Chapter Text
13:42. 5 November 2026
"Evey."
She was shot. Of all the events of the last 24 hours, mind-boggling as they were, that one was the hardest to swallow. Evey drifted in and out, unable to focus on anything except a deafening bang of a gun. Her wounded arm throbbed, pulsing in sync with her heartbeat, but all of it paled in comparison to the headache she was having. And to think she promised herself to stay out of trouble…
"Evey, are you awake?"
She shook her head, making it even worse for her poor skull for the trouble. The first time she regained consciousness, the sound of that voice gave her a fright almost as bad as the sight of those men from the Nose at the Jordan Tower. But they weren’t there anymore, she and this bizarre man. Evey remembered being carried away from there, wrapped in the thick stifling cloth.
V. His name was V. She had a moment to wonder what kind of name it was, when he called her the third time.
"I need you to open your eyes." The light behind her eyelids grew brighter and brighter until she finally squinted away from it, barely able to see. The cool compress on her forehead slid down.
"My apologies."
That soft murmur was her only clue before he pried her lids wide open and shone the torch right into her eyes. A fresh wave of pain traveled down her arm as she uselessly tried to bat him away. The assault ended as abruptly as it started and Evey moaned pitifully, blinking away the tears that welled up.
"Good, very good." The compress, now blissfully cold, was returned to her head.
V turned away to the small folding table he had brought, eyeing the gathered supplies. Saline solution, tweezers, dressing and gauze, some basic painkillers, antibiotic ointment. The last one was almost past its expiry date. He tapped his finger on the aluminium tube. "Do you remember what day it is?"
"November the 4th." Evey was so sure he asked her that before. "No, it was November the 5th, right? November the 5th."
November the 5th. She tried to sit up in one jerking motion, almost falling back from the brutal stab of pain. Evey bent her neck, cringing. She knew better now than to move her right hand though, propping herself on the mattress with her left one.
Her vision swam and the first thing she noticed was that someone took her shoes off, leaving her feet completely bare. Then the room came into focus and Evey looked around slowly, her shoes forgotten, frowning more and more with each passing second.
At first she thought it was a library of some sort. A library with a bed, she amended, cotton covers soft under her palms. Or maybe a storeroom, with the way books were piled up haphazardly along the walls, trapping lamps and furniture in their heaps. Her searching gaze fell on the only door in the far wall before spotting the white mask hovering much much closer to her.
"Where are we?" Evey’s voice broke on the second word. They weren’t at BTN, that’s for sure.
"We’re at my home," said the mask, floating in the air. "I call it the Shadow Gallery."
Evey thought that the name was the most fitting, but then he stepped toward her in the circle of warm lamp light and the illusion broke. The mask had a body: feet in heavy boots and large hands folded politely on its stomach.
"Please lie back, you’re injured," the man added carefully. His dark form towered over her and for some reason Evey remembered how the detective held him at gunpoint.
"Yes, I noticed," she muttered. The wound on her arm felt like a personal sun, very bright and very scorching. Evey watched as he unclasped his hands, reaching to help her lie down. The white latex gloves he was wearing had a strange pinkish tint to them. She resisted at first. "Where are my shoes?"
"Right next to the bed," V assured her, pressing at her shoulder again. She lay down and although the room didn’t stop spinning, she immediately felt better. The mask turned away from her, and the voice beneath it became muffled. "Do try to stay awake, please. The bleeding has stopped, but the wound needs to be cleaned and bandaged. It will take just a few minutes and then you can go to sleep."
There was a rustling sound of a plastic bag, followed by the snap of latex. The room filled with a distinct medicinal scent and Evey shifted restlessly. She turned her head to look at her arm, a piece of black fabric tied snugly high on her bicep.
"Thank you, but I probably should go. It turns out I have… some unresolved issues with the police, and I really need to get home." She tried to sit up again, tugging awkwardly at the makeshift bandage. Underneath it, once the white handkerchief was soaked through with blood. "Oh."
"Ah," he said knowingly, still busy with the supplies. "Is it wise to go home, in that case?"
The man finally turned to face her, a syringe in one hand. He stood frozen for a second, then took a metal tray, motioning for her to put the bloodied cloth on the shining surface. "Here."
"Is it?" she repeated, dazedly looking at the needle. Her wild gaze turned to the kidney dish. "I think so."
She blinked, noticing that a new pair of gloves he had put on were pinkish as well. It felt off, like she was dreaming, and a glance at the table confirmed that a discarded pair was just as white as any other. They were white then, but there was something underneath… Evey stared at his hands utterly perplexed, before looking up, a question already on her tongue.
"It’s lidocaine. It is better to numb the wound before treatment, you see."
"Huh? No, I meant to— Right." It took her a while to process his words. She put a discarded rag on the tray, giving his strange hands one last look, before glancing at the syringe again. The more she looked at the needle, the less it seemed like a good idea. "Is this really necessary? I feel fine, actually."
"I assure you, it’s absolutely necessary." The mask tilted sideways slightly. "An untreated wound risks infection, pain and possibly further complications as well. Of course, we can try to do without painkillers, although I don't see any reason for that."
"I don’t know." She turned to stare at the ceiling, which was far too close to her liking. The room seemed to sway, and while Evey had never been to the seaside, it strongly reminded her of a stormy ocean. "Where are we?"
The lamp grew brighter, almost unbearably, the beam of light just shy from her face. She closed her watering eyes, hearing how the chair close to the bed cracked pitifully under the heavy weight.
"We’re at my home," V said softly, taking a bottle of saline solution. There was a pause like he waited for her to say something, and when she didn't, he spoke again. "Before the injection, I’ll clean your wound lightly. It won’t hurt."
"I— " Evey kept her eyes closed, already feeling queasy. The idea to dash madly for the door disappeared as fast as it came into her mind.
"Yes?" He stopped, the sound of his deep voice the only noise in the room.
"Nothing."
The man hummed in response, leaning closer. He smelled of kerosene and leather, his hand felt overly warm on the naked skin of her arm even through the glove. There was a cold feeling of liquid that made her flinch at first and then relax gradually. "There, all done. Please keep your arm loose."
"Can I sleep now?" Even as she tried to do as he asked, her arm stung from the needle and Evey sighed in irritation. The numbness from lidocaine reminded her unpleasantly of a recent visit to the dentist. "My head hurts."
"Just a minute. Do you still feel any pain in your arm?" Careful fingers prodded near the wound, turning her loose limb this way and that. He hummed again when she mumbled something close to denial in response. "Yes, yes. You may sleep if you want."
"Thanks." Evey thought that she wanted to ask him something else, something more important, but she dozed off before remembering what it was.
04:37. 6 November 2026
When Evey woke up, her head still hurt. The mattress was harder than she was used to, the pillow too soft, and her feet felt cold without the socks she usually wore to bed. Even the sheets had some peculiar smell to them, not necessarily bad, but foreign and heavy. Blindly, she fumbled for a blanket, only to find that it was trapped beneath her.
She snorted loudly and finally opened her eyes, already knowing that the room around wasn’t hers. And yes, it wasn’t — the books heaped along the walls an unwelcoming sight. Her host was gone, a small table with medical supplies the only thing to remind her of the previous day. If the day had already passed — there wasn’t a single window by which to judge the time, as if they were in some basement. The lights were dim, almost non-existent, with only one lamp shining somewhere in the distance of the open door.
Not wanting to stay in this strange place any longer, Evey sat up, slowly and painfully, her right arm essentially useless. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her body aching as if someone had been beating her all night.
The wound on her arm was neatly bandaged with clean gauze, something hard pressed to it under the dressing. She probed the edges lightly, grimacing more from annoyance than pain even though it smarted like hell.
It was hard to orient herself in the semi-darkness of an unfamiliar room, but a quick search paid off as Evey spotted her work bag and shoes lying on the floor next to the bed. She reached for her shoes first, changing the direction halfway to take the bag. The contents were in disarray and for a minute or two she looked in vain for her phone. Everything else was there: her purse, keys, charger, comb and lipstick, even crumpled grocery receipts. Everything was there and her phone was missing.
Her search turned frantic. She clearly remembered shoving the phone inside her bag, too worried she would drop it in the commotion. It had to be there. She huffed. Finally, Evey opened her purse, confirming her fears. The little money she had was just where she left it, along with her ID card.
For a moment she entertained the idea that she didn’t close the zipper fully, or that maybe someone indeed stole it, not bothering with money, but it seemed too much of a coincidence. She tossed her now useless bag on the bed. It didn’t have to mean anything. Maybe she did drop her phone somewhere.
Maybe. There was a sound of distant footsteps that echoed through the open door and Evey reached for her shoes again, hurrying as they grew closer. She barely managed to put on one shoe when a tall figure stepped into the doorway, blocking out already sparse light.
"Ah, I thought I heard something." The white mask tipped slightly as if taking in the scene before it. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"
Evey watched how he fully stepped inside, the second shoe forgotten. "Fine, thank you." When he switched on the single lamp and stopped at the table, she asked as casually as she could, "It’s morning already, then? I couldn’t find my phone to check the time."
V answered nonchalantly, like he wasn’t the one to take it. "Yes, half past four to be exact. You’ve been asleep for nearly fifteen hours."
She wondered what use he could get from it. If her production assistant’s meager salary wasn’t needed for terrorist financing, there was only one possible explanation. One that Evey didn’t like at all.
He continued, unaware of her thoughts. "I thought it would be best to let you rest, but now that you’re awake, I imagine you must be in quite a bit of pain."
"Not particularly," she lied, not understanding why, but feeling compelled to lie anyway. Now that she was properly awake, her arm was killing her.
"Really?" He sounded skeptical, that ridiculously low voice of his pitching up. "There is no reason to suffer pain anyway."
He poured a glass of water and shook two blue capsules from a small bottle into his open palm, holding them out to her. His black leather gloves were back in place.
Evey didn’t reach to take it. "What’s this?"
"Just paracetamol, for the pain. You don't feel feverish, do you?" he asked with such genuine concern, that it made Evey feel confused for a moment.
"No," she murmured awkwardly, finally taking the pills from his patiently outstretched palm. Somehow, she felt stupid. He offered her a glass from his other hand, which she readily downed in one go, returning it with a quiet thank you.
He hummed in reply, putting the glass back on the table. "Now, I think some breakfast is in order. The bandage on your arm doesn’t need to be changed for a day or two, unsless it gives you any trouble?" His hand hung in the air, silently asking permission to examine her arm.
Evey waved his help away, still a little bit nervous. The outstretched hand fell instantly. "It’s fine. Thank you. Really. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. I appreciate it, but I don’t think I will stay long enough for breakfast. I need to get home. If you could just walk me to the front door —"
She trailed off, noticing how the mask lowered, either in consideration or something else, she couldn’t tell.
"Yes. About that, Evey." He sighed, stepping away to look at the side wall. "Out there, I had to make a choice betwixt leaving you behind," he paused. "Or taking you with me. Each choice had consequences. If I left you behind, most likely you would have disappeared into one of Creedy’s black bags. I’m sure you know how that usually ends."
V turned to her briefly, but it didn’t seem like he was waiting for her answer. He continued, "No. After what you’ve done, I couldn’t let that happen to you, so I’ve made a different choice. I brought you to the only place I know you’d be safe."
"Did you take my phone?" Evey wanted to ask him about the consequences of his choice, but that question seemed safer. She got scared somewhere in the middle of his speech. Properly scared, like that night two days ago, when she stood surrounded by the Fingermen. Despite her voice sounding relatively calm, she found herself trembling now just like then, steeling herself not to cry. Crying made you look vulnerable, easy to hurt or manipulate.
Her gaze darted to the open door, before she could accept reality. She wouldn’t get far, with only one shoe on, wounded and afraid. And he was so much stronger and quicker than her. There was no reply, and Evey tried again, disappointed. "It was you, wasn’t it?"
"Yes," he answered simply. "Phones can be traced, and while it was wrong of me to dispose of your possession, I’m afraid I didn’t have much of a choice in that matter."
"That’s okay. I can live without it." Evey shook her throbbing head. She needed to try again. She always had to try. "I think I'll have to do without a phone from now on. I wouldn't want anyone tracking me right now. On second thought, it would be better for me to stay with one of my friends."
With that, she leaned awkwardly to put the second shoe on. Her hand was trembling. She fumbled with the fastening longer than necessary, waiting for his reply, and raised her head slowly when there was none. V stared back at her silently with his black mesh eyes.
He broke away first, but that didn’t feel like a victory. "Unfortunately, that won’t work either. Don’t you see that, Evey?"
"What are you talking about?" She fixed him with a hard stare, her voice jumping an octave. "Can’t you just tell me clearly what you mean?"
V breathed in deep, shoulders rising and then falling, but there was no sound of exhale. Large hands in black gloves leaned with their knuckles on the table, making it creak. "Evey, I’m sorry to say it, but now that you are here, you cannot leave."
"No."
She was on her feet now, not even remembering when she had stood up. The man in front of her didn’t seem surprised by her sudden move.
"I wish it hadn’t come to this." He sounded as though he meant it. "I know that it’s difficult, but this is the only way. The choice that I’ve made… Evey, now that you are here, in my home, I cannot let you leave. If they were to find you — and you know they eventually would — they would make certain you told them everything you know. And even what you don’t. They would—"
"No, I don’t want to hear that… that!" She wanted to call that screwed shit for what it was, but swallowed it down. It surely would sound pathetic up against his poised speech. She tried to be calm. "You can’t just keep me here. You can’t. For heaven's sake, that's insane! All I’ve seen here is this room. It's— it’s not enough for anything!"
"But you guessed that it's underground, didn’t you?"
Evey stood, gaping at him silently. Her face darkened.
"I’m sure it was an easy conclusion," he nodded thoughtfully. For the first time since she’d seen it, the smile on his masked face seemed cruel. "You saw the design of the room, the color of the stone… Evey, I know it sounds frightening, but I assure you, there is nothing to fear. It’s not permanent. And as soon as I’m finished with my plan on the fifth, there will be no need for you to stay here."
She started to shake her head halfway through his words, her eyes hot. Her legs couldn't hold her up and she fell in a heap on the bed, dejectedly looking at her lap.
"Would you have preferred to be in Creedy’s cell right now?"
"That’s insane," she murmured. The mask remained silent. Evey looked up, repeating in a stronger voice. "That’s insane and you know it."
His head hung. He stood very close to her now, so close that she could finally pinpoint where that peculiar smell that permeated the entire room was coming from. The room had to be V’s bedroom.
"Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t," he said at last, his voice muffled even though he stood near her. "I’m sorry, Evey."
"Are you? Then why didn't you find another way?"
"That’s the question, isn’t it?" he murmured. Louder he said, "I’ll see to breakfast and bring along some bathroom supplies you might need. I’ll return shortly."
He took a few steps backwards before turning and leaving, quietly closing the previously open door.