PROMPT: "I'm in a boring corporate business job and you're in the cubicle in front of mine, did you just send me a paper aeroplane with the words "WASSSSSSSUP TURN UP BITCHEZ" written on it? KC + AU.

Enjoy! :)

I'm more of a law-bender than a law-abider. Always have been, always will be. I leave rigidity to Elijah and his perfectly tailored suits, just like I leave the tedium of moral negotiations to his more than capable mind. Where he is refined, I am savage. Where he is stoic, I am impulsive. Where he is condoning, I am vengeful.

Let's just say there's a reason I'm known as the Corporate Wolf.

I've spent years solidifying my reputation as the most ferocious corporate litigator in the country, as the most feared member of the Originals' Legacy Group. My legal instincts aren't just sharp, they're puncturing. I suck the life out of opposition with the fangs of retribution, bloodlust covering my tongue with its addictive, saccharine taste. My adversaries' defeat becomes the dinner I lick from my cold and calculating fingers—delicious to the last bloody, whimpering, forsaken drop.

I'm only here for the thrill of the kill…and her.

2 years ago:

"It's time for a change, Niklaus. Innovation, improvement, increased interests," Elijah rattled off, his voice echoing in the empty conference room,"these are the things that you—that we—need desperately at this firm. I'm merely attempting to supply them. For all of us."

Placing a binder on the table, he slid it toward me. "This is our best step forward."

"Best step forward, is it?"

I didn't care about his carefully documented reasons; I cared about his blatant disloyalty to this firm. To this family. To me.

Knocking the binder to the floor with an incredulous laugh, I said, "Have you gone temporarily insane? Or has that Petrova paralegal of yours seduced the sense right out of your brain?"

Elijah pursed his lips. I could tell he was displeased with my lack of tact, but not enough to comment on it.

"We need fresh blood to make us stronger."

Ah, yes. Forever impassive Elijah: the pretense expert. For the good of family and firm, he'd say. He always hid behind honor and integrity, didn't he?

The insufferable prat.

"And by fresh blood, you mean a law novice?" I scoffed. "I must say, brother, this is the most asinine idea you've had yet."

Elijah tucked a pen behind his ear and shrugged.

"Whether or not you agree, this place is in need of revitalization. And this will provide it." Maneuvering before me with his hands clasped behind his back, he fixed me with a stern look. "I believe we can learn from her," he said.

"Perhaps if we're lucky," he arched an eyebrow, "some of her wisdom will rub off on you."

I laughed heartily at this.

What, pray tell, could an amateur attorney teach me that I hadn't already perfected years ago? Control? I invented it! Preparation? I'm paranoid. I plot out every scenario and sub-scenario until my mind hemorrhages. Manipulation? I'm the mother-fucking-ALPHA. Teach me, would she? Ha.

Without warning, I flashed before Elijah and clutched him by the starched lapels, my fingers strangling his Armani suit fabric.

"The only wisdom a newbie lawyer of twenty-five will impart on me," I spat through clenched teeth, "is how to get my ass kicked in court. The O'Connell-Marshall case is the biggest of my career, brother. And I don't need help…from anyone."

The sound of high heels click-clacked from behind us and I froze. Shooting Elijah one last scowl, I released him and turned to face the unwelcome intruder with a smirk.

"Well," the blonde clucked, appraising me haughtily, "I guess it's safe to say that your arrogant barking lives up to all the hype."

"And who might you be, sweetheart?" I asked, intrigued.

"Caroline Forbes," she replied with a smile, extending her hand in business-like salutation. I admit, I didn't hesitate to take it. "I'm the newbie attorney who's going to save your self-destructive ass in court. And win this case."

xx

Caroline doesn't observe me, but I observe her. Every day.

Every bloody day I'm hyper-aware of the perky, compulsive, meticulous blonde perched in the cubicle right outside the open door of my office. Not only is she diligent and overachieving (often combing through those dreary briefs until well after midnight) but she's ambitious; the fire to succeed igniting her with a rare sense of compassion exclusive to her...and to her alone. A killer, she kills not with ruthlessness but with kindness. Making her more lethal than the masquerading devil of the courts I pertain to be.

Caroline's not merely content with learning the facts of a case either, she endeavors to understand them. Line by line. Detail by detail. No matter how long it takes.

It was this astuteness that had caused Elijah to hire her fresh out of law school two years ago, shocking us all. We had always made decisions of that magnitude together - as a family - and it had felt like cold-blooded betrayal at the time.

More than that, my brother never employs inexperienced associates to represent the firm.

To him, inexperience would jeopardize the always and forever legacy our firm protects and upholds because MIKAELSONS NEVER LOSE. (And they don't. Or they haven't throughout 200-years of our established history.) Hiring Caroline without consulting Rebekah and I first was rash and impulsive. Two things completely out-of-character for my brother.

Yet, somehow, Caroline had shattered Elijah's implacable constraint. Not only had she pocketed the coveted position on the fast-track to junior partner with ease, but she'd excelled at it with likable vivacity. Clients trusted her, colleagues admired her, opposing counsel respected her; and before long, the entire corporate world bowed down to her as queen.

Caroline quickly became Elijah's Golden Girl…and my Golden Hell.

From the moment we first met, from the moment our hands shook in accepted challenge in that conference room, I knew she'd crack my world apart.

And she would.

She has.

She will.

In more ways than one…

1 year ago:

"You are the most infuriating man on the planet!" Caroline exclaimed as she thumped into my office, slamming the door behind her. She threw a bundle of papers onto my desk with her fist. It was research files for the O'Connell-Marshall case. "Do you want to explain what the hell this is?"

"Strategy," I replied with nonchalance.

Caroline crossed her arms and huffed, "Corrupt strategy would be more like it! What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to be seen as a monster?"

I looked up at this, my expression betraying nothing except indifference. It wasn't the first time someone had viewed me as grotesque—as the 'corporate scum of the earth' as Mikael liked to say—nor the last time, I suppose.

Not that Caroline viewed me this way, mind you. That was the exasperating thing about her, truth be told. I didn't know how she viewed me. Not truly.

Unlike others, she preferred to question me about my dark tactics, investigate them, if you will, rather than ascribe them to me automatically. She pushed for explanations, not just answers. I found it unnerving...and her, annoyingly enticing.

"I'm sorry, love, but this is what we call the dark side of justice," I explained. "Sometimes a little coercion and extortion is necessary to—"

"Necessary my ass!" Caroline interrupted, her eyebrows crinkled in rage. "Your grand plan, your so-called ingenious strategy? It isn't necessary at all! This—" she smacked the papers on my desk and shook her head, "this isn't justice, Klaus. It's retribution."

Growling, I sprang to my feet, snapping the pencil in my hand in the process, "What the hell does it matter?"

Caroline gaped at me from across the desk, all outrage and horror. I leaned in, eyes narrowed, until our foreheads nearly touched, "Who cares how deep we bury the bastards so long as we win?"

"I care. And deep down," she met my eyes, plopping a hand onto my shoulder and squeezing, "so do you."

"You're wrong," I said, never breaking eye contact.

Caroline pulled away, but the ghost of her touch still lingered.

"I know you're still pissed about being swindled out of that New Orleans deal, but if you do this—" she sighed, "if you do this, just think of all the innocent lives you'll jeopardize! Imagine all the hopes of livelihood you'll smash with your iron fist."

I let out an exasperated sound.

"And that won't be because of Hayley and Camille," she continued, "that will be because of you…because of what you choose to do here."

I stammered in response. Not because I had nothing to say, but because there was truth in what she said.

"It's your choice," she shrugged. "What kind of man will you choose to be?"

I snarled at this. Damn her and her prodding! Her pushing! Why did she want to know what kind of man I was? Why did she care?

"What if I told you that collateral damage doesn't matter to me?" I said.

Caroline folded her arms and fixed me with a skeptical look. "Then I'd call you a big, fat liar."

Stooping over my desk, she used her arm like a broom and swept the lot of my research files (which had taken hours, days, and weeks to collect) into the trash with one large swoop. She smiled with satisfaction after she'd finished and turned on her heel, pausing only to say one more thing before she sashayed out the door, "Fix it."

Though I hated to admit it to myself, I admired her courage in this moment because no one in this office dared to confront me let alone command me to do something. The brazenness!

"What makes you think I'd do anything you, or anyone else, told me to do?" I countered.

Caroline glanced over her shoulder, her hand still poised on the doorknob.

"Nothing. But a girl can always hope, can't she?" She smiled as she exited, her voice echoing behind her from the hallway. "After all, I believe there's beauty in every beast," she said.

xx

Caroline Forbes doesn't regard me. Not in the way she should, anyway.

Unlike the rest of our employees, it's not fear that quivers her voice as she utters my name. It's confrontation. It's challenge. There's audacity in her unrelenting air of justice and how it clings to her like skin. It escapes from her in eyes. In mouth. In attitude. It cascades from her in thunderous tones of light to assault me with that unapologetic frankness and that sassy yet probing show me.

She's a beautiful anomaly in this lawyering sea of well-conditioned suck-ups, genuinely demanding the kind of mercy I'm not quite sure I possess. She's the one true white hat amid all the black ones; whereas I…

I am the blackest of them all.

But like Caroline said, I, too, have come to see there's beauty in every beast. I've come to realize there's white in the blackest of black hats. And because of that, because of her, I've rediscovered the white in the corporate wolf that is me.

Present:

After two long years of legal battledom, the O'Connell-Marshall case finally came to a satisfactory close. We won! The Originals' Legacy lives on—not because the Corporate Wolf attacked with retribution, but because a Corporate Angel showed me how to strike with strong-armed justice and compassion.

Caroline showed me the light in end. It wasn't all the people of New Orleans who deserved to suffer, but the corrupt and powerful business owners who needed to be punished. Believe it or not, I now relish in the knowledge that Hayley and Camille will rot in jail as the city they attempted to destroy continues to flourish without them. With the French Quarter back under my protection again, what better sense of vindication do I need?

I don't. It's enough just to be victorious...and to be buried up to my bloody elbows in paperwork.

After I collapse back into my chair with a yawn after what feels like weeks, I feel something pointy prick against my hand and fall into my lap. I glance down and see a piece of computer paper. It's folded into the shape of an airplane with the words OPEN ME scribbled across the top.

There's a note written on the inside:

Welcome back to Humanity Land, Mikaelson! (Didn't I tell you we'd save that self-destructive ass of yours?) Buy me a drink to celebrate? ;)

—the Amateur

After I finish reading, I look straight outside my office door, my eyes seeking the girl perched in her perfect little cubicle with her hands clasped over her lap.

Caroline's smiling. She's smiling at me.

She tilts her head and waits for my answer. I catch my breath as I move toward her, knowing only one thing for sure: she won't have to ask me twice.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this in first person for something different. I don't pretend to know much about corporate law besides some basics (Yay for business law in uni!), so I kept the "case" vague on purpose. Klaus is more redeeming here (kind of) than he'd ordinarily be, but I felt it worked for this piece. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Reviews, por favor?

xx Ashlee Bree