A virtual hand valiantly releases her from a vise grip.

With vague information, he ventures into a valley of vandalism
Vacant eyes meet him and he’s consumed by the thought to seek vengeance to vindicate the vilified vagrant
How dare such a viper violate the violet veins in which the blood used to pump so vigorously?
Again, the virtual hand appears from its veil to flit away the vicious tears from her visage
With vigilant eyes, the vigilante vows to protect the vault from the villain

The vagabond does not take advantage of the viceroy’s protection

Instead she vanishes within the vapid depths of herself, falling victim to her own vehemence and venom
No such vaccine that the vigilante had given could have cured the curse she was under
Sensing distress, he veers off his previous course, seeking her. Damned he’d be if his virtue was all in vain
Virile, he captures her before she became a vandal of her own heart
A visor he had become, shading her from her own horrors

She was not the vile creature that she described herself as

Vanilla scented, a vital mind, a vial of happiness locked away in a vault far within a darkened vestibule
Whatever vice she held onto would be now cast aside
And though he would never be visible to her, a new vista that was his own creation peaked over a horizon
No longer a vagabond void of vim, she was now a vivacious vixen
What would she ever do without a
vigilante named Vincent?