Working for Marcel was a lot harder than it looks. 

Killing, maiming, torturing....

But mostly, we just partied until we got drunk or dead.

Now, Diego, Thierry and I sat together as everyone in the bar watched Marcel performing karaoke on stage, singing "How Do You Like Me Now?" by the Heavy. "See, I been a bad bad bad bad man. And I'm in deep. Yeah. I found a brand new love for this man. And can't wait till you see. I can't wait." He waved his arm. "So how you like me now? How you like me now? How you like me now? How you like me now? How you like me now?" The song ended. Marcel spoke into the microphone. "Thank you." 

Marcel jumped down from the stage to applause and join us.

I handed him a drink. "You killed it, man."

Klaus Mikaelson finally decided to make his presence back in New Orleans known, standing a few feet away.

Marcel and I looked toward him.

Everyone noticed the tension.

"Klaus," Marcel said.

"Marcel," Klaus replied. 

"Must be a hundred years since that nasty business with your papa," Marcel told him. 

"Has it been that long?" Klaus asked.

Klaus and Marcel started to approach one another slowly. 

"The way I recall it, he ran you outta town," Marcel told him. "Left a trail of dead vampires in his wake."

Klaus' tone was agressive. "And yet how fortunate you managed to survive." He looked toward me. "And your little protege there. Noah, was it?" I shrugged. "My father, I'm afraid, I recently incinerated to dust."

Diego and Thierry stood, ready for a confrontation.

Half of the restaurant followed suit.

I smirked, looking down and shaking my head, knowing something they didn't.

Marcel ignored them, looking at Klaus. "Well, if I'd known you were coming back in town, if I had a heads up--"

"What, Marcel?" Klaus asked. "What would you have done?" 

Klaus and Marcel were standing toe to toe. 

The tension in the air was thick.

Marcel paused before answering. "I'd have thrown you a damn parade."

Marcel broke into a wide grin, laughing.

Klaus smiled, laughing.

They wrapped their arms around each other like long-lost brothers.

Marcel pulled back, placing his hands on either side of Klaus' neck. "Niklaus Mikaelson. My mentor, my savior, my sire. Come on. Let's get you a drink."

*

Marcel, Klaus, Diego, Thierry and I were in another room, but Marcel and Klaus were speaking to each other at a different table.

Marcel poured drinks. "It is good to see you."

"It's good to be home," Klaus told him. "Although, please tell me the current state of Bourbon Street isn't your doing."

Marcel chuckled. "Something's gotta draw in the out-of-towners, otherwise we'd all go hungry."

Klaus peered at Diego, Thierry and me. "I see your friends are daywalkers."

"Yeah, yeah," Marcel answered. "I shared the secret of your daylight rings with a few buddies. Just the inner circle, though. The family." 

"Tell me," Klaus told him. "How did you find a witch willing to make daylight rings?"

"I got the witches around here wrapped around my finger," Marcel answered.

Klaus chuckled. "Is that so? I'm looking for a witch by the name of Jane-Anne Deveraux. Has some business with me."

Marcel and I exchanged a look.

That was incredibly convenient.

Jane-Anne had been caught practicing magic just last night.

Marcel looked at Klaus. "You're looking for Jane-Anne? You probably oughta come with me." He stood, laughing. "Showtime!"

*

Diego, Thierry and I walked through the crowd of people forming in the street. 

Vampires walked along rooftops, jumping on cars, setting off alarms.

"What's with Klaus, man?" Diego asked. "What's his deal?" 

"Found Marcel when he was a nobody, taught him to be who he is now, real pain in the ass," I answered.

"That's all you know?" Thierry asked.

"No," I answered. "That's just all you need know."

Marcel whistled through his fingers to gather everyone's attention.

The crowd cheered. 

One vampire brought Jane-Anne forward, who's wrists were bound with rope in front of her.

"Jane-Anne Deveraux," Marcel told him. "Give it up for Jane-Anne. Come on, let's hear it! Jane-Anne Deveraux, you have been accused of the practice of witchcraft beyond the rules set forth, and enforced, by me. How do you plead?" He turned, walking toward Klaus. "Was that convincing? I studied law back in the '50s. Hold that thought." He returned to Jane-Anne. "Seriously, Jane, tick tock. You know the drill. How do you plead?" 

"I didn't do anything," Jane-Anne told him.

The crowd laughed quietly.

"Mm, that's a lie," Marcel told her. "You know it, I know it, and you hate that I know it. It drives you witches crazy that I'm aware of your every move. That you can't do magic in this town without getting caught. So, why don't we just cut to the chase, huh? You tell me what magic you're brewing. I mean, tell me. I'll grant you leniency. Hey, I am, after all, a merciful man."

The crowd observed in utter silence.

Jane-Anne scoffed, disgusted. "Rot in hell, monster."

Shocked murmuring rumbled through the crowd.

Marcel smiled. "I'll tell you what. I'll give you one more chance..." He started to walk away. Suddenly, he rushed to turn around, swinging the branch he had been holding so fast that it slit Jane-Anne's throat open. Jane-Anne began to choke, gasp for air as blood trailed down from her wound. "Or not."

Jane-Anne fell to the ground, dead.

The crowd cheered.

Klaus approached Marcel, grabbing his shoulder, turning him around to face him. "What was that?" 

"Hey, come walk with me," Marcel told him. "The witches aren't allowed to do magic here. She broke the rules."

"I told you I wanted to talk to her," Klaus told him.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Marcel told him. "I got caught up in the show. Those witches, they think they still have power in this town. I have to show them that they don't. I never waste an opportunity for a show of force, another lesson that I learned from you. And besides, anything that you could've gotten out of her, I can find out for you, and I will, I promise."

Klaus considered this for a moment. "Well, whatever it was, doesn't matter anymore, does it?"

Klaus smiled.

Marcel smiled. "Good, good. Then let's eat, 'cause all that spilled blood makes me hungry."

Marcel laughed, walking away.

The crowd started to disperse.

Klaus stopped me with a hand on my chest. "Hey, Noah. Any more Deveraux witches where she came from?" 

I smirked.

I only told him because everyone wanted to know what the hell he was up to. 

I told him about Sophie Deveraux and that she worked in the bar Rosseau's.

Marcel had sent two other vampires to watch over Marcel, but they had never returned.

*

At the abattoir compound, in the covered courtyard, people were drinking, dancing and having a good time. 

Klaus approached me. "Where is Marcel?"

"And why should I tell you?" I asked.

"I assume you're joking," Klaus told me.

"I only answer to Marcel," I told him.

"Well, then, in that case, perhaps you'll answer to this," Klaus told me, gripping my throat, his eyes glowing gold, veins crawling underneath, his voice rising until he was shouting. "You're aware the bite of a werewolf can kill a vampire. Well, as you can see, I'm half werewolf, so I'm gonna ask you one more time. Where is Marcel?!" 

Marcel hurried over to break up the confrontation. "Hey, I'm right here, I'm right here, easy now. Noah's just looking out for me. Nobody harms my guys. Those are the rules."

"I don't care about your rules, Marcel, and I don't need chaperones," Klaus told him. "Why are you having me followed?" 

Marcel led Klaus away from the others. "Come here. I get it. A show of force. You've made your point. Let it go, friend. For me." 

"Fine," Klaus told him. "Why don't you show me what you've done with the place, while you explain exactly what it is you've been up to in my town?"

Marcel hesitated for a moment, smiling. "Follow me."

Marcel led Klaus to balcony above.

He was such a dick.

*

Yet another confrontation between Klaus and Marcel brought everyone's attention to it.

"Hey, man," Marcel told him. "Where'd you run off to?"

"You mean your minions aren't still documenting my every move?" Klaus asked.

"Someone put you in a mood," Marcel told him. "What can I do?"

"What you can do is you can tell me what this thing is you have with the witches," Klaus told him.

"Oh, we're back to that?" Marcel asked.

"Yeah, we're back to that," Klaus answered.

"You know I owe you everything I got, but I'm afraid I have to draw the line on this one," Marcel told him. "This is my business. I control the witches in my town. Let's just leave it at that."

"Your town?" Klaus repeated.

"Damn straight," Marcel answered.

"That's funny, because when I left 100 years ago, you were just a pathetic little scrapper still trembling from the lashes of the whips of those who would keep you down, and now look at you," Klaus told him. "Master of your domain. Prince of the city." The music stopped. The crowd watched them. "I'd like to know how."

"Why?" Marcel asked. "Jealous? Hey, man, I get it. Three hundred years ago, you helped build a back water penal colony into something. You started it, but then you left. Actually, you ran from it. I saw it through. Look around. Vampires rule this city now. We don't have to live in the shadows like rats. The locals know their place. They look the other way. I got rid of the werewolves. I even found a way to shut down the witches. The blood never stops flowing, and the party never ends. You wanna pass on through? You wanna stay a while? Great. What's mine is yours, but it is mine." He grew angrier, his voice raising. "My home, my family, my rules."

"And if someone breaks those rules?" Klaus asked.

"They die," Marcel answered. "Mercy is for the weak. You taught me that, too. And I'm not the prince of the Quarter, friend. I'm the king! Show me some respect!"

Klaus took this all in for a few moments. He rushed toward Thierry, biting him viciously in the neck, letting him fall to the floor. Klaus spoke with blood dripping from his lips. "Your friend will be dead by the weekend, which means I've broken one of your rules. And yet, I cannot be killed. I am immortal. Who has the power, friend?"

Klaus faced off with Marcel.

Marcel said nothing.

After a moment, Klaus smiled around at the crowd, turning and leaving.

*

The next morning at the compound, in a room, the inner circle was gathered around a dying, weak Thierry.

Klaus arrived, entering the room.

I stood defensively.

"I had time to sleep on it last night," Klaus told us. Marcel gestured for me to calm down. I stepped away, standing next to Diego. "I am not your enemy. Where my family and I failed this town... Marcel succeeded." Klaus reached over to a drink tray, picking up a glass. He bit into his hand, holding it over the glass, letting the blood drip inside. "My blood will heal him, as though it never happened." Marcel nodded to me. I took the glass, giving it to Thierry. "The Quarter is your home, but I would like to stay a while, if I'm still welcome."

Marcel smiled widely, placing his hands on Klaus' neck, chuckling.

Let the games begin.