Drive.

Gustave. Prettier than you. Fairest French Boy of them all.

[gustave-pls-blog]

[odile-stpierre]

… and where did you come from, handsome little devil?

[gustave-pls-blog]

Well, some say China. Contrary to popular belief and in accordance with my own accent--Paris. I came from Paris.

[maya-alliot]

French Only [Private]

Maya Alliot had yet to see either Oliver or Aurelie, not because she hadn’t wanted to but because she felt they space and time to regroup was what they needed. She had instead made a point to work on getting better herself. It has been a little over a week since she’d been out of the hospital and it was more than enough time for the french loyalist to push herself to get back where she had been prior to the attack. Her black and white heels clicked on the floor as she made her way past the bodyguards and down the hall towards Oliver’s office. When she was almost there a bodyguard stepped forward. Maya slipped her right hand into the sleek black Dior pantsuits pocket as she looked the man over.

“Mr. Parra isn’t seeing anyone and the Mrs’s is resting right now. I think it’s best if you come back later.” His American wasn’t the strongest and Maya could hear the thick french accent still heavy in his voice. He was new - but that hadn’t stopped her from rolling her eyes.

“I think it’s best if you step aside,” She paused a moment before adding the word, please. She’d be damn if a loyalist that Margaux had sent halfway across the world was going to stop her from seeing her boss.

Her half-hearted please hadn’t been enough to move him from his post and knew she had two choice raise her voice or physically remove him but she figured Oliver wouldn’t have appreciated the latter. Sighing heavily she pressed her thumb and her forefinger to the bridge of her nose before shaking her head.

“You know, kid. You’re new, I get that but things work a little differently over here.” She raised the brown bag in her hand as the smell of the warm bread overtook her senses once more. “You don’t get in the way of breaking of bread. Move now.”

The sound of Maya’s voice caused Oliver to raise from the seated position behind his desk. A small smirk pulled at his lips as he moved around the desk and made his way towards the double doors. Oliver allowed his face to fall neutral as he pulled the doors open.

“Commandant Alliot is always free to come in.” He assured as the bodyguard stepped out of her way. Following Maya back inside he closed the doors behind her and shook his head.

“Stop hazing the newbies.” He said before grabbing a hold of her shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze. He had needed to know she was actually here and before him. Maya offered him a warm smile before stepping in closer and embracing him in a hug.

“The foods getting cold and I have a meeting get to. I just wanted to see you before I met everyone at 4602.”

Maya’s time with Oliver hadn’t been as short as she thought it was going to be after they had eaten the food she had brought by he had surprised her by coming with her to the meeting she had called.

Maya was pressed against the side of the bar as she watched the loyalist talk among themselves. She was silently having a conversation with Oliver about Thierry’s last fight while they waited for the last few to settle themselves in. Maya nodded towards the group her silent way of telling Oliver she was going to start. He offered her a supportive pat on the shoulder before taking a step backward. Proud wasn’t even close to how he felt in this moment.

“I know you’ve probably had this thought a hundred times already and we all have our own feelings about the attack but we need to make moves. Oliver,” She paused a moment letting her words sink in. Oliver. Not Parra. The change in the what she called him spoke volumes. “I’m tired of us being the ones taking the hit. Of our people being the one suffering and I know many of the others feel the same way.”

She wasn’t telling him something he didn’t already know. Something he hadn’t felt. She was sure there had been a few holes punched in walls by his own fist as he waited for news on his wife. She wasn’t naive, Maya knew that Oliver would have wanted to unleash the dogs but things were different now. Their moves needed to be calculated like a throughout game of chess. Maya stepped forward her heels clicking on the floor as she stepped farther into the semi-circle of loyalist. The suit jacket she wore was unbuttoned revealing the white tucked in silk shirt. She took a moment to take in the loyalist before her they had taken a hit and almost lost their boss. They needed a reminder that they were stronger than any hit. Apparently, so did Porto Velho.

“I’ve been wracking my brain about what we could do and I wanted inform Oliver and all of you of my thoughts.” Maya paused and glanced back at Oliver. “ I can open a new business in a location that would heighten our access in uncharted territory. I…we…can start pushing drugs slowly into Cavado territory. I can start poaching their members.”

She paced the floor as she spoke making sure her attention was focused on the loyalist. Watching their faces for reactions as her words passed her lips. Her hands balancing her ideas as she spoke.

“Starting a new business would be too easy. We already have 4602, it’s doing good. We’re turning a profit and we have a few loyalist living upstairs. I’m giving up my place there in order to make more room for loyalist. Before you even argue that I’ve found a new one already I’m just not fully mov-” She cut herself off. She was getting side tracked and this wasn’t the time. “I think the drugs or the members are our in. ”

Behind her, Oliver offered her a nod of his head.

“With the drugs, I can start pushing slowly at the bar. Small bathroom deals and have a few of the guys go into weak areas of Cavado.” Maya caught a worried face from another Commandant and turned towards him. “I would never allow that to occur without my breaking down the area inside and out. If we did that I think we should purchase a rundown warehouse in the area and silently set up shop. You know, study the area before opening shop. I’d want us to fully know the ins and outs before even starting to push product there. ”

His nod. Keep her going.

“Let’s see the other option would be making their people switch sides. I don’t know how close he was to them but they have a doctor in the family. He oversaw my case. He could be a pretty good in. Maybe a little bit far fetched. However, there’s also Jacob Davenport. Reagan was reading something about him on TMI I guess he and Rutherfords have a connection. I’ve heard he’s hosted a few of their fights. Breaking him could be a way to hurt them and maybe getting Thierry or Laurent, when he’s ready in the ring fighting may be a good thing as well. ”

She was rambling now and she knew that but she hoped she’d sparked something in someone’s  head. Which was what this meeting was truly all about. Maya Alliot wanted everyone’s wheels turning. Maya nodded her head at her own words.

“I know snatching up the lower level loyalist would be a lot easier and tactically better but whatever we do I think it should be a lot like the attacks at the hotel. Direct, calculated and damaging. They can’t protect all their pawns at once.”

Both hands motioned towards the floor before her.

“I know that was a lot but now I’d like to know your thoughts.”

[gustave-pls-blog]

Gustave was keeping extremely low and as quiet as a church mouse. He needed to keep his ears as unobstructed as possible and his eyes fresh. Ever since that grand opening, the Frenchman could feel the shift in Porto. His first official celebration in a city so far removed from Launceston and it seemed there was a similar outcome in the end. Blood on the floors and a lot of finger pointing.

After having a somewhat unpleasant talk with Amir, a Rutherford fuckboy, the tall man decided he needed to speak with Oliver or Théo or someone. Maybe Maya was back and running full-speed. His anger over the situation, the frustration with the conversation he had with Amir and the fact that he missed the light atmosphere between he and his family of brothers (Maya included) made him ready to act on all of it.

He smiled when reached the room. Maya seemed to be plotting and sharing plans and Gustave was assured: she was back. As he entered the room, he stopped just short of where Maya was seated and nodded at her. 

“I don’t care what we do as long as I get a piece of the Rutherford’s for a fucking souvenir,” he replied, voice dripping with spite. “Although, I think we have a few facets we can use to take them down.”

[gustave-pls-blog]

I’m sorry, were you still talking?

[gustave-pls-blog]

amirdawar :

Once again, I can feel the French class practically radiating.

Are the people here better? No. That would be why we have more money. We’re simply more discreet; a skill you could all do with learning, apparently.

Oh, feel free. The name’s Amir Dawar. Make sure to tell her I’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t remember me.

Good.

You all, discrete? Strange wording considering I can follow your movements through the hourly Instagram updates between you and your friends. But perhaps you’re right. Us French could use a little more discretion. 

I’ll let her know. And not to worry, her memory is keen. She’ll remember you.

[gustave-pls-blog]

amirdawar :

Remind yourself of who was responsible for both that attack, and the one on Pavilion. Now reevaluate what you just said.

This city lost good people–the kind who have never raised their hand to anyone, let alone headed a criminal organization responsible for the deaths of hundreds–in that God damned massacre. You expect us to be sympathetic?

I think not.

I’m not really a fan of shouting, so how about you just relay the message nice and clearly, instead? 

Are you done jerking yourself off or is that an invitation for me to encourage you to finish on my tits?

I don’t really give a shit where they came from. Do you honestly think Porto is any better than Launceston? You can’t be so delusional as to think the people here are any better than those who moved here from the east coast.

But perhaps you are.

Should I quote you as the origin of the message? It’s an emotional time, I wouldn’t want to cause any confusion as to where that message came from.

[amirdawar]

The animals of Launceston bring with them a barbarity for which they are notorious, and people are surprised? Don’t expect people here to be as forgiving of your bloodshed as the cretins back home.

[gustave-pls-blog]

You should say it louder, for the people in the back...and in the hospital. Oh, and most importantly, for the pregnant woman who suffered gunshot wounds. I’m sure she’d love to hear that.

[gustave-pls-blog]

Maya [text]

Gustave: So if someone has a gift for you...where would one deposit it so that you get it directly?

Gustave: Hypothetically, of course.

[erika-park-blog1]

Outcast | Erika & Gustave.

“I’m hungry.”

The chin rested on her shoulder lifted slightly, a little voice sounding in her ear.

“You’re always hungry,” Erika scoffed in response.

“My stomach is so loud. Please, please, please can we eat?”

Truth be told, Erika hadn’t even wanted to leave the apartment; least of all with her little brother clinging onto her back. After everything that had happened at Versailles–and subsequently, how her reputation had slipped at Vixen because of the identity of the perpetrators–being out in public had worried her for the first time since leaving Cávado. People had always looked at them differently, but this time was different.

The sun was setting on the horizon, and she could see it reflecting on the ocean clearly from the street they were on. It was just far enough from the strip to be comfortable, but not so isolated there weren’t enough people around to feel like she didn’t stand out. Still, as evening began to draw in, she sought the safety the confines of their home brought. Henry didn’t seem to agree.

“Can we get noodles?”

“You’re going to turn into a noodle,” she replied, wrinkling up her nose, and adjusting the piggyback so he felt more secure. 

But Erika knew that if she denied him, she wouldn’t hear the end of it all night. So, when he all but squealed when pointing out the tiny Chinese restaurant just ahead, she couldn’t help but concede for her own sanity. Loosening his arms, he slipped from her back, and darted towards the door so quickly that she had to run to keep up with him.

Thankfully there weren’t many people inside. Not that you could have seated more than fifteen in the room.

“Hello everyone,” Henry introduced himself, waving his hands excitedly. The kid loved everyone, and it broke her heart to think that he’d grow up to learn that very few people felt the same about them. 

“Get back here,” the blonde scowled, before turning her attention to the person that the five-year-old had walked up behind in an attempt to introduce himself. She had been so prepared to apologize for the interruption until she’d realized who it was. What were the damn chances? Of all the people she was trying to avoid, there sat a man from a group that absolutely topped the list…

Erika’s heart stopped. If this was going to go as badly as Cecelia had hinted, she just wanted to grab Henry and leave. Quickly, she tore her eyes away from him, and glared at her little brother, instead. Anything to avoid acknowledging the fact he was there.

For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to say. 

“Leave the man alone, Henry. He’s trying to eat.”

[gustave-pls-blog]

Chinese food was somewhat elusive and hard to find, at least in Gustave’s opinion.

Sure, anyone could find a sub-par Panda Express or some dingy, Americanized Chinese restaurant that would serve some stupid fortune cookie as a dessert. But that wasn’t Chinese food. Not even close. And it only felt more counterfeit when he knew he could have the real thing with his mother.

Which was what made this little hole-in-the-wall so special. Tucked away from all the hustle and bustle of The Strip, Lao Tzu’s was a blessing for the Chinese Frenchman. While there was pride in his home country of France and even more pride overflowing for the St. Clair family that he considered to be his own, there were some things he absolutely missed about the Chinese side of himself. His mother’s cooking at the very top of the list.

“Isn’t this your fifth time in a week?” came the old lady’s voice from behind the counter as he entered.

Gustave only threw in a smile and shrugged. “This place seems the only corner of the city that’s not tensing like passing a bad bowel movement. Can you blame me?”

Ordering his usual (the ham hock soup that tasted just like his mother made it in the kitchen), he sat down and took a load off. This was probably the only place in the city Gustave felt comfortable he couldn’t be found. There was a sense of forgetting, even if for an hour or two, that he was in the middle of a shit storm.

Halfway through his meal, a little boy stomped through the door. Waving at everyone and smiling big, Gustave couldn’t help but return the smile. Not nearly as big, he even waved back, laughing at himself. If only he could be that kid. He had no worries, nothing to really stress over and probably hadn’t lifted a gun or knife in his life. 

Mid-bite, he heard a woman’s voice behind him and that’s when Gustave turned around. Noticing the little boy, he smiled. But just as he said it, he looked to the woman and noticed the very familiar face. He cracked a smile.

“My eating has never stopped you from interruption before,” he offered with a teasing smile. 

[theodorechaussard]

Preparations for War|| Open

The beeping of the hospital monitor was steady sound, along with the sound of the medical ventilator that was pushing air into Aurélie’s lungs, forcibly inflating her lungs to push oxygen into them. Her damage had been severe- Théo couldn’t get answers from the doctor about the extent or severity as he was technically family- but from the look in Oliver’s eyes as he’d relieved him Théo knew it had to be bad. How? The question vibrated off the inside of the Frenchman’s skull as he watched his friends silent form. She looked like she could have been sleeping, if not for the lack of color in her skin. He’d brought Oliver, a close friend of his, food to sustain himself and a bottle of liquor to help him sleep that night. Memories of the night before swirled through Théo’s head as he sat in silence next to his unconscious friend. He’d failed her. Aurélie had been his job to protect- she was the face and head of their family now. Every single person who worked for the St. Clair family had failed her. He’d been gathering bits and pieces of the story, but they were often conflicting and confused. They were Koreans. Then they were Italian. The security was in on it. It didn’t make any sense- Aurélie would have screened every single employee she hired for that hotel, she would have known she was a target, that the hotel was a target. Oliver had stepped out of the room to get some air and make some calls. Had Théo not been close with him, he might have made the mistake of demanding information. Demanding a plan. But he knew better than to push his friend in a time like this. A nurse stepped into the room, a clipboard in hand. There were two armed guards at the door, one armed guard down the hall, and was to be, at all times, someone in the room with her. Oliver had insisted on being in the room until this point, where he’d gratefully accepted Théo’s offer to stand guard for a bit. The nurse moved around, checking different machines’ by the unconscious girl’s head, and Théo’s hand slipped into his jacket to grip the cold handle of his pistol. Legally licensed to carry a concealed firearm, he’d ended up shooting two of the security guards the night before that had opened fire on the crowd. The Porto Vehlo Police Department had just arrived on scene moments before and in the chaos, no one had kept track of who shot who. It made for a long hour, an hour that Théo hadn’t had, to sort everything out with an overzealous detective. Finally, a Sergeant had told the man to back off. He was on their payroll.

The nurse gave him a weary smile and left. The hospital was full to its’ capacity and they were being forced to send the less critical patients to smaller hospitals in the surrounding areas. The hospital was full of the families and friends of those who’d been shot, and the morgue in the basement was filled with the bodies of those who hadn’t made it. They were still counting the death toll, as of last night. A light knock came at the door and Théo stood, drawing his weapon and letting it hand menacingly by his side. Instead of a Korean or Italian figure, Oliver walked back through the door. He retook his seat next to the bed that contained his wife, giving Théo a nod of thanks on his way out. He wouldn’t press his friend for information. Not yet. The exchange was wordless and took maybe a second. Théo found himself a couple minutes later walking into the hospital cafeteria. It was full to the brim, families sharing tables with people they didn’t know. Hospital food was never up to the standards of the Frenchman, but having not eaten since the party the night before he needed something to sustain him. He had to talk to Fran, they needed a plan. Now. They couldn’t be seen as weak in the eyes of their enemies- whoever the enemies were. They needed information– and for that, Théo needed the custody of the Koreans who’d attacked Aurélie. He’d ask Oliver for permission to retrieve them in a couple hours. After buying a rather bland looking sandwich, Théo sat at one end of the only empty table in the room. He took a bite.

It was disgusting.

He swallowed. And then he took another.

More people filed into the cafeteria, and some left. Sooner or later someone would take the seat next to him and he’d be forced to be civilized and say hello.

He didn’t want to talk. Théodore Chaussard wanted blood. The blood of whoever did this to them, the blood of their wives, their husbands, their children and their parents. Whatever it takes, he vowed to himself, we will have our revenge.

[gustave-pls-blog]

The smell of blood lingered on him as he stared across the room. His white tuxedo jacket completely drenched in areas where it touched Laurent, Gustave tried to focus on finding other French loyalists. He needed to be debriefed, he needed to give them an update on Laurent and more importantly, he needed to know what to do next.

This wasn’t just an attack on a business, nor was it some accidental mix up what happened here. It was deliberate. The only accident was inadvertently starting shit with the wrong group. Ever since the French arrived in Porto Vehlo, they’d been relatively calm. Slowly building up their business in the city from the ground up, they were more focused on that than flaunting around the power they enjoyed in Launceston. That would come after the success of Versailles.

At least, that’s what Gustave thought.

But he couldn’t muster up the strength to continue that line of thought as his brown eyes found a familiar face. No matter how much he demanded his legs to move faster, he kept a sluggish pace. One foot in front of the other, he slowly made his way through the cafeteria, walking toward his Commandant.

Just as soon as he found a seat next to Théo, he slumped into it, not bothering to ask. At a time like this, he wasn’t sure he could.

Gustave stared holes into the people seated yards ahead of him, but quickly looked away as he remembered they were alive. He had doubts about his own friend’s well-being at this point and that little fact bothered him.

After a few beats of silence, Gustave finally found his voice buried deep in his anger.

“Fucking grand, isn’t it?”

[gustave-pls-blog]

Late [Self-Para]

BANG!

BANG-BANG-BA-BA-BANG!

Ears ringing and confusion clouding his eyes for just a moment as he oriented himself, Gustave looked around, trying to clock where the shots were coming from.

The French loyalist hadn’t been at the party for more than ten minutes when the gunshots ripped through the happy and buzzing atmosphere of Versailles. He was in the middle of scanning the crowd, trying to map out who was where and which exits were the best to use in case of an emergency, a risk assessment he learned from numerous experiences in Launceston.

Eyes wildly glancing from left to right, scanning the crowd, he found where the sounds were coming from. Men were moving through the crowd, large rifles in hand. And that’s when the confusion was replaced with a gripping sense of dread. He had to do an assessment to see if anyone was hurt. 

Théo was the first person Gustave found. The Commandant was already going into battle mode, which was appreciated as well. Oliver was fine too, which made the French loyalist breathe a little easier too.

Two faces were missing by the time he went through the entire list of friends. His boss and admittedly someone he considered to be a friend, Aurélie and his best friend Laurent.

It was hard to make the decision on who to check on first. Aur definitely had so much security around her, including Oliver, she was probably covered well. Laurent wasn’t. And while he believed his best friend could handle himself in a situation like this, he wanted to make sure everything was fine and he didn’t need any help.

Moving through the room slowly, eyeing the bar, he would look there first. That was the last place he remembered seeing Laurent. Gustave flattened his back against the wall, crouching as he quietly walked toward the bar. The bodies on the floor was what Gustave noticed first. So many people laying motionless and there was a moment where he tried to identify any of them. Hopefully none of them were too familiar.

As he desperately searched, he cursed himself. Being late was always unacceptable, but considering all the circumstances now, he was foolish to have shown up so late. Any earlier and he might’ve been more useful. Any earlier and he might’ve been capable to scope these fuckers out better.

And that’s when his foot accidentally hit something soft. It was definitely made of paper and was squished almost immediately. Gustave looked down and he immediately felt his blood run cold.

Laurent.

Without a moment of hesitation he knelt down next to his fellow Frenchman. He knew Laurent was shot before he even saw the blood, knowing damn well Laurent didn’t voluntarily lay down for shits and giggles. But as soon as he reached out a hand, feeling the warm liquid coat his hands and fingers heavily, he felt his chest tighten. This was his best friend. And yes, Gustave gave him shit all the time and probably talked more shit behind his back, but that’s because he cared. To see him with several gunshot wounds? It was trying Gustave’s patience and civility.

While his immediate reaction was to panic and let that panic show, he could tell from Laurent’s expression he was already bothered by the way Jessica was handling the moment. Smiling with some encouragement, he placed a bloody hand on her shoulder. 

“Cherie, could you do me a big favor?” he asked politely. “I’m going to need a glass of the best whiskey you’ve got left behind that bar.”

When she began to protest, he held up a hand, cutting her off. “Seriously, he’s going to need it.”

As she scurried off, crawling over the broken glass, Gustave turned his attention back to Laurent. Noticing his hand trying to fish for what Gustave assumed was the item he accidentally stepped on. 

A carton of cigarettes.

Noticing the now damaged cigarettes were, he sighed, taking out his own package.

“I know you hate the filters and I can already hear your eyes rolling, but considering this could be your last cigarette, you might one to try living healthy for like, two minutes,” he mumbled playfully as he lit the cigarette.

It was a flimsy mask to hide the distress he was feeling at seeing his friend like this. As he handed over the cigarette, placing it between Laurent’s lips, he applied as much pressure to the wounds as he could.

The cries that echoed in the background almost covered up Laurent’s voice completely. He was obviously trying to say something. Leaning down, Gustave kept the pressure on as many places as possible as he asked for his friend to repeat himself.

“They were fucking Italian.”

[gustave-pls-blog]

Gustave Zhang attending Versailles grand opening April 1. 

[odile-stpierre]

Who do I have to thank regarding this ‘TMI’ nonsense? Also, does this mean Twitter is a requirement living here, or…?

Cute… very cute.

[gustave-pls-blog]

That’s a great question, but no one seems to know that answer. But I survive quite well with just an Instagram.

[stclairfran]

This city looks like a place where Edward Hathaway and Viktor Petrovsky threw up all over, collectively.

[gustave-pls-blog]

It’s like a disgusting wet dream that I get to live in. Lucky right?

Long time no see Mr. St. Clair.

[gustave-pls-blog]

erika-park :

Hold up. So you’re not buying me cheesecake because you like me, you’re buying me cheesecake because you want to earn brownie points with the big man upstairs?

…not that I’m complaining, because free food.

Does that mean you’re fasting and can’t even steal any of it? I am blessed.

Right. You’re honestly very lucky you caught me now and not a few weeks earlier. Brownie points go a long way Erika. Always remember that.

Now, I’m not fasting because I’m not that hardcore about it just yet, but I don’t like cheesecake so...it’s all yours.

[gustave-pls-blog]

FMK: Chelsea, Odile and Aurélie.

Fuck: ChelseaMarry: OdileKeep safe at whatever cost: Aurélie

[gustave-pls-blog]

Which French bros do you imagine Gustave is closest to?

I would say it’s a three-way tie between Maya, Laurent and Theiry. It’s hard for him to choose.