The revolution had begun. Death or Glory, the beginning of freedom and the ending of manipulation. The soldiers of the royal council, all broken and twisted souls had followed Remingtons voice, leading the present into purifying anarchy. 'Don't ask my pronouns, call me by my name', he had said as he circled the room once, wearing only black tights and heels. He was freedom itself, to be with and without labels and far away from the new and accepted weird.

He was almost drunk on it, the way the music his band created had ripped open souls around the world and filled then with a new light, a rushing adrenaline and a thirst for something more.

He lay on the ground, his heels crossed beside the grand piano. "Death or Glory, because I'm fuckin' horny." He grinned from the floor. He had only said it once, earlier that evening in a broadcast around the world, but it stuck like glue to his tongue. He invited being canceled, he invited the liberty to be yourself without a flag. There was no flag, just that simple phrase.