Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from V for Vendetta, whether I am discussing the novel or the movie. This is something of my own, but "V" is not.


Two syllables.

But something much more.

It's odd, really. Walking past Victoria Street and looking at the rubble. At one point, it was Big Ben and Parliament. But now? Just rubble. Metal and stone strewn about haphazardly. I have to admit it has quite an effect on the people around.

Many ask themselves. How did it happen?

What happened?

Others are trying to understand that we are free.

First, there is the shock. Shock, in a place like London, usually only lasts .5 days with the media sharks, but without the Sutler's puppets, the shock is lasting weeks. Months. This shock is anything but ordinary. This shock is something that is taking everyone to comprehend.

Last week they started to find the camps. Party members had known about them, or course, but no one really knew about them per se. But now, we're finding out. The files? They weren't deleted, or, at least, not all of them. Now everything is being found. What was lost? Never really was.

We have on our hands a Holocaust like situation, except not nearly to that extreme.

Thank God.

That doesn't mean, though, that it isn't disgusting--because it is. But we have something that no one living has ever experienced before. Before Reclaimation, I remember reading about it—the Holocaust, that is—and remembering having the phrase "We must never let this happen again" hammered into my head over and over until it became almost this horrific mantra.

Funny, isn't it, how history repeats itself?


Very funny.

Except that now I'm finding out the life of people before they were blacked-bagged. Before they became one of them.

Can you guess who I'm talking about?