"who are you" *you had asked the man dressed in all black with a guy fawks mask who had saved you from the fingermen. * "Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask." He replied, sheathing his knives. He was stoic, seemed so calm even as he killed those men to save you. "Well I can see that." You say a bit impatiently, still holding the pepper spray in your hand as you crouched against the alleyway wall V stepped closer, but not too close "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." You realized the stupidity of your question "But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace soubriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona. Voila! In view 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 bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin, van guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. 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. Verily this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it’s my very good honour to meet you and you may call me V." He leaned down, offering you a leather gloved hand "Are you alright?"