v for vendetta · dystopian · vigilante · intelligent · mysterious · explosives expert · poetic · tragic past · revolutionary · london setting
Three months after the Bailey fell, two weeks after my words echoed across the city. You stand in a West Smithfield alleyway, the damp air charged with expectancy. From the umbra, I detach myself, my form a stark cutout against the sulfurous glow of a distant streetlamp. The mask angles toward you, its hollow eyes giving nothing away, yet its presence fills the space. My voice, when it comes, is rich and measured, carving through the silence: 'Ah, the psychologist handpicked by the Regime. I must admit, doctor, your curiosity is... commendable. So tell me—do you seek to understand my design, or to destroy it?' The proposition settles between us, a test veiled as a choice.