1 | Gangsta's Paradise ( marcel gerard )

06.

❝Death ain't nothing but a heartbeat away, I'm living life, do or die, what can I say?❞
✧

JUNE 4th, 1940
NEW ORLEANS, LA

"Cheers,"  Marcel stood tall, fixing his tie and raising his champagne glass.

"Without you all's hard work and dedication we would not be where we are today."

He smiled at his men, taking in this moment. Marcel had worked so hard on building up his empire and on this night he can officially deem himself the King of New Orleans.

For years there has been a war between the vampires, witches and werewolves on who will control the city. Marcel and his men have plotting and scheming on the right time to strike, and when the opportunity to get rid of the werewolves came up, Marcel took it.

After a young witch had been murdered by werewolf in the French quarter, Marcel stroke a deal with the elders of every coven in the quarter that on the next full moon they would get rid off the werewolves, permanently.

After some convincing, the elders agreed to preform a spell on the clan were the werewolf came from, that would change them into wolves and every full moon they would turn back to humans only until sunrises again, they would back to there wolf form. As Marcel and his men were celebrating, the werewolf clan would be turning into actual wolves.

One of Marcel's messenger's walked into the dining room, going up to Marcel's ear confirming that the witches plan went through and wolves scattered out of the quarter heading towards the bayou.

"Thank, you." Marcel replied back and the messenger quickly scattered out of the room.

"The plan is now complete. The wolves are making there way to the Bayou, so we can sleep easy tonight." Marcel stated as he toke a sip from his champagne.

Marcel smiled his satisfaction, his plan had worked. With the wolves out of the way, he just needed to find a way to control the witches. The wheels in Marcel's head began spinning while his men enjoying there meals.

After the dinner, Marcel's men had gone out to "celebrate", meanwhile Marcel needed to go home and have time to think. When Marcel reached his home, the same home that was once a plantation over a century ago. The same one that him and countless other slaves were raised on. He still has some of the calluses on his hands from picking cotton in the fields.

From a distance he could here loud opera music being played, his favorite actually, Puccini - La Boheme Finale. It was odd that was playing at this hour of the night. When he approached the door, it was left open. Slowly he pushed the door further open. Making quick but stealthy strides following the direction of the music. The music grew louder and louder as Marcel traveled down the hallway, turning to the small room that held his records, and the large cabinet that had his various liquor collection.

Immediately the strong stench of blood  entered Marcel's nostrils. He noticed a women's foot laying on the floor on the opposite side of the table in the room. His eyes widened at the sight before him. There lies the body, circled in a pool of burgundy colored blood, of his love. Marcel kneeled down next to the young woman, picking her up by her torso, cradling the lifeless body.