#6.18.22

Update: Kiwi thrusting to a backdrop of flashing blue and green lights

Updated again to add more Louis playlist songs heard.

He called London home.

He's wearing his heart on his sleeve pants.

Pre-show playlist for Wembley is a mixtape for Louis:

KMM...twice. in case we didn't get it the first time. X

John Delf replied to a stan Larrie tweet about the playlist:

Modern Love by David Bowie.

Night Away with the lyrics reference to Harry Styles always having Louis (is it a designer, is it a person, we don't know).

Mr Brightside. Sex on Fire. Valerie. I'm Coming Out. Louis' special tour songs from the John Delf playlist.

By now, the news had most likely traveled throughout the French and Russian organizations. That Emilia Lefebvre had led a strike against the Russians. Against Vorya's. She and her merry band of misfits had killed numerous Russians and burned Vorya's to the ground. All the while dragging Viktoriya Kurylenko out kicking in screaming so that she had to live knowing that those she cared about how died.

That pain, agony, the fear of what was to come was what Emilia wanted Viktoriya to feel. She wanted her bones to ache every morning. For her not to want to drag herself out of bed. She wanted her reflection to remind her that she was, in fact, the reason her people were dead.

Make a choice, Viktoriya, or I will.

The Russian had only been given a moment of hesitation before Emilia had slit a B-girls throat. The statement rolling off her tongue once more.

Make a choice. Whose next.

The gun had waved between two individuals. The simple letters A and B left Emilia's lips as she teetered between the two. When a choice finally left the Russian's lips, Emilia pulled the trigger without hesitation, watching as the body crumbled to the ground. A wide-eyed blank stare looked back at them. The laugh that left her lips had been a surprise to even herself -- maybe the fear of losing Varden had been enough to tip her over the edge.

Or maybe it was the fact that she was tired of the Russians hurting the ones she loved.

Varden just happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

When it was finally just The French, Vikyoriya and Grigoriy time almost slowed a moment. Orders left Emilia's lips before she turned towards Vikyoriya. "Theres no more choices..its the end of the line."

The gun once more turned on Grigoriy as Emilia closed the distance just enough that she could make her shots. Three rounds. None of them were fatal. The first two went through his legs, taking away his ability to walk—the third and final in the stomach. Maybe there was a little heart left in her, knowing there could be a slight chance he could bleed out before the fire got to him.

All of that was washed away when Emilia's hand reached back and took the canister the loyalist had held towards her. Emilia doused Grigoriy with it, eliminating any chance that his death would be quick and peaceful.

Strong hands latched onto Viktoriya once more as she dragged the Russian from the building. The heat from the flames that engulfed the building a lot faster than she expected warmed her cheeks. The smell of flesh being cooked in the fire assaulted her nostrils, but still, Emilia dragged Vikotoriya with every ounce of strength she had.

Today wasn't going to be the day the Russian bitch died.

Just as fast as they had arrived, they disappeared in the night, leaving Viktoriya in the street to watch the rest of the place burn to the ground. By then, Grigoriy's screams had been muffled by the smoke, and he had no doubt died shortly after they departed from the building.

Now she waited.

Waited for news of the other strikes by French hands because when you messed with the bull, you got the horns.

Emilia wasn't blind to the fact that letting Viktoriya live would mean that she would come for her head, but she wasn't going to live in fear waiting for that day to come. She had made the decision to attack the Russians on behalf of her family.

She would be ready when they attempted to hit back with their bruised egos and hurt feelings. They had, after all, attacked the St. Clair organization -- had they expected nothing less?