The Doppelgänger Mikaelson

The wind carried the scent of blood long before the hybrids realized what was happening.

They stood in the abandoned railyard on the outskirts of Mystic Falls, huddled together in uneasy silence. Rusted train cars loomed like sleeping giants, casting long, eerie shadows beneath the flickering moonlight. The place was empty. Too empty.

Megan checked her phone again. Still nothing.

"She should've been here by now," Logan muttered, shifting from foot to foot. His fingers twitched at his sides, nerves eating at him.

Frank exhaled sharply. "Something ain't right."

No one disagreed.

Hayley had been the one to bring them all here. The one who had whispered of freedom, of a life beyond Klaus' grasp. She had sworn she would lead them away from this cursed town, from the suffocating rule of the Originals.

But she wasn't here.

And the longer they waited, the colder the night felt.

Then—

A footstep.

Soft. Slow. Deliberate.

All twelve heads snapped toward the sound, their heightened senses flaring. Logan's breath caught in his throat.

A shadow peeled itself from the darkness.

Tall. Unyielding. Dressed in black.

Klaus.

His golden hair was tousled, as if he'd just stepped out of a storm. His blue eyes burned with something primal—anger, betrayal, amusement. All wrapped into one chilling gaze.

And in his hand?

A blade.

Not just any blade. An ancient dagger, long and wicked, gleaming under the moonlight like it had been waiting for tonight.

A slow, wolfish smile stretched across his lips.

"Well, well," Klaus mused, his voice smooth as silk, yet sharp as glass. "Isn't this a sight?"

The hybrids froze.

No one moved. No one breathed.

But they all understood.

Hayley wasn't coming.

She had set them up.

Klaus tilted his head, watching them like a lion studying wounded prey. The silence stretched unbearably, until finally, Megan—brave, reckless Megan—broke it.

"You don't have to do this," she said, voice tight. "We just—"

She never finished.

Klaus blurred forward.

The dagger sliced through the air, silver flashing like lightning—

And then it was buried deep in Megan's throat.

She choked, a sharp, wet gasp tearing from her lips as blood poured down her chest. Her fingers clawed at the blade, eyes wide with shock. She fell to her knees.

Then, just like that—she collapsed.

Dead.

The world stood still.

Then chaos erupted.

Logan was the first to move, lunging at Klaus with a snarl—

But Klaus was faster.

With a flick of his wrist, he yanked the dagger free from Megan's corpse and drove it into Logan's stomach.

Twist. Rip.

Blood sprayed as Klaus pulled it out, letting Logan crumple to the ground like a broken doll.

The others finally snapped out of their daze.

"Run!" Frank bellowed, already sprinting for the trees.

But Klaus laughed. Loud. Unhinged.

"Run?!" he echoed, voice laced with madness. "Oh, by all means—run!"

And they did.

They ran.

Through the railyard. Over rusted tracks. Into the trees.

But it didn't matter.

Because Klaus was faster.

Because Klaus was a predator.

And tonight?

Tonight, he was hunting.

---

Ava barely made it ten feet before Klaus was on her.

One hand fisted in her hair, yanking her back with brutal force. She screamed, but it was cut short as his blade found her spine.

A wet crack.

She went limp.

Nate tripped over her body, hitting the dirt hard. He scrambled up, panting, but Klaus was already there.

A single swipe.

Nate's head hit the ground before his body did.

Klaus exhaled, chest rising and falling in slow satisfaction.

The scent of blood thickened in the air.

He licked his lips.

Four down.

The rest were still running, their footsteps crashing through the forest, desperation clinging to them like a second skin.

He let them.

For a moment.

Then, he moved.

His silhouette flickered through the trees, a ghost weaving between the shadows.

A whisper of air—

And Logan's heart was ripped from his chest before he could even blink.

Another step—

And Frank's spine was shattered, his body collapsing in on itself.

Panic.

Screams.

Then—silence.

Only two left now.

--

Mason and Ava.

They had made it the farthest, dashing through the underbrush like cornered animals.

They could still see the road ahead.

Escape.

Salvation.

But then—

A blur.

And Klaus was there, standing between them and the road.

Blood dripped from his hands. His blade gleamed, stained deep crimson.

Mason skidded to a stop, panting. Ava did the same.

"Please," Mason rasped. "Please, Klaus—"

Klaus smiled.

Then he lunged.

Mason barely had time to scream before Klaus drove the dagger through his chest, pinning him to a tree like a discarded plaything. His eyes rolled back. His body twitched.

Then—stillness.

Ava trembled.

Tears streaked her blood-splattered face as she took a shaky step back.

She knew.

She was the last one.

Klaus tilted his head, watching her with amusement.

"Did you really think you could leave?" he asked softly.

Ava sobbed.

Klaus sighed. "Well," he murmured, stepping forward, blade dripping, "allow me to send you off properly."

A flash of silver.

A wet gurgle.

Ava collapsed, lifeless.

Klaus exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

The night fell silent once more.

---

By morning, the railyard was a slaughterhouse.

Twelve bodies. Torn. Shattered. Some nailed to trees. Some left in crumpled heaps. A message written in blood.

By the time Hayley returned, it was too late.

The smell hit her first—coppery and thick.

Then she saw them.

Her breath caught.

Her stomach twisted.

She staggered forward, heart hammering, eyes wide with horror.

This—

This wasn't just a warning.

This was a massacre.

And the worst part?

She had led them here.

Klaus had made sure of that.

And now?

Now, she was next.