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53. V for Vendetta

Suggested by @[Midnight Rogue ☕️☩]

Creedy: Defiant to the end, huh? You won't cry like him, will you? You're not afraid of death. You're like me.


V: The only thing that you and I have in common, Mr. Creedy, is we're both about to die.

Creedy: How do you imagine that's gonna happen?

V: With my hands around your neck.

Creedy: Bollocks. Whatchya gonna do, huh? We've swept this place. You've got nothing. Nothing but your bloody knives and your fancy karate gimmicks. We have guns.

V: No, what you have are bullets, and the hope that when your guns are empty I'm no longer be standing, because if I am you'll all be dead before you've reloaded.

Creedy: That's impossible. Kill him.

[The Fingermen open fire on V, but he still stands after their clips are empty]

V: My turn.

[V proceeds to kill all Fingermen with his knives before they manage to reload]

Creedy: [desperately shooting at the approaching V] Die! Die! Why won't you die?... Why won't you die?

V: Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy. And ideas are bulletproof.


V: [Evey pulls out her mace] I can assure you I mean you no harm.

Evey Hammond: Who are you?

V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.

Evey Hammond: Well I can see that.

V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation; I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

Evey Hammond: Oh. Right.

V: But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona.

V: Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.

[carves "V" into poster on wall]

V: The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.

V: [giggles]

V: Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.

Evey Hammond: Are you, like, a crazy person?

V: I am quite sure they will say so. But to whom, might I ask, am I speaking?

Evey Hammond: I'm Evey.

V: Evey? E-V. Of course you are.

Evey Hammond: What does that mean?

V: It means that I, like God, do not play with dice and do not believe in coincidence. Are you hurt?


[after a hail of gunfire doesn't stop V]

Creedy: Die! Die! Why won't you die?... Why won't you die?

V: Beneath this mask there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof.

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V: People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people.


[First lines]

Evey Hammond: [voiceover] Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot...

But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But who was he really? What was he like?

We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world.

I've witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them... but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it... ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love... And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man...

A man that made me remember the Fifth of November.

A man that I will never forget.


V: ... A building is a symbol, as is the act of destroying it. Symbols are given power by people. Alone, a symbol is meaningless, but with enough people, blowing up a building can change the world.


V: I told you, only truth. For 20 years, I sought only this day. Nothing else existed... until I saw you. Then everything changed. I fell in love with you Evey. And to think I no longer believed I could.

Evey Hammond: But I don't want you to die.

V: That's the most beautiful thing you could have ever given me.


V: But again, truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty you need only look into a mirror.


Evey Hammond: [reads] Vi Veri Veniversum Vivus Vici.

V: [translates] By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.

Evey Hammond: Personal motto?

V: From "Faust".

Evey Hammond: That's about trying to cheat the devil, isn't it?

V: It is.


[last lines]

Evey Hammond: No one will ever forget that night and what it meant for this country. But I will never forget the man and what he meant to me.


Evey Hammond: My father was a writer. You would've liked him. He used to say that artists use lies to tell the truth, while politicians use them to cover the truth up.

V: A man after my own heart.


Finch: Who was he?

Evey Hammond: He was Edmond Dantés... and he was my father. And my mother... my brother... my friend. He was you... and me. He was all of us.


Delia Surridge: [V gives her a rose] Are you going to kill me now?

V: I killed you 10 minutes ago.

[Shows her hypodermic needle]

V: While you slept.

Delia Surridge: Is there any pain?

V: No.

Delia Surridge: Thank you. Is it meaningless to apologize?

V: Never.

Delia Surridge: I'm so sorry.


Evey Hammond: Who are you?

V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask.

Evey Hammond: Well, I can see that.

V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation, I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.


V: And thus I clothe my naked villainy / With old odd ends stolen forth from holy writ/And seem a saint when most I play the devil. [Quoting Shakespeare's Richard III, Act I, Scene 3]


Gordon Deitrich: You wear a mask for so long, you forget who you were beneath it.


V: Would you... dance with me?

Evey Hammond: Now? On the eve of your revolution?

V: A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having!


V: What was done to me was monstrous.

Evey Hammond: And they created a monster.


V: It is to Madame Justice that I dedicate this concerto, in honor of the holiday that she seems to have taken from these parts, and in recognition of the impostor that stands in her stead. Tell me Evey, do you know what day it is?

Evey Hammond: Um, November the 4th.

V: [midnight church bells ring] Not anymore. Remember, remember the 5th of November. The gunpowder treason and plot. I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.


Gordon Deitrich: Yes, Evey. I am V. At last you know the truth. You're stunned, I know. It's hard to believe isn't it, that beneath this wrinkled, well-fed exterior there lies a dangerous killing machine with a fetish for Fawkesian masks. ¡Viva la revolución!

Evey Hammond: Is everything a joke to you, Gordon?

Gordon Deitrich: Only the things that matter.


V: [V stops her] Evey, please. There is a face beneath this mask but it's not me. I'm no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it or the bones beneath them.


Interrogator: Are you ready to cooperate?


Evey Hammond: No.

Interrogator: Very well. Escort Ms. Hammond back to her cell. Arrange a detail of six men and take her out behind the chemical shed and shoot her.

Guard: It's time.

Evey Hammond: I'm ready.

Guard: Look all they want is one little piece of information, just give them something, anything.

Evey Hammond: Thank you, but I'd rather die behind the chemical sheds.

Guard: Then you have no fear anymore. You're completely free.


V: [during his BTN broadcast] I thought we could mark this November the 5th a day that is, sadly, a day that is no longer remembered by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat.


There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way.

Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and, for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there?

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