Evey sat curled under the kitchen counter in her apartment, her feet warming the fake plastic tiles underneath her. The sounds of the TV purred behind her and, after being ignored all day, finally caught her attention. Her ears picked up the two voices, in juxtaposition, one high and one low; A male newscaster and his female co-anchor, signed off for the night to the London that was their adoring ears.

…. "BTN, the voice of London"

She frowned, rolling the words over in her head. BTN… BTN… it had been a while since London had heard anything else. She watched the orange and pink reflections of the sunset melt off the sudo-steel cupboards, turning eventually into cool shades of blue grey. Night came. She still sat. There had been a time, not long ago at all, when she would have smiled at the thoughts that coagulated in her head.

He was going to die.

Silently hated herself for opening the book "one more time" for just another peak at the words, but as the book creaked her arms could no longer find the strength to lift the cover.

Above her a splash of yellow was thrown into the blue as her neighbour's automatic balcony light clicked on. Evey flinched. The book was dropped and she automatically snatched it back up again. In that second on the tiles it had soaked in the cold from the floor. Evey felt it. She felt it all over.

"Annie!" Vanessa called. She bustled down the hallway swinging her hips the way only an woman her age and occupation could. The landlord knocked firmly on Evey's door. The knock echoed a little but was absorbed in the cushions and plaster so readily that it landed endlessly soft on Evey's ear. She didn't hear it.

It was a strange feeling, knowing that someone who wasn't thinking about you cared about what you thought. V cared, he cared what everyone thought, as a whole and person by person, because he KNEW what they thought. Almost everyone had an opinion, the same opinion, about Norsfire. And like magic, he brought them their blessings, their dreams wrapped up nicely in a box. It even hurt a little to open one, at least to Evey. It was a strange feeling… and Evey was the only person with it in the world…because she knew he wasn't thinking about her. He thought around her… to the whole people.

Evey would have been surprised if she found out what a lie that was.

His mask stared back at her from its place in the box, its white wreathed in black fabric. All she could manage to do was stare. knock knock knock! It was indeed a strange feeling... KNOCK KNOCK! "Annie!"*

Just as Vanessa burst in, two hands pulled the bed sheets firmly over the delivery box. The woman squeezed herself in the door, hitting her leg on a potted plant stand just inside. Evey heard her swear as she entered the room. She wasn't the best thing to be reminded of first thing in the morning, but the worst had already come in the mail. Vanessa was a vision of caked makeup, Monday morning attitude, antibiotics and the kind of rum one drinks first thing in the morning to diminish the taste of the same rum from the night before.

"Did you get one too-" cough cough sniffle- "the boxes I mean?" Evey pretended to consider this for a moment with fake confusion on her face. Vanessa, eyed her and then took a step back into the entrance hall. "If you see one, you tell me, I never get my bloody mail, maybe it hasn't come." she put a hung over hand to her wrinkled forehead. "All the news is…" she rolled her lips in search of a word or possibly having lost her train of thought, "BLARIN' on about people in masks. Something about them being infected. All terrorism business! If you get one you tell me, or my lad'll be 'round here checking the rooms."

Evey nodded, unable to think of something any other acceptable response. The other gave her a look and then, not being able to bother anymore with all this door knocking and yelling and government business, skarked out the front door. Evey took the box and put it under the bed for safe keeping.

Roger's feet quaked on the iron footing above the balcony and the scent of his cigarette trickled down to meat her. Evey looked hazily over the city barely taking notice. Ever since that morning he had been all she could think about. How he had done it, what he would do, if he was out there dressed like everyone else, if his home was safe with all the new weight on the London streets. Did he think about her? Did he miss her? Had he noticed the missing book? Would he be angry?

He's going to die.

And she was the only one who knew… so what could she do about it? Could she do anything about it?

There was a stirring above her as her neighbours feet slid across the metal floor above her. He sighed heavily and leaned behind him to close the door. There came a bang from inside his apartment as his wife closed the door with her foot, arms filled with groceries. Then came a silence. Evey tried to re focus on her own problems. Should she help him? Of coarse she felt for him now, but why? He had helped her but he had also Tortured her! And how many others? He could have killed hundreds of people before her! Before she'd met him! And what if all of this… clunk clunk clunk clunk

"It wouldn't kill you to at least say hello to me when I come home!" Roger said nothing. Another silence.

"A yellow-coded curfew is now in effect. Any unauthorised personnel will be subject to arrest. This is for your protection."

"A yellow-coded curfew is now in effect. any unauthorised personnel will be subject to arrest. This is for your protection."

"I know you've had a rough day but that doesn't give you the right to take it out on ME!" The woman's voice was full of tears. Evey couldn't help but lose track of her thoughts a little. "You don't even talk to me anymore. Not with…all this…fucking…Norsfire shit going on!" Roger continued to smoke as if he hadn't heard her. clunk clunk she stomped back into the apartment. "And get inside before anyone sees you! What? Do you want to be killed?" she called from within.

Evey made her own way back to her balcony door, trying to refocus on her own problems. She had had a crazy idea that day at work that came to mind again as she reached for the sliding-door handle. A crazy stupid idea that she had had in a moment of self-confident and recklessness daydreaming. A plan.

"AND GET THIS SHIT OUT OF MY HOUSE!", came the screeching neighbour wife from above. clunk clunk clunk running. Before her husband could stop her she emptied the box out over the balcony.

clunk!

A sheet of black fabric caught in the wind and was dragged out above the London street, followed quickly by a hat and wig which had also been thrown. Evey looked down at a patch of white in the darkness. It stared back.

She picked up the mask and examined it, its white skin caught in the moonlight.

A stupid, crazy, ridiculous plan…

V's boots splashed in the water on the subway station floor, but no noise was made. Up ahead in the tunnel a ray of light appeared. V was up against the wall fast enough to become invisible instantly to the patrolling finger man. His flashlight passed over the mouth of the tunnel without so much as a pause. Everything was going perfectly.

The masked man stepped off of the subway rail and padded unheard and unseen onto the concrete…

…YELLOW

* In the book based on the screenplay by Stephen Moore, Evey's fake name after leaving V's home is Annie Champion J