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I'd like to meet:

Our Story Begins

"I can't force people to accept the truth, but I can expose them to it."

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There's a girl who'll push but will not shove
And she's desperate for her father's love.
She believes the hand beneath the glove
May be the one she needs to hold.
Though she doubts her host's moralities
She decides that she is more at ease
In the land of doing-as-you-please,
Than outside in the cold.

.. ..

Okay; I've been told that the proper thing to do is introduce myself here, and so! That's what I'm doing.

My name is Evey Hammond, but I prefer to go by "Eve" these days -- it sounds more grown-up, don't you think? -- and I'm rather horrible at introductions, apparently. This is so much easier as V. I mean, what can I say that won't make this sound like a personal ad? How much about myself do I tell you?

Let's play safe, shall we?

I'm just like everybody else, I'm just like you. I'm a lover, a hero, a fool, a villain. I play the parts that life assigns me, accordingly, and I've gotten rather good at it. Like most everyone else in England, I'm settling down after the fall of Norsefire and nervously waiting to see what comes next when I'm not actively helping to decide what comes next.

I'm doing a lovely internship with a detective firm at the moment; answering phones, fetching coffee, transcribing reports...the usual. And I really think that's -- Oh!

Should probably mention that (most) everything you may have heard in conjunction with my name was propaganda, shouldn't I?

There.

It's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me "V".

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GENERAL INFORMATION

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Name: Eve Hammond
Nicknames/Alter-ego: Evey, E, V, Codename V
Age: 23, born 02 December 1984 (records have been altered)
Occupation: Undisputed co-founder and leader of the England Revolution, masked vigilante/terrorist.

Family
Parents: Mark Hammond (father; deceased), Anna Hammond (mother; deceased)
Siblings: Tim (brother; deceased)
Spouse/Serious Lover: Codename V
Children: None

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BACKGROUND

Occupation: Intern at “the Nose”, a branch of detective work that specializes in forensic and general “Who Done It?” – Eve’s responsibilities are answering phones, taking messages and writing up reports. Formerly worked in a match factory, packing matches into boxes. Also works as a “vigilante” of sorts under the name “Codename V”.
Education: None formal given the state of the country at the time, however was taught the Three R's by her parents and later studied other things and broadened her mind under V’s tutelage.
Activities: Martial arts, throwing knives, Latin, Greek, philosophy, etc.
Home: The Shadow Gallery, an underground home containing centuries of priceless art, music and such. Also has a flat in London to return to as Eve.
Finances: Eve wants for nothing, and if she didn’t need something to keep her busy in the day she wouldn’t work at all. Her work at the Nose pays decently, but she puts this money into charities and etcetera.
Friends: Detective Dominic, an accomplice and assistant as well as a co-worker; Inspector Eric Finch; an accomplice and assistant and her “boss”.
Accomplices: Codename "V"

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PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Height: 5'5"
Eyes: Hazel.
Hair: Blonde/Brown.
Face & Complexion: Pale complexion, oval face, deep-set eyes, thin.
Build: Thin, toned.
Appearance: Eve Hammond is an undeniably attractive young woman, with a kind face that has been prematurely aged by tragedy and bright, hazel eyes that shine with wisdom beyond her years. Her golden blonde hair is short, though she is allowing it to grow out. She is short, to be sure, slender, but well toned thanks to her training in gymnastics and the like.
Intelligence: Not much, to be sure, but the girl is far from stupid. She has had up to a second grade education, formally, and while education came to a halt there until she was sixteen and taken under Codename V’s wing. The girl is capable of reading, writing, and basic arithmetic, but most of her intelligence comes from life experience.
Defining Marks: Eve has a collection of a few small scars from her time in V’s “prison camp”. Also has a tattoo on her back, left shoulder blade, of the masked vigilante.
Dress Style: At work; professional. Slacks and skirts in quiet colors. At home; casual. Jeans, tops, comfortable shoes. V; lots of black, uniform, boots, gloves, cloak, hat, Guy Fawkes mask.
Manner of Speech: As Eve she speaks casually, but with correct grammar. As V she speaks eloquently, in riddles and rhymes and alliteration.
Manner of Movement: Eve used to have very little grace, but her training with V has made her an incredibly graceful, quiet sort. Most often, Eve makes a show of walking like everyone else, but her footfalls are silent and the girl is incredibly flexible and quick.

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PERSONAL DATA

IQ: Has never been tested, but is likely average, or even above average.
Phobias/Fears: Eve has no real fear after enduring torture meant to remove fear from her, but she is still frightened that she will be abandoned.
Religious Beliefs: Eve is Roman Catholic, though not by choice. Because of the former government’s policy: “Strength through unity, unity through faith”, a single religion was forced upon the nation. Eve is in actuality more agnostic with no proper opinion for or against God. However, she believes that if God exists he’s a bit of an asshole. Only sometimes.
Intolerances/Annoyances: People who answer questions with questions, people who are insensitive towards others, Fascists, killing in cold blood, killing in general, liars.
Quirks/Habits: Nothing particularly notable as of yet. Sleeping in late, watching blacklisted films, plotting.
Marital Status: In a relationship.
Sexual Preference: Straight.
Past Relationships: Being still not much more than a child, Eve hasn’t had too many relationships. She’s slept with a guy or two, I imagine, but the only noteworthy “relationships” are V, with whom she lived with once and had an active personal relationship, and Gordon, whom she regarded as a close personal friend until his sudden demise at the hand of Norsefire. The pair never dated or took their relationship to the next level as many assume.
Present Relationship(s): Eve finally has the chance and means to live like a girl her age. Eve casually flirts on occasion, but shares a more tense sort of romantic frustration with her current partner.
Personal Quote: "There are no right or wrong decisions in life. If you have trust in yourself you can have a happy outcome. A rash decision is sometimes the best way to guide yourself."

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Q + A With Eve

Who's the best teacher you ever had, and what did they teach you?

He doesn’t have a name, I simply know him as V, and that troubles me still, but he is easily the best teacher I have ever had. I never went to school, not formally, I was born in a troubled time and education was the least of my worries. My parents taught me basics of course, how to read and to write and how to do simple math, but none of that is important, really.

What was important, I learned from him, from V. He taught me how to think for myself, how to think on my feet, how to develop and defend an opinion, how to dream of something more. He taught me how to purge myself of fear and come out of the cage I had been metaphorically born into.

He taught me how to be free. And he taught me how to love.

I never knew why at first, and he was teaching me before I understood that that was what he was doing, but I see it now in everything he ever did for me, and I knew as I watched the explosions where the line 'twixt Whitehall and St. James was blocked.

This is the moment he was preparing me for.

V taught me to be a leader, and he is the finest teacher I’ve ever had.

Is there anyone in your life who you feel is exceptionally wise?
Who, and how did you meet this person?

There is something to be said about my mentor’s “wisdom”. He imparts his knowledge to me, the young willing accomplice, in riddles and rhymes and quotations much to my apparent frustration; but he just smiles when I sigh in aggravation. He always smiles. The man behind that smile has never been the sort to give answers to life's multitude problems but instead delivers the map and tools I will need on hand to solve the equation myself.

They are my problems, after all, and to take them away would be unfair. How would I grow if he coddled me so? He has known since telling him my name in that darkened alleyway how very important I was. Of course I didn’t see it yet, didn’t understand. But I would. It was only a matter of time.

The feelings I get when I riddle out his cryptic advice is worth all of the annoyance I may have suffered when he answered the questions with questions or worse, with silence. I'll grow stronger with every puzzle that's solved and the meaning imprints itself onto my soul. Nothing that he says is without value in the long run, and I tend to find that conversations that had been dismissed a year ago as “nothing” have armed me for the present, and for the future.

I muse over how funny it all is, sometimes. He is so very brilliant and he has chosen me. Wasn't much more than a child when we first met, clumsy and without sensuality; I was quite unlike him, he who moved and breathed with the grace and mystique of a cat. And yet he had taken me – an inept prostitute, a baby, a weak-willed creature – under his wings and began the task of teaching the seemingly wingless child how to fly.

I will understand in time, when I finally obtain wings of my own. For now, though, I must trust and believe in the wisdom of my teacher.

“V? You’re almost finished, aren’t you?” the adolescent asks her mentor.

He does not look up at her. He does not move from his dominoes or falter for even a moment. “See for yourself.”

If you could have any mutant/super power, which one would it be?
What would you do with it?

Come closer and lean in. I have a dear secret to offer to you. Are you listening intently? Good.

I am human. There have been no genetic alterations, no freak accidents; I was not born on some faraway planet to parents with extraordinary abilities. You do not believe it, of course. It ruins the rationalization that you have used in a vain attempt to pin me down, to understand me to hear that I am just like you. How, after all, can I be just like you when my footing is so sure? How can I be human when my mind works so swiftly, when my aim is so true?

It frightens you to think that I am like you. You would much rather dismiss my skills as abilities than acknowledge that the masked vigilante is simply a talented human. I cannot say that I fault you for it; somehow when you acknowledge me as one of your own you put the blood on your own hands. It is the truth though, my friends.

As humans we have the potential to do great things…we need only make the best of what we have been given. I have worked quite diligently to hone my body and mind into weapons sharper than the knives I carry and I cannot think that anything can be so rewarding as protecting freedom unaided by such things as superhuman powers.

Power is such a vexing thing, is it not? For centuries, man has been obsessed with power and it is my duty (it is the duty of everyone) to keep the power with the people so that they might remain free, it is my duty to keep power from the wrong hands. It would not do for me to become like those who I seek to vanquish.

The only power I need is the power of knowledge and I shall attain that myself in my reading, if it pleases you.

Talk about something you lost.

Your family?

I grew up with my brother and parents in a white house just outside of London. My father was a writer and my mother a pre-school English teacher. They met in a theatre society when they were young, and they told me their story many times, yet I never got sick of it. They fell in love during a play of Romeo and Juliet, and Mum loved Shakespeare ever since. She used to read all his plays to my brother, Tim, and I. I had a very happy childhood in my earliest years, and more than anything else I wanted to be an actress like Mum. I portrayed Viola in my first school play, and my mother was so proud of me she wept through the whole first act.

But the happiness was short-lived. My brother died in the St. Mary’s epidemic after coming in contact with a deadly virus that was created at Larkhill, and while watching him fade away in the hospital my parents became political activists. They protested against Sutler, and they were so brave, so strong. I wasn’t.

It was 1991; there wasn’t enough food to go around and the sewers had flooded. Everyone became ill and many died. My family had joined together with our neighbors in forming a “protection committee”, but it was too little too late. By the end, the committee mostly served as a reminder that it was not just the Hammond family who was suffering, as a child is prone to think.

My mother had always been so strong and full of life…but within the same year she was brutally knocked to the ground, black-bagged and brought away, right before my eyes. She died on a Tuesday, which I can remember vividly. I cried for hours.

I was ten years old, still just a child, and my mother was gone; the first of many losses.

Norsefire had come into power and began to get things under “control”. The people of England moved quietly to one side, relieved that their nightmares seemed to be ending. When Norsefire began to take people away they turned their gaze away. All governments had their problems, after all, and this was a far cry better than the entropy that had reigned before Sutler. They took the blacks first, and the Pakistanis. The Jews and radicals and homosexuals were gathered up and sent away soon enough, too.

My father had been in a socialist group during his college days, years and years ago. The words of hope for a better future remained instilled and imprinted on his memory. He always used to tell me that artists use lies to tell the truth, while politicians use them to cover the truth up. They came for him when they took my mother away. He stood with his chin raised and his back straight, but the haze of fear remained in his eyes. I was afraid.

My father was pushed into the back of the car and taken out of my life forever.

Your best friend?

It was 1998; After running from the Abbey where V had killed Bishop Lilliman the streets grew dark and dangerous. It was cold, and I had no place left in the world to go. His name was Gordon Dietrich, a man that I worked with at the BTN, and he gave me the front room in his home. Even took me shopping the next morning for clothes.

He was a soft-spoken and well mannered man, and always made me feel safe from the world outside. Hidden away. They came for him one night while I was sleeping, the sounds of the glass shattering is a prominent memory. The screams. The yelling. A waking nightmare. He was black bagged and murdered on the eleventh of June.

Everyone in this world i've ever loved.

All of them. One by one. Taken out behind the chemical sheds…And shot.

Final Thoughts

First, ask yourselves this… If a some-what crazy man in a Guy Fawkes mask killed and/or beat down three grown men before your eyes, blew up a building, and kidnapped you to his underground lair where you’d have to live for a year, what would you feel towards him? Especially if he later imprisoned, starved and tortured you, and practically drove you to the edge of sanity before releasing you, letting you know that the man you trusted most on this earth actually did all this to you.

Well, I don’t know what you’d feel, but it probably wouldn’t be near the area of butterflies in your tummy and heart fluttering, am I correct?

But what if a man saved you from being raped by three heartless men, opened your eyes to what a horrible world we actually lived in, and later rescued you from torture and execution by bringing you to his breathtakingly beautiful home? What if he cooked you the most delicious food you had ever tasted, and let you watch amazing, although black-listed movies you’d never get to see otherwise, and behaved with perfect manners and chivalry?

What if you betrayed him and escaped from him, and lived elsewhere a few weeks, before running from the secret police, and being re-captured by your savior? What if he strengthened you mentally, removed your fears and made you feel free, strong and alive for the first time in your life since your brother and parents died, and then let you go?

What if he danced with you, and gave you not only all his earthly possessions, but the choice to go through with his vendetta, or not? And thereby, saying you were more important to him than even the only thing he’d fought for the last twenty years, after only one year of knowing you. And what if he, before dying in your arms, declared that he loved you?

Then, how would you feel towards this man? Even if your answer isn’t love, then at least don’t judge me for feeling this way. I will never feel about another man the way I feel about V. This isn’t my world to shape, nor as it is his, yet with a very little amount of help from me, V straightened the scores and gave you the chance to improve your world, your country.

What you choose to do with this is up to you, but I hope that you will not have let him fought in vain, that you will think of all the innocent lives taken by the previous government, and that you will think about yourself, your family and friends, and in which kind of world you’d live the best life. Do you want to be strong, free and alive, or captured by oppression and fears?

I defiantly know what I’d choose, but my choice is another one, to leave you all with the hopes that you’ll do what is best for this country.

Things you like/enjoy?

shiny things :: chocolate :: orchids :: white roses :: itty bitty flowers :: sorbets :: italian food :: creamy sauces :: eating apples :: rain :: walking in the rain :: waterfalls :: tropical places :: the ocean breeze :: a stary night :: camp fires :: S'Mores :: cuddling :: kissing :: the noise someone makes in your ear when you kiss their neck :: when someone kisses my neck or nibbles on my ear :: the smell of someones hair when you hug them :: soft skin :: sleeping under a palm tree at night with the ocean breeze :: soft sheets and fuzzy blankets :: candles :: new gadgets :: fancy cars :: the color black :: clothes clothes and clothes :: shoes :: cute underwear :: spaghetti straps :: sexy eyes :: pretty hands :: belly buttons :: where the shoulder meets the neck (sexay) :: lips :: laughing :: science :: physics :: game night :: barbecues :: talking with friends all night :: my teddy bear :: acting :: movies :: a good song while speeding into a curve and feeling your body lean into it :: long hot showers :: hot tubs :: ferns :: vacations :: raw gems :: faceted gems :: jewelry :: gold, silver and platinium coins, bars and boullion :: feathers :: PEZ dispensers for some strange reason :: kittens :: wine :: rum coke and lime :: shots of whiskey when at a club :: when someone says they love you and means it :: the sound of my laptop keys typing as I'm hammering out a new script :: the feeling of someone reading my script for the first time and seeing the look on their face as they get to the good parts and really tell that they're loving it :: having someone run up behind you and cover your eyes :: a pretty smile :: someone who can joke about themself more than they do about others :: someone who can take a joke someone makes about them and turn it around on them :: a strong heroine character in a movie or game, hell...all movies and games for that matter :: a good book that makes you late for work because you didn't realize that time has flown by so much :: getting a call from someone just as you're thinking about them :: thinking about someone and then realizing that they were thinking about you earlier at the same time :: meeting someone new :: taking a walk at night :: coffee drinkers :: the smell of roses :: finally beating the hard part of a video game that's kept you up for days on end :: the way someones mouth moves when they talk :: cooking a meal that gives you reason to live :: reading a fantastic novel and seeing it play out in your head :: turning up the volume on movies sooo loud your butt vibrates :: taking pictures of wild animals :: ranches :: huge houses :: weird pets :: having someone hold you all night :: laying your head on someones chest and just listening to their heartbeat as they breathe :: the way your love look when sleeping (there's just something so sweet about it) :: that feeling just before a first kiss :: and the feeling while your having your first kiss :: the way you feel when someone you love finally tells you they love you and do it in the most romantic way you ever expected :: whispering sweet things :: someone running their fingers through your hair :: soft gliding fingers down your back and sides :: doing something you've never done before and never learned how to do but just jumping in and doing it :: doing something nice for someone you don't even know :: long beautiful hair to play with and bury my face in :: the sweetness of how someone looks when they cry, the face is all puffy and wet tears and it the sweetest thing ever, beautiful actually (of course the happy cries are the best) like when you've been waiting for so long for something and they finally tell you....that kind of cry :: that look on your face when the relief and tear start falling away.....I am helpless at that moment :: when you do that I'm all yours and just want to bury myself in your arms forever :: dancing when there's no music :: singing in a full elevator :: making up gibberish songs :: when someone memorizes your body with their fingers :: the smell of someone cooking :: the smell of bacon in the morning :: finding money randomly :: the smell of a babies head :: children giggling :: just standing on a hill top and feeling the breeze on your face and blowing through your hair :: hiking through the hills and exploring new places :: swimming in a crystal clear river :: candle lit dinners :: when someone puts their head in your lap and looks up at you with a smile :: the sound of your name being said by someone you love :: the way boy shorts look on girls (unnnghhh killer) :: getting all sweaty from dancing all night :: holding hands :: looking over at someone in bed with you in the morning and seeing the smile on their face as their face is nuzzled into your chest :: dreaming about someone you love and waking up having slept so perfectly :: watching them sleep (beautiful) :: waking up next to them and having them watching you and just smiling and looking at each other (priceless)

So, while you're killing time in your little cell, reach your fingers into that crack at the base of the wall, extract the little toilet paper scroll, and read along.

Vae Victus
Woe to the Conquered.

England Prevails. ..

Hopeful Dreamer

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Navigation

HOME
Victim and villain.
Victor and vanquished.
Viciously vulnerable
to
Vainglorious vanities.

VIGNETTES
Chapter 1 - V

Chapter 1 - E

Chapter 2 - V

Chapter 2 - E

Chapter 3 - V

Chapter 3 - E

Chapter 4 - V

Chapter 4 - E

Chapter 5 - V

VENEERS OF VANITY
I'm not questioning your powers of observation, I'm merely remarking on the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

COMMENTS

VICTORS

Fawkes at midnight, and by torchlight there was found
With long matches and devices, underground...

Codename "V"
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Valerie Page
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Chf. Inspector Eric Finch
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Gordon Deitrich
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View All Friends
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THOUGHTS

A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:

Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,

And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses.

[...]

A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;

And pay them at thy leisure, one by one.

What is ten hundred touches unto thee?

Are they not quickly told and quickly gone?

Say, for non-payment that the debt should double,

Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?

-- Shakespeare, Venus and Adonis

"Past all thought of right or wrong. One final question: how long should we two wait before we're one? When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?"

"For me, life is one huge jig saw puzzle. Each piece, or event in your life, fitting neatly together until, only later on, can you reflect and finally see the connections each piece had, leading up to the moment now."

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