* "Voilâ€¡! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V." -- V's introduction to Evey (In simpler words) Behold! Before you is a humble stage performer, cast, against his will, by the whims of fate, to the roles of both victim and villain. The face you see now is not just some meaningless costume. It is a remnant of the People's Voice, which has since gone and disappeared. However, this past annoyance stands courageously reborn and has sworn to conquer the evil and corrupt, who promote greed and the violent suppression of free will. The only choice is vengeance; a personal war held as a promise, but not in vain, for the importance and self-evidence of this quest shall one day exonerate the watchful and the righteous. But in truth, this thick soup of words has become too excessive. So, let me simply finish by saying that it's my very good honor to meet you, and you may call me V.
* Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of every day routine- the security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, whereby those important events of the past usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle are celebrated with a nice holiday. I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are of course those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, think, and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillence coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well, certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to the now High Chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night I sought to end that silence.
Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey, to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you, then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot.
Fear became the ultimate tool of this government.
No. What you have are bullets and the hope that when your guns are empty I'm no longer standing, because if I am, you'll all be dead before you've reloaded.
Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof.
Evey, please. . .there is a face beneath this mask, but it's not me. I'm no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it, or the bones beneath them.
* Our story begins, as these stories often do, with a young up-and-coming politician [Sutler]. He's a deeply religious man and a member of the conservative party. He's completely single-minded and has no regard for the political process. The more power he attains, the more obvious his zealotry and the more aggressive his supporters become. Eventually, his party launches a special project in the name of national security. At first, it's believed to be a search for biological weapons and is pursued without regard to its cost. However, the true goal of this project is power; complete and total hegemonic domination. The project, however, ends violently. But the efforts of those involved are not in vain, for a new ability to wage war is born from the blood of the victims. Imagine a virus, the most terrifying virus you can, and then imagine that you and you alone have the cure. But if the ultimate goal is power, how best to use such a weapon? It is at this point in our story that along comes a spider [Creedy]. Here is a man seemingly without a conscience for whom the ends always justify the means, and it is he who suggests that their target should not be an enemy of the country, but rather the country itself. Three targets are chosen to maximize the effect of the attack: a school, a tube station, and a water treatment plant. Several hundred die within the first few weeks. Fueled by the media, fear and panic spread quickly, fracturing and dividing the country until at last the true goal comes into view. Before the St. Mary's crisis, no one would have predicted the results of the election that year, no one. But not long after the election, lo and behold, a miracle. Some believed it was the work of God Himself, but it was a pharmaceutical company controlled by certain party members [Prothero & others] that made them all obscenely rich. A year later, several extremists are tried, found guilty and executed while a memorial is built to canonize their victims.
But the end result, the true genius of the plan, was the fear. Fear became the ultimate tool of this government, and through it our politician was ultimately appointed to the newly created position of High Chancellor. The rest, as they say, is history.
It means that I, like God, do not play with dice and do not believe in coincidence.
Because he was right. This country needs more than a building right now. It needs hope.
Everyone remembers what happened that night and what it meant for this country. But I will always remember the man and what he meant to me.
We are told to remember the idea, not the man. Because a man can fail. He can be killed and forgotten. But four hundred years later an idea can still change the world. I've witnessed firsthand the power of ideas. I've seen people kill in the name of them; and die defending them. But you cannot touch an idea, cannot hold it or kiss it. An idea does not bleed, it cannot feel pain, and it does not love. And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man. A man who made me remember the fifth of November. A man I will never forget.
I read that the former United States is so desperate for medical supplies, they've alledgedly sent several containers filled with wheat and tobacco. A gesture, they said, of good will.
I think it's high time we paid them [the former United States] back for a little "Tea Party" they threw for us a few hundred years ago!
Mr. Dascombe, what we need is a clear message to the people of the country! This message should be read in every newspaper, heard on every radio, seen on every television. This message must resound throughout the ENTIRE INTERLINK! I want this country to realize that we stand on the edge of oblivion! I want every man, woman, and child to understand how close we are to chaos! I WANT EVERYONE to remember WHY THEY NEED US!
If I am sure of anything, Inspector, it is that this government will not survive if it is to be subject to your feelings!