Capítulo 141: Chapter 136: Deals and Devils
Meanwhile in the Otherworld,
CRASH
BAM
"Your Majesty." A necrotic butler bowed low outside his master's chamber doors, knocking ever so gently, only for the door to be flung open abruptly.
BAM
In an instant, the necrotic butler was hurled against the wall, his limbs torn from his body. In the doorway stood a furious woman, radiating violent green energy.
"Your Majesty, is there something the matter?" The necrotic butler asked, his tone calm despite being split into pieces as he showed no concern as he began to slowly reassemble himself.
The familiar woman huffing in the doorway was none other than the illustrious figure, Morgana Le Fey.
"Ready my chambers," Morgana commanded in a dangerous tone, clearly in a particular mood today, as it was the anniversary of Camelot.
The festivities rang out all throughout Avalon, which is shaped by the collective subconscious of the British Isles.
Today marks the commemoration of the day when King Arthur sacrificed himself, bringing the great city of Camelot to the Otherworld.
It was then that he began his long wait for resurrection, destined to return in Britain's time of greatest need.
Avalon was, in many ways, a reflection of Earth during the golden age of the goddess, when the forests were nurtured by her druids, the skies danced with her faeries, and the earth was vibrant and brimming with magic.
A realm of serene beauty and enchanted forests, Avalon has long been a sanctuary of honor, magic, and the pursuit of knightly virtue.
Spiritually and subconsciously intertwined with the land of Britain's own Earth, Avalon's fate mirrors that of Britain.
When Britain prospers, Avalon flourishes, and when Avalon is imperiled, Britain too feels the scorch of its flames.
Avalon is a perfect paradise, an idyllic sight to behold, even from the confines of her castle prison.
For Morgana, watching this empire rise higher each day is the worst form of torture, a constant reminder that she is not needed as its queen.
To her, Camelot needs its queen.
"But your majesty-"
"I said ready my chambers since this time, I will do whatever it takes to force my entry into the black knight's mind." Morgana eyes flared green, the necrotic butler nodding and making haste of his queen's action.
The only thing that can break her chains is the Ebony Blade, a sword capable of cutting through any spell, barrier, or obstacle.
For centuries, she has tried to coerce the Black Knight into doing her bidding, but all her efforts have been in vain.
Yet Morgana is not one to give up.
She would sooner die than surrender to a fate where she does not sit on the throne.
As her heels clicked through the hall, she steeled herself, ready to infiltrate the mind of the current Black Knight, no matter the cost.
Entering her chambers, the only connection she has to Earth, Morgana slowly closed her eyes, focusing on the Black Knight's signature.
Earth is composed of various complex energies, each with its own distinct reading and color.
For many, these energies remain hidden, as they see only what is directly before them, unable to perceive what lies between reality and the unseen.
Morgana, however, possesses the ability to see beyond what others cannot as she has honed her skill in locating the Ebony Blade's unique red, crackling energy, making her adept at tracking it through the intricate web of Earth's energies.
There, the energy radiated from the new figure, and before her, Ricky's body appeared only as a silhouette.
His mind held the connection to the Ebony Blade, but there was a small issue. Around his brain lay a protective dome, a barrier he had always used, one that had thwarted Morgana's attempts in the past.
But this time, she was determined and with a single focused thought, she channeled every ounce of her power, aiming to shatter that dome in one swift motion.
She tunneled her vision deeper and deeper, searching for any faults or weaknesses in the barrier, until, unknowingly, she encountered a void-like thread attached to Ricky.
Having never encountered anything like this before in all her attempts, Morgana's curiosity was piqued.
The allure of delving into the deeper depths of any mystery tugged at her, and with slow, deliberate intent, she began to integrate her consciousness into the void-like thread.
In doing so, she chose an action that would forever scar her very soul, unknowingly stepping into a realm of darkness and consequence far greater than she could have imagined.
As Morgana's consciousness merged with the void-like thread, the transition was instantaneous yet excruciating.
The moment she entered into the connection, whispers immediately overwhelmed her thoughts.
A cacophony of voices blared in her ears like thunder, their maddening crescendo forcing her eardrums to bleed, even here, in the Otherworld.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Morgana screeched, writhing on the bed as the necrotic butler tried to force her out of the pain which had taken hold of her but it was no use.
Her vision blurred as though the fabric of reality itself were distorting around her, and slowly, her eyes blackened into a void-like color.
The very sight around her seemed to unravel her being, the shadows clawing at her soul as if they were alive.
The pulse of the Void beat in time with her heart, and the whispers, those endless whispers, drowned out all coherent thought.
Her limbs felt heavy, as though gravity itself had shifted, and she staggered, barely able to stand.
The landscape around her seemed to twist and writhe, with fragments of decaying stone floating like ancient debris in a sea of black ichor.
The ground beneath her feet was barren, cracked, and fragmented, as if the very earth had been torn apart by some unseen force.
The fissures in the land stretched wide, revealing nothing but the void beneath, an endless chasm that seemed to dig deeper and deeper into oblivion.
Impossible structures towered above her, their jagged spires reaching toward the sky, etched with glyphs that shimmered in the dark.
The voices surged louder, their words almost intelligible now, but still foreign, sharp and fragmented.
The ground beneath her feet buckled and shifted, the very landscape a reflection of the chaos within her.
In the midst of her struggle, her sight was forcibly pulled deeper into the abyss, as though some unseen force had taken hold of her consciousness and dragged it to the very heart of the dimension.
There, within the roiling, chaotic energy, she saw it; an ancient, monstrous entity that drifted through this horrid places center, its presence so vast and incomprehensible that it seemed to consume the space around it.
Its form was partially obscured by the swirling energy, the dimension itself seeming to warp and twist in response to its existence.
But even through the shadows, glimpses of its true nature were revealed; writhing tentacles, each one covered in glistening, alien flesh, reached out as though seeking to tear the fabric of reality apart.
Its body was a grotesque fusion of twisted, decaying faces, their hollow eyes weeping black ichor as they cried out in agony, their mouths whispering in tongues that burned through her mind.
Morgana's soul was pulled toward it, a magnetic force that tugged at her very essence as the entity's massive cyclopean eye, glowing with a sickly light, focused on her with a malevolent intent, and she could feel its hunger, the ancient desire to consume her entirely.
Just as the tentacles reached out, their tips sharp and eager to ensnare her soul, a sudden burst of energy cut through the Void's grip as a sharp, severing force that shattered the connection before it could claim her.
"Y-Your Majesty, I-" The necrotic butler, who had torn apart the chambers in an attempt to free her master, wore a relieved expression.
But Morgana's eyes narrowed, her gaze flickering with the haunting memory permanently etched into her soul.
"Leave."
"Your majesty-"
"LEAVE!" Morgana screeched, clutching her head and curling into a ball.
The chaos had stripped her of any care for Camelot, Avalon, or anything else, and left her numb to it all.
Her usual worldly eyes locked into the fireworks firing off into the distance, showing disbelief yet unmistakably clear.
Unlike the energies of Earth, she recognized this force as it had tried countless times to invade Otherworld, only to be thwarted by Merlin.
Once thought to be a myth, a force that had perished at the height of the Hyborian Age, there was no denying it now even when remnants remained.
"N-Nethergods."
SNORT
Ricky snorted as he woke, sitting up and tiredly rubbing his eyes, oblivious to someone attempting to penetrate his mind.
Sniff
Ricky sniffed, rubbing his nose before collapsing back into bed and pulling the naked Raven closer into his arms, knowing tomorrow would be a big day.
Meanwhile In Staten Island,
"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?!" Joe roared into the phone, his eyes wild as his usual calm demeanor cracked under the weight of the words spoken to him.
On the other side, however, Franklin let out a hollow laugh, leaning back in his presidential chair as he gazed at the door.
"YOU SAID IF I COOPERATED WITH YOU, I WOULD GET NEW YORK, THAT I WOULD BE THE HEAD OF THE MAFIA FAMILY, THAT I WOULD-"
"Worthless," Franklin uttered through the phone, his words slicing through Joe's sentence as he snarled.
"You failed, I told you to kill him three years ago and you cut him loose."
"You underestimated that mutant, and now you have to pay the price, just like I gave him free reign over New York." Franklin's words froze Joe's body, his breath quickening as his fingernails dug into the wood table beneath him.
"I lost." Franklin leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes before they opened, sharper than ever.
"But that's the last time I suffer defeat to Ricky Luciano. Unfortunately, you won't get a chance like that." Franklin merely shook his head, while Joe grabbed his forehead, pacing in his office.
"Mr. President if I go down-"
"There is no if's, you won't make it out there alive."
Click
The phone clicked, and Joe's breath hitched as he gazed forward as that calm, snake-like demeanor slowly shed, revealing the crazed psychopath he truly was.
"ROUND THEM ALL UP! I WANT EVERY MAN AVAILABLE TRYING TO GET A HOLD OF HIS LOVED ONES!"
Joe manically began bolstering Staten Island, turning it into a fortress as he knew Ricky was coming.
In fact, everyone in New York knew he was coming.
It was why the windows were slowly shutting, the doors locked, and parents yanked their kids off the streets, they all knew what was coming.
The people knew that as long as they stayed quietly out of Ricky Luciano's way, they wouldn't suffer, but the underworld was different.
Panic spread through the minds of the gangs as the horror stories of The Black Knight slowly trickled into the mobsters' ears.
Everything from how he massacred three families in one sitting over an old grudge to rumors that he actually ripped Dracula's head off to claim his priest position, these stories haunted the underworld.
The entire criminal network was on edge, holding their breath, teetering back and forth with a gun pointed at the door, praying Ricky wouldn't step through.
However Ricky wasn't worried in the least.
"Stay another day~" Ricky whispered, kissing Raven's collarbone as he held her tightly in his arms, while she stroked his chin.
"Come back to New York with me now~" Ricky whispered, feeling Raven's breath warm against his ear.
"I need the president of my foundation by my side at all times." Ricky slowly trailed his kisses up to her ear, whispering as she turned to him.
"Tiger, do you want me?" Raven asked, her golden eyes meeting Ricky's as his smile slowly formed.
"You know I do." Ricky tilted his head, his gaze making Raven instinctively blush, but she pushed on.
"All of me?"
"Is that even a question?"
"Then, if I'm really going to commit myself to you, to truly walk side by side with you and see this better future you promised, I need to start it right." Raven was serious, hugging Ricky as he stroked her naked back.
"I'm going to leave Irene, but I want to do it face to face. She deserves that much," Raven cooed to Ricky, looking into his green eyes as he kissed her palm.
"Hurry back, I'm actually a very impatient person," Ricky joked, letting Raven slip through his fingers and yet, his eyes betrayed him, there was no intention of letting it end like this as the tracking ring was still slipped onto her finger.
Watching her leave, he leaned against the patio railing as the hateful mob, now tripled in size, hurled even more insults at him.
"Uh, Slick." Jake walked in from the side, rubbing his arm after becoming a little uncomfortable.
"If Garfield is making you feel bad about yourself, just throw water at him—it usually shuts him up for a while." Ricky waved at Jake, misinterpreting the usual expression, as Jake slowly shook his head.
"No, some floating pair of eyeballs is here to see you, and I know it sounds crazy, but he talks into your mind." Jake shivered at the last part, clearly disturbed by the eerie scratch that happens whenever that guy speaks.
Sigh
"That's Elias. We're gonna be doing business together on mutant matters." Ricky leaned back up, following Jake to a room where Elias was accompanied by his telepaths.
"Greetings, Ricky. Did you like my performance?" Elias spoke through his telepath, his eyes forming crescent moons as Ricky crossed his arms.
"It was something, I'll give you that." Ricky plopped down in a chair facing Elias, who looked delighted by the response.
"Then, do we have a deal-"
"Yeah, about that." Ricky reached into his suit, pulling out a cigar and lighting it with the tip of his finger, taking a slow puff.
"The deal, that you yourself laid out, stipulated that if I convinced the judge-"
"No, you were proving that you were useful, which I'm starting to see. The real negotiation starts now." Ricky smiled with the cigar in his mouth, as Shadow Broker wriggled out of his shadow, briefcase in hand.
"Very well, let's state our desires." Elias spread out his shadowy hands, clearly annoyed by the situation but continuing nevertheless.
Elias had used most, if not all, of his favors, slithering through his connections to achieve this overbearing result, hoping to impress Ricky.
However, Elias had more or less taken sides, meaning Ricky could use this opportunity to squeeze out as much as he could, rather than adhering to the original terms.
Ricky could see it, and Elias knew that Ricky saw just how much of a snake he was.
Both of them were leaders, and leaders like them rarely followed without something driving them forward.
"So you want to go back to this little mutant club of yours, right?" Ricky asked, showing himself as clearly not seeing the significance.
"Do you know why the Hellfire club is not only important to me but important to any mutant? Elias's red eyes glowed with an eerie brilliance, seeming to pierce through the dimness around them as he began to speak, his voice smooth and haunting, resonating with the gravity of his words.
"Am I about to get a sales pitch?" Ricky asked, watching Elias adjust himself, knowing he was about to be ensnared in a web of possibility if he chose to pursue this so-called 'club'.
"The Hellfire Club, Ricky, isn't just some gathering of wealthy mutants, no. It's a society that shapes destinies. Imagine a web, spun across continents, held together by the wealthiest, most powerful minds, not just in America, but across Europe, Asia, every corner of the world. To be a part of it is to hold a key to influence, to tap into privilege beyond even the Mafia's reach." Elias intoned as he let the weight of his words settle before continuing.
"And to be king within the Hellfire Club? That's not just a title. It's a station few ever achieve, and it doesn't come without its share of sacrifices and benefits." Elias then gestured to himself, having attained that position personally.
"The kings, queens, bishops, all the titles in this club, serve a purpose. You're trusted with the club's deepest secrets and decisions. People look to you to wield power wisely, to protect and advance their interests. And in return?" Elias let those words hang on the edge of his telepath's tongue, letting the moment bubble while trying to draw Ricky closer.
"You're granted access to the kind of resources, alliances, and secrets that even governments can't obtain. The club's members influence policy, shape economies, and sometimes, play kingmakers on an international scale." Elias's eyes gleamed brighter, his voice lowering to a near whisper.
"If you align yourself with the Hellfire Club, Ricky, you'll be more than just a player in this world of crime and power. You'll be sitting among those who decide who plays. In a world where being a mutant makes us outcasts, the Hellfire Club is one of the few places where that difference is cherished, revered. This path isn't easy, but if you can rise within those ranks, the world is yours in ways most can only dream of." Elias relished in his days of old, where that power was at his fingertips and at the sway of his hand made business within regions either succeed or fall.
"Then I'm guessing it was pretty crushing to have it all ripped away from you." Ricky gestured to him, watching Elias slowly nod, his red eyes narrowing.
"Yes, but this will be a small blip in my grand story that I call life. I will once again claim my position." Elias then looked toward Ricky with a probing interest.
"And let me guess, I'm your ticket in." Ricky gestured to himself, gazing at Elias who merely shook his head.
"I wouldn't say that, the hellfire club-"
"You want to know something? I bet that club is going to reach out to me after the stir I caused in the States, and you, already knowing that, are trying to attach yourself to me like some leech." Ricky leaned his head on his hand, thinking those powerful mutants were drooling at the sight of him, being so full of himself he was confident they were at least aware of his existence.
However, Ricky was playing it up on purpose, still unaware but wanting to set a narrative, an illusion, almost, that they were totally keeping tabs on him for the sake of this negotiation.
"Why do you assume that?" Elias leaned in, pondering as he gazed at Ricky, who thought about it for a while before taking a puff of his cigar.
"Honestly, it's a guess, but if it's a place for what you say it is, wealthy mutants climbing the social ladder, then don't I fit that description?" Ricky asked, gesturing toward himself while raising his chin.
"And after I clean up New York, the Luciano Family will be as powerful as ever, and it doesn't make sense for them not to reach out, because that's what I would do." Ricky finished, and Elias slowly nodded.
"Well, I feel that we are going off-topic. Let's decide on an appropriate price." Elias put his shadowy hands together, looking at Ricky as his eyes formed into crescent moons.
"But can you cut this facade of your uncaring demeanor? It's quite convincing, but I think we both know that you're just as interested in my operations as I am in your potential." Elias suddenly spoke, leveling the playing field as Ricky simply smiled, remaining quiet.
"Do you think I am oblivious to your foundation's intentions? Do you think I don't know what you seek to gain from all the mutants I've collected over my tenure?" Elias genuinely asked, seeing through Ricky's intentions as if it were child's play.
"Let me guess; you're going to take me in and use me, give me so many tasks or troubles that I'll be too preoccupied to even notice you trafficking my mutants in your organization, correct?" Elias was almost reading Ricky like a book, seeing through him like it was nothing.
"Oh, but your strength is commendable, it is, and I am very wary of it. But I think you have something else up your sleeve, since, weirdly enough, things oddly go your way." Elias's shadowy hand stroked his shadowy form, outwardly assessing Ricky.
"For example, I've known Rockefeller for a long time, and never has anyone ever escaped him with such favorable conditions, as if he was controlled." Elias chuckled, his eyes surveying every inch of him.
"Then there was that poor lawyer, but that could be chalked up to you forcing him. And now I wonder, can you augment minds as well?" Elias's eyes gleamed, surveying the situation, but Ricky simply smiled.
'He's reaching, he doesn't know.' Chester's voice echoed in Ricky's mind, coming from the terrace outside the window, where he listened to the conversation unfold.
The honest thing about Elias was that he wondered if Chester could use his ability on him, since the only ones Chester had ever targeted were regular people, never telepaths.
Chester always described it as entering their mental world, and Elias couldn't help but wonder if revealing Chester's identity could endanger his hidden card.
"Are you done?" Ricky asked, puffing out smoke from his cigar, dabbing the side with his thumb before slowly putting it back in his mouth.
"Am I not allowed to probe into the details of this matter? And of course, if you're wondering whether I have any objections to mental augmentations, I welcome them," Elias continued, a sly look gleaming through his red eyes.
"I'm quite curious to see if I'd fall under them too."
He completely bluffed, knowing that Ricky had something, though not exactly what it was as the tension in the room thickened as their verbal sparring continued.
It seemed too odd, too coincidental and with all the digging Elias had done on Ricky, there were times when everything lined up too smoothly, like pieces of a puzzle that fell into place a little too perfectly.
It left him uneasy, as if there was something Ricky wasn't showing, something hidden beneath the surface that even Elias' sharp instincts hadn't yet fully grasped.
"Why the hell would I tell you if it makes you so curious?" Ricky suddenly asked, spreading his arms wide, his laughter filling the room.
He leaned back in his chair, taking a long drag from his cigar, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes gleamed with the challenge since this time, it was his turn to watch Elias for any sign of weakness or hesitation.
"If you're getting so bent out of shape over a 'what if,' what reason do I have to stop you from becoming a total psycho because of it?" Ricky laughed, his tone laced with mockery, deliberately pushing Elias's buttons.
His words hung in the air, playing on Elias's curiosity and paranoia as he wanted to keep Elias uncertain, distracted by the possibility that he might have a card that could change the tide of everything all while Ricky moved forward with his own plans, trafficking the mutants into his organization under the guise of cooperation.
They both knew what each other wanted, but it was precisely because of that mutual understanding that the process was so captivating.
Every word, every gesture, was calculated, and everything was left in a silence.
One way or another, their plans required each other, yet it was their pride that held them back from asking, which is why demands started to come into play.
"I want a borough." Elias was the first to make a demand, seemingly stopping the horseplay and getting right to the negotiations.
"You're not getting a borough, a building maybe-"
"If you are to assume that I'd come to work in that foundation then you're incorrect." Elias interrupted Ricky, halting any idea of him working at a foundation that would funnel his own mutants out of his control.
"I would like Manhattan-"
"You'll get the Bronx, but it's just occupational. It doesn't mean you get to step into my future operations." Ricky waved his hand dismissively, making it clear that Elias wasn't to have any real control over his territory.
"Do I get a cut-"
"Of course, if you come work for me-"
"What about the mutants I give you?" Elias immediately brought up the idea, Ricky becoming intrigued while dabbing his cigar.
"I supply you with mutants-"
"Kids or teenagers, that's it. I don't need forty-year-old guys trying to play grunts; it'll mess up the order." Ricky set the condition, making it clear to Elias that he intended to groom the younger generation, as the latter had anticipated.
"1000-"
"250-"
"I cannot go below 750," Elias stated firmly, aware that while the younger mutants weren't as powerful, they were more likely to slip from his grasp since they were young and moldable.
But even so, he'd undoubtedly use them as spies, but Ricky had expected this response.
The beauty of the Luciano family was its ties, how close-knit they were, almost like an actual family.
Ricky knew that the kids would eventually integrate themselves into the family, giving themselves completely to it.
But that focus, he decided, could wait for a later date.
"Alright, 500 a pop for each, and 750 for every kid that actually has a fighting mutant power," Ricky set out the conditions, watching Elias mentally juggle the numbers.
It wasn't that Elias needed the money since if he wanted, he could tap into his vast network of shell companies.
However, the wealth was largely tied up in assets, not liquid cash and Elias was incredibly wealthy, but his fortune was hidden in a way that made it difficult to access quickly.
He preferred to let his wealth simmer, allowing the power behind it to grow and strengthen over time, rather than rushing to liquidate it so the cash on hand would be useful.
Besides, he would start by off loading all the weak mutants onto Ricky while keeping the promising ones for himself.
"Very well, it was a pleasure doing business with you," Elias said, standing up and extending his shadowy hand as Ricky chuckled, rising to his feet as he reached out and firmly shook it.
"I look forward to our partnership-"
"That is, when you swear upon the River Styx." Elias finally revealed, his voice smooth and confident as Ricky laughed heartily, shaking his head.
"Ha, so you know about Asterion." Ricky clicked his tongue, amused by the revelation.
Ricky then let out a small laugh while seeing Asterion scratching his head in the doorway, confused as to what was going on.
Elias had instructed him to enter at that exact moment, and now, standing in the doorway, he felt the weight of the moment.
Asterion stepped forward, his large frame filling the space, but his eyes darted briefly to Elias, who regarded him with an unreadable expression.
'It is like talking to the fates over again,' Asterion sighed internally, walking towards Ricky within his human form.
"The conditions of you making me-"
"Whoa there, Elias, this changes everything." Ricky backed up, knowing the conversation changed completely.
"Ricky, it is obvious but you are too powerful for me to take on, I'll need guarantees-" Elias was trying to show how he was protecting himself but Ricky shook his head.
"I need more, the river styx sh*t means I get more." Ricky shook his head, sitting back down and watching Elias impatiently standing before him.
In Elias's eyes, Ricky's lack of trust and spontaneous nature was frustrating, but it was clear that he couldn't make a deal with someone as reckless as Ricky without securing that kind of guarantee.
The stakes were too high, and Elias knew that without it, Ricky's ambition would eventually overpower any agreement made.
But on the other hand, Ricky would never swear on the River Styx, not for a mere handful of mutants.
His selfishness and insatiable greed wouldn't allow it and for him, power came with conditions, and no ancient oath was worth the risk when there was so much more to gain.
"What is it you want-"
"Until I make you the black king, you're gonna work under me at my foundation under Raven-"
"I said-"
"I'm not asking anymore." Ricky laughed, wiping his mouth and about to wipe his ass with this negotiation if he didn't get his way.
"You said it yourself, you need me just as much as I need you in this area, but I'm not gonna relent on this bullsh*t unless it seems reasonable." Ricky shrugged, his pettiness overflowing at the sheer audacity of Elias.
His tone was casual, but the underlying message was clear as Ricky wasn't someone to be cornered easily, no matter how much leverage Elias thought he had.
"You want a binding oath that ensures you get what you want, f*cking fine, whatever." Ricky was clearly displeased at this oath but was going to milk every single drop he could from it since it was his guy that could do it and Elias had completely overstepped his bounds.
"Here's the new conditions: 250 a pop for every mutant kid, 500 for the good ones. You work under me as one of my guys in the foundation, helping funnel mutants around the country and then globally into my Luciano Family. And you can't touch any of the mutants you find that aren't already grandfathered in and coming with you." Ricky stated, throwing in his most petty demands with a smirk, watching Elias' frustration build.
"The same applies in the foundation: 250 a pop for every kid you find, and 500 for those that suit my interest. That's the deal." Ricky gestured to Elias, shifting the terms entirely, as the latter locked eyes with him, weighing the new proposition.
"And before you try to haggle me, I know I'll have to either fight or kill whoever the hell is in your position and deal with the fallout after, so you better accept this deal or we're done." Ricky's voice was sharp, the frustration clear in his tone not at Elias but himself.
The River Styx threat still nagged at him since it had been a curveball he hadn't expected, one that rattled him more than he cared to admit as he had actually forgotten how useful it could be.
"Fine," Elias muttered, his voice strained with reluctance as he wasn't happy with the deal, but the guarantee was more valuable to him than a few hundred dollars.
The idea of working under Raven in the foundation grated on him, especially since she was never higher than a bishop in the hierarchy.
To have to report to someone of her rank was humiliating, but he knew it was the price he had to pay for the deal to go through.
"I, Ricky Luciano, swear upon the River Styx that I will make Elias the Black King in the Hellfire Club." Ricky purposely said, holding up his hand with the weight of his words hanging in the air, his gaze locked with Elias who met his stare unwaveringly, his own shadowy hand rising in response.
"I, Elias Bougern, swear upon the River Styx that I agree under the set forth conditions and will do so until I become the Black King." Elias uttered the words that made Ricky laugh, rubbing his face at the meaning.
Both knew the true meaning of the oath as once Elias reached the position of Black King, their agreement would become null and void.
But for now, though, it was a binding promise, and both of them would play their parts.
"It has been set." Asterion's deep voice echoed, his eyes dimming to their usual state as Ricky gave a brief nod.
"There, happy?" Ricky asked, crushing the cigar in his hand, his tone casual but with a hint of satisfaction as the deal settled.
"Very." Elias replied, the weight of the pact still lingering in the air. He stood up, giving a small nod to Asterion before making his way toward the exit, his shadowy figure slipping out with deliberate grace.
Ricky watched him go, feeling the tension of the moment linger as the finality of the agreement settled in.
"It was wise for you to hide me as your card, but I know you were trying to keep me out of his probing eyes." Chester smiled, flapping over to Ricky and looking at him as he sighed.
"I just don't know if your power will work on a weird ass shadow telepath and if it doesn't, then like the stupid information broker he is he'll f*cking reveal it or sell it." Ricky sighed, actually thinking about the consequences as Chester nodded his head before something strange had happened.
Chester (Favorability: 65→69)
Chester had been oddly holding onto his favoritism, but with this sudden move, it had actually risen, which made Ricky smile but before he could comment, Alexander hosted his paw into the air.
"Then, let us embark on our revenge tour!" Alexander roared out, Ricky joining in the fun while raising his arm.
"HAZZAY!"
The next day,
Within the heart of New York, the city that should have been alive with the hum of bustling crowds and the promise of endless dreams stretching across the horizon, there was an eerie silence.
It was midday, yet the streets lay deserted, as if the very lifeblood of the city had been drained.
Not a single person dared to step outside, their movements halted by one paper, one headline, and one man.
In the distance, a lone newspaper fluttered in the wind, its edges curling and dancing as it caught the empty breeze.
It moved without purpose, carried by the wind through this ghost city, as if the world itself had lost interest and moved on, leaving only the remnants of its presence behind.
Click
Click
Click
The sound of dress shoes echoed through the streets, sharp and deliberate, each step a piercing reminder of the solitude that enveloped the city.
The rhythmic clicking was so subtle, so faint, it could easily be drowned out by the wind, yet within every building, every shadowed corner, every heart that still beat in this hushed place, it was heard.
Suddenly, the paper was plucked out of the air, its edges curling slightly as it was snatched from the breeze.
In the instant it was caught, that bold headline sprung into view, the black ink stark against the white backdrop.
"Ricky Luciano Is Back." Ricky read aloud, his voice cutting through the silence, each word heavy as if each syllable would doom any of those who heard it.
The city, the power, and everything he'd built hinged on his next move as he had to make them feel it, feel his return, his rise.
Everything had been leading to this; every gain, every loss, and everything in between that he'd forged over the past three years had been building to this exact moment.
Ricky knew that this was the culmination of all his planning, all the sacrifices, and all his hard work.
But Ricky wasn't just going to let it pass unnoticed.
No, he would make it unforgettable, he would put on a show, a performance for all the eyes watching from the shadows, for those who had doubted him and those who had expected this very thing.
The stage was set, and Ricky was the star, he was ready to make them all remember his name whether they wanted to or not.
"That has a nice ring to it." Ricky chuckled, throwing the paper before spreading out his hands to his beloved city while shouting to the top of his lungs.
"OH NEW YORK, I'M BACK!"
Capítulo 142: Chapter 137: Passing The Torch
Amidst the quiet facade, uneasy eyes watched from the shadows as Ricky walked down the street.
It seemed that with a snap of a finger, a war could erupt, yet Ricky kept his hands in his pockets, observing the scene with an amused smile.
"This is spectacular!" Asterion exclaimed, his fascination captured by the intricate object of modern design.
"Pretty cool, and look at this." Ricky walked up to the whites-only public fountain, Asterion raising an eyebrow before his eyes widened.
Pressing the pedal below, water slowly emerged as Asterion held his head for a moment before walking around the contraption, examining it from every angle.
Although Asterion had been to New York when Ricky first arrived, he hadn't ventured into the city since.
He always got sidetracked by random things along the way, and by the time the day ended, he would head back then restart.
"I-Is there some man pushing water to the top-no, this fountain is too small to house a man, maybe a midget, possibly a child-"
"Asterion, this is simply modern ingenuity," Ricky said, gesturing as the bull man marveled, completely captivated by a mere water fountain.
Asterion leaned down, licked the water before flinching as he let out a hearty laugh and then, he placed his lips on the nozzle to drink more directly.
"Gross," Ricky muttered, sighing as he looked off into the distance, lost in a random thought.
"What is it we are looking at?" Asterion's head hovered above Ricky's shoulder, his lips dripping water onto his shoulder.
"Just thinking of something stupid-"
"Nothing is stupid unless we dictate it as such." Asterion interrupted Ricky, following as he kicked a pebble with a frown.
"It's entirety random and you literally wouldn't get it, I just thought of it now-"
"I'll listen." Asterion smiled warmly, looking at Ricky who had just had a thought before trying to push it to the back of his mind.
Sigh
"It's this stupid spear." Ricky heavily sighed, materializing Chastiefol for Asterion to bear witness upon as the ancient minotaur tilted his head.
It was such a random thought, the kind people have on a whim before moving on with whatever they were doing but this particular issue had been bugging him, refusing to let go.
Chastiefol (Mastery: 0%)
"How do I get this spear to like me?" Ricky asked, literally posing a question that would make any therapist do a double take.
Ricky didn't fully understand, but he had been practicing with the spear, even getting the hang of controlling it and yet, for some reason, the percentage remained at zero.
Even Alexander was at a loss when nothing happened during their training, and now, here Ricky was, randomly asking Asterion in the middle of a warzone.
"That is indeed a troubling question to answer." Asterion stroked his own mane, tilting his head the other way at the spear before gazing at Ricky.
"Have you tried understanding it?" Asterion asked, causing Ricky to glance at the spear, then back at him.
"Like,tell it my feelings and sh*t?" Ricky replied, his confusion clear as he stared at Asterion as he wasn't against the idea, but he just didn't get it.
"No, I mean understand what the spear represents," Asterion chuckled, shaking his head and gesturing toward the floating spear.
"Well, not really," Ricky muttered, gazing at the spear before opening the system screen and rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"It has different forms. Do you think I have to, like, understand them as well?" Ricky asked, walking down the road with Asterion who smiled.
"Well, I don't know, but let's talk it out."
Ricky had time to burn while waiting for someone, so he started walking through the streets, talking it out with Asterion.
Asterion never gave any answers, instead letting Ricky work through his thoughts and arrive at his own revelation.
Without warning, Ricky began dumping a pile of garbage randomly on the sidewalk, while Asterion merely watched, with Chastiefol hovering to the side.
"Have you come to a conclusion?" Asterion inquired politely, wondering out loud as Ricky turned back to him.
"Okay, so while we were talking, the names got me thinking. This spear must have something to do with, like, nature and stuff." Ricky said, half to himself as he tried to piece it together.
"Maybe it's some sort of hippie spear and then it hit me, I literally have a skill for this!" Ricky gestured to himself, remembering a skill that had one of the most potential out of everything he had.
(Rare Skill) Green Thumb: Turn waste that won't decompose for more than 50 years into trees.
–Effects: Works on toxic waste, plastic, rubber, and others
It was only the beginning, but at that moment, Ricky would actively start to focus on this skill, which would one day become one of his most used abilities.
Pointing his hand at the waste he dumped on the sidewalk, his thumb began to glow green and suddenly, the trash started to contort, twisting and shifting until it formed a tree sapling.
Chastiefol (Mastery: 0→1%)
It was a small thought, addressing a seemingly insignificant issue amidst the looming madness of war.
Yet, it was thanks to Asterion's thoughtfulness that Ricky had suddenly realized the skill held a deeper purpose, one that would lead to far more utilization in the future.
"Holy sh*t, it worked." Ricky was a little lost for words, while Asterion clapped and smiled warmly, pleased that Ricky had figured it out.
"Congratulations-"
"There you two are!" Jake yelled from a distance, calling out to them before rushing over.
"What happened to meeting in Times Square?" Jake asked, spreading out his arms, clearly noticing this wasn't Times Square at all while Ricky simply pointed to the tree sapling.
"I figured out how to master my spear," Ricky said, holding Chastiefol up and pointing to the tree sapling as Jake slowly nodded, his face twisting into a confused expression.
"Right." Jake forced a smile, looking at Asterion, who gave Ricky a thumbs up.
"But geez, New York is really on edge." Jake walked to the side, his expression wary as Ricky side-eyed him.
"Did you-"
"Yeah, the big guy kept his word. The feds are pulling back," Jake revealed, surprised that it was true as the entire building had been cleared out.
This was why Ricky stopped by in the middle of the city: to assess the situation and, secondly, to see if Franklin would keep his promise.
"So, what's the plan, are you going to go around taking them down one by one-"
"Nah, I won't give them the satisfaction of letting this take more than a single night." Ricky's eyes glowed with a green aura, slowly dripping into the air before dissipating as if it had never been there.
"Because that's all their legacies will be; all their creations, all their families, built up over the years, only to be destroyed in a single night." Ricky laughed, already picturing their faces, before walking down the street.
"But I have to make two stops first, one for answers and another for goodbye." Ricky then opened a portal, glancing back at Jake.
"Watch the big guy, take him around to the different sights while I handle it." Ricky waved at Jake, but before he could go, Jake stepped up.
"Listen, Slick, I know you're a completely different person from before, but just don't get careless," Jake reminded Ricky, who merely flashed him a smirk before stepping into the portal.
In the calm office within the Luciano family manor, Lucky sat at his study, the scattered toys of Danielle littering the carpet before him.
"Slick?" Lucky, who was currently filling out tedious paperwork for his position as CEO of Lucky Legacy Bank, looked over his glasses to see Ricky suddenly appear before him.
"Pops, cut the bullsht, enough of these stupid fcking riddles. Tell me what's going on with you and the High Table, and tell me about the deal you have." Ricky immediately got to the point, walking up to the table and locking eyes with Lucky, his expression stern.
"I already know there's something going on, a deal, and I'm sick of others knowing when the person who could tell me everything is right in front of me." Ricky sat down in front of Lucky, who let out a heavy sigh.
Sigh
"I knew this day would come, but I just thought you'd be a little older, that's all," Lucky spoke honestly, taking off his glasses and setting them to the side.
"I didn't intend to hide it from you but the entire story could take a while-"
"Pops, just tell me." Ricky's eyes were dead serious as Lucky slowly nodded, crossing his hands together.
"It all started before the Luciano family was the Luciano gang, after I adopted you-"
Lucky Narration
It ain't no secret that I had Salvatore Maranzano capped, and it ain't no secret I did it because another war was gonna break out.
But the real truth, the real secret, is that Salvatore was killed not because he wanted to be the Boss of Bosses, but because he solely wanted to be recognized as the leader of the families.
He wanted to hold the seat of power that would allow him to become a recognized crime family in the High Table's eyes.
When people think about the underworld, they imagine a lawless place where anyone can do anything, but that misconception is dead wrong.
The reason?
Because of the High Table and as you know its a f*cking powerful, ancient crime society that has thrived before any government, before any country existed, and has been around for what seems like forever.
The High Table isn't just a gathering of criminals; it's a machine, a well-oiled system where if one cog breaks, it's quickly replaced.
To keep these cogs in place, there are rules and these rules are the backbone of the High Table's existence.
And those who break the rules?
They're immediately killed, no questions asked.
Even members of the High Table who violate the code are executed without hesitation.
Within these rules are the crime organizations recognized by the High Table, each belonging to their own sector.
However, the structure of the High Table is such that anyone can join this finely tuned machine, but only a select few crime organizations can be truly recognized.
In these sectors, areas within zones deemed by the High Table, only one organization or faction can hold dominance.
New York is one of those zones.
There cannot be two or three, only one.
One organization that receives recognition from the High Table and is granted full autonomy over that area.
When the war was settled eight years ago, we all thought that our families would be set up like the Maggio.
The Maggio, if you don't know already from your short stint in Sicily, is an organization made up of a dozen or so mafia families who all work in tandem to form it.
But Salvatore revealed that he thought the Maggio was flawed, that only one family could truly rule a sector and, on some accounts, he was right.
The problem was that he wanted to be the boss and he wanted to condense it all into one family under his rule.
But as you know, leaders lead, they don't follow.
And because of that, another war was about to brew, as every day the mob bosses butted heads.
Me, however, I saw a way out of this, and it was something that still gives me nightmares to this day.
Before Salvatore could be acknowledged by the High Table, I had him capped in his restaurant and put a stop to the internal war that was about to erupt.
But when you make an appointment with the High Table, the only way to miss it is to die. And even then, the one who kills you has to take your place.
So I went with the goal of structuring some sort of deal with the High Table that didn't involve the families fighting once more.
When I say that each of those in the twelve seats were monsters, Slick, I mean it.
Even when I was at death's doorstep, I didn't shiver the way I did when those pairs of eyes gazed at me.
It was nerve-wracking, and even now I get goosebumps thinking about it.
Hell, I even stuttered out my first couple of words.
But basically, I proposed a deal, a deal completely in their favor, where all the families would play by the High Table's rules, follow their every order, and never get in their way but never be recognized.
The commission was formed not as an alliance, but to ensure that none of us broke any of the High Table's rules and that we followed them to the letter.
"Wait, why would they accept that deal, what does that give them?" Ricky interrupted, his curiosity piqued as Lucky poured himself some whisky, letting out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair.
"If you'd let me f*cking finish, then you'd know that's exactly what they said-"
"Why would we consider that proposal, why wouldn't we wait until you all kill yourselves and one stands atop of them."
This guy, I swear, stopped me from breathing as I took a full five minutes to finally answer him with my chest puffed out.
"Because sooner or later, I'm gonna take over New York and I'm going to lead the families, but I am graciously asking for time." I bowed my head, I ain't never bowed to no one but I bowed before these powerful people who could literally kill me in a second.
"So you wish to eliminate all of your compatriots' families and then join as a recognized organization under our High Table?" This woman asked, her tone laced with this sort of playful hint of amusement.
I could've sworn she was smiling, but honestly, my ears were ringing so loud from the tension that I couldn't tell if it was just my nerves playing tricks on me.
"Yes, I would fully join under the High Table, but I will not move forward without your permission, since this matter directly falls under your control and jurisdiction, and I know my place." I replied, swallowing hard.
My voice steadied as I spoke, but the weight of their gaze felt like it could crush me at any moment.
But I made my stance clear and why wouldn't I, I'm greedy and ambitious.
I wanted it all and I think they saw it in that moment, which is why they all rang out their next answers that are still seared into my mind.
"Why not."
One of them almost laughed, muttering two words that barely registered in my mind as I felt the weight in my chest dissipate.
The moment passed, and suddenly, it was as if I wasn't even there as the other members started replying to each other, discussing matters between themselves, completely ignoring my presence.
"It is a risk, yes, but it is a calculated one. Waiting a couple of years will be far cleaner than dealing with the aftermath of their war."
"And we really have nothing to lose by letting them figure it out themselves, as long as they follow all our rules."
"Besides, if you fail, we'll get the group who survives."
The air in the room shifted as the decision was made, there was no turning back.
The commission was formed, a necessary structure to ensure order and the maintenance of the High Table's interests.
Each family knew their place now, whether by rule or by the understanding that crossing certain lines meant instant obliteration.
As time went on, the families convened together when something urgent came up, whether it was a violation of the sacred rules or an unexpected power shift.
It became a delicate balance of diplomacy, threats, and negotiation, each meeting a quiet reminder of how close they could be to losing it all, how thin the line was that separated them from a blood-soaked war.
And occasionally, the families met just to keep up appearances, to remind each other that despite everything, there was still power to be maintained.
End Of Lucky's Narration
"The card I gave you grants access to any continental, just once." Lucky leaned back, his gaze still fixed on Ricky as he weighed his next words.
"Do the others-"
"No, I was the only one who got it, and I kept the entire agreement hidden." Lucky already knew Ricky's answer and swiftly shot it down.
Sigh
"I know it might not be as grand as people probably made it out to be or how you thought it would be. I just wanted to make sure you were ready." Lucky teetered in his chair, gazing up at Ricky, looking at the man he had become.
Honestly, Lucky had never told Ricky the full weight of what he carried, because it was a burden that wasn't meant for just anyone.
It was his torch to carry, a legacy too heavy to pass along easily which is why he bore it alone.
For years, Lucky had carried it, protecting the family, maneuvering through the most dangerous of situations, making choices others would shy away from.
But now, as he watched Ricky, he realized it was time.
Lucky had seen so much potential in him from the beginning as there was always something about Ricky; this charisma, this ability to captivate the room.
He could grab people's attention effortlessly, but there was something missing.
Ricky could hold their gaze for a moment, but he never truly led it.
He was loud, rebellious, and unruly, traits that kept people at a distance as he had a way of disrupting the calm, of bringing chaos, but never really commanding respect, not at the level of a true leader.
People would listen, but only for a fleeting moment before their eyes would shift elsewhere.
But that had changed.
As Lucky watched Ricky grow, something within him had shifted and what once seemed like the chaotic, unrefined nature of the young man.
He sailed away a boy with no idea of what it meant to carry a burden and came back a man ready to shoulder it all.
Ricky had faced his challenges, not just from outside enemies but from within, his own uncertainties, his struggles with his place in the world.
But each time, he rose above them, he adapted, he learned, and more importantly, he didn't let those moments of weakness define him and kept pressing forward.
Lucky could see the change now, he could see it clearly.
It wasn't just about Ricky growing older or more experienced, it was something deeper.
It was as though the noise and the rough edges had been tempered by something more solid.
Ricky wasn't just surviving; he was evolving into someone that could carry the weight of the family, of the empire, of the legacy.
Sure, there were still imperfections, he was still rough around the edges, still learning how to balance it all within the deck of cards, but Lucky could see past all of that.
What Lucky saw now was something generational.
Something that, even Ricky himself couldn't yet see, but was unmistakable to those who had been around long enough to know.
It was a spark, something that could ignite the future in ways that Lucky never could.
And that was why, in a way, Lucky had already made his decision.
It wasn't just about handing over the reins, it was about recognizing when someone had finally earned their place at the helm.
It was about passing that torch, not because it was convenient, but because it was necessary for the family, for the future.
Ricky was ready in ways that Lucky never had been, his own battles had been different, and he had fought them in his own way, but it was Ricky who would shape the next chapter of their story.
So, as Lucky looked at Ricky now, there was no hesitation in his heart as he could finally see the leader in him, the one who would carry the Luciano name with pride and power.
It was time to pass on what had been given to him, and with that, ensure the legacy of the Luciano Family would continue.
"So, what now?" Lucky asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watched Ricky return, still pushing forward instead of winding down or celebrating.
"I think it's time to finish what was started a long time ago." Ricky chuckled, grabbing the torch and walking toward the door as Lucky tapped his cheek, deep in thought before showing a solemn expression.
"Slick, about Profaci-"
"I know, pops, I know." Ricky paused at the doorway, his expression firm as he knew what had to be done as Lucky closed his eyes.
"Good luck Slick, you're on your own now."
Later that night,
The smoldering of the fireplace rang out in the living room, the crackling sound filling the silence as a single chair faced it as the man sitting in that chair was none other than Joe Profaci.
Contrary to the confident figure he'd once been, Joe looked considerably worn down, the effects of time and regret taking their toll as he had shed at least forty pounds over the past three years.
His once sharp features now seemed dulled, the lines of age more prominent and bags sagged beneath his eyes, a reflection of sleepless nights.
His hair, once thick and dark, had thinned significantly, and what remained had already turned a dull grey.
But it wasn't just his appearance that had changed as in his eyes, there was a deep, hollow regret, the kind that haunted him relentlessly.
Every crackle of the flames seemed to carry the echoes of his brother's screams, a sound that would never leave his mind.
Clink
Suddenly, the sharp clink of two ice cubes dropping into a bourbon glass broke the stillness of the room.
Without a word, Ricky had appeared in the living room, moving with a quiet precision as he poured the dark liquor over the ice.
His presence, though unannounced, felt familiar, like it belonged.
The glass in his hand shimmered in the firelight, casting fleeting reflections across the room.
Joe didn't look up immediately, lost in his thoughts, but he could feel the shift in the air, the weight of someone who understood without needing an explanation.
"I knew you'd come, appearing like some sort of grim reaper." Profaci let out a hollow chuckle, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as his pinky ring caught the flicker of the firelight, gleaming for a moment before vanishing back into the shadows.
His gaze remained fixed on the flames, his thoughts far away, haunted by memories too painful to speak as old age made regretting so much more deeper than any threat.
"Ha, I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult." Ricky smirked, turning around to hand Profaci the glass, his own drink in hand.
Profaci took it with a slow nod as he raised the glass to his lips, the burn of the bourbon seemed to match the ache that had settled deep in his chest.
"They never do." Profaci's voice was gravelly, his eyes heavy with meaning as he stared at Ricky with an uncertain intensity.
Ricky met his gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment and then, unexpectedly, a small chuckle broke the tension, the sound low but genuine, as if they had both shared a private joke they hadn't realized was there all along.
"I heard you became the black knight, I also heard you killed a fictional character, the one in the book-"
"Dracula."
Snap
"Yeah, that fella." Profaci snapped his fingers, a flicker of recognition crossing his face as Ricky couldn't help but chuckle, sipping his drink as he leaned back slightly in the chair across from him.
"Bet it took an arm and a leg." Profaci said with a wry smile, watching as Ricky took another sip.
"It did, but in the end, I f*cked his daughter," Ricky joked, causing Profaci to cackle, slapping him on the shoulder.
"Classic Slick, ha!" Profaci slapped his knee, taking another sip of his bourbon and nodding in amusement.
That joyous laughter slowly faded, and Profaci's smile wavered, his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with his pinky ring.
His gaze shifted, locking on the flickering flames in the fireplace as the warmth of the fire seemed to diminish the smile that once gleamed on his face as he leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh.
"Listen Slick, about what I said before you left-"
"Profaci stop, you were right, you don't have to say anything-"
"But I want to." Profaci said, his voice softening as he gestured to himself, his eyes lingering on Ricky with a warmth that contrasted with the shadows under his gaze.
"So humor me, will ya?" Profaci asked, his voice tinged with a sincerity that cut through the usual mockery and he looked at Ricky with this gaze that spoke volumes, a mixture of care, nostalgia, and something deeper, something Ricky hadn't expected.
Ricky hesitated for a moment but then nodded, his expression unreadable as he took another sip of his drink.
"I'm man enough to admit when I'm wrong." Profaci tapped his chest, leaning forward slightly, the glass in his hand now just an accessory as he spoke with a surprising humility with his usual bravado replaced by something more vulnerable, more real.
"And man, I'm really glad that I was wrong." Profaci gripped the glass tighter, his knuckles white, as his eyes moved from the fire to Ricky.
The shift was palpable, for Profaci wasn't looking at a child anymore, but the real Ricky, the one he always knew, deep down, he could become.
When Ricky left, he was a complete mess.
Profaci had seen it in him, the recklessness, the arrogance, the impulsiveness, and deep down, he feared that Ricky would end up dead because of it like so many guys before him.
That fear, that gnawing doubt, had always lingered in his chest and despite the harshness, the cutting words, Profaci still cared about Ricky, like a father-in-law cares about a son.
Back then, Ricky was too young, too naive, too rash.
He had that energy, sure, but it was all misdirected and he was a storm, all flash and no direction.
But now?
Now, there was something different as he was still young, still arrogant, but he wasn't the same fool who rushed into things without thinking.
He had learned to plan, to scheme, to think ahead.
He didn't just put on a show like some circus clown; he orchestrated the crowd, guiding their every move with the subtle flick of his hand, the power of his presence commanding their attention rather than having to direct it with his loud actions.
Ricky proved he could follow through, and that, more than anything, eased Profaci's mind.
Because, despite everything, this had always been about one thing: Maria.
Profaci had always kept her at the forefront of his thoughts as his skepticism, his harsh treatment of Ricky, it was all for her, for her safety.
Deep down, he couldn't trust Ricky with Maria, not back then.
But now?
After seeing what Ricky had become, how he had carried himself through the trials and tribulations, there was a certainty in Profaci's heart.
He wasn't sure if he could ever fully trust him, but he knew one thing: Ricky had changed and maybe, just maybe, he was worthy of what was always Profaci's greatest treasure.
"You know, growing up in Sicily, I never wanted to be a leader, I never wanted to be the boss." Profaci downed the rest of his glass, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames, his eyes distant as if the fire held a memory too old to fade.
"In fact, I was comfortable and content with being my older brother's underboss." Profaci laughed, rubbing his thumb against the expressive glass.
"God, Vinny was such a great man, my older brother." Profaci let out a hollow chuckle, rubbing his hand through his deteriorating hair.
"He just had that fire." Profaci words were fierce, recalling how he would spark that thing inside that makes every man want to go wild.
"He was the type of guy who just captivated your attention, even when you hated him, you just couldn't look away." Profaci's gaze grew distant, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he reminisced.
"God and I know everyone says this but he just had this way, he'd walk into a room, and suddenly, everyone's all eyes on him, whether they liked it or not." Profaci laughed at this retelling, speaking from not his heart, but his soul as he believed in every single word he said.
"He knew how to just pull you in and make you feel like you were part of his world, even if he didn't give a damn about yours. He had this pull, this magnetism, a fire that burned so hot, you couldn't help but be drawn in." Profaci wiped his mouth, trying to hide the smile while ranting about his older brother's greatness.
"And then, when you thought you had him figured out, when you thought you could finally get a grip on who he was, he'd just slip away, poof, like smoke, leaving you chasing after him." Profaci laughter echoed out through his telling, leaning back before his smile slowly faltered.
"And I just-...........I just wanted to see the mark he'd make on the world." Profaci's voice faltered as he rubbed his eyes, then his nose, as if trying to erase the weight of the years that had passed.
"Y'know, pressure, it changes everything." Profaci chuckled, his words trailing off as he gazed into the fire, his mind clearly lost in the past.
"Some people, you squeeze them and they focus, but for others, they fold." Profaci gripped his hand tightly for a moment, as if trying to contain the weight of his own memories, before slowly releasing it, the tension in his fingers easing.
"I never got to see the mark he'd make," Profaci muttered, his voice tight with emotion.
"I watched him get ripped apart, piece by piece, and all I could do was just run, run away." Profaci hung his head low, biting his lip as he took a long, steadying breath and even now, couldn't focus on one thing.
"I regret it, and I know I shouldn't." Profaci confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves carried the weight of years.
"I know Vinny would've wanted me to live, to carry on, but I regret not dying fighting for my brother, with my brother." Profaci's eyes remained fixed on the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows over his face, as though they were drawing out the deepest parts of him, those parts he rarely let anyone see.
"That regret lingered in my affection for my niece, my darling Maria, and it shaped me into the man I am today," Profaci said, his voice steady but heavy with meaning as he set the glass down beside him, the motion deliberate, before his eyes slowly found their way back to Ricky.
"When we met, you reminded me too much of Vinny," Profaci said, his gaze intense as it locked onto Ricky.
"But the thing that scared me was that you always reminded me of myself, in all the wrong ways." Profaci paused, waiting for a response that never came. Ricky remained silent, his eyes steady, giving Profaci the space to speak.
"Because you got to pay a price for winning," Profaci's voice was low but firm, his eyes locking with Ricky's.
"Everyone thinks they know, know that with victory comes sacrifice," Profaci said, waving his finger as he chuckled softly, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation.
"But the thing is, Slick, most people aren't willing to pay it," Profaci's words trickled out, deliberate and weighted.
"And they may pay it once, but the ones who make their mark in history are the ones who pay it every single day." Profaci held up a finger, pointing it directly at Ricky, his eyes locking with his as if to cement the truth in that single, piercing moment.
"But even then, that price you pay, every single day, it changes daily." Profaci's voice softened, yet carried a weight that felt heavier with every word as he leaned forward.
"The price of winning changes on a daily basis, and you gotta be willing to pay that price, whatever it is on that day." Profaci finished his words of wisdom, his voice steady as the weight of the truth settled in the room.
"I won't apologize for what I said to you back then," Profaci's words were firm, the weight of his past decisions hanging in the air as he gazed at Ricky.
"You didn't have the tools, you were too naive, too arrogant, too rash, and too stupid," Profaci said, his voice carrying the weight of truth.
He paused for a moment, then smiled slightly, rubbing his thumb over the carvings on his pinky ring.
"But now you seem to have a whole arsenal around you," Profaci chuckled, his worn-down eyes flicking up to meet Ricky's, a glimmer of appreciation flashing through them.
There was no judgment in his gaze now, only a recognition of how far Ricky had come, how much he'd grown, and the dangerous potential he now carried.
"You've grown, you showed your wit, you learned to slow down, and you're still too arrogant," Profaci said, a small chuckle escaping him as Ricky let out a soft laugh, knowing that part would likely never change.
"I called you an entertainer, some flashy sideshow, but it seems that you were always the main event, the calling card that people can't look away from." Profaci said, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling as if lost in thought, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
"It just took a little longer for you to be unveiled, that's all." Profaci said, offering a nod of approval as his eyes met Ricky's once again.
"I know you're gonna build something great, and I respect that you're not gonna let me see it," Profaci said, his tone steady, but with a trace of finality as he already knew today was the day he was going to die.
"There can only be one boss, one man to lead the mafia, but even so, I knew you'd spare me," Profaci said, his voice distant, as he turned back to the fire. Ricky gripped the glass harder, his eyes narrowing as he watched him.
"It didn't have f*cking be like this Profaci, you didn't have to cross the line-"
"But I did, I had to teach you one last lesson." Profaci chuckled, clinking his pinky ring on the glass, looking at Ricky.
"It's not gonna be now, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, someone you trust completely, in your entirety, will betray you." Profaci seemingly foretold while wiping his mouth, speaking as if from experience.
"Those people, the ones that betray you, you're gonna want to let them go, give them another chance." Profaci waved his hand in the air, seemingly dissipating those very words he uttered into existence.
"But when they betray you and get away with it, they're only gonna think, 'Wow, he's just letting me off. Does that mean I can do it again?' because once you're a traitor, you're always a traitor." Profaci laughed, smiling at Ricky while the images of all his friends stabbing him in the back appeared within his mind.
"Being a leader is f*cking hard. If anyone says differently, they're wrong. To lead is to make sacrifices, and only cowards try to make compromises." Profaci fixed Ricky with a steady, unwavering gaze, his eyes locking onto him with a weight that seemed to bear down on him.
"You gotta do, what you gotta do, and nothing else." Profaci's gaze drifted to his pinky ring, his fingers working it off slowly before he extended it to Ricky as his hand trembled just slightly as he passed it over.
"It was my brother's, he gave it to me before he died." Profaci chuckled, parting away as Ricky held the gold ring in his palm.
"It was a gag gift, since back in the old days, it was for the associates of the mobster who died, with a source of funding for their funeral expenses in case of their death," Profaci explained, shedding light on the significance of pinky rings and gold rings.
"But it, uh, it's brought me comfort," Profaci smiled warmly at the ring in Ricky's palm, his gaze softening as he looked at it as the ring had been to hell and back with him.
"It was the only thing of value I had coming to America, second to Maria," Profaci chuckled, his eyes distant for a moment as the memories flooded back as Ricky chuckled too, joining in on the moment.
"I-"
COUGH
COUGH
Profaci suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood, his hand shakily reaching for the handkerchief in his suit pocket, already stained with dried blood as Ricky's gaze shifted, his eyes narrowing before really looking at him.
For the first time, he truly noticed the toll the old man's condition had taken as the tough, unyielding figure he had known was now slipping away, and it hit Ricky harder than he expected.
"Oh, don't look at me like that, like some sad sack or something," Profaci muttered, shaking his head as he wiped the blood from his mouth.
"How bad?" Ricky ran his hand through his hair, a sigh escaping him as the old mobster simply shook his head.
"I'm terminal," Profaci said, letting out a slow, somber chuckle, already accepting his fate long before Ricky had arrived.
"Does Maria and Ninfa know?" Ricky asked, his voice calm but probing since he knew this stubborn old man wouldn't tell anyone, but he still had to ask as Profaci responded with a sad smile
"Maria has enough on her plate, and Ninfa, well, I'd like to think she knows, up above in the great beyond," Profaci said, his words carrying an unspoken meaning as Ricky's eyes widened, the words catching him off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless.
"She was a Radium girl." Profaci revealed, his voice tinged with sorrow.
"It was one of the reasons she could never have kids." Ricky's head dipped slowly, a deep understanding of the pain behind those words sinking in.
Even Ricky knew about the Radium Girls from Lucky, who had explained it to him a couple of years back. It was a huge issue, especially back then.
The story of the Radium Girls had gained widespread attention in the 1920s and 1930s, as the women filed lawsuits against companies like the United States Radium Corporation, shedding light on the horrors they endured.
The workers' legal battles and the tragic nature of their illnesses brought significant media coverage, especially as many of the women suffered visibly horrific symptoms, such as disintegrating jawbones, anemia, and bone fractures.
The plight of the Radium Girls led to widespread reforms in occupational safety, particularly in handling radioactive materials, and helped establish workers' rights to sue employers for unsafe working conditions.
But that didn't mean the victims got a happily ever after.
"I-I had no idea-"
"Well, it was never your business, and besides, Ninfa hated when others looked at her with pity," Profaci shrugged, leaning back in his chair with Ricky mirroring him, reclining into his own seat.
"So, you really just gonna wipe them all out in one night?" Profaci let out a small sigh, genuinely asking and Ricky nodded, already guessing what he was about to do.
"I'm not trying to be a dick, but it's not gonna take more than that." Ricky was honest with Profaci, knowing that compared to Dracula and his forces, he didn't really need to prepare.
Ricky did have some semblance of a plan, but in a worst-case scenario, if one of them escaped, he would just act like a bloodhound and sniff them out.
However, Ricky didn't want to wipe them all out on his own; he wanted to include the Luciano family.
The reason was simple: Ricky not only wanted to prove he was capable of leading them, but he also wanted to make sure each mobster had a hand in this war so they could feel included.
He understood that power wasn't just about holding the reins; it was about forging unity within the ranks.
By making sure each of them played a role, he would solidify his position as a leader who valued loyalty and collaboration.
It wasn't just about taking control, it was about giving them a reason to follow him willingly, ensuring they felt like they had a stake in the outcome.
"So the pinkertons-"
"Yep, they were after me at first, but I flipped them from Joe." Ricky smirked, a hint of pride in his voice as Profaci let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head.
"I was wondering who gave those boys the nerve, but of course, it was a little punk." Profaci chuckled, but the humor quickly faded as the atmosphere turned heavy with silence.
"Listen Slick, about Maria-"
"Don't worry, Profaci, I'm going to take care of her. She'll never have to worry about anything ever again." Ricky reassured him, but as Profaci's eyes drifted to the ceiling, his body seemed to grow weaker by the second, the weight of his time catching up to him.
"You're a great man, Profaci, and you did a great job protecting Maria while I was gone." Ricky slowly set the glass aside, his eyes never leaving Profaci's figure as the old mobster's body began to grow stiff.
The glass slipped from his hand and shattered, the sound almost deafening in the stillness of the room.
"But I'm here now, so you can rest easy." Ricky stood over Profaci, his expression a mix of resolve and conflict, as the old man offered a faint, weary smile.
This was the best he could do for Profaci, paying back all the kindness he had ever shown Ricky, and giving him the peaceful death he deserved.
"I-I will."
A tear slipped from Profaci's eye as he raised his hand, gazing at the vision before him, his beloved Ninfa and his big brother Vinny, smiling and waving, beckoning him to come towards them.
Then, his hand fell limp at his side as the final glimmer of life faded from his eyes as Ricky gently reached over and closed them.
Ricky stood in silence, turning toward the fire and gazing into it for a long while.
There were many things he wasn't, burdened by flaws that could never be erased, but one thing was certain.
Ricky was no longer the coward who failed to step up when it mattered, nor the boy who once ran from tragedy.
He had left as a boy and returned as a man, his eyes hardened with the resolve to face whatever lay ahead, he was ready.
Slowly, he slipped the pinky ring onto his finger, the weight of it settling like a quiet promise.
In this city, there was no room for more than one boss, no space for more than one family.
And now, with every toll paid and every blade sharpened, Ricky was finally ready to claim his place.
As Ricky walked out of the mansion, not a single mobster dared to speak and one by one, they dropped their guns to the ground.
They surrendered in silence, showering Ricky with their unspoken defeat as his footsteps carried him through the growing pile of weapons that gathered in his path.
The final order Profaci had given was clear that if his life was taken, they would answer to the one who took it and Profaci had always known Ricky would come for him.
"Boss, the Profaci family has surrendered. What should we do-" Johnny hurried up to Ricky, his words trailing off as Ricky kept walking toward the car.
"Gather the boys. New York burns tonight," Ricky ordered without a hint of hesitation.
He knew that the city would burn today, but tomorrow, it would be reborn with him at its center.
Johnny's eyes widened for a brief moment, but he gave a sharp nod before rushing off to carry out the command.
As Ricky opened the car door, he caught the reflection of the Profaci family members standing still, uncertain, not knowing what to do next.
"If any of you still want to live and be a mobster, then go home, barricade your doors, and show up at Italians tomorrow!" Ricky yelled, his voice sharp and commanding.
His presence alone sent a chill down the spines of the men, who exchanged nervous glances before bolting in every direction, desperate to escape.
The car ride was slow, Ricky resting his hand on the window as the driver took him toward a warehouse that housed all the Luciano family members.
But when they arrived, Lucky and Meyer were nowhere to be found as Frank stood off to the side, his presence only raising more questions.
The tension in the air was thick, as everyone wondered who could have called this meeting if it wasn't the head of the family.
Click
Click
Click
The sharp click of dress shoes echoed through the warehouse, cutting through the hushed whispers that filled the space as every gaze turned, drawn to the source of the sound.
It was then that Ricky's presence revealed itself to the gathered crowd, his silhouette emerging from the shadows as he walked toward the center, the light above shining down upon him.
This was the same warehouse where it had all begun, three and a half years ago, the same place where he had killed Detective Albert and officially joined the Luciano family.
That wonderful day where everything changed.
But today was different as the air wasn't filled with wonder or surrounding chants; instead, it was thick with unease.
Every pair of eyes darted around, uncertain of where their fate now lay and slowly, though, those eyes began to focus entirely on Ricky.
He didn't speak, yet they couldn't look away.
"I know what you're all thinking, 'What is this mutant doing here'!" Ricky yelled out, his voice booming in the warehouse.
It wasn't exactly a secret within the Luciano family, though it was always kept under wraps but still, it unsettled quite a few of the mobsters.
What kept their mentality neutral, however, was the fact that Ricky was also the Black Knight, a title that made up for any hostility they might have harbored toward him being a mutant.
"I know many of you think I was supposed to leave, to scurry away, but I'm here to tell you one thing and one thing only!" Ricky paced around, raising a finger in the air before spreading his arms wide.
"I ain't going nowhere!" Ricky declared, his smile widening as he looked out at the shocked mobsters.
"For too long, the families have bickered amongst themselves, dividing the underworld with these meaningless squabbles that lead to nothing but young men dead in the streets!" Ricky clenched his fist, his passion evident as he spoke as to the side, Alexander nodded, his furry chin raised high.
They had been practicing speeches, and right now, Ricky was showcasing every bit of that preparation, delivering his words with a raw intensity that commanded attention.
"Aren't you all tired? Tired of fighting against the guys you grew up with, ending up in a different place just 'cause you were born a couple boroughs over!" Ricky asked, gesturing toward the Italian men who stood in silence, eyes locked on him.
This was true, in fact as many of the members of the families had grown up alongside each other, yet their entire lives had been shaped by the boroughs they were born into.
So many of these men had fought against old friends, gone up against their own cousins, all because of an invisible divide that ran through New York.
"Because I'm tired! I'M F*CKING SICK OF IT!" Ricky roared, his voice shaking the air. In an instant, his sovereignty aura erupted, a green tide swirling around him, filling the room with an overwhelming force.
The air seemed to leave the mobsters as they stared at Ricky, a mixture of shock and horror etched across their faces as his power was on full display, and yet he held it back just enough to prevent them from passing out under its intensity.
"I'M SICK OF HAVING MEANINGLESS FIGHTS OVER SUCH SMALL PORTIONS THAT IT DRIVES ME F*CKING CRAZY!" Ricky shouted, his aura flaring even further, his voice crashing into each and every one of the men.
"BUT LIKE ANYONE ELSE, I WANT IT ALL, ALL THOSE PORTIONS NO MATTER HOW SMALL, DON'T YOU?!" Ricky roared, his voice thundering through the room as he gestured toward the men.
Their eyes, filled with hunger, met his as each one yearned for something more, something beyond what they'd already been given, just like any other man.
"I'm greedy, and I'm selfish!" Ricky lowered his voice, his words cutting through the silence as he preached to the mobsters, who had no choice but to listen, captivated by the raw power in his tone.
"I am the Black Knight, and I am a mutant!" Ricky declared, holding out his hand.
In response, the ebony blade flew into his grip, and as he grasped it, his entire body was enveloped in armor as his green aura flared, crackling with power as the air around him seemed to pulse.
"But at my core, I'm Ricky Luciano!" Ricky declared, raising his sword high. He locked eyes with the mobsters, their faces unreadable, but the tension in the air was palpable.
"I'm not going to tell you to do anything, and I ain't gonna force you to follow," Ricky's voice dropped low, but then his eyes blazed with red electricity, crackling with intensity as every man in the room heard his words loud and clear.
"But it's time for a new age, a new era, to enter New York's underworld!" Ricky roared, his voice shaking the very air.
The mobsters, caught in the surge of his power, felt their hearts thump in their chests, a mix of respect and anticipation flooding through them.
"One where it's dedicated to the Luciano Family and only for the Luciano Family!" Ricky's words etched themselves into the minds of the men around him, each syllable reverberating through the room like a declaration of dominance.
"TONIGHT, THE OTHER FAMILIES FALL!" Ricky roared, his aura towering around him, its power rising without crushing the mobsters beneath it, instead empowering them, fueling their anticipation for what was to come.
"TONIGHT, NEW YORK BURNS, AND WITH IT, THE LUCIANO FAMILY RISES!" Ricky shouted, his gesture sweeping toward the other mobsters, the weight of his words igniting a fire in their eyes.
"ARE YOU WITH ME? ARE YOU GOING TO BE A PART OF HISTORY OR STAY BEHIND AND WATCH IT UNFOLD?!" Ricky yelled, his voice booming as he locked eyes with each mobster as he knew that none of this would work unless the family stood behind him, united in the cause.
"WHO'S WITH ME?!" Ricky roared, the red electricity pulsing with his swirling green aura, crackling through the room.
The mobsters stood still for a moment, eyes locked on him, each man weighing the choice before them.
They all knew who Ricky was, and that's what scared them but witnessing this momentous display of power, seeing this new side of him, sparked something within them.
A thought, a vision, the sight of a tomorrow that belonged only to the Luciano family.
A tomorrow where they would be part of something bigger, something that, at their core, everyone craved.
The desire to belong to something greater than themselves, to leave their mark on history.
"SLICK, SLICK, SLICK!" Johnny stood up, his voice ringing through the warehouse, chanting Ricky's name.
One by one, the mobsters joined in, their roars building in volume, their allegiance now clear as the air crackled with energy, the Luciano family united behind its new leader.
"SLICK!"
"SLICK!"
"SLICK!"
The cheers that echoed through the warehouse mirrored those of the past, but this time, it was different.
They weren't cheering at Ricky, they were cheering for him.
They weren't just spectators anymore; they were part of the act.
No longer was Ricky a passing sight, someone you glanced at before returning to your duties.
Not anymore.
Now, you couldn't look away, even if you wanted to and Ricky had become something that demanded your attention, something that commanded all eyes to focus solely on him.
"TONIGHT WE MAKE HISTORY, TONIGHT WE PLUNGE THIS CITY INTO CHAOS SO THAT TOMORROW, WE STAND BEFORE THIS CITY, THIS WORLD, AS ONE!" Ricky shouted, his voice carrying the weight of the revolution he was about to ignite, his words searing into the hearts of the mobsters around him.
"AS THE LUCIANO FAMILY!"
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