NAME: Emilia Lefebvre.
AGE: 33.
PLACE OF BIRTH: Launceston, Massachusetts, United States.
AFFILIATION: The French Organization.
OCCUPATION: Soldier.
FACE CLAIM: Elizabeth Olsen.
AVAILABILITY: OPEN.
(Warning: Heavy references to prostitution/human trafficking.)
A little money really could mask anything, couldn’t it?
Brenton was an utter cesspool; a place so rotten to the core, she wondered how people outside of the Russian Mob could even stand to live there. Yet to walk down the streets of the Launceston borough’s very centre was to be surrounded by grand architecture, neat streets, and beautiful buildings that wouldn’t have been entirely out of place in the more respected parts of the city. The people there had money. They liked for their particular patch to present well. Yet those on the outskirts often lived in desperate poverty, without being given a second thought or a helping hand by their more affluent neighbours.
That observation, however despicable, was not Emilia’s issue with the Russians, though.
Her issue was how their ‘elite’ made the majority of their money in the first place.
People didn’t like to talk about it, she’d noticed. Guns, drugs, and violence on the other hand? Those particular sources of income could be criticized and protested, and complained about to their leaders by the city’s inhabitants until they were blue in the face. So why did nobody want to talk about the issue of how the Russians had elevated themselves into such a position of wealth? Why were the first thoughts about the scumbags ‘basements’ and ‘explosions’ instead of ‘slavery’ and ‘sex workers’?
It was a nauseating thought, she supposed. Maybe they were more comfortable in their ignorance. Maybe they thought even the people of Launceston couldn’t be that evil.
Seeing the prostitutes that lined the streets of Yellow Wood as she drove around nightly with her crew turned her stomach. It made her think of her mom.
Emilia had been born in Launceston to a Polish prostitute; a woman who’d been plucked off the streets of her home country by the Russian mob when she was but a drug-addicted teenager. The imported Eastern European and Russian women always made the most money when it came to sex work, and those who owned them made the most of that knowledge. All of the victims were too weak and too vulnerable to fight it. That was the point in their selection, after all.
They were always girls who wouldn’t be missed.
Emilia’s mother had never fought for herself. Yet, when she’d found out one of the many Russian gangsters who often paid visits to her brothel had gotten her pregnant, she sure as hell fought for her daughter. Being pregnant was bad business. Either you got rid of the baby yourself, or they would do it for you, and neither were options she could agree to.
Not a lot of information on how her mother escaped the iron grip of the Russian Mob is known to Emilia. Even though she ran to the French for their help, aside from revealing herself as a victim of the Russians’ deplorable cycle of sex workers, Inga Nowak didn’t offer up much else about her past or present situations. They didn’t pry. They simply made sure she and her unborn child were looked after, just as they sought to do with every other woman they could release from a similar situation. Human trafficking was not a viable area of business to them, and it never would be. Eradicating the Russian prostitution rings on their soil was becoming a bigger priority every day. Not only because their expansion threatened them, but because it was fucking wrong.
Emilia’s mother unfortunately passed away during a complicated childbirth. Sometimes, the young woman wonders if that was a little bit of God’s mercy. How could she have possibly looked at her own daughter every day knowing she was a product of something that had tormented her for years? How could she ever forget what had happened?
The French had always been honest with her about her mother—particularly the loving Lefebvre family that had adopted her from birth—and Emilia was grateful for that. Even though it might have been easier growing up without the knowledge that she was the product of a prostitute and whichever Russian scumbag had taken advantage of her, it has put her on a path she wouldn’t have otherwise found. It’s left her with a passion, utterly unmatched, though admired by the other French loyalists, to decimate the Vorshevsky human trafficking business, once and for all.
All she wants is to stop others from being hurt the same way as her mother.
Emilia loves her family, and is as much crafted by them as the parent she never knew. Cassandre is a doting housewife with more than enough love for her three children; the last of which, Emilia, she treated no differently from those she’d birthed herself. Martin, now retired, was one of Launceston’s first Commandants; the type of old school French mobster that the new generation still sought to emulate. Emilia adored them both, and owed them everything. They were the reason she became the strong, smart and determined person who would eventually find her own way into the St. Clair family that had saved her.
The young woman had always been a firecracker when it came to conflict. Though she mightn’t have possessed the same physical strength as the rest of the crew she has been closely knitted with since she was fifteen, that doesn’t mean she didn’t try. It also helped that her big brother just so happened to have the sort of reputation that left people dumbstruck with fear when she reminded them who she was related to. It’s not uncommon for her to start fights with Russians; the idea of them being remotely the same as the man who hurt her mother the fuelling factor for her unwavering hatred. If they identify as Vorshevsky, they deserve to suffer, and she is more than happy to dish out plenty of that.
Her most notable attack? Using a fresh manicure to attempt to scratch out the eyes of a Russian who had described the sex workers inside of his club as ‘sluts.’
And her friends had even held him down as she did it.
Even though she had never planned on leaving Launceston until her work was done, things were beginning to change. The city was starting to rise up against the Russian human trafficking—particularly after a joint French-Italian charity event drew in the media attention it deserved—and finally, dents were being made in their profits. To think they would abandon it all together had been naïve…so to hear that the Russians were moving to another city, somewhere the French had less influence and they had more leeway, was a terrifying thought, if not a surprising one.
Had it not been for her brother’s own move to London, the decision might’ve been harder.
Emilia keeps telling herself that this city will be different. That the women the newly arrived Vorshevsky family bring to British shores won’t be the victims of bad politics as well as the despicable business they’ve been forced into. Emilia will do everything in her power to shed light on the practice before it can get out of hand. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll even be able to save a few along the way, just like the French had saved her mother all those years ago.
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single.
FAMILY: Inga Nowak (mother, deceased), Cassandre and Martin Lefebvre (adoptive parents, unplayable), Varden Lefebvre (adoptive brother), Océane Lefebvre (adoptive sister, unplayable)
CONNECTIONS:
Rosalie Lecomte: Best friend. Rosalie has been her friend for almost as long as she can remember. Both of them hail from influential St. Clair families, and they have been joined at the hip from the moment they decided to follow in their parents’ footsteps. Every crew they’ve ever been a part of, they’ve joined together, and there is no way Emilia could have imagined coming to London if she hadn’t agreed to follow.
Varden Lefebvre: Brother. There is nobody in her life more important to her than her big brother. Through thick and thin, regardless of his work commitments, she has always come first, and she knows it. Emilia doesn’t push her luck with her enemies thinking he’s always there to back her up, but it’s a comfort to know that if anything ever does go wrong, he’s there to help her out.
Sébastien Pécresse: Friend. The first time she’d met him had been during her brief time waitressing at the French hangout, Séverin, in Launceston. Even though his reputation had been intimidating, he was very friendly, even to her, and struck as more kind-hearted than most of the others who aligned with the mob. Emilia appreciated how hard he tried to use his political influence to put a halt to the Vorshevsky’s human trafficking, and is glad that he’s on there side here in London.
