AN: Thanks for all the reviews! Sorry for the long wait, but band camp took up all of my time the last week and a half.
"I don't see why you and Bonnie aren't see why you and Bonnie aren''t doing this," Elena grumbled, adjusting her knee-high fishnet stocking for the umpteenth time, causing Damon to become uncomfortable. At least he had the good grace to blush.
They'd gathered in the first floor of HQ, like they always did before a mission. All seven of them had been involved in the planning process, but the way Elena griped, you'd think she hadn't been consulted.
Caroline sighed. "You and Katherine are possibly the hottest twins in the world, you've both had experience in waitressing, and you two can pull off the misogynist metaphor that is that ridiculous uniform." She and Bonnie laughed as Elena looked like the most miserable human being on the planet.
Katherine, on the other hand, was pleased as punch to wear whatever she liked. She was more of a sexual creature: comfortable in her own skin and unbelievably resourceful when it came to hiding her weapons somewhere on her person. Both of them wore corseted satin 'tops' (honestly, it was more like lingerie), and six inch long skirts. Knee high leather boots had been pulled on over fishnet stockings. Kat's long hair hung in long, dark ringlets over her shoulders, whilst Elena's hair had been twisted up into a simple bun.
"Seriously, Elena, Eliza Jane asked us for her help at her club to weed out any possible vamps feeding on her dancers," Bonnie said. "We couldn't do a frontal assault without getting a lot of civilians killed. Undercover was the only option, and you know that."
Elena rolled her eyes. "I don't like to sound like a bad feminist, but this uniform is totally slutty. I'm chafing in places that shouldn't chafe underneath this stupid corset, and my ankles are killing me in these boots."
"But you look totally badass," Damon blurted. Over the last couple of weeks, his feelings for her had become less and less subtle by way of showing.
Stefan snorted and put his arm around Katherine's waist. "I'm glad you're enjoying this, at least," he murmured in his girlfriend's ear.
Katherine smiled. "Elena, wear your outfit like a suit of armor. What society deems slutty is what we should see as powerful."
"My warrior goddess," Stefan murmured, tenderly kissing the top of her hair. For some reason, Caroline felt as if she were intruding upon something intimate, something not meant for another's eyes. What Stefan and Katherine had was evident, yet completely unfathomable to her. She averted her eyes from them, only to meet Alaric's understanding gaze.
"Well," Bonnie said, clapping her hands together. "Let's get this show on the road!" Everyone murmured in agreement before grabbing their gear and walking out towards Alaric's van.
The plan was to drop Elena and Katherine off at six o'clock, the beginning of the shift at Eliza Jane's burlesque club. Eliza Jane hired them as subcontractors after some of her girls were showing signs of being fed on and compelled. Damon and Stefan would pose as customers, and Caroline would hang out backstage to keep an eye on the performers. Alaric and Bonnie would maintain surveillance by having been allowed into the security feeds.
Of course, nothing ever went according to plan.
Eliza Jane's was a burlesque club far enough away from the touristy shit to retain some of that natural New Orleans charm, but still in range to keep a large customer base. Both women and men frequented the club, either to enjoy some of the best professional reed players in five parishes, or to get a glimpse of the scantily clad dancers and their illustriously over-the-top menagerie.
The club was like something out of a movie: with a wooden stage jutting out from a gigantic alcove, with beaded curtains waterfalling down from the ceiling in frilly cascades of velvet. Off to the side was a smaller stage for the brass and sax players to sit, whilst the piano sat in front of the stage. Dotted around the floor were tables covered with the same kind of stained velvet the stage curtains were made of. To the right of everything was a bar, not unlike the one Caroline had to get out of tending to for tonight's mission.
Most of the people in the club were obviously human, falling over each other like discombobulated toddlers with no mothers around to keep them still and silent. Elena and Katherine strolled from table to table serving drinks, Caroline made sure the performers backstage were happy, and the Salvatores were lounging around like happy customers. All of them were armed in one form or another.
A low, brassy note sang over the sauced crowd from one of the trombones. The curtain rose, the pulleys groaning audibly under the weight of the ancient velvet. Dancers filed out from backstage, tits bouncing amiably, stilettos clipping sharply on the wood, eyes leveled over the crowd. From the view of the average club-goer, those were brainless, spineless bimboes that were only a peg higher than hookers on the proverbial ladder of morality. Those women knew exactly who they were, and with that knowledge came power.
As the dancers began their carefully choreographed routine, the team's eyes searched for any signs of vampire activity. There were VIP booths in darkened alcoves along the two walls opposite the stage and bar, occupied by the odd group of party girls and their chauvinist 'player' boyfriend paying the bill.
The lights were dimmed so the house lights wouldn't have much contention. This made Katherine and Elena especially jumpy as they skirted past college students and soccer moms alike, serving drinks and keeping their eyes peeled. Hands roamed over flat torsos to tiptoe beneath the tabletops. Heads tilted back in laughter as cheeks were set afire by the risqué nature of what they were watching. The crowd laughed and clapped as the dancers became more suggestive, even venturing to the farthest reaches of the stage to make eye contact with someone in the throng.
Caroline was beginning to get bored backstage, having to just make sure that the dancers got on stage on time. The dancers, having done the same damn routine a million times, had no need for her. After the first half an hour, she took to wandering around backstage. Most of backstage was dominated by lighting switches and old fashioned rope-and-pulleys. Decrepit hallways led to dressing rooms and powder rooms. Shoes and skirts alike were strewn around the place, torn off in haste during wardrobe changes in between sets.
Even amongst all the lights, the music, and the dancers, Caroline felt as alone as ever. She swallowed a lump in her throat, wishing something would happen that would yank her out of her loneliness. Vampire hunting was usually exciting and filled her with a fire that kept her going, but lately it wore on her. Perhaps it was the danger that always attracted her, kept her alive and set her free. But lately, the danger of vampire hunting was nothing compared to… him.
Klaus occupied nearly every thought of hers. He was ancient. All the records she could scrounge up of him described him as vicious, ruthless in every regard. The farthest back she could reach was the thirteenth century, when he was tearing through parts of the Mongolian empire, but she doubted that he had started there.
Half of her dreaded their next meeting, and another half couldn't wait for it. He challenged her in ways she'd never been tested. She found him both terrifying and exhilarating. He'd killed her parents, one monster and the other an invalid, neither justifying nor condemning him in her eyes. Klaus was a monster, through and through.
She didn't hate him.
Klaus was an enigma, to be sure, like a puzzle that couldn't be solved without the man himself there to piece everything together. He was just so goddamn frustrating. Not to mention absolutely psychotic. She only needed to talk to him once just to get an insight into just how out of his mind he was.
Some small part of her wished that he would show up here tonight, so that she could ask him every question that had been gnawing at her since they met: How old are you? Where were you born? What is an Original Hybrid? Someone as old as he was must have some inkling about the meaning of life.
Just as her mind was about to wander off on another tangent, Bonnie's voice cut through the haze into her earpiece. "Care, we've got an unidentified male walking into the back entrance by the dressing rooms. How many girls are back there?"
Caroline sighed. "Enough that I'll need backup to protect. Send me Stefan and Elena," she responded.
"Copy that." Caroline broke into a run and sprinted towards the dressing rooms, careful to remain quiet as she got out her brass knuckles. She opted out of using her gun, because the dressing rooms were an enclosed space with too many innocents in the line of fire. There were only two dressing rooms, with room enough for a dozen girls each to get ready. The rooms were across from each other in the hallway, but there was no way of knowing which room the male went into.
She opted with the room on the left, barging into the room without asking if everyone was decent, which of course they weren't. There was no one other than three of the dancers touching up their makeup for the next set. Caroline didn't have time to apologize before running to the other dressing room. The door was locked, most likely with a deadbolt. She tried ramming it with her shoulder, but the door refused to budge.
Just then, Stefan and Elena arrived. Without even needing prompting, Elena stood between them and used their shoulders as leverage so she could kick in the door with both feet. Caroline and Stefan rushed in, his gun drawn and Caroline's fists at the ready. Elena held up the rear with her blades in both hands.
The man was most certainly vampire, his dark face morphing as the veins under his eyes undulated in his skin. The harsh fluorescent lights gleamed off of his elongated canines as he grinned menacingly at them. Six dancers were frozen in fear, pinned up against the walls as they regarded the hunters and their prey.
The vamp laughed and put his hands up in the air. "Alright, alright, you got me." His voice was deep, smooth, and dangerous. "I didn't come here to eat, I came here to talk."
Stefan leveled the vamp in his sights. "Have you been killing Eliza Jane's dancers?"
He shrugged. "Merely to draw your attention. They were no more than collateral damage. No offense, ladies," he announced to the dancers. "You may leave now." The girls didn't have to be told twice, scurrying around the three hunters. "I understand that you and your crew are the best hunters south of Missouri. The trouble is, it's impossible to get in contact with any of you or even find you if you're a vampire. I suspect that's the product of one of your witchy friends, no?"
Caroline eyed him warily. "Why do you need to talk to us?"
"We have a mutual enemy. I believe you're familiar with the Original Hybrid," the vampire smiled knowingly.
"Klaus," she hissed.
"He's been circling you, hasn't he? Why don't we put the weapons down and have ourselves a little chat? It's not like they'll do any good against me. I've built up a tolerance to vervain, so those brass knuckles of yours won't do me much harm," the vamp's eyes flicked down to Caroline's weapon of choice.
She sighed. "We're not lowering our weapons. But we can still talk." They all drew up chairs from the make-up booths, but Stefan kept his gun squarely aimed at the vamp's heart. Elena's knives were still clenched in her fists, but she rested her hands on her thighs.
"We're not seriously going to negotiate with this guy, are we?" Stefan whispered. "He's killed three girls in the last two weeks. And those are the only ones we know about."
"He's stronger than we are, and he's out to get Klaus. He's just about the only way that we'll ever get close to that bastard," Caroline replied, before raising her voice to normal conversation volume. "Who are you? And what's your connection to Klaus?"
The vampire's eyes traced Elena's face. "You look familiar, my dear. Like a ghost. What's your surname?"
Elena narrowed her almond-shaped eyes at him. "I'm not telling you shit. Answer her questions, or my glowering man-friend here will start shooting." Her voice, normally so sweet and soft, had darkened into the same rough tone that Katherine used when dealing with scumbags.
He smiled at Caroline. "My name is Marcel. Niklaus Mikaelson is my sire and mentor. I'm lucky, because the Original Hybrid isn't really known for keeping his minions alive for as long as I've been allowed to live."
Caroline remembered Klaus mentioning Marcel as his old associate. "What is he, really?"
Marcel raised an eyebrow. "Other than a raging narcissistic psychopath? He was the first vampire ever turned, around a thousand years old. Almost one hundred years ago, he broke the curse suppressing his werewolf side, and became the only hybrid to walk this earth." He glanced again at Elena before looking straight down the barrel of Stefan's gun. "You mind lowering that thing? We might be here for a while, and I'd hate for your arms to get tired." Stefan refused to budge.
"Why do you want him dead?" Caroline asked.
"He thinks that after abandoning this town for a century, he can come in, steal money from my factories, and call himself 'the king' in my goddamn town," Marcel leaned forward, his elbows resting in his knees. "I built this town from the ground up. I introduced culture, created commerce, and influenced trade on the Mississippi to come to the port. I've rebuilt this place after every riot, epidemic, and hurricane. I gave freedom to the enslaved, so I'll be damned if I let someone else come in to try to take my crown."
Stefan rolled his eyes. "Are you seriously asking us to help you win some testosterone fueled pissing contest? We don't take sides with factions of your kind, we kill them."
Marcel's eyes darkened. "Sometimes you have to decide between the lesser of two evils, kiddo. There's me, the King of New Orleans, and then there's the Original Hybrid that slaughters entire nations for shits and giggles."
Caroline chewed her lip before asking. "So if Klaus is Caesar, does that make you Brutus?"
Marcel smiled. "Brutus and Caesar were still friends until the moment Brutus stuck a knife in him. I'm better compared to Cassius than anyone else."
"'The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars'," Stefan murmured.
"'But in ourselves, that we are underlings'," the vampire finished, before turning to Caroline. "Are you willing to let yourself fall prey to Klaus, or are you ready to be a master of your fate? I can offer you muscle, information, and funding."
"Why don't you kill him yourself?" Elena asked. "If you're so strong and powerful, why not eliminate him?"
Caroline noticed the shift in Marcel's demeanor and knew exactly what was going on. "You don't know how to kill him, do you? You're afraid that he is immortal in the truest sense of the word, and that if you go after him, he'll just get angrier."
"You assume a lot about people, don't you?" Marcel glared at her. "Why is Niklaus so interested in you? I can smell him on your brass knuckles and on your boots. He's let you hit him. What is so special about you, hmm? Special little fucking snowflake if I ever saw one."
"Okay, we're done here," Stefan drawled. "You have until the count of three before I shoot that smirk off of your pretty face." His finger twitched on the trigger. "One," the vampire remained still, trying to see if Stefan was bluffing. "Two," Marcel then looked to Caroline and Elena to see if their eyes held a tell. "Three," true to his word, Stefan squeezed the trigger.
By the time the bullet sank into the upholstery of the chair he'd been sitting in, Marcel was gone. The gunshot couldn't have been heard over the music in the main show room, but it was definitely picked up over the comm.
"Did you get him?" Bonnie asked in everyone's ear.
Elena sighed and pressed a finger to her earpiece. "That would be a no, Bon. But we got something else that I think might interest you."
Again, so sorry for the long wait! Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome!