Disclaimer~: The same as my other stories. I am an ESL teacher working in Asia, with a degree in history and a passion for reading and watching television shows/movies. Nothing that is familiar to anyone is owned by myself.

This is entirely AU, so I have not always stuck to cannon. This is fanfiction. You want cannon? Go to the source.

Prologue

The world was getting darker. It seemed like every week there was a new threat; another meta-human, a new terrorist, a natural disaster. Hell, even aliens. And now this new report he had just opened on his computer.

He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. This idea that he had come up with to help defend Earth had been great on paper. In reality however it was proving to be nothing more than a massive headache. Tracking down the individuals alone was proving difficult enough, let alone getting in contact with them and recruiting them. He'd lost count of the amount of times his life had been threatened because of this ridiculous venture.

Remember the dream, he kept telling himself. Remember what you promised Kent. It was that promise that kept him going. And just when he had finally managed to track down the next…candidate…this email springs up on his computer. It's from a contact of his, their relationship going back years, long before his tenure as the Batman began. This contact knew about both of his identities, and kept him updated with the dealings of the underworld outside Gotham on a regular basis. But he had never before sent an email where the Subject Line read only one word: Urgent!

Bruce Wayne could feel a minute shiver run down his spine as he stared at that word. Not now. With trepidation running through him, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time, he clicked twice on the email to open it.

Ten seconds later he was wishing he had ignored it.

Twenty seconds later he was wondering whether Alfred had put something in his coffee.

Thirty seconds later he was swearing up a storm whilst trying to find his phone. There was no way he could deal with this. He would have sworn it was nothing more than an elaborate prank had it not been sent by this contact – a person who knew less about the word humour than he did. This was important, and not something that cops, hell not even the sodden FBI, could deal with. No, this was something that only he could deal with. Or someone like him.

His fingers finally curled around his cell and he picked it up, scrolling through his contacts until he found the number of one person he had hoped to never call again. Here's hoping I leave this conversation intact, he thought to himself as he pressed dial. "Ana? It's Bruce. I'm sorry but…I need your help. I need you to go to Louisiana. Something…something is happening down there and I can't…yes I know. I know Ana! But I have other…I know you do as well. You…fine. Please. Please! Thank you Ana." He ended the call and dropped the phone onto his desk, forwarding the email he was looking at onto the woman he had just talked to before his nerves could get the better of him.

There were only a few things left in his life that scared the shit out of Bruce Wayne, and his sister Anastashia was at the top of that list. God help whoever was raising hell in New Orleans. Because he was pretty sure he had just unleased the Devil on them.

Chapter One

New Orleans. The Big Easy. Known for its round-the-clock parties, live-music and food. Not to mention its rather turbulent history. If someone was looking for a good time, a chance to unwind and to simply go with the flow, New Orleans was the place to be. And of course, nothing in New Orleans was as famous as the French Quarter. Many people claimed it was that part of the city that made New Orleans what it was. Everyone made a point to visit the French Quarter.

It was also the one place in the city where the crime rate had dropped below average. Under normal circumstances this would be great. Except it was too suspicious to be good news. Crime did not drop below average over the course of one night. Not even in Gotham…but then that was Gotham. But Metropolis, even when the Man of Steel was around, didn't see as big a drop in crime in such a short space of time. Which is why the Quarter had been red-flagged.

And naturally, the Bat was too busy to take care of it himself. Which was why Ana found herself sitting in a wicker chair outside a place called CC's Coffee House*, nursing a blueberry scone and a latte. Not that she wanted either, but she needed a reason to be loitering, and a café was the perfect place to do so. Granted a bar was too, and she would have preferred it, but most people tend to frown at those drinking at ten in the morning. And she didn't need a reputation of being a raving alcoholic. So coffee and scone it was.

The only good thing about this café was its location, directly across the street from The Abattoir – also known as one of the hottest clubs in the Quarter. And, according to the report she had tucked away in her phone, yes thank you once again Bat, under the ownership of one Marcel Gerard. Funny thing was, according to the digging she had done the day before, the ownership of this building had been under the same name since the 1920s, with just enough miss-directions and what was probably a lot of bribes and payoffs to bury the truth. But then, Ana guessed, anyone who had looked before probably weren't as tenacious as her, nor have the hacking skills she had or the resources that were at her disposal. At least the Bat is useful for something, she thought with a snort.

Ana watched as a group of people stepped out of the tunnel leading to the building, noting with sharp eyes each person. An eccentric gathering; three appeared to be rather generic; typical bodyguard personas. Unremarkable, easy to look past, but certainly lethal enough. A tall Caucasian, very thin in jeans, a knitted cardigan and (Ana had to bite her cheek to stop from smiling) a flat cap, the sort of one Alfred would very occasionally wear if he was in a particular mood. The last two men were both black**, the taller of the two sporting an outstanding afro. It was painfully obvious he was also the 'muscle', from his arrogant stance right down to the clothes he wore. Both he and the Caucasian were flanking the second black man, whom Ana instantly recognised as being Marcel Gerard. He was shorter, with a buzz of dark hair, with enough muscle that would catch the eye of any appreciative woman. That combined with the air of authority and the shit-eating grin on his face had Ana groaning internally to herself as she made a silent promise. Bruce Wayne, you're a dead man.

She watched the man and his posse take off down the road before rising, coffee and scone untouched but already paid for, and started to stroll after them. She made sure to walk very casually, had in fact perfected this particular walk years ago, with her nose 'stuck' in a brochure that gave a very detailed insight into the Quarter. All the while she followed her target. Marcel Gerard was the man in charge in the Quarter. Ana had been here for a week and had been quietly gathering information on him. His rise to power, and what he did with it. His band of followers, which in itself was a little scary, but add in the fact that they followed him with almost blind devotion, was almost terrifying. And better not forget that according to the paper trail she had unearthed, this man had been around for nearly two hundred years. The fact that her only reaction to that news was freezing for ten seconds before blinking and carrying on was a testament to just how fucked up her life was these days.

The group headed into a café just down the road, leaving Ana quietly cursing. She couldn't follow them in there, having just been sitting outside another bloody café waiting for them to appear. You're a fucking Wayne, start acting like one. Oh great. Her inner voice was starting to sound like her brother. She needed to get off this planet soon. Her inner monologue wasn't wrong though; if anything it would give her the in she needed. Internally cursing her brother yet again Ana stuffed the leaflet in her bag, ran a hand quickly through her hair and crossed the street to reach the coffee shop. As her hand curled around the door handle she had one last thought: Here's hoping your info is as solid as always Bat.

No bell rang as the door opened; there was no need when the shop was owned and staffed by vampires. Sitting in the window seat Marcel's gaze had already been caught by the woman as she crossed the street. His first thought was that there was a wealth of brown hair piled haphazardly on her head. His second thought, one that came to mind only after she had entered the building, was that she was captivating. If he hadn't been actively and openly pursuing Camille than he may have tried something with her. Glancing across the table Marcel saw that his companion's attention was equally caught by the woman. He snorted, shaking his head a little. "You always did have a soft spot for a pretty face didn't you Klaus."

Klaus turned his head back towards Marcel with the familiar smirk playing on his lips. "And you didn't?" Marcel snorted, shaking his head a little, refusing to fall back into the decade's old argument between them. "So who is she then?"

Marcel tilted a shoulder slightly in a shrug. "I don't know. Probably a tourist. They drift in here sometimes, and are then usually invited to one of the parties." He grinned at his maker.

Klaus refrained from rolling his eyes at the comment. "If she's a tourist, why is she talking about employment opportunities in the Quarter?"

Marcel had not been listening to the other conversations in the shop, but now tuned into them. He focused on the woman who was standing at the counter who, just as Klaus said, was enquiring about jobs. Kerrin, the vampire she was talking to, caught Marcel's eye, silently asking him what he wanted her to do. He rose to his feet and strolled over to the bar. Anything to get away from Klaus asking about his brother's whereabouts.

"Excuse me" the brown-haired woman turned to him. "Forgive me, I couldn't help but hear your conversation." He was stuck once again by the beauty the woman's face held. Camille, he mentally chided himself. "Now what would a stunning person such as yourself be doing asking about jobs in a lowly café?" He noticed idly that her hair wasn't entirely brown; it had streaks of red and blonde running through it and her eyes were a luminous green.

The woman raised an eyebrow slightly and her mouth curved in a half-smile. She turned to lean against the counter, waiting for her order to be handed over. "One who's recently moved to the Quarter and wanting to know what sort of opportunities are available here."

Marcel grinned, flashing his white teeth. "But a café. Forgive me Miss, but you seem better suited to something more…sophisticated."

She laughed. "And what makes you think I'm not? If this café is anything like the ones back home the workers make a point of knowing everything that is going on in the city. You want to know anything, you go to the local café. That's where all the gossip is."

It was Marcel's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Is that so? Maybe that's something I should keep in mind in future. So what are you looking for then? I might be able to help you out."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And why would you do that?"

Marcel shrugged slightly, attempting to look humble. It didn't really suit him. "Because I know everything that's going on in the Quarter. You could say that's my job."

The woman laughed slightly. "Wow. Ego much." She shook her head a little. "Thank you, but I prefer to fight my own battle Mr…"

"Gerard. But please call me Marcel." He held out a hand.

She pressed her hand into his very briefly, just enough for him to feel the indent of a ring on her finger before Kerrin called out her order. She dropped his hand and turned around to pick up the offered cup, reaching into her bag to grab her bag. Marcel spoke up again. "No, I got this."

She turned back to him, an eyebrow raised again. "You're sure?"

He grinned. "Absolutely."

The woman shrugged. "If you insist. I'd say it was a pleasure Mr Gerard."

"But?"

"I've always been told never to tell lies."

Marcel laughed. He liked this woman. "Can I ask for your name before you leave?"

"Of course you can." She turned to the door.

Marcel reached out to touch her shoulder. "You didn't give it."

She turned back to look at him. "I said you could ask for it. I never said I'd give it." She grinned, winked at him and left the café.

Marcel let her go, feeling a little stunned that his Southern charm, normally so good with the ladies, had no effect on her. Oblivious to the fact that Klaus had left the shop during his conversation with the woman, Marcel too left, signalling to his friends he wanted to be left alone. He decided to go and visit Rebekah; Klaus was up to something and he needed to know what it was, hoping against hope that he wasn't trying to stir anything up.

Ana sat on a bench in Jackson Square, updating the files on her phone. The coffee she had (not) brought sat on the seat next to her, untouched as she focused on her work. She knew from her conversation with him that Marcel Gerard considered himself the man in charge, answerable to no one, and as a result probably the one who was behind all of the incidents listed in the Bat's report.

She was also making notes of the different conversations she had heard amongst the others who had been in the café with Marcel. She hadn't been able to hear his conversation with the blonde-haired man, but his two sycophants had been talking about something they had placed in a church a few weeks prior; both had been completely oblivious to the fact that she had been listening in on their conversation, even while she had been talking to Marcel. Man that was someone who loved the sound of his own voice.

Despite being engrossed in her work Ana was still hyper-aware of everything that was going on around her and so when a certain dark-skinned man cut through the park talking into a phone her attention was immediately caught. Casually lifting a hand to her right ear, Ana's finger pressed against a small bud nestled on her earlobe. To anyone else it might look like an earring, but it was actually an advanced prototype of a listening device Wayne R&D had been recently developing. Sufficed to say, it worked like a treat.

"…had D wipe the location from her mind…she knows she saw him, but she won't remember the church was St Anne's? Look, having Klaus and Rebekah here are bad enough, add Elijah into the mix…I don't plan on giving him back to them period. They're up to something, I intend to find out what…"

Marcel had left the park before he finished his conversation but Ana didn't follow him. She pressed a finger against the listening device to turn it off and dropped her hand into her lap. So it seemed Marcel was hiding something…no, someone, somewhere in the city. And didn't want others to find him. Very interesting.

Ana sighed, looking down at the ground and rubbing her forehead. She had a lot of new information that she needed to go through; nothing she had at the minute was making any sense. A pair of black shoes entered her field of vision and she looking up, frowning slightly. It was one of the men from the café earlier, the one Marcel had been talking to. He was also standing…uncomfortably close. Ana was glad she had locked her phone. "Can I help you?"

The man smirked, taking note of her obvious discomfort before taking a slight step back, allowing her to stand up. "My friend failed to introduce me to you earlier. Klaus Mikaelson."

Ana's face remained impassive even as her brain started working a mile a minute. So this is Klaus. The person that Marcel is keeping someone from is his friend? For possibly the tenth time that day she cursed her brother. She smiled slightly at Klaus. "Ana. I'd say it's a pleasure but I hardly know you."

Klaus laughed slightly. "You wouldn't say it even if you did know me love. Anyway, I just wanted to give you this. I heard you say you're new here and thought you might like to attend a little party Marcel is throwing. Nothing fancy."

He handed her a stiff, heavy envelope. Ana raised an eyebrow. Nothing fancy my ass. That stationary was ridiculously expensive, something she only knew because she had jokingly brought the set for Bruce for Christmas last year. "When is it?"

"Tomorrow night love."

That was a little bit of an inconvenience. Ana had planned to do some reconnaissance then; it was a new moon so the sky would be dark, the perfect time for sneaking around. "Hmm…I'm not sure. That doesn't leave me a lot of time to get organised."

Klaus flashed a grin. "Well I hope you would come. If nothing more than to keep Marcel on his toes. He seemed…rather taken with you." Ana could practically smell the lie in his voice. "And you should meet my sister, Rebekah. I think you two would get along very well." So Rebekah is a Mikaelson as well. Christ above I'm gonna need to start writing up a sodden chart at this rate just for all the names.

"You may wish you hadn't said that. Well I'm not sure what I'm up to tomorrow yet, so you might see me there." Klaus gave her yet another grin before turning and walking off. Ana slit open the envelope and pulled out an embossed invitation, snorting slightly. It was the sort of thing she would usually have to organise when Bruce was throwing one of his many fundraisers.

You are invited to attend on October 32st

A Halloween Masquerade Ball

Held at The Abattoir

And Hosted by Mr. Marcel Gerard

8:30 pm

The Abattoir? Ana had been trying to come up with a way of getting into that building without raising suspicion. Now she had been practically handed a way in on a silver platter. She slid the card back into the envelope and put it into her bag before picking up her phone, scrolling through her contacts as she left the Square. "Alfred? I need to come up with an outfit for a Masquerade Ball for tomorrow night. Something that will…stand out."