Categories > Comics > V for Vendetta
DISCLAIMER: I don't own /V for Vendetta/, whether it's the original graphic novel or the movie. Enough said.
SUMMARY: Just a look into the mind of V.
WARNING: Because of the mentions of death, killing, revenge and anarchy, this is rated PG-13 (T) just to be safe.
NOTES: This fic is named after the Gundam Wing movie Endless Waltz/, in which the young girl Marimaia says how "war is like an endless waltz." In my honest opinion, the same could be said for strife, suffering, conflict, and various other aspects of the human condition. This is also my first dive into the realm of /V for Vendetta/, just so you know. Speaking of which, this fic is intended to be able to fit both the novel /and the movie. Oh, and one other thing... Happy 5th of November! Happy Guy Fawkes Night!
/"Endless Waltz,"/
By Quillian
It never really changes, does it?
Peace, war, and anarchy, over and over again and again... it's all just like an endless waltz, isn't it?
All the conflict, suffering, hopelessness, fear, and death... all dispensed on the human race, especially at lots of times when it shouldn't have...
But that's where I come in. The one who died at Larkhill and was reborn from the flames like a phoenix. The one who tricked the people running the show, and brought their entire operation at Larkhill down. The one who lived in Room V.
The one who now calls himself... /V/.
For all of human history - the way things have definitely played out in the past and probably will play out in the future - this waltz has always gone on and most likely will go on, with me just one of countless dancers caught in it.
With my dark outfit, swishing cape, stark mask, small compliment of sharp weapons and my habit of disappearing and jumping around, I go in a dance of my own. No, I am not some Batman impersonator, but as a reincarnation of Guy Fawkes himself, or at least I'd like to think so. My original self - the old me - died in Larkhill's "resettlement camp" as they called it (and what a euphemism if I ever heard one!). "V" is my identity now, and that will do fine.
Let them think that I am something other than just a man, mere flesh and blood... let me be a symbol, a concept, an /idea/, because after all, ideas are bulletproof.
William Shakespeare once wrote in /Macbeth/, "Hell and night must bring this monstrous creature to world's light." Certainly, I escaped Larkhill from the hellish flames that one fateful night... but just as certainly my rebirth should not mark me as some hellish monster of the night. It would no doubt surprise me if the tyrannical leader and his government servants thought of me as such, but then again... they banned all of Shakespeare's works.
How ironic.
Come to think of it, wasn't the Gundpowder Plot also an inspiration for Shakespeare's play /Macbeth/?
How ironic indeed.
Like some ever-smiling ghost, I come out of the night, wielding my knives, almost as if mocking those I kill (who deserve to die, of course) and mocking even more so those who live but cannot catch me. My smiling mask - my smiling face - only augments their own anger and frustration, reflected in their snarls and scowls.
I am not some homicidal madman, but on the contrary, I am an intelligent man out for retribution. I only kill those who deserve it, and I only blow up buildings which are empty of innocent people at the moment of detonation. Sounds terrible, I know, but people matter more than buildings, lives more than landmarks. And if some guilty, death-deserving people are inside... well, I did say "empty of innocent people," didn't I?
Taking down a government was always a difficult and dirty business indeed, but in my own honest opinion, sometimes anarchy, ergo no government, was better than a bad government. At least with anarchy, there was that chance for a good government to come along. Alas, sometimes the nature of governments went in a waltz of its own: Good government arises, bad government comes out of that, anarchy figuratively wipes the slate clean, and it starts all over again... but it was always something which had to be done nonetheless.
Now plans are finally coming to a head, and it feels like the fate of all things concerned comes ever near... ever since Larkhill, I've essentially been living on borrowed time, and if I can make the right changes to return Great Britain to a state not governed by fear or anything of the sort, then I will happily commit myself to the Great Beyond, knowing that I've done it.
Even if I only have this one big chance to bring back order and justice once again in this endless waltz of human history, I'll happily take it.
Now then... I have places to go, people to see, and justice to mete out.
England Prevails.
Ave atque vale.
A/N: So, how was that? -Quillian
SUMMARY: Just a look into the mind of V.
WARNING: Because of the mentions of death, killing, revenge and anarchy, this is rated PG-13 (T) just to be safe.
NOTES: This fic is named after the Gundam Wing movie Endless Waltz/, in which the young girl Marimaia says how "war is like an endless waltz." In my honest opinion, the same could be said for strife, suffering, conflict, and various other aspects of the human condition. This is also my first dive into the realm of /V for Vendetta/, just so you know. Speaking of which, this fic is intended to be able to fit both the novel /and the movie. Oh, and one other thing... Happy 5th of November! Happy Guy Fawkes Night!
/"Endless Waltz,"/
By Quillian
It never really changes, does it?
Peace, war, and anarchy, over and over again and again... it's all just like an endless waltz, isn't it?
All the conflict, suffering, hopelessness, fear, and death... all dispensed on the human race, especially at lots of times when it shouldn't have...
But that's where I come in. The one who died at Larkhill and was reborn from the flames like a phoenix. The one who tricked the people running the show, and brought their entire operation at Larkhill down. The one who lived in Room V.
The one who now calls himself... /V/.
For all of human history - the way things have definitely played out in the past and probably will play out in the future - this waltz has always gone on and most likely will go on, with me just one of countless dancers caught in it.
With my dark outfit, swishing cape, stark mask, small compliment of sharp weapons and my habit of disappearing and jumping around, I go in a dance of my own. No, I am not some Batman impersonator, but as a reincarnation of Guy Fawkes himself, or at least I'd like to think so. My original self - the old me - died in Larkhill's "resettlement camp" as they called it (and what a euphemism if I ever heard one!). "V" is my identity now, and that will do fine.
Let them think that I am something other than just a man, mere flesh and blood... let me be a symbol, a concept, an /idea/, because after all, ideas are bulletproof.
William Shakespeare once wrote in /Macbeth/, "Hell and night must bring this monstrous creature to world's light." Certainly, I escaped Larkhill from the hellish flames that one fateful night... but just as certainly my rebirth should not mark me as some hellish monster of the night. It would no doubt surprise me if the tyrannical leader and his government servants thought of me as such, but then again... they banned all of Shakespeare's works.
How ironic.
Come to think of it, wasn't the Gundpowder Plot also an inspiration for Shakespeare's play /Macbeth/?
How ironic indeed.
Like some ever-smiling ghost, I come out of the night, wielding my knives, almost as if mocking those I kill (who deserve to die, of course) and mocking even more so those who live but cannot catch me. My smiling mask - my smiling face - only augments their own anger and frustration, reflected in their snarls and scowls.
I am not some homicidal madman, but on the contrary, I am an intelligent man out for retribution. I only kill those who deserve it, and I only blow up buildings which are empty of innocent people at the moment of detonation. Sounds terrible, I know, but people matter more than buildings, lives more than landmarks. And if some guilty, death-deserving people are inside... well, I did say "empty of innocent people," didn't I?
Taking down a government was always a difficult and dirty business indeed, but in my own honest opinion, sometimes anarchy, ergo no government, was better than a bad government. At least with anarchy, there was that chance for a good government to come along. Alas, sometimes the nature of governments went in a waltz of its own: Good government arises, bad government comes out of that, anarchy figuratively wipes the slate clean, and it starts all over again... but it was always something which had to be done nonetheless.
Now plans are finally coming to a head, and it feels like the fate of all things concerned comes ever near... ever since Larkhill, I've essentially been living on borrowed time, and if I can make the right changes to return Great Britain to a state not governed by fear or anything of the sort, then I will happily commit myself to the Great Beyond, knowing that I've done it.
Even if I only have this one big chance to bring back order and justice once again in this endless waltz of human history, I'll happily take it.
Now then... I have places to go, people to see, and justice to mete out.
England Prevails.
Ave atque vale.
A/N: So, how was that? -Quillian
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