Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.
Well, I can see that.
Of course you can. I am not questioning your powers of observation, I am merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.
But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona.
Voilà! In view, a 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 by-gone 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.
Verily this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that is is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.
Are you like a crazy person?
I am quite sure they will say so.
Damn, I really want to watch the Count of Monte Cristo now...