Chapter Text
Evey Hammond rarely ever had a plan.
Practically everything she’d ever done in her life had been driven by fear or impulse. She had almost always been forced to improvise and seeing her current state…it didn’t appear that she had been very successful in improvising thus far.
No, Evey didn’t plan things out.
The floors of her cell, devoid of any warmth, was something she would never get used to. Her body heat would just begin to level out the temperature beneath her to a bearable degree, and then she’d suddenly be dragged back out of her cell. By the time she was thrown back in, the concrete had returned to its unforgiving coldness. It felt like a hole inside of a hole.
She was surprised she hadn’t frozen to death honestly. At times she couldn’t feel the tips of her fingers, her throat tight from the chilly air.
Laying there now, curled into a collective fetal position against the wall, she stared ahead of her. There was never anything to see, the walls would never change, but it was better than falling into the dark nothingness behind closed eyes. She had to keep herself focused, and thinking - always thinking - to keep herself from going insane.
Maybe she was already insane.
Her thoughts revolved around the same few things: her parents, her mistakes, and V.
All had played a significant part in her life, and provided so many overwhelming memories. There were good memories too, ones she would surrender her conscience too while she was brutalized by any one of the guards. But not all memories were nice.
The Fingermen had left her alone for quite some time now, more than usual. She’d usually be left alone for several hours at a time, and sometimes almost an entire day. At first it had been agonizing, Evey had been absolutely terrified and constantly on edge wondering when that blocky door would open next, or if they would somehow forget about her and let her rot. But over time she had learned to find relief in these long periods of isolation, it meant a break from the torture, from the torment and the reminder that her life was more or less over.
There was no escaping this place, though she had thought about it. She had run so many scenarios through her head, but none seemed to have a happy ending.
But time caused all things to change, including her. She had never betrayed V to the Fingermen, she had never broken. Evey had grown proud of herself for that. But she couldn’t credit herself for this victory, a recently received letter from her neighboring cellmate had inspired her.
Valerie.
Her heart ached for Valerie, someone she would always love unconditionally just as the other did. Evey craved to see her, to hug her, and find solace in the selfless love that Valerie had given her. When she really thought about it, her cellmate was the only one in the world she felt she could trust now. If the pair of them were ever able to be in the same room together...
She pondered over Valerie’s letter often, sometimes wondering if she should try and return her own letter of sorts, to comfort the other as well.
But Evey wasn’t given the chance.
The long familiar shrieks of the cell door opening forced her to attention, her head inclining slightly as a guardsmen stepped inside the doorway - blocking it as always.
“Miss Hammond,” He addressed her smoothly, and Evey swallowed down whatever bile threatened to rise at the softness of his voice. Why they even bothered to address her as 'Miss' was beyond her. It wasn't as though they treated her like a lady, it was belittling.
They never ordered her to get up anymore, they didn’t ask politely, they never had.
Just the simple call of her name and she knew what that meant. Like a dog being called to their leash, expected to be obedient lest they were manhandled.
Get up, hold your head high.
Her bones moved slowly, partially from exhaustion and lack of nutrients in her body, and partially from her unwillingness to move at his desired pace. Using her arms to help propel her to stand, she saw his feet moving towards her and before she could react a rough hand was tugging at the back of her collar. The fabric gathered like a rope around her neck, forcing a gag as he drew her to stand. These men varied when it came to patience, she never knew what to expect anymore. So many men had come about to handle her that she couldn’t even count them all. Her memory only resided with a select few.
Lifting herself, she was allowed a single breath before a black bag slipped over her face. Her hands stiffened and reached out, only for one of her wrists to be caught in his grip. His unforgiving, bruising grip. The brutality of how they treated her was so unnecessary, it was horrifying to realize that this was the normal way of things for this government, and another testament to what V was fighting against. God she missed V.
She wondered if he ever even found out she was in here.
He directed her forward, moving too quickly for her to keep up - though she tried. This was all familiar to her, but she had no idea where they'd be off to today. The Fingermen here never stuck to a routine, they always shook things up, she imagined it was a sort of game for them.
Maybe they had a spinner, and would flick the arrow to see where it landed. How would they torment her today? How would they try and break her today?
Focusing on her breathing, Evey couldn’t tell how far they had travelled. It wasn’t until she was plopped down into her stone cold chair that she realized they were planning to simply interrogate her again.
So, there would be no pain for just a little while longer. They had never harmed her in this chair, apart from the occasional jerk of her scalp or slap to her face. But that was bearable. It was when she proved to be extra stubborn and infuriating that they would carry her off elsewhere, and then the torture would start. Evey had tried to stop caring, it was worth the satisfaction to see the guardsmen grow so frustrated at her uncooperation, her resilience. These men were surely sadists, she wouldn't be surprised if that was true. The only thing she had truly been sparred of was rape, something she had genuinely expected during her imprisonment. There had been times where the guardsmen's actions suggested those intentions - which had scared her to death - but never once did they violate her that way.
She guessed it would be her one and only thing to be grateful for besides Valerie.
The bag was lifted and as always she kept her eyes closed for a few more peaceful moments, allowing her to identify and adjust to the glaring light in her face. Slowly, she lifted her head to meet that of a shadow.
It was always a shadow, so dark that she was forced to recognize each of her tormentors by voice alone. She knew all of their voices by now. They were very fond of talking - her not so much.
“You know why you’re here Miss Hammond, and I won’t grant you any more pleasantries.” The other stated almost tiredly, flipping through a binder in front of him.
Creedy?
She recognized his voice, she would always remember his voice because of Gordon. That icy tone, the way it skillfully covered the insane perversion of pleasure he felt from his actions. He had no remorse, he was the means to an end. The Finger was the puppet behind all of this, he who trained his rabid dogs and let them loose here. He was the book definition of corrupted authority. Evey would claw his eyes out if given half the chance.
He’s rarely here.
Swallowing thickly, her mouth was sticky from lack of hydration, and her eyes drifted down in silence.
Before her, on the table, two newly installed shackles had been nailed down. Their intentions were clearly made to constrict her wrists against the flat of the table. Her glare centered on them, a cold chill running through her spine as she tried to imagine what purpose those locks would serve, none of the possibilities brought her a sense of calm.
“You’ve been with us for quite a long time.” He informed her, as if she didn’t already know. “Yet you still haven’t relented, nobody has been able to get the information I desire.”
Still, she said nothing, letting him speak.
“But I am not as patient a man, and I don’t care for unnecessary liabilities.”
Yes, you just kill all of your “unnecessary liabilities”.
She stiffened as he rose from his seat, the screech of the chair echoing around the small room. As he moved towards her left, it was then that she noticed a table lined against the far wall with an assortment of tools. Her brown eyes couldn’t make them out, but they glinted from the small amount of light in the room, and that alone was enough to terrify her thoughts. The only material that glinted like that was steel or metal.
Be strong, you’re more than your pain.
Sometimes that was hard to believe.
With an arm situated around his backside in thought, she watched Creedy lean over and grasp one of the items, lifting it and turning it before his eyes to observe. Evey watched with fragile panic as he made his way back towards her. He didn't seem angry, or in any sort of rush - she was afraid that he planned to take his time.
Her eyes darted towards the door, and for a brief moment she had the impulse to run. She could make it -! She could push out of that open door and run because her life truly depended on it. Even if they shot her down, the slices of information she carried would die with her, and that was good enough for her. V's whereabouts would be safe - deep down she knew he'd be proud to see how long she'd lasted. At least they wouldn't have taken that last inch, she would have spent it trying to free herself.
Still standing beside her, Creedy, as if sensing her thoughts, was soon on her - grabbing one wrist from her lap and slamming it on the table despite her instinctive recoil. Panic bloomed in her chest and Evey’s other hand flew to his wrist, trying to pull it from her own. Meanwhile his other palm came to her scalp, nails digging into the skin as he jerked her head back at a sharp angle. Disoriented, Evey relented involuntarily and the next thing she knew he was locking her one wrist into place.
Although left with half her freedom, it only increased her panic because she had no real ability to free herself. Her hands alone were nothing against iron metal.
Her panic must have been evident, because she heard a chuckle from Creedy, who situated himself just beside her, half sitting on the table near her wrist and with his hands folded over his thigh. And finally, she was able to identify what he had brought over.
A spiral cork-screw.
Normally, it was a non-threatening tool given as it was meant to puncture a wine bottle’s cork - not skin . And that was surely the intent he had in mind.
Evey stared at it, biting firmly on her tongue to control her nerves. Her eyes flickered up to his face, hatred radiating from her in waves.
“I will ask you very simple questions, and you will cooperate. If not, then I will be forced to resort to less desirable methods.” He hissed, there was no questioning his threat. He was not a man to make empty threats, this she knew.
Fuck you.
Still, her glare didn’t falter and she simply waited.
Perhaps it was her continued silence that angered him, maybe it was her glare, or maybe it was her lack of genuine fight. She imagined he was the type of man to get off on seeing someone helpless and begging or maybe even spiteful. All the same, Evey’s eyes widened in horror as - instead of asking her questions - he reached over and jabbed the cork screw into the back of her hand.
There was such an uncomfortable squelching sound as the metal pierced her skin and nicked her tendons, breaking her sense of stability as a gritted cry ripped from her mouth. The sound vibrated off the walls, and her ears were suddenly ringing. Evey’s other hand immediately shot to that of the restricted one, tearing again at the lock in desperation. Out if reflex, her restrained hand had curled into a fist immediately only to rip another cry from her at that mistake — the flex of her fingers had only increased the pain tenfold.
Creedy waited patiently for a few moments, releasing his hand from the corkscrew that balanced itself on her hand, still lodged an inch or so deep.
Breathing heavily — so hard that it sounded like angry grunts — she felt natural tears well her eyes. This was a new form of physical torture, no one had ever used a bloody corkscrew before. Evey bared her teeth, her head hanging low as she glared back up at him again. So he was one of those types that would get their point across before even starting their interrogation.
She hated those types, they were sadistic simply because they could be. There were no repercussions for their actions here.
Her body was trembling, her nerves racing. Evey looked absolutely feral the way she was scowling at him. The bags under her eyes only enhanced the projected hatred.
“Where is the terrorist V, Miss Hammond?”
He asked the question so calmly and casually that she wondered if he even realized he had just punctured her hand with a fucking corkscrew. Gasping in between the waves of pain, Evey clutched at her iron wrist. She wanted to scream, she wanted to sit there and cry.
The throbbing was like fire in her veins, but even then she felt an unnatural sense of will and a sense of calm. The physical pain was absolutely excruciating of course, but it did nothing to weaken her internal resolve. If she gave it all up, if she betrayed V, if she surrendered to them, it would all have been for nothing. So instead, the pain only reinforced her will to deny Creedy what he wanted.
And as Valerie had said, she couldn’t lose the only thing she possessed in this prison. Evey couldn’t give away that last inch.
So the words she had uttered so many times trailed out through her lips once again.
“I don’t know.”
His next trick was turning the screw against her flesh, not digging it deeper but rather tearing the surrounding skin. This charade carried on for a while, he would ask about V, about his plot, about her involvement. She would deny him. In return he’d cause her just a bit more agony. Towards the end of it, Evey had broken into a cold sweat from the exhaustion of pain. Her face was red, tear stains only deepening the bags under her eyes.
She could tell Creedy was growing frustrated, and that in itself satisfied her to no end.
“Do you want to die, Evey?”
Evey.
Why was he using her first name? It felt so wrong, so intimate here in this prison where she had been treated like an object for so long. It enraged her to hear her name drag from his crusty lips, it belonged to her - not to him. He didn’t deserve to take that from her.
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” She pointed out flatly.
He hummed in responsive agreement. Moving off the desk to his feet, he rounded the table. Pausing, as if realizing he’d been silly enough to forget, he turned and reached over to pluck the corkscrew from her throbbing hand like it was nothing.
She dug her forehead into the table, capturing another cry behind gritted teeth as she felt blood well up in the wound and begin to spill over her skin. It was a painfully slow gushing, warm and unsatisfying.
“Unless you’re willing to cooperate, then I will have no other choice. You will be killed today , if you cannot produce the information I want.” He informed her, feigning some morbid form of guilt.
Evey blinked, a firm hold kept her in place.
She would die today.
They would kill her, shoot her, unless she gave up.
A chill spread over her shoulders and in that life defining moment she felt a wave of calm. It was almost nauseating, and borderline painful to adjust to. The idea of her death had scared her for so long, but the idea of dying for what she stood for and what she wanted to keep?
Well that was alright with her.
A stone sat in her stomach, resolution finally accepted as she looked up at him. Evey tilted her head almost defiantly at Creedy.
He was very still, regarding her with a deep stare but she still didn’t relent. Her answer was clear.
“I see.” He trailed his gloved fingers along the bloody screw in his hands.
The silence that hung in the air was deafening for several minutes, but it felt so much longer. Evey wondered if he was prolonging the silence in hopes that she would realize she was wrong, that her life wasn’t worth protecting V.
But she didn’t give in, it wasn’t a matter of betraying V now, it was a matter of betraying herself.
Betraying Valerie.
Creedy moved against the table again, setting the corkscrew back as his hands reached for the lock around her wrist, to release its hold on her.
Evey Hammond didn’t plan things.
She didn’t plan her impulsive and explosive anger.
She didn’t plan on lunging forward at him as soon as her wrist went free.
She didn’t plan the way Creedy’s body rolled off the table and to the ground, dragging her with him as she clawed at him.
No, Evey Hammond didn’t plan things .
But maybe just this once - that was okay.
It was clear that Peter Creedy had been taken by surprise, after all, Evey had never shown this kind of rebellion before. She had learned very quickly that physical resistance was met with an even greater punishment.
But what did she have to fear, when there seemed to be no greater punishment than death at this point? Creedy had hung her impending death above her, dangling it on a string.
To her surprise, the other was remarkably strong, and larger than she had anticipated. Seeing him as a shadow had done nothing to help her size him up, not that she’d ever done that anyways. She’d never planned on fighting anybody.
But at the moment she didn’t think a single soul would believe that with the way she was attacking him.
The other was clearly trying to grab at her wrists, blocking her hits as she practically straddled him on the floor. He threw her off like she weighed nothing, and he lunged forward to grab at her with gloved hands, the destination being her throat.
In a moment of panic she had launched her wounded hand at him, recoiling in pain as the impact against his chest disabled her. He seemed to take this opportunity to restrain her. It was then that she raked her nails at his face with her good hand.
She had never felt a more peculiar sensation, her nails digging into flimsy material and ripping it off alongside her palm. At first she had believed it to be skin, but it was too much. Drawing her hand back to her, brown eyes followed the object as it skittered across the ground.
Her brows furrowed as she tried to understand what had just happened.
In front of her, Creedy had frozen as well, their positioning now releasing some of the shadows from his face. But she wasn’t looking at his face yet, no she was staring at the odd object on the ground near her.
Is that...a nose?
But not a real one. Latex?
It was a moment frozen in time as she turned her head to face him, both were within such close proximity of each other that the defining details of the other’s face were clearer now.
The oxygen left her lungs and a dizziness flooded her head as she stared at him, at what the slivers of light revealed on his face. She was absolutely puzzled.
His skin was distorted, cracked and pulled in every which way. He was red, the fleshy color cracked like veins across his face. Most importantly, he still had a nose.
She’d seen this before, like a pattern on skin. For the first time in a long time, she had no idea how to feel.
She couldn’t feel anything .
Burns. His face is burned.
For a sliver of a second, their eyes met and Evey blinked, wishing she would collapse then and there. She wished for anything that would take her out of this moment, she was unable to understand, unable to address what she was feeling. Her body shut it out, it shut her out, her mind now blank.
He immediately distanced himself, his head down while he violently retreated into the darkness and towards the door. He had shoved himself back with his feet, clearly unnerved. For a moment she worried that he was going to come at her, to wrap his hands around her throat and finish her off for doing such a thing.
She sat there, now clutching at her wounded hand and ignoring the blood that just kept coming. Maybe she was dreaming, or maybe she had read the situation wrong. Oh she hoped she was wrong.
But maybe suddenly seemed impossible, when he cleared his throat and melted against the wall, quiet as a mouse but shaking. Oh he was shaking . This had changed everything.
V...