Cleolinda Jones (cleolinda) wrote in m15m,
Cleolinda Jones
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V for Vendetta in Fifteen Minutes

Go easy on me, you guys. This is the first "Fifteen Minutes" I've written after only one viewing since Phantom of the Opera. I left things out on purpose because it was going long, and I probably made mistakes. But it was fun, and it felt good after a long dry spell of writer's block.

And because you will probably ask: I really enjoyed the movie. I have not read the graphic novel yet, although I'm familiar with the basic plot and have seen excerpts (scans), because I figured that was my best chance of enjoying the movie. Movie first, book later seems to be a pretty good formula with Alan Moore's stuff, I find.




Evey’s Opening Monologue

EVEY: "Remember, remember the fifth of November, the gunpowder, treason and plot. I see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot." Unless you’re American, or never got taught any history, or both, in which case I see no reason why gunpowder treason should even ring a bell. Here, have an explanatory flashback on the house.


Ye Olde Departement of Back Storye, 1605
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
[Guy Fawkes tries to blow up Parliament but totally gets caught and hanged, but not before he exchanges sad looks with his anguished wife and a weeping phoenix down in the crowd.]

1,498,968 AMERICAN HARRY POTTER FANS: ZOMG I just got that.


London, in 1984 the Theoretical Future

[On one side of a metaphorical mirror, a young woman is getting dressed for a date. On the other side, a strange man in black is putting on a Guy Fawkes mask. And a cape. And a frillion daggers. And a very fetching hat. Both of them are watching some blowhard on TV who shouts like Bill O’Reilly, only gone to hell and come back British.]

TV!PROTHERO: And now those GODLESS AMERICANS are SO DESPERATE for MEDICAL SUPPLIES that they’ve had the GALL to send us FREE GRAIN. I say we take their PRECIOUS LIFE-GIVING FOOD and tell ’em to stuff it up their COLONIAL ASS! Who cares if people are starving? WE’VE GOT A GRUDGE TO NURSE HERE!

[Evey turns off the TV in disgust and heads out into the night, which would be dandy if she didn’t live in a police state.]

SOME SOOTHING AUTHORITARIAN VOICE: Curfew is for your protection. Please enjoy the curtailing of your rights and liberties. Curfew is for your protection. Please enjoy…

[... and immediately gets nabbed by three Fingermen.]

FINGERMAN 1: Shall we show her why they call us “Fingermen”?

EVEY: Oh God, no! Somebody help me!

FINGERMAN 2: Or should we make her film the lost Star Wars prequel?

EVEY: YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE! HELP HELP SOMEBODY HELP!

[Enter V, the Fawkesian vigilante in black, who promptly dispatches the Fingermen while Evey sits in a little crumpled pile on the ground, staring.]

WHAT V SAYS: Let me venture to introduce myself: I am a vagabond variable, viz., a vermifuge against veiled villainy, a vivisection of vermin, a valediction to varletry, a ventilation of venom, a veritable Via Dolorosa of vexation, a vanguard of virtue and a vaunted valentine to vengeance: with verve I vanquish and then vanish like vapor. With the vantage of valor I visit the valleys of shadow to venge and to vindicate, the vigilance of my vendetta becoming the vehicle of your deliverance, O virtuous vestal, from these verminous vampires in this verboten, vesperal vector. And as this velvet vers libre veers close to violet vainglory, I end this vaudeville and beg you to call me V.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
WHAT V IS THINKING: Eee hee! A girl!

EVEY: Sweet Lord, he’s insane.

V: Do you like music?

EVEY: Is your crazy contagious?

V: What if my crazy gets you home safe and unraped?

EVEY: I LOVE MUSIC.


Some Rooftop

[V begins to conduct an imaginary orchestra, while Evey wonders just what the hell she’s gotten herself into. But then…]

EVEY: Okay, your crazy is contagious, because now I can hear it too.

[V has hijacked the Soothing Authoritarian Speakers to blast the 1812 Overture, the result being that everyone’s conveniently hanging out their windows gawking when…]

THE OLD BAILEY: *BOOM!*

EVEY:*facepalm*


The Vassals of Villainy, Video Room

[All of the bad guys, plus Chief Inspector Finch, are conveniently in one room to receive the giant, furious telespittle of High Chancellor Sutler. But why Sutler’s cabinet appears to include a TV pundit and a bishop, well, your guess is as good as mine.]

PROTHERO: I BET A GAY AMERICAN MUSLIM IS RESPONSIBLE!

SECRET POLICE CHIEF CREEDY: I don’t know who did it, but we’ll have fun torturing them.

BISHOP LILLIMAN: I’m still not entirely sure why I’m here.

CREEDY: Get to finding the culprit before Sutler’s head explodes, Finch, chop chop!

FINCH: I hate you all.


The Shiny New Department of Back Story

[The only lead Finch and his assistant have are surveillance shots of a masked man and some random chick. Using the intarwebs, they have discovered her identity:]

FINCH: So this Evey Hammond wasn’t at home—

DOMINIC: Still, it was fun going through her underwear drawer.

FINCH: —but we’ll grab her where she works. What else have you turned up on her?
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
DOMINIC: Well, generally speaking, her preferred panty color is—

FINCH: ABOUT HER FAMILY.

DOMINIC: Well, her little brother died in the St. Mary’s epidemic and her parents were political activists until they got black-bagged, killed, and buried in shallow graves when she was only twelve. Also, sometimes the lambs still scream at night.

FINCH: Seriously? Now I kind of wonder how she didn’t get into terrorism sooner.


BTN, The Best (And Only) Television Network in Britain

[Fetching the producer’s half-caf venti mocha latte, apologizing to the talent for standing them up, delivering random boxes to the costume department, dodging the cops, and convincing the British people that this major landmark was supposed to blow up: all part of a state television intern’s day on the job.]

ANCHORWOMAN [blinking spastically]: …and so the workmen who blew up the Old Bailey at midnight will be rewarded for their cheeky improvised fireworks, because the Chancellor loves a good show of individualism. In other news, we have always been at war with Oceania.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
GORDON: Evey, you really must explain--I mean, if it's convenient--why you stood me up. I mean, if you have the time, and... no, I can wait here, take your time...

BITCHY PRODUCER: EVEY! YOU FORGOT MY NUTMEG SHAVINGS!

THE COSTUMING LADY: Okay, Evey, why did you bring me 20,000 Guy Fawkes costumes?

EVEY: I HAVE TO GO NOW.

FINCH: GET HER!

[But just then, V enters the building with a Very Important DVD… and a Dynamite Vest.]

SOOTHING AUTHORITARIAN VOICE: Please evacuate the building… in the opposite direction.

FINCH: BOLLOCKS!


V’s Pre-Recorded Address to the Nation

V: So, Parliament. You know, that building you haven’t been able to use since you got a dictator? One year from now, be there or be square.

SOME LITTLE GIRL: Yeah! Stick it to The Man!

SOME TAVERN DRUNK: Fight the Power!

SOME OLD MAN IN A NURSING HOME: I Like Peas!


The BTN Control Room

[The station director has decided he's qualified to defuse the abandoned Dynamite Vest. Meanwhile, fifteen Vs stumble out of a smoke-filled room.]

FINCH: WHERE IS HE?

DOMINIC: Well, uh, we kind of lost him in between trying to unmask all the fakes and the real one killing everybody.

FINCH: Well, brilliant.


Down the Hall

[You would think that a guy who ninjas on out of a room full of riot police would be able to handle one cop, right?]

SOME COP WITH ONE GUN: Your luck’s run out, chum.

[V sees Evey sneaking down the hall towards them.]

V [stalling]: I don’t know about that. Do you know what Lady Luck’s earliest name was?

SOME COP: Does it matter?

V: VORTUMNA!

SOME COP: WhaAHHHHHHHHHH!

[Evey pops up and maces him in the face. The flailing cop knocks her out but V takes him down. The cheese then stands alone.]

V: Ah, c’est la vie.


Finch’s Office

FINCH: [watching surveillance tape]: You have to wonder… what’s he thinking? What’s he going to do next? Is he going to leave her, or take her with him? And why?

DOMINIC: You have to wonder? Dude, he’s thinking, "Natalie Portman is lying unconscious at my feet." Shit, I’d drag her back to my cave too!
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
FINCH: I really can’t take you anywhere, can I?


We Interrupt Your Regular Anarchy...

[BTN runs footage the station director thoughtfully shot of the first fake V getting gunned down.]

ANCHORWOMAN: Oh, look, the police really have killed the terrorist known as V! Back to your normal diet of televised pap!

LITTLE GIRL WITH GLASSES: BOLLOCKS.

MOTHER: Watch your mouth, young—

FATHER: No, it really is bollocks. Seriously.


Some Underground Lair

[Evey wakes up in a strange bed with no idea how she got there, and “Cry Me a River” is playing sadly, surreally on a jukebox in another room, and it's all one midget away from a David Lynch production.]

V: Welcome to my lair! Let me show you around!

EVEY: Wow!

V: My library of forbidden books!

EVEY: Ooo!

V: My dizzyingly eclectic collection of censored artwork!

EVEY: I like the colors!

V: And here’s my cherished My First Wedding Evey doll! Look, it’s life-size!

EVEY: WAHHHH!

V: JUST KIDDING! Oh, you’re also going to have to stay here. For, you know, a whole year, because they think you’re my partner in terrorism now. My bad.

EVEY: I HATE YOU!

V: Hey, where are you going?
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
EVEY: TO MY ROOM, TO CRY INTO MY PINK SATIN PILLOW AND WRITE BAD POETRY IN MY DIARY!


The Phaaaaaaaantom of the Anarchy Is There…

[The next morning, Evey wakes up to find V in the kitchen wearing his mask and his black vigilante outfit and… a giant flowered apron. Cooking breakfast for her. With a dish towel over one shoulder. While singing to himself. The best part is, I’m not even making this up.]

V: Bonjour, mademoiselle! Breakfast? Fried egg on toast? It’s made with butter I stole from Sutler’s supply train just for you.

EVEY [mid-toastgasm]: OMG WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HANDS?

V: Oh, I just received third-degree burns over 96% of my body while escaping from a secret government detention center. Nothing worth mentioning, really.


Prothero’s Office Shower, Later That Night

PROTHERO: Now where did I put my falafel?


Prothero's Crime Scene, The Next Morning

DOMINIC: ...and it is at that point that we surmise that the terrorist known as V sneaked in, killed him, maybe taunted him with some old shared secrets first, and then made his escape. We should be able to find him pretty quickly, given that he was probably rendered stone blind by such massive amounts of pasty corpulent nudity.

FINCH: But have we figured out the significance of the long-stemmed rose on the corpse? Or why Prothero had a giant shower lined with televisions in his office?

DOMINIC: Some things may remain a mystery, sir.


Movie Time at the Shadow Gallery

V: Evey! Hi! I didn't see you—sometimes—I was just—

EVEY: Battling a... suit of armor?

V: YOU WANNA WATCH A MOVIE? Here, have some of Sutler's popcorn! Also, I am stealing his cable. Isn't Robert Donat just dreamy?

EVEY: Well, when the Count of Monte Cristo isn't leaving Mercedes in the lurch to go battle oppressors, I guess so.

TV!ANCHORWOMAN [blinking spastically]: We interrupt this completely innocuous movie with the breaking news that rabid pundit Lewis Prothero has just died of a stroke. No—heart failure. Naturally. In his sleep. And now back to the Happy Funtime Music Hour!

EVEY: So, uh… V? You were kind of out all last night, and my office ID card went missing, and Prothero’s kind of dead now. I mean, I know you probably don’t trust me all the way yet, or maybe you want to protect me from what you really do, or—
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
V: I totally killed him.

EVEY: Oh.

V: I’m totally going to kill more people, too.

EVEY: I… uh. Wow.

V: More popcorn?


Finch's Office

FINCH: So... Prothero used to be an army commander at some secret base that may or may not have had anything to do with the terrorist known as V.

DOMINIC: And that major we visited was totally unhelpful. And all the records have been deleted, lost, or expunged.

FINCH: You know what would be a really exciting plot development right now?

DOMINIC: What?
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
FINCH: Tax records.


Back at the Shadow Gallery

EVEY: V, there’s something I have to tell you, so that you’ll understand what I’m about to ask you. My parents became activists after my little brother died in the great epidemic and they made me hand out political fliers on the street but then my father died in a riot and my mother was black-bagged right as I watched from under my bed and so basically I was scarred for life and now I’m totally weak and cowed and unable to take action, so… is there anything I can do to help with the revolution? Anything at all? I would do anything. Especially it if involves getting out of the house.


Some Bedroom

EVEY: Okay, child porn for great justice? Not what I had in mind.


Some Cathedral

SOME ECCLESIASTICAL HENCHMAN: So… the candy’s been delivered but, uh, it’s been on the shelf a little longer than usual.

BISHOP LILLIMAN: But is the candy still soft, is the question? Sticky? Chewable?

SOME ECCLESIASTICAL HENCHMAN: Your Bishopness, I… I don’t like where this metaphor is going.


Some (Bishop’s) Bedroom

BISHOP LILLIMAN: Ooo! The “betraying a terrorist to save you” game, I love it! If all you preteens are this clever, maybe I really should expand my horizons!

EVEY: Listen to me! I’m not really a child hooker! He really is coming to kill AUGH GET YOUR HAND OUT OF MY BLOOMERS—

[Enter V to save the day and murder clergymen!]

BISHOP LILLIMAN: Sweet fancy Moses, you were telling the truth!
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
V: You lying huss!

[Evey flees, because she wanted to save the Bishop, but not all that much.]


Some Bishop's Crime Scene

FINCH: The tax records revealed the next victim, but too late!

DOMINIC: Woe!

[Enter Creedy and the secret police.]

CREEDY: Have you found V yet? Because it's your head on the line if you don't. Only, don't investigate anything that looks promising, because you'd find out everyone's dark secrets and then it's the black bag for you, Paddy!

FINCH: I HATE EVERYONE.


Gordon’s House

EVEY: Wow, Gordon, I can’t believe you’d hide an accused terrorist like me!

GORDON: Well, Evey, you see… if they search my house, you’re the least of my problems.

[Gordon opens a hidden door and takes her into his Secret Room of Deep Dark Secrets, where he has the collected works of Ayn Rand, three galleries’ worth of confiscated artwork, and… ]

EVEY: A whole 14th-century mosque?

GORDON: It was a bitch to have moved in here, believe me.

SOME SECRET PANEL: WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP!
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
GORDON: Sorry, that’s just the gay discotheque I have behind the fireplace.

EVEY: The gay… oh. Oh.


Breakfast, Chez Gordon


GORDON: Bonjour, mademoiselle. Breakfast? Fried egg on toast?

EVEY [totally weirded out]: Does this mean—that there’s a glitch in the Matrix?

GORDON: No, it’s just that I’m really the terrorist V, your sekrit underground lovah.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
EVEY: *eyes Gordon*

GORDON: Seriously? You’re suspicious because I made you eggy in a basket?

EVEY: No, I’m suspicious because real British people don’t call it "eggy in a basket."

GORDON: Evey? Just eat the eggy.


Finch’s Office

FINCH: So the only person from the secret Larkhill base who isn’t dead is… Dr. Diana Stanton. If only we could find her!

DOMINIC: Look what I found on the intarwebs! Dr. Diana Stanton has changed her name to “Dr. Delia Surridge”!

FINCH: YOU MEAN THE CORONER I JUST TALKED TO?

DOMINIC: ZOMG!


Dr. Stanton-Surridge’s House

[Delia Diana Stanton-Surridge wakes up in the middle of the night to find a weird figure with long black hair draped over a ghastly white face standing in the corner of her bedroom.]
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
SURRIDGE: OH MY GOD IT’S THAT LITTLE JAPANESE GIRL FROM THE WELL!

V: I am afraid not, Dr. Stanton. I have come to wreak a far greater vengeance.

SURRIDGE: Oh, thank God, it’s just that crazy burned man from Larkhill come to kill me. And it took you damn long enough, too!

V: I have to say… this is not the reaction I was expecting.


The Vassal Against Villainy, Video Room

FINCH: So he actually killed this one pretty quietly. Her secret Larkhill diary was left untouched for us to find.

[This diary is so important that Finch has the pleasure of Sutler’s telefroth all to himself.]

SUTLER: AND WHAT DOES IT SAY?!


The Diary of Dr. Diana Stanton

DAY ONE: So excited to experiment on undesirables! Oh, the benefits humanity will reap!

DAY THREE: For some reason, undesirables not excited at all. Bastard ingrates.

DAY TWELVE: Lilliman creeps me out. Still not sure why he’s here.

DAY TWENTY-FOUR: Attempts at creating curable virus have killed most patients, except the crazy one in cell V. Very handy with the roses out back, though, I must say.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
DAY THIRTY-SIX: Patient V seems to be strangely affected by the testing; he’s developing advanced kinesthesia, catlike reflexes, and an affinity for big words and black clothing. Also, he wants to listen to Andrew Lloyd Webber soundtracks all the time. We must find a cure, or I’m going to kill him.

DAY FIFTY-ONE: OH MY GOD THE FLAMES AND THE SCREAMS AND THE BURNING! THE BASE IS BURNED DOWN AND EVERYONE IS DEAD! ALL EXCEPT THE CRAZY ONE IN CELL V AND HE BURNED ALIVE BEFORE MY VERY EYES, STARING AT ME WITH EMPTY SOCKETS OF PAIN AND RAGE AND HATE!


The Vassal Against Villainy, Video Room

SUTLER: FINCH, PLEASE. CLEARLY, THIS DOCUMENT IS A FORGERY.

FINCH: What makes you say that, sir?

SUTLER: THE TERRORIST KNOWN AS V APPEARS OUT OF THIN AIR, FIGHTS LIKE A NINJA, AND THROWS KNIVES WITH DEADLY AIM… BUT HE HAS NO EYES?

FINCH: Touché, sir.


Gordon's House

GORDON: Evey, come watch my show! It’s the best we’ve ever done!

TV!GORDON: Welcome to the All-New Happy Goodtime Make Fun of Fascism Show!

[The “Chancellor” sits down for an interview and the studio audience applauds because soldiers are holding machine guns on them, and then “V” shows up and he and the Chancellor chase each other around and slip on banana peels and throw cream pies and poke each other in the eyes and it turns out V is also a Chancellor and then the soldiers shoot both of them. Everyone in England loves it… except the real Chancellor, who has a minor aneurysm.]

EVEY [horrified]: You’re really not very smart, are you?
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
GORDON: Says the girl who’s been dating a gay man.

EVEY: Gordon, they’re going to come for you!

GORDON: Girl, please. What are they going to do to me? I'm famous! Celebrities get away with everything, including but not limited to murder, child molestation, and crimes against fashion!


Later That Night

GORDON: OH GOD EVEY I'M LESS FAMOUS THAN I THOUGHT! HIDE!

[Evey hides under the bed, weeping even as Gordon is beaten and black-bagged right before her eyes.]

EVEY: You know what? I won’t let them get me this time! I’ll get away—I’ll escape, and—

SOME SOLDIER: GOTCHA!


Scenes from a Detention Center

INTERROGATOR: Now. You can give up the identity or the whereabouts of the terrorist known as V, or you can endure torture, incarceration, bad food, and eventual execution. What will it be?

EVEY: I…

INTERROGATOR: TO THE CHINESE WATER TORTURE CHAMBER WITH YOU!

* * *

[Evey is nearly power-showered to death and almost drowned in a bowl of water multiple times. In her spare time, Evey cries a lot and curls up in the fetal position. Every morning, someone tosses a plate of verminous mush through the slot in the door.]

A RAT: Eh, needs more salt.

* * *

[Evey finds a tiny roll of paper wedged in a hole in the wall.]

THE LETTER: My name is Valerie, and I’m writing this on toilet paper, with—well, let me put it this way, you don’t want to know what I’m writing this with.

[Valerie’s letter tells a heartbreaking yet somehow uplifting tale of coming out as a lesbian and then being shunned by her parents but finding three years of happiness with a fellow actress named Ruth. Then Ruth is black-bagged for being gay and Valerie is likewise captured and left to rot at Larkhill.]

THE LETTER: And every inch of me will die, except that one inch of integrity I kept because I never sold out and I never gave in. But I want you to know that, even though I don’t know you, and I’ll never see you, and you might not be hot, or female, or human, I love you.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
THE RAT: *weeps*

* * *

INTERROGATOR: All right. Tell us how to find V, or we’ll take you out behind the shed and shoot you like a rabid dog. Have you ever seen Old Yeller? Because we can show you that if you haven’t. WITH YOUR EYES TAPED OPEN.

EVEY: No.

INTERROGATOR: No, you haven’t seen it?

EVEY: No, I won’t cooperate.

INTERROGATOR: THEN YOU GO BACK TO YOUR CELL AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU HAVEN'T DONE, MISSY!


* * *

[Evey sits in the dark, waiting to die.]

INTERROGATOR: Seriously, just give them something.

EVEY: Are you the same interrogator as before? Or a different one?

INTERROGATOR: Yes—I—no. Totally different interrogator.

EVEY: Because you sound different, but… kind of familiar. Have you ever been in movies or anything?

INTERROGATOR: … No.

EVEY: I just… I feel like I know you from somewhere.

INTERROGATOR: Look, are you going to cooperate or not?

EVEY: No.

INTERROGATOR [ominously]: Then… you are free to go.

EVEY: Wait, what?

[Evey stumbles out of her cell to realize that she’s been guarded by a department store dummy and held captive all this time in V’S UNDERGROUND LAIR WTF.]

EVEY: YOU cut my hair?! You tortured me?! YOU CUT MY HAIR???

V: Evey, you have no idea how hard it was for me to go in there every day and beat you and starve you and shower you—

EVEY: Oh my GOD.

V: I had to do it! I had to make you a harder, stronger person who wouldn’t punk out the next time we need to kill someone!

EVEY: RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

V: Evey! Evey! Think of the strength, the calm you felt when you thought you were going to die—
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
EVEY: Why don’t you think of my long luscious hair? Oh, that’s right, ’CAUSE I DON’T HAVE ANY NOW!

V: You need some fresh air—

EVEY: No, I need to KICK YOUR ASS!

[V drags Evey up to the roof where she can stand in the rain and raise her arms in a Symbolic V of Tearful Freedom and ironically reenact the moment V himself emerged from the Larkhill fire. Mmm, anvilicious.]

EVEY: Ahhhhhh! I feel refreshed by metaphor!


The Shadow Gallery, The Next Day

V: Ah, my wonderful jukebox of 10,000 songs. And not one of them have I ever danced with anyone to. AHEM.

EVEY: I’m leaving, V.

V: Is this about the torturing thing?

EVEY: AND THE CUTTING OF HAIR.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
V: IT GROWS BACK, EVEY!

EVEY: BYE.

V: Hey! Wait! The Valerie letter was real! Look, I totally have a shrine over here to her! Come back! I’ll make you all the toast you want! Just—come back and see me one more time? Please?

EVEY: Whatever, I’m out.

[V is so distraught that he takes off his mask and smashes up a mirror with it.]

V [sobbing]: She’ll never sing in my jukebox opera now!


The Department of Backstory, Creepy Outdoor Division

DOMINIC: Okay, so we’re over here in the middle of the night with this creepy-ass monument to dead children because…?

FINCH: Because I’m convinced that this guy who emailed me is this escaped prisoner named William Rookwood who must therefore be V! And that homeless man on the bench must therefore be him!

HOMELESS MAN: Verily, I vouched vengeance against... shit. Can we just use normal words? I've run out of the others.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
FINCH: Rock on.

HOMELESS!V: Anyhoo, once upon a time there was a man who wanted to get out from under the watchful eye of Big Brother. But he didn't, and they caught him, and they brainwashed him so thoroughly that he decided he wanted to be Big Brother, so he and his friends created a plague to kill a large chunk of population and make the rest so afraid that they'd make him dictator for life and let him do anything and shout "ENGLAND PREVAILS!" a lot. And that man now telefroths at you on a daily basis.

FINCH: I KNEW IT!

HOMELESS!V: By the way, "William Rookwood" died twenty years ago.

FINCH: AUGH!


Finch's Office

FINCH: Dominic, if you could find out who really killed 80,000 people, even though someone else had already been executed for the crime, would you want to know?

DOMINIC: Well... I'm a cop, aren't I?

FINCH: What if the answer was "the government currently oppressing us"?

DOMINIC: LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU.

FINCH: Look, there's no point in pretending. You were in the previous scene just like me, it's not like you didn't hear everything he said too.

DOMINIC: *hangs head*


Creedy’s Greenhouse

CREEDY: The terrorist known as V! What do you want?!

V: I want to make you an offer, Mr. Creedy. Because I think you are a smart man, and a smart man would realize that he will never catch me unless we cut a deal. A smart man would realize that if he delivered the High Chancellor to his worst enemy, that very, very smart man could then assume leadership himself. If he were very smart. And I think he is.

CREEDY: Durrrrr…?

V: *maskpalm*


Finch’s Office

FINCH: So last night I went out to Larkhill, and suddenly…

DOMINIC: You dropped acid and vicariously experienced every terrible event that shaped the man known as V?

FINCH: No, I just got this feeling.

DOMINIC: Because you dropped acid?

FINCH: THERE WAS NO ACID.

DOMINIC: Awww! Bollocks.

FINCH: I just got this feeling I knew everything that’s going to happen—all the things that were, things that are, and things that have not yet come to pass.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
DOMINIC: So you know what’s going to happen?

FINCH: No.

DOMINIC: What?

FINCH: Well, they took the script away from me before I could get any further. I’m just saying, if the police shoot some little girl in a Guy Fawkes costume, shit’s gonna go down.


The Next Day

SOME COP: What? Stop looking at me like that! She looked just like the guy who just robbed the Qwik-E Mart in a Guy Fawkes costume!

ANGRY MOB: Except for the part where she’s ten years old and THREE FEET TALL!

SHIT: *goes down*


The Shadow Gallery, November 4th

[V's free costumes have started a wave of riots, chaos, and preteen vandalism, so basically it's all going according to plan. Evey has come back to see him one more time. V is all atwitter.]

EVEY: S’up.

V: Evey! You—you came back! I kinesthetically sense that you look great! I was so worried about you! How did you get by? Where did you live?

EVEY: Oh, I found a quaint little abandoned apartment on Plot Point Lane. Had a nice drawerful of money in it, too. But what about you and your 700,000 Guy Fawkes costumes? How could you afford to have all those costumes manufactured and mailed out?

V: Well, living well is the best revenge, so… I bought stock in Evil Government Plagues, Inc., twenty years ago. I’m richer than JK Rowling by now.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
EVEY: Well, that explains a lot.

V: Will you dance with me? A revolution without Dance Dance Revolution is not worth having.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
EVEY: Okay, there was a reason they outlawed that.

V: Just one slow dance, then?

EVEY: You know what? My gaydar’s been off before, but surely a man who keeps a shrine to a dead actress in his house has got to be heterosexual. You're on.

[They slow-dance. No, seriously.]

V: Evey, I love you. I wanted to be more than a man, to be an undying idea, but you made me feel something I thought I was incapable of feeling--you made me want to be a man again.

EVEY: I... I kind of forgive you for all the torture now.

V: Yay! I have a present for you.

EVEY: Oh, man, this is gonna be good.


Somewhere Underground

[What do you get the woman who made you feel love again? Flowers? Diamonds?]
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
V: Explosives.

[V has spent the past ten years clearing out the abandoned train tunnel to Parliament, and has a train car full of explosives ready to go.]

EVEY: Really... you shouldn't have.

V: You must be the one to blow up Parliament, because the new world will be your world, not my world of blowing things up. Even though your world involves you blowing something up. What I'm saying is, it's all you now. I've got Chancellors to kill, it's a busy night.

EVEY: No! Don't go! I love you!

[Evey kisses V, and we get an extreme closeup of hot mouth-on-mask action. V runs away, overpowered by their doomed love omg.]

EVEY: Wait! Come back! Don't you want to feel love? Seriously, we can feel love right now! COME BAAAAACK!


The Ruins of Victoria Station

[Creedy and his henchmen bring a black-bagged Sutler, who is bawling like a toddler, to V. But it turns out Creedy was smarter than we thought: after he kills Sutler, he and his men turn their guns on V. Somehow? Five hundred thousand bullets later, V’s still not dead.]

V: MY TURN!

CREEDY: What? No! You don’t have any guns! You don’t even have eyes! All you have are a bunch of—

MATRIX KNIVES: wah-wah-wah-wah
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
MATRIX KNIVES: woh-woh-woh-woh

[All the henchmen die in slo-mo (“UNHHHHHH”), with ribbons of gore flying everywhere. Slowly.]

CREEDY: …knives?

V: PREVAIL UPON THIS.

CREEDY: *dies of choke*

[Triumphantly, V… kind of staggers off in a large smear of blood. Homemade bulletproof vests: not as effective as you’d think.]


Back at the Train Car of Boom

V [gasping in her arms]: Evey, my time… has come. I must go… into the West… or the Matrix… or something. I leave you… all my stuff.

EVEY: V! You can’t die! I love you!

V: *dies*

EVEY: WELL SCREW YOU TOO!

THE RAT: *sobs*


Parliament

LIEUTENANT: Major, we... we have a problem.

MAJOR: What now?

LIEUTENANT: 700,000 Guy Fawkeses are here, and they're pissed.

MAJOR: Well, what does Sutler say to do?

LIEUTENANT: We can't find the Chancellor anywhere.

MAJOR: Well, what about Creedy?

LIEUTENANT: Him neither.

MAJOR: Well, the hell I'm going to shoot 700,000 relatively innocent people!

LIEUTENANT [to the crowd]: He says come on through, you guys!


The Terrorist Known as V Memorial Train Car

[By the time Finch finally figures out what's going on and finds her, Evey has laid V out among the explosives and covered him with the roses from the Valerie shrine.]

FINCH: Step away from that switch!

EVEY: The people need hope! And stuff blowing up!

[Finch lowers his gun, looking torn. Evey sends V’s rose-and-fertilizer-laden train car down the tracks.]

EVEY: Do you like music?
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
FINCH: If I say yes, do I have to live in your basement now?


On the Rooftop

[The soldiers and the army of Vs stand by as Parliament blows up to the climax of the 1812 Overture. Parliament blows up hard. Parliament blows up long. Parliament blows up good. Evey lights a post-splodey cigarette.]

FINCH: Who was he?

EVEY: He was my father…

FINCH: Whoa, really?

EVEY: … and my mother, and my brother, and Edmund Dantes and Che Guevara and a lesbian actress. He was you, and he was me. He was all of us. And even though he wanted to be an idea, I will always remember him as man, whether he likes it or not, because I loved him, even though he tortured me and I never actually saw his face and all I got to kiss was a cold metal mask.
© 2006 Cleolinda Jones. All rights reserved, do not repost. cleolinda.livejournal.com
FINCH: Dude.

[Half a million Vs watch the blowing-up and the fireworks and the hey hey pretty colors and when they take off their Guy masks, many of them are people we have seen killed earlier on, like Gordon and Surridge and Valerie and Evey’s parents, and it is deep.]

[And then there is Bollywood music.]


In the Car, Afterwards

MY MOTHER: OMG! That was Arwen’s daddy?


FIN.


© 2006 Cleolinda Jones.

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You may repost brief excerpts with author credit and a link back to this entry or the community as a whole. Please DO NOT repost this parody 1) without my name or a link back; 2) with any changes to the wording or language*; or 3) in its entirety on your journal, on your website, on a message board, on fanfiction.net, or on ANY OTHER PAGE ON THE INTERNET without my written permission. Icons are always welcome, so have fun.






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