Posted in reverse chronological order.
Stories from "Method" to "Sentry" belong in the same Alternate Universe.
Toys by FugueState, literature
Literature
Toys
"Ridiculous."
"Really? You think so?"
"I do, Mr. Finch, and by the sound of it, you do as well."
"It's not about what I think... this is the most popular toy of the season. Possibly ever, to hear the news."
"Aw, I think it's cute. What do you think, Evey?"
"Eve, that sound is most unbecoming of a lady."
"Spoilsport. I have to say I'm with Dominic on this one."
"So you think this - " V held a small plastic figure aloft, "is cute?"
Evey's grin was positively Cheshirean. "Absolutely." She stepped forward, showing off the toy's features as enthusiastically as any commercial. "Look at it - all that detail in the mask, and they even
11:37
Male in front of chemist's shop at Regent and Beak.
One male one female, on foot at West entrance of New Hyde Park.
Emergency, assault at Spurgeon Street; three male subjects, armed, beating a male and female; notify nearest patrol unit.
11:38
Robbery in progress, residence 3368 Langton Gate; two subjects seen; notify nearest patrol unit.
Two females on foot near Southwark Bridge, South.
One male, green bicycle, Prince Albert Road near St. George statue.
11:39
Finch's back ached where he sat before the array of security monitors. The dull throbbing had begun over an hour ago, and still he sat. His eyes burned from the glare o
"Good evening.
"We are here, all of us, to celebrate a day that once lived in infamy and has since become the anniversary of our rebirth as a people, and as a nation. Many of us remember the night our futures changed forever, the night of the Old Bailey even if we didn't recognize it as such at the time. We remember the fall of Norsefire, and that terrible, wonderful moment when we realized that we are the only ones who can control our own destinies.
"Tonight, I want to introduce you to a person who made all of this possible for us. Without this person's courage, and determination, and love, our world would have been lost. It's taken
In the end, a warehouse had to be used. A sports arena might have sufficed for so many people, or a concert hall, but those had long since gone and no large public venues had yet been reconstructed. Any number of churches were suggested, of course, but aside from the overwhelming number of people to accomodate, there was the inevitable issue of associations with Norsefire that made such an avenue less than ideal. Thus, a large section of an industrial park had been carefully converted for this event.
It was late at night and throngs of people filled the area, guided by volunteers. It had snowed earlier, but now the sky was clear. A half
part I: http://fuguestate.deviantart.com/art/Mending-99343714
part II: http://fuguestate.deviantart.com/art/Mending-Part-II-103380405
III.
Evey sighed and shifted, waking slowly. She'd slept longer than she'd expected. Eric must have decided to let her rest - he was always trying to do that. It had been a while since she'd eaten, and she was hungry now. There were still leftovers from yesterday, she mused... she could have that, and then they'd need to change V's banda--
V!
The memory of his waking slammed into her at once and her eyes flew open in astonishment to meet his.
* * * * *
V was watching her from his side
(part I is here: ( http://fuguestate.deviantart.com/art/Mending-99343714 )
II.
Evey whirled around at the sound of V's voice.
He was blinking slowly, staring up at the ceiling. She experienced a moment's disorientation upon seeing him, having irrationally expected the masked man in black to go with the voice and instead seeing the damaged stranger she'd been tending. Then he sighed, and the small sound re-established his identity for her, pulling her toward him.
"V?" She stopped just short of touching him, uncertain of the new boundaries his wakefulness might cause. His eyes - so unfamiliar, and yet exactl
"You should let yourself rest... you haven't slept in over a day."
Eric Finch looked with mild disapproval at the untouched sandwich on the dresser near Evey. Her vigil over the fallen V hadn't ended since they'd returned from Evey's address - as V - to the people of London. It had been hours.
He regarded the young woman who'd talked him into treason, set loose the explosives that destroyed Parliament, and nearly single-handedly averted one of the worst riots London had ever known. She looked so fragile and unraveled here in the half-light, still wearing the remnants of the vigilante's "uniform"; it was amazing she hadn't collapsed alrea
Monologue
Forgive me.
There was no way to ask your permission, or to prepare you. It wasn't something I wanted to do. There was no other option.
I did understand what you were trying to tell me - please believe this. I knew the face I was revealing would no more be the man I knew than the mask that covered it. I only wish it could have been by your choice.
It's so strange. We had to take away everything to get to your wounds... the mask, the wig - I never thought of it as a wig, did you know that? - the gauntlets that you so hastily put back on that first morning...
We had to peel away all of it, leaving behind a stranger in your pl
I. The Show Must Go On
The doublet was still too loose on her, in spite of the padding. There was no time to fix it; she'd just have to hope no one noticed. The trousers were a bit easier to fix with the excess length disappearing down into the boots. She'd hastily stuffed paper towels into the boots to take up the excess space, and to serve as a set of makeshift lifts to make her just a bit taller. She was still far too short, but with luck her position would hide that. The wig was next she realized her hands were shaking as she raised it to her head. Soft hair framed her face again for the first time in months. Not honey-colore