The 1950s were an interesting time period. Emerging from the war, America was established on a surprisingly booming economy. Life was flourishing and many people were rushing to get eloped and move to suburban neighborhoods. For the most part, things were good. In fact, the only source of remote fear anymore was that of the Cold War. Nuclear power was something that the common person failed to understand at the time and if there was one thing that everybody knew, it was that people were scared of the things that they could not make sense of. There was a group of people that thrived on this fear however, but they were no mortal men (or women) looking for an opportunity to inflate their wallets. They were the Mikaelsons, an elite family of vampires hellbent on using their resources and supernatural abilities to have a bloodbath whenever they desired. Perhaps one of the most ravenous of them all was Elijah Mikaelson, a man who had used his power of mind manipulation to escape all war obligations and keep his family safe. He was distant and polite, pleasant to those he spoke too, passionate to the few lovers (if they were even that) he had had scattered over the last couple of years but completely and utterly monstrous. Fearful of himself, he was known to keep his true self under shaky control (hence his distance from most people). There were instances, however, where he allowed himself a little looser a leash and went on a killing spree far more disastrous than any human murderer could manage in a lifetime. Tonight was one of those instances. Wearing a suit, the quite hungry Elijah left his estate and headed into the city. Like usual, there was some sort of event going on and people were everywhere. He regarded them with narrowed eyes, his vampiric veins making an appearance on his face. He cared not who saw them as he ruled New Orleans along side his brother and could compel anyone if he so desired. Pausing, he'd scan the cluster of people before him before making his decision. His first victim was a girl, quite the pretty one as well. He suspected no danger from her and could not smell any momentarily crippling vervain in the air around them. All in all, she was the perfect candidate for death. Silently moving forward, he'd attempt to grab her and pull her into the nearest ally. Pleased, with the little reaction from the people around her. This was going to be too easy.