A completed version can be found at - patreon.com/Nevvan
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Five minutes later, Tripp arrived and, upon seeing Bob run out to his car, pulled up beside him and asked, "What happened?"
Tripp appeared to be in his 40s with bold features, blue eyes, and very short brown hair.
"Long story short, vamp couple went in and killed everyone, then another vamp couple went in, not sure what happened next, Cops arrived, one of them died. I saved the other, and the second couple fled. Cop backup will arrive any minute. We need to get out of here," said Bob rapidly.
"You got two?" asked Jay, not believing it. He had short brown hair and light blue eyes. His athletic build complemented his tall stature.
Bob frowned. "No, I took out one while he was distracted. I don't know where the other went; maybe with the second couple that fled. They went down this road if we wish to follow."
"This road?" asked Tripp.
Bob confirmed, shutting his car door, "Yeah, so are we going or what? Cops will be here any minute, I can hear the sirens now."
Tripp frowned. "This road can only lead to one place: New Orleans. I've been hearing lots of chatter about vampires gathering there; it could get tricky if we go down."
"So, what, are we just going to ignore a bunch of vampires gathering and let them do what they want?" asked Bob.
"I didn't say that, but I think we should call a few friends first," said Tripp.
...
After securing a place just outside New Orleans, Finn and Sage entered the city the following day. Taking a stroll along the busy streets, knowing his siblings wouldn't do anything out in the open should they find him first.
A vampire with a cap on, spotting them left, crossing the river to Algiers, and entering Marcel's new home after being banished from the French Quarter.
Walking upstairs, he hears Marcel entertaining guests.
"I know things are bleak, but if we can work together, we can get through this. I know this family; they aren't capable of maintaining order. Eventually, they'll fall apart, likely at each other's throats, and that's when we can strike," argued Marcel.
"And how will you deal with the army of hybrids?" asked priest Kieran O'Connellm, head of the human faction in New Orleans. Tall, dark, and understated, though his looks and demeanor are somewhat world-weary (perhaps due to seeing too much death and sorrow).
"I'm working on it, but these things take time, and it's not like they're invincible. Sure, they have a bit more strength, speed, and some venom, but they can die as easily as the rest of us," said Marcel confidently.
"We may not have time if rumors are to be believed. The longer they're here, the greater the risk to us all," said Francesca Guerrera, the owner of the Palace Royale casino, a dedicated philanthropist, and the matriarch of a sizable drug trafficking empire throughout New Orleans, as well as second in charge of the human faction.
A woman of high class. She had a slim physique, olive-colored skin, long straight brown hair that tickles her shoulders, and brown eyes. A tall woman, 5'8 in height. She was seen wearing women's suits, heels, and always classy outfits with expensive jewelry.
"And that's why we're here, to set aside our differences and deal with the bigger threat. With our combined resources, we can hit them where it hurts and make their stay uncomfortable enough that they might make a mistake we can exploit, and we..." Marcel pauses as he quietly approaches from the side and whispers into his ear.
Losing his pleasant demeanor, Marcel looks to the man reporting, "They're here, now?"
Receiving a nod, Marcel turns to his guests and apologizes, "I'm sorry, something's come up, if you'll excuse me."
"Is it serious?" asked Francesca.
"The last Mikaelson has arrived. I suggest you all attend to your own and warn them to stay out of his way. I've heard this one doesn't play as nicely as the others," said Marcel, as hard as that was to believe when considering Klaus.
Before he can leave, however, priest Kieran stands to address him, "And can you not reconcile with the witches? This would all be much easier with them on our side."
Marcel looks back at him with a frown. "I'm afraid that ship has long since sailed, Father. That doesn't mean you can't, though."
Catching his drift, priest Kieran nods and replies, "I'll see what I can do."
Walking away, a scowl forms on Marcel's face as he crosses the river, heading to his old home.
His face turned stone cold as he approached The Abattoir, and as he attempted to step inside, Tyler stopped him at the door and asked, "You're not supposed to be here. What do you want?"
"I have information for Klaus," said Marcel.
Tyler turns to another, "Jackson, go see if Klaus wants to talk to Marcel."
Receiving orders, Jackson carries them out. Less than a minute later, he's back, "They said to go on in."
Tyler steps aside, and Marcel enters, finding Elijah in the open courtyard training hybrids.
"Marcel Gerard, to what do I owe this pleasure?" asked Klaus, grinning down from the upper balcony walkway with Hayley's head bowed low behind him.
"Perhaps we should talk privately, I have news," said Marcel.
"Whatever you wish to say to me, you can say in front of them. I keep no secrets from my men," said Klaus.
After a moment, Marcel tells him, "Finn's been spotted in town walking the streets with his girl, Sage, I believe is her name."
Klaus scowled.
"Where?" asked Elijah, stopping the training.
"Calm yourself, Elijah, if he's here, he'll come to us. We need only to prepare," said Klaus.
"Should I retrieve Kol?" asked Elijah, barely maintaining his composure.
"We'll tell him when he gets back from playing; besides, we don't yet know if it's true," Klaus said, staring accusingly at his long-lost adopted son, whom he thought dead, only to have taken over his city while he was gone.
Marcel, taken aback, asks, "Why would I lie about this?"
"Oh, I don't know, possibly to lure me into a trap and use that secret weapon you won't tell me about," said Klaus offhandedly.
Marcel frowned, "You've taken my throne, my home, my…"
"MY HOME!" shouted Klaus, "It was my home before it was ever yours Marcellus."
Marcel went on, "You've taken everything from me. I even use my so-called secret weapon for your benefit, regardless of whether I tell you about it or not, so why can't you let me have this one thing, this one thing that carries significant sentimental value for me? Why must you fixate on it?"
"It's hard to trust someone who saw fit to usurp my rule in my absence," said Klaus.
"Tough shit, get over it. It's done. I wasn't the one who fled the city while it burned. I stayed, and I built this!" said Marcel, emphasizing the words with every beat of his chest.
Klaus angrily sped down, appearing before him, face to face, "And where were you when Rebekah needed you?" He asked madly, always willing to go for the low-hanging fruit. "She died not even knowing you lived."
Marcel grimaced, "How can you, of all people, say that to me when you were the one who drove us apart?"
Then Klaus said something that caught them all off guard, "Tell me how you would feel if you found your son getting with your sister."
Marcel's face screwed up, unable to respond. He knew Klaus was twisting it in that way he so often does, just to hurt them, but he couldn't exactly deny it either.
"Leave, I'm tired of talking to you," said Klaus crossly.
"Gladly," said Marcel, storming out.
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A completed version can be found at - patreon.com/Nevvan