growl and then redresses.
He goes in search of his 'guest' and finds her right where he left her. She's picked her guitar back up and is gently running her fingers over the strings. But it's obvious that she's not actually playing the instrument as she seems to be lost in thought and the notes are discordant.
She turns her head enough so that he knows that she's aware of his presence, but she doesn't look at him. She's slumped over the guitar and from what he can see of her face, she's been crying again. Doesn't this woman ever run out of tears?
"I'm afraid I'm in need of your assistance," he states, clearly not happy to be asking this.
She numbly nods her understanding, places the guitar back in its case and stands to follow him. He leads her to the kitchen and motions her to stay while he goes to retrieve the medical kit. She's standing right where he left her looking as if she's lost everything in the world.
"I seem to have been on the wrong end of a knife for a change," he explains as he sits at the small table and puts the kit down in front of him. "While I usually tend to my own injuries, even I can't reach my back. Please come closer."
She steps up behind him but does nothing, just stands there. He hands her a pair of latex gloves and proceeds to tell her what to do. She silently follows his instructions as she cuts away the vest and shirt and then cleans and treats the wound.
"Thank you for your help," he states trying to ignore the fact that she was able to see the damage done to his skin by the fire. "You are free to do as you please now."
She strips off the gloves, goes over to the dust bin, tosses them in, walks over to the sink and promptly throws up. While her reaction doesn't please him, he's just glad she was able to hold it long enough not to vomit down his back. He quietly puts the kit back in order and then returns it to its rightful place. He fumes at the state of his body and her reaction to seeing it as he turns to leave, her soft voice stops him.
"I can't stand the sight of blood," she states, still leaning over the sink. "You'd think after seeing mine repeatedly for eight years, I'd be used to it by now. I'm sorry if I upset you."
"I'm afraid the apologies are mine to make," he replies. "I was unaware of your aversion to the sight of blood. I will keep this in mind in the future."
"Thank you," she sighs gratefully.
"You know," he states as he turns back around. "I believe that is the first time you've spoken without being spoken to first and quite possibly the longest you've spoken as well."
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
"Don't be," he replies a bit sternly. "You have just as much right to speak as anyone else. Here you are safe and free."
With that, he spins around on his heel and quickly leaves the area. She listens as his footsteps fade away and then the sound of his door closing and locking reaches her.
"Am I?" she asks the empty air.
By the following morning she's not talking again and much to V's annoyance, she's now avoiding him as much as possible. For next few days he tries to talk to her, to get his questions answered, but she remains silent. She practically lives in her room now only coming out to eat or use the restroom. She spends her time sleeping, reading or playing the guitar in there and he's not sure how she's not going crazy because it's sure driving him nuts.
If he can't get answers one way, he'll get them another. After doing a little hacking, he is able to access all of Jones's personal accounts. His bank accounts from nine years ago are of great interest to him. It takes him a while before he finds anything out of the ordinary.
When he first glances through the transactions on the bank account, nothing seems out of place. Then he notices money transfers to another account over the course of a year. The transfers aren't very large, a few hundred here and there, but they are many and when V adds them all up, the total comes to nearly a quarter of a million pounds.
V gives a low whistle and then starts to investigate the other account and the only thing he can come up with is a name. 'Shire Stables' seems to be a strange thing to be spending that much money on, but then he remembers the brood mare Jones owns that seems to have fallen off of the face of the Earth. Another dead end and he's on the verge of going out and beating up a few more Fingermen just to vent his frustrations on them.
With his shoulder still healing, finding some new 'playmates' is not advisable. But if he can't create a little mayhem, maybe he can get some information. A plan quickly forms in his mind as he gets to his feet and heads for the makeup room.
It takes him the better part of a half hour complete his transformation from a masked vigilante to an old blind man. He exchanges his metal mask for one made of latex, the long black wig is replaced with a shorter gray one that has a matching beard and mustache and his clothing is changed into a less dramatic suit with a long coat, cane, fedora and sunglasses that entirely cover his eyes completing the ensemble.
After carefully concealing a few chosen items upon his person, he heads across the gallery to the spare bedroom. He can hear her playing the guitar again and it has a somewhat soothing effect on him until he shakes it off and knocks on her door.
"Madam, I wish to speak to you," he calls through the door.
The music stops immediately and he can hear her put the instrument down before she slips off of the bed. A moment later he hears the door unlock and the latch open. When she opens the door, she's looking down but when she doesn't see the usual attire, she quickly looks up and is quite shocked by what she sees. She attempts to slam the door shut but he's too quick and easily blocks the door open with a well placed foot.
"It's alright, it's me," he tries to assure her.
She quickly back peddles until she runs into the bed, fear etching ever fiber of her being. He steps forward and she reaches over and grabs the first thing that comes to hand, in this case it's a book.
"STOP!" He commands with his hand up. "I told you not to harm my home and that book is part of my home."
"V?" she asks in a small, frightened voice.
"Yes, it's me," he repeats in a more soothing voice, moving no closer to the frightened woman. "I need to go out and the Guy Fawks visage is sometimes detrimental to my needs. I do not know when I will return, so do not wait up and if you get hungry, please feel free to make yourself something to eat. I will be back when I can."
He turns and leaves without another word and she listens to him go. A few moments later she hears the door that leads to the rest of the world open and shut followed by the sound of the lock clicking in place. The instant she's sure he's gone is when she starts to panic.
Using the tunnels and old tube lines, V makes his way across town, jogging most of the way. Once he reaches the surface streets, he gets into character like any good actor and slowly makes his way to a book shop that sells government approved books.
He fumbles with finding the door knob at first and then carefully enters the store. Using his cane as a guide, he makes his way towards the back of the shop. The tapping of his cane warns people of his approach and for the most part, they get out of his way.
While to everyone there he appears to be blind, in reality, he can see quite well. The stuff they pumped him full of and the fire at Larkhill has left him with extremely sensitive eyesight. His ability to move so well through the dark comes from that and that is why he must have the mesh over the eye holes of his mask and wear the sunglasses when he's about as a normal man. The glasses are very important to him when, like today, he's out during daylight hours. They help with the crippling blindness of the bright light and there's not enough makeup in the world to hide the damage the fire caused the skin around his eyes.
"Mr. Vaughan, so good to see you again," says a familiar voice off to the side.
"Ah, Mrs. Alridge, how are you this fine afternoon?" V pleasantly asks, slightly turning his head in her direction.
"I'm very well, thank you," Alridge replies pleasantly. "The book you ordered is in the back. I'll show you the way."
With that the motherly lady takes his arm and leads him through a curtained door into a small sitting area. He takes a seat in a comfortable chair as she returns to the shop. Sometime later, he hears the bell on the door ring for the last time and the lock slide home.
Once that happens, he takes the electronic jammer out of his pocket, turns it on and puts it on the table. The portly woman toddles on past him to the small kitchenette next to the sitting area and puts the kettle on. She gets a tray ready as the water heats and once everything is done, she returns to her 'customer', setting the tray on the low table in front of the chairs.
"So what do I owe the honor of this visit?" she asks as she pours them both a cup of tea.
"I need information," he answers as he accepts his cup.
"About what?" she inquires as she settles back in her chair.
"What do you know about Major Jones's murder and his missing wife?" he questions as he takes a sip.
"I only know what I see on the telly," she replies, eyeing him until she sees a small red stone drop into V's cup with an audible 'plop'. "I know that they found the blood of two people in his home. One was his and the other they don't know, but it's not his wife's. The house was being readied for a secret rendezvous and it is believed that the blood belongs to his mistress or the murderer."
"What about the missing wife?" he asks, slightly disappointed that nothing new has been added to his information.
"Now that one is a mystery," she admits. "No one has seen the girl since the boys saw her stolen away by the murderer. The poor dears, to lose their mother and father all in one night, it just breaks my heart. There have been rumors of course, but nothing substantial and most certainly no proof. It seems the Bobbies are just chasing shadows where she's concerned. It's like she just fell off of the Earth and they're not having any better luck with the mistress."
"I understand that Jones owned a rather…unique…animal," he says. "Know anything about that?"
"If you're talkin' about the horse, I know about as much about that as I do the missing wife," she replies. "That Inspector Finch though, he's been searching high and low for that animal. I don't see why, it's just a horse."
"Speaking of horses, what do you know about Shire Stables?" he asks and watches her carefully through the darkened lenses.
"Now that I definitely know nothing about," she insists, her face paling and she watches carefully as a clear stone joins the red one at the bottom of his cup.
"What do you know about Shire Stables?" he repeats when she doesn't immediately answer.
"I know that you don't want to be messing with them," she replies in a lowered voice. "I know that they'd just as soon send you floatin' down the Thames as to look at you."
"What do you know?" he insists, a growl creeping into his voice.
"I know that rumor has it that the flesh they pedal isn't just horse flesh," she hisses.
"Slaves," he states.
"I wouldn't know," she confirms. "You lookin' to buy?"
"Maybe," he replies quickly. "Where can I find the owners of this fine establishment?"
"I wouldn't know," she states flatly.
"How much?" he asks.
"More than you've got," she hisses. "They find out that I know anything and that I told someone I'm as good as dead."
"They won't get it from me," he assures her. "Now where?"
She doesn't answer until a green stone joins the first two.
"There's a rumor, rumor mind you, that the bloke you're lookin' for frequents a place called the Red Lion Pub on Duke of York Street and that's all I know," she heatedly states and then stands up.
She returns her cup to the tray and all but rips the other one out of V's hands. She takes the tray back to the kitchenette and he watches as she fishes the stones out of his cup, rinses them off, dries them and then carefully puts them in a hidden compartment under the sink and takes a book out of the same spot. She returns to him and pushes the book into his hands. He stays silent, knowing that she has no more information and even if she did, she's not about to tell him for any price.
"You might find this one an interesting read," she says in a more kindly tone than before. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got customers waiting to come in."
"Of course," V responds as he stows the jammer, stands and allows her to lead him to the front door.
"Have a good day, Mr. Vaughan," she says as she opens the front door.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Alridge," he replies as he sticks his cane out in front of him causing a couple people to have to move out of his way. "Have a pleasant day."
With that he departs, his book in hand. He doesn't dare look at it up here on the street, but he can't rush his return to the tunnels. So with barely contained energy, he slowly makes his way back to the tunnels.
Once he's sure the coast is clear, he slips back down into the familiar and welcoming darkness of the tubes. As soon as he's sure that he's alone, he pulls the dust cover off. As expected, it's another banned book.
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof by Tennessee Williams lies in his hands. He can never seem to get over the fact that government bans such classic literature. With loving fingers, he fans the pages until he finds what he's looking for and a second later a scrap of paper falls to the floor. He's not sure how she managed to get it in there while he was watching, but this little piece of flattened wood pulp has the name and the real pub scrawled on it in her hand writing.
With a satisfied smirk, he places the piece of paper carefully in one of the inside pockets of his coat, drops the book into an outside pocket and continues his journey home. He moves with a much lighter step now that he has a lead he can sink his teeth into and he twirls his cane through his fingers. With a satisfied sigh, he reaches home and unlocks the door.
As he steps inside the gallery proper, he notes the silence and for a change it seems a little odd. Some small part of him had hoped that she would be playing when he came back. With an indifferent shrug, he heads for his dressing room and changes into his more comfortable attire.
Once that task is completed, he decides to check in on her. As soon as he steps into the hallway he knows something is wrong. Her door stands ajar, something that hasn't happened for the past several days. A quick glance in her room confirms that she's not there.
Taking a deep breath, he checks the bathroom but she's not there, the kitchen and TV room are also empty. A glance down the back hallway shows that none of the lights are on in any of the back rooms. He returns to her bedroom for further inspection and finally notices that the guitar case is missing.
A quick look under the bed turns up neither her nor the instrument and what's even more disturbing is the fact that her bag is gone as well. He tears open the draws in the dressing table next to the bed to find that they're all empty. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach he realizes she's gone.
Author's notes: J and Senira, you are both correct, The Globe Theater is where Shakespeare's plays were first preformed. People seem to think I'm joking when I say that my muse won't give me another chapter without reviews. Until I read J's review I had no clue how this chapter would start, but once I did, the words started to flow. So, do your good deed for the day and feed my muse please.