Strong Language, just sayin'

STRONG language (O_O)

Media men, he thought.

Striking a match on the ally wall, Eddy Bryant ignited the end of his cigarette.

Media men.

There were millions of Brits.

There were thousands of Londoners.

But all of them were influenced, every single day, by the men and women of the London Media

Of which there were only a miniscule hundred or so.

Edward was one of these.

Like most men his age, who were still alive here and now, he used to be a Finger man. But he moved into Central Police after Almond died and Creedy came in. People changed when they worked for Creedy. Then, after two years and a slow pay decline, he moved into Public Service Security at the BTN to get a bit more money. He had a girl at home then, a little one whose mother had left on errands and never come back.

Tiny, pale little thing. Blood, bones and skin.

That was Monica.

And after a while as a guard he moved into the Broadcasting world. Fiddling with electronics, moving cameras, setting Lights, it was a kind of promotion only with no pay change. Bit it gave his life meaning, that was the thing. Life was alright in the BTN. Great actually, come to think of it…

…In comparison to now. Though it hadn't really seemed like it at the time. You don't really you what you've got till it's gone, he reflected. At least back then, life had been simple. And then there was the Fifth.

That's when everything changed.

It was about 7 in the morning and he had walked to work with Lionel. They had coffee in the security 'lounge' then headed upstairs to set up for Deitriche's Hour. The security had been short that day since half the country was off working to clean up the old Bailey's wreckage. He should have gone out there that day, all the Ex-Fingers had, it was their duty as public service. But he'd gone into work anyway. Ed had to double up as security that morning with Huddy and James to scan-check boxes in the mail room. He'd switched with Jarrod at about 7:45. The Alarms went off at 8 o'clock sharp.

He, James and Huddy were the ones to break the stage door in. He was the one to take down the first cloak.

And at first, he'll admit, he kinda felt like a hero, taking down the masked man. People treated him like one since, those who recognised him. Those who believed the lie. And it was a lie. Everyone who had been there knew. He wasn't dead, not then, and not now. Edward knew V was still around. Somewhere, hiding.

Like a fucking coward.

He knew the second that old security guard screamed, that he hadn't hit the right man. He and some policeman lugged old Fred out into the hall for the medics to take care of him. Masks were ushered out into the corridor. He remembered thinking…he's here somewhere, he has to be… Keeping his hand on his gun, he waded through the black figures and into the door. Out burst the final pair.

One was screaming and screaming, out of habit he pulled his weapon. The last thing he could remember was the wet snap as the blade came through his shoulder. He blacked out after that.

I had that fucker underneath me. I had my gun at his head, he thought, sucking down the smoke.

All that happened from then,

It was all fucking V.

The coldness in the night air sharpened his agitation.

Monica…

They came and took Monica away while he was in hospital. Off to the Juvenile Care-Centre in Lincolnshire. That was the last he saw of her. He was took weak to leave the quarantine zone, they said. They took away my baby. He took away my baby. For the first time since he could remember, he cried. The day they told him she was gone. She was the only thing he had in the world. She couldn't last up there. Moni was such a little thing. The worst part was just not knowing what was going to happen to her.

He could only imagine…

In all his time in the Finger had had never hurt someone like V hurt him. Never.

God as his witness, he'd never taken advantage, he'd never harmed a soul.

He'd done nothing wrong.

Eddy took the paper tube from his lips and looked at it in the minimal lamp-light, its tip gleaming like the sun. He wouldn't be here without cigarettes, he mused, they got him through it. Pulling another from his pocket, he lit it on the dwindling tip of the first. His little sun hissed at it hit the damp pavement. As the second filter hit his lips, his pocket started beeping.

He sighed something awful, and then answered the mobile.

Jimmy's breathy voice muttered. "We've found him."

Beep.

Needing no further introduction, he switched it off again and was in his car before a minute was ended.

A second cigarette was left smouldering between the damp ally stones.

Its little sun flickered out.

Eric wet his lips and fished around in his jacket pocket for the little cup, analysing the walls as he did so. No security cameras? None that he could see? Well no one came down here, not in years. It only made sense. Even so, it didn't seem like V at all. Not the V he knew. Perhaps he'd passed one and not noticed? The idea he was being watched struck an off key in him. Finch set down the china on the concrete before the door and walked away, trying to keep his pace steady.

The little teacup was taken not half an hour later by a hand that was not gloved. Within that next hour it was on the unoccupied passenger seat of Edward's car.

He felt so close, so very close.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I was so sure of it… maybe it's the way mum read it to me?"

"It was 'the', I believe originally but became 'a' through years of interpretation." *

"I suppose so," Evey mulled over her coffee. "Though that totally changes the meaning of the sentence."

"And the structure as well, if looked at from a writer's perspective."

"Mm," Evey agreed, nodding. Taking a sip of her coffee, she absorbed a moment of silence from the room and was struck by a weird thought. "We don't talk about anything but Shakespeare much do we?" she observed. "Just recently, I mean? Since the Revolution?"

"I suppose not," V said in a thoughtful tone. "You and I have used up all our other conversation it seems. We have had nearly a year to…talk."

"But there's no limit to ranting about Shakespeare," she laughed. V nodded in response, a small chuckle escaping him. "Still, there must be something else to sit and chat about?" Pausing a moment to finish her coffee, Evey took a breath and thought. Her eyes still on her cup she muttered eventually: "Whats your favourite colour?"

And when all other conversation is used up, it's time to take about me… V thought.

"Hazel," he answered automatically, "and yours?"

"It changes every day with me, but for now it's a kind of… deep aqua?"

"Hmm?" V rolled his tongue over his teeth and leaned back against the counter. "What's your favourite novel?"

"At the moment?"

"Mm?"

"The Great Gatsby," said Evey, "Yours?"

"Oh there are so many…" he said, his voice reflective.

Down the passage that lead from the pantry beside him, there was a small room in which were five television screens. On one monochrome face glowed the image of three men. One suited, two in shirts and slacks. The band stayed shortly examining the door and walls before them, then without a word, they were gone.

Now, Peter , Peter was Norsefire. He lived it and breathed it. It was his house and his wife and his money. Edward and anyone else who knew him could see it. Government became him. It owned him. It gave him everything he ever wanted.

So when it was gone, so was he.

Eddy knew Peter from way, way back. Before the years in the Finger even. Way back when he was meek and tiny and sad looking. They'd gone to school together in Kensington when it had been nothing but tiny little parks and houses. It seemed like a thousand years ago now. Way back before Viadoxic had cashed in. Then Pete left the real world and became part of the party. He had a woman at his side and a flat in Marylebone, two little boys who he have everything to. And the money lasted, and was going to last. Everyone knew Pete, but no one did like Creedy did.

The party made the money last.

It was a shame really.

Without it he just wasn't himself anymore, it seemed even his face had changed.

But he stuck with Eddy.

To the end.

Which was soon.

But not quite soon enough for his liking.

"You know what?"

"What?" said V, leaning forward to grab the remote.

"I think," Evey said with a smile, "Right now I'm happier than I've ever been." At this V turned to look at her. "Just having a home, with someone to talk to. I can hardly remember another time like that."

"You know..?" he said, "…I feel much the same."

*Discussing a line from Viola's monologue from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night