"Holy sh*t, your whiskey's way better than my pop's," Ricky exclaimed, recoiling slightly from the burn of the drink.
Ricky inspected the bottle for a moment before shamelessly swiping it right under the president's nose as they drove in slow, deliberate circles around the block.
Franklin D. Roosevelt wasn't just any figure, not just any politician, and certainly not just any president.
He was a steadfast andF resolute leader, fully aware that the upcoming years would define America forever.
This awareness drove his relentless involvement in every sphere imaginable, understanding that the nation needed firm guidance.
To put it simply, he was a control freak, determined to steer the country in the right direction, his direction.
But to reach that point, to wield such immense power, it was nearly impossible for anyone, let alone someone like him, to loosen their grip on the reins which was why his gaze had turned to the man before him.
In stark contrast, Ricky exuded a carefree demeanor, living fully in the moment and planning only as far ahead as the next month.
Franklin didn't respect him for that, not in the slightest and yet, he could no longer dismiss him, either as Ricky had proven that he could play at Franklin's level, and win.
"You're such a crude, vulgar person," Franklin said bluntly, his tone laced with unfiltered disdain as he made no effort to conceal his animosity, laying his thoughts bare from the start.
"Coming here-"
"And what? Wiping my ass with your goodwill?" Ricky interrupted with a crude laugh, his words dripping with such a vulgar spite.
"Walking into your house, your domain, with my shoes off and planting my crusty toes everywhere, kicking them up and wiggling them around," Ricky said with a sly grin, leaning in closer as Franklin's expression grew stern, sensing that Ricky's words were building toward something far more pointed.
"It doesn't feel so good when someone comes into your house and fcks up your sht, doesn't it?" Ricky asked, a wide grin spreading across his face before Franklin's expression darkened as he slowly nodded, the meaning behind Ricky's words sinking in.
"Listen Teddy-"
"Wrong Roosevelt-"
"Whatever, listen." Ricky interrupted the president, shaking his hand at him before leaning back with his whisky in hand.
"You know that deep, aching pit of hatred you probably have for me after everything I did." Ricky gestured to him, pointing glass towards him before raising it up to take a sip.
"I want you to remember that feeling, this feeling, and hold onto it the next time you come to my house and try to f*ck up my sh*t like you were doing," Ricky said with a laugh, his tone dripping with mockery as he watched as the president's face grew even darker, the weight of the thinly veiled threat sinking in.
"I'm not the type of person to let things go," Ricky said, his voice low and deliberate, placing the glass to the side as the ice cubs swirled.
"I'm the type of person who blows it out of proportion, and I'll go above and beyond to drag you down to my level." Ricky's words caused Franklin's mind to flash to Dewey, the prosecutor whose fall from grace had been so sharp and unforgiving.
He remembered how Dewey had once been a good-hearted man, only to become something darker, something unrecognizable.
"Because if I'm gonna lose, gonna suffer, then you can bet your ass that you're gonna suffer with me," Ricky finished, his eyes locking with Franklin's as he made it clear that if he went down, he wouldn't go alone.
He'd burn everything down if he had to, and he would never let Franklin walk away, unscathed, into the sunset, while Ricky would be the one to pay the price.
"What is this all really about, Ricky?" Franklin calmly asked Ricky, gaining the young man's attention as he set down his drink.
"I think we both know you don't care about America, mutants, or anything that isn't your family," Franklin said, his tone smooth as he watched Ricky trace his finger along the glass.
Ricky's smile brightened, knowing that he hit the nail on the head as the words made the conversation flow much more easily, revealing the truth behind Ricky's motivations and skipping past all the bullsh*t.
"Because I'm not going away, Mr. President, I'm just getting started." Ricky said, his gaze unwavering as he met Franklin's eyes as his words were sharp, making it clear that this was only the beginning.
"I'm gonna become a powerful man, and I think it's time you get on board, rather than constantly trying to block my way," Ricky said, sighing as he leaned back while Franklin's face remained unreadable.
"Oh, don't give me that look," Ricky continued, his voice dripping with a sleazy confidence.
"You can't honestly believe I don't know you're behind Joe, pulling the little strings like some sort of puppet master." Ricky dangled his fingertips in front of the president, a clear gesture showing that he had known for quite some time.
"Just like you, I know what's going on in my city, and much like you, I don't like the stink wafting in," Ricky joked, gesturing toward Franklin, pretending to wave his hand over to him as if cutting the cheese.
"Then I'm sure you're well aware that I'm faced with the question of why you went in front of the American people and told them that you not only wanted to be a pillar of mutantkind, start a foundation, and join my army," Franklin said, his gaze steady and piercing but no matter how intense it was, the weight of his words simply bounced off Ricky.
"Can I be honest with you, Franky?" Ricky leaned back, his tone casual but laced with defiance, clearly stepping over the line of respect as if testing the waters.
"Please." Franklin's eyebrow twitched as he took a deep breath, gesturing toward Ricky, giving him permission to speak freely.
"Because a war is coming."
"A war that both you and I know will suck you in, no matter how hard you try to keep your feet out of its murky waters." Ricky's words hung in the air, leaving Franklin completely silent, as if he recognized the truth in them, or at least found them convincing.
"Has the Vatican informed you of the severity in Europe?" Franklin asked, his gaze fixed on the tinted windows, as though he were asking without truly expecting an answer and Ricky, on the other hand, spread his arms out, as if to demonstrate his own understanding of the situation.
"I am the Black Knight, after all," Ricky said, his words hanging in the air without a direct confirmation, yet acknowledging that they both knew there was some truth to it.
Immediately, Franklin's gaze snapped to Ricky as the FBI had gathered extensive intel on the Black Knight and the immense power he wielded.
More importantly, there was the undeniable fact that Ricky was the one responsible for slaying Dracula, an act that had marked him not only as a threat, but as a worldwide one.
"What do you want?" Franklin seemingly asked without not entirely agreeing.
"I want to be an officer in the military, and I want to earn that position not through four years of boarding school, but through quick and direct commander training," Ricky said, pointing at Franklin as the president remained silent as Ricky continued, undeterred by the lack of response.
"Before you say anything, really take into account that by putting myself in the military, I'm almost on your side in a way that you'll really want me as a friend," Ricky said, his eyes dark, showing that he wasn't about to relent.
In all honesty, it might seem like a bad idea to let Ricky into the military, but for Franklin, it was almost beneficial.
From his observations, people like Ricky were impossible to control; spontaneous individuals acted on impulse, and impulses could shift in an instant.
But once he entered the military, it would be just a little easier to manage.
The entire military was under Franklin's control, and he'd much rather keep Ricky under his watchful eyes than let him loose, gallivanting across Europe on some crusade.
Franklin remained quiet for a long time, pondering the reality of the situation, before resigning himself to the idea of having Ricky within his reach, rather than allowing him to slip away.
"Why should I not only let you into my academy, my army, my government, and my United States?" Franklin asked, his tone calculating, as he leaned forward, eager to hear Ricky's answer while the latter merely smiled in response, unfazed by the question.
"Because let's be real, you need me," Ricky laughed, pointing to himself with a smirk as Franklin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but remained silent, waiting for Ricky to elaborate.
In all honesty, Franklin didn't need Ricky, but no one ever truly needs anything.
It's the illusion that's given to you, the fear that haunts you, that makes you compelled to go the extra mile.
That's why Ricky, with Shadow Broker slowly appearing by his side, who had always been lurking in the background, waiting for the right moment, finally made his move.
"This war, what you're about to go up against, the powers that lie beneath, is something you could never imagine." Ricky first appealed to that fear, sinking his words deep into it, embedding the train of thought into its murky waters, knowing it would fester there.
"The people, the beings, pulling the strings of the Reich are something you've only scratched the surface of." Ricky then started to engrain a sense of belief, subtly guiding the narrative in a direction that would make Franklin question everything he thought he knew.
"For those people and the strengths you can't even fathom, you'll need someone like me, someone who can go toe to toe on those front lines. But most of all, you're going to need my power." Ricky finally revealed his hand, positioning himself as essential, inflating his value beyond what it truly was, making it clear he believed his presence was the key to Franklin's success.
"We both know you're gonna just stall, until you're sure you have a chance, but let's be real, I bet that think tank of a government is trying to find any way they can to rival whatever Germany has." Ricky smirked, knowing that his words hit closer to the truth than Franklin would like to admit.
"If you're going to need as much firepower as you can get, why not accept mutants? Why not roll the dice on me?" Ricky's tone was laced with a challenge, his eyes locking onto Franklin's as if daring him to refuse.
Franklin's silence spoke volumes, his mind clearly turning over the implications of what Ricky had just said.
He was well aware of the Nazi powers looming in the shadows of Hitler, the unseen hands that had their fingers in the Reich's operation.
He knew, in a way, that Ricky was right, mutants could be the edge he needed, a resource too powerful to ignore.
But what's worse, if a war broke out, could Franklin afford to not keep an eye on Ricky?
"Fine," Franklin said, his voice steady but firm, knowing this wasn't the first or last time he'd made a deal with a devil.
"You will be admitted into the officer program when you submit an application, after you get a high school diploma that is." Franklin spoke of the bare minimum, his words making Ricky's eyebrow twitch.
"So, I guess you can say we're partners now," Ricky laughed, nudging the president lightly as Franklin scowled, clearly unamused by the casual tone, but there was no denying the weight of the agreement hanging in the air.
"Now that you had one of my men locked up and the key thrown away, I guess I'll have to use what I can," Franklin said, his gaze steady, resolute almost before getting to the main point.
"But there is one more thing." Franklin looked at Ricky, who was already waiting for this moment, knowing something else was coming.
"What are you going to do about the scene in New York?"
"I'm sure you're clever enough to know that all the families are on edge and teetering on the brink of a full-on war with one another, what is it you really want, Ricky Luciano." Franklin asked, leaning in towards Ricky who smiled warmly, as if already knowing where this conversation was headed.
"Isn't it obvious? I want you and the government to turn a blind eye to me completely eviscerating the families, as a gesture of goodwill," Ricky laughed, his words bloodthirsty as Franklin had a deadpan expression.
"In return, the family will look not only favorable towards you, but your next campaign." Ricky offered, Franklin pondering once more before looking out the window.
"If you think I am ignorant to the deal Lucky has with the High Table, then don't count me as a fool yet, but either way, I have no choice but to accept," Franklin said, his words leaving Ricky shocked as he raised an eyebrow.
"What deal?" Ricky suddenly asked, unable to hold himself back as Franklin side-eyed him with a raised eyebrow.
"He never told you?" Franklin grinned slightly, showing some surprise while waving his hand in the air along with his next words.
"Well, I guess that should be resolved between Father and Son."
"Now, please get out of my car." Franklin had the car stopped, gesturing towards the door as Ricky looked a little annoyed.
"I'm taking the whiskey and this really nice glass, 'cause I like the way the ice clinks into it." Ricky noted to Franklin before shutting the door behind him, leaving the president staring straight ahead.
Sigh
"I actually really liked that glass."
Walking back to the crummy motel, the one without any reporters lingering around, Ricky spotted Jake sitting at a table, a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he flipped through a law book.
Clink
Ricky sat the whiskey down in front of Jake, the bottle clinking softly against the table as Jake flinched, his eyes flickering from the glass to Ricky's face, not even noticing that he had walked in before the interruption.
"Whatcha ya got there?" Ricky asked, sipping the whiskey lightly as Jake let out a sheepish laugh.
"It's nothing, it f*cking stupid-"
"Law 101, huh?" Ricky tilted the book upward, raising an eyebrow as Jake rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I know pulling my life together and I do want to be part of the family, but after seeing Marshall I just kinda got-"
"Hey, listen, Jake." Ricky held up his hand, stopping his friend as he looked toward him, a serious expression crossing his face.
"Whatever you do, be it in or outside the family, I'm gonna support you."
"Not as someone from the Luciano family, but as a friend." Ricky said, his tone low and earnest as he leaned in, locking eyes with Jake.
"For once Jake dont' think about me, your brother, or the family." Ricky shrugged, tipping the glass to him before downing the rest.
"Be selfish, think about yourself, and when you're ready to talk about the future, you come find me. The door's always open," Ricky said, standing up and preparing to leave.
Jake, slowly lowering his head while watching as Ricky walked away, the weight of the words settling in.
"Thanks, Slick." Jake bit his lip, his eyes watering, the words barely escaping his throat. Ricky paused on the stairs, turning just enough to glance back at him.
Sniff
"Thanks for not just throwing me away," Jake said, wiping his eyes, his voice thick with emotion. He knew how much of a burden he'd been.
Ricky paused at the bottom of the stairs, then turned back toward him, raising the bottle with a smirk.
"What are friends for?"
Three hours later,
"Do you have any fours?"
"OH COME ON!" Ricky slammed down his cards, frustration evident in his voice. The rest of the group let out an exasperated sigh, clearly used to his outbursts.
Asterion, ever so slightly, took the four from Chester, who was looking at his hand in disbelief.
They were all huddled around the table: Ricky, Asterion, Chester, Alexander, Marshall, Jake, and even Garfield.
It was a cutthroat game of Go-Fish, but instead of money, they were betting peanuts.
Still, the stakes were high, pride was on the line, and nobody wanted to lose, especially to Asterion.
Asterion, for reasons no one could explain, was absolutely lethal at this game as it was as if he had some sixth sense, knowing exactly which cards everyone had, even without seeing them.
His calm and cheerful demeanor only added to the mystery, making him all the more infuriating to play against.
"I'll never win at this game, never," Alexander groaned, dropping to his knees in dramatic defeat. Chester, ever the sympathetic soul, patted him on the back with a chuckle.
"True-" Garfield rubbed salt in the wound as Chester flashed him a stink eye.
"IS WHAT ALL THOSE WHO RALLIED AGAINST MY DEFEAT WANT ME TO SAY FOR I, ALEXANDER THE GREAT, WILL NEVER YIELD IN THE FACE OF DEFEAT, NEVER!" Alexander roared out, declaring his will to the heavens with a gerbil cry of defiance.
"Alright, count me out for this game," Ricky muttered, standing up as he watched with slight envy as Asterion casually pulled the pile of peanuts closer to him, a gentle smile spreading across his face at the delight of playing with friends.
Walking out of the room and towards the terrace, Ricky was struck by the scene before him, one that painters would dream of when seeking their muse.
Raven stood bathed in moonlight, her gaze lost in the distant scenery, her silhouette glowing softly against the night sky.
Ricky moved silently behind her, his hands slipping around her waist, pulling her closer as the night air seemed to hum with the quiet intimacy of the moment.
"Have I told you how beautiful you look in the moonlight?" Ricky whispered in her ear, his voice low and steady, sending a shiver down her spine as he leaned down, his lips grazing her shoulder in a soft kiss.
"Not yet~" Raven purred, her voice dripping with a playful edge, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she turned towards him.
Her back pressed against the cool surface of the terrace, her eyes locking with him as the scenery hung behind her like a well drawn landscape, pulling the image together in its perfect form.
"Well, you look beautiful in the moonlight," Ricky whispered, his lips brushing her cheek before he rested his head gently on her shoulder.
Raven glanced down at him, her gaze softening as she allowed the moment to settle between them.
"You did a good thing, you know that?" Raven whispered, pulling him into a tight hug and gently patting his head as they swayed softly, the quiet of the night surrounding them.
"I don't know if you did it for me, for yourself, or for mutants, but you did good." Raven kissed his cheek softly, her words lingering in the air as she pulled back just enough to look at him.
"So are you going to finally give me the chance I've been asking for?" Ricky chuckled, lifting his head up to gently place his forehead on hers.
"Can I ask the question?"
"Of course we can have sex here-"
"Not that." Raven scoffed, watching Ricky laugh without a care in the world as the sight made her slightly memorized.
"Why should I give you a chance?" Ravne asked with a playful smile as it was Ricky's turn to scoff.
"Oh come on-"
"Just humor me, please?" Raven pouted, her fingers gently brushing his cheek as she looked at him with a playful yet expectant gaze, hoping for a sincere response.
"Other than the fact that you're madly in love with me?" Ricky asked with a slight laugh.
"Other than that," Raven rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth hinted at a smile.
Ricky looked at her gently, then kissed her cheek once more, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away.
"Because Destiny can't give you the loving family I can," Ricky murmured, resting his hand on her stomach as they began to sway back and forth.
"I'm serious about you, Raven," Ricky said, his voice low and earnest.
"I don't know what it is about you, but what I feel is real." Ricky paused, trying to find the right words, but there was a rawness in his honesty, an unspoken truth that hung in the air between them.
"I just want to f*cking cherish you." Ricky said the first thing that popped into his mind, but Raven didn't laugh and instead smiled warmly.
"Even in the briefest moments, I could not stop thinking about everything you were and the second I do, I see that I just can't let you slip through my fingers again."
"I'm not asking you to sacrifice yourself for me, but to let me show you that you belong with me." Ricky was almost surprised with himself at these words since he couldn't help but fall in love with her.
Everything about her drove him crazy, the way she talked, laughed, playfully nudged him away, and all of it boiled into this moment as Raven gently caressed his cheek.
"Okay, but don't think I'm just going to give you my heart all at once, Tiger," Raven teased, pulling him closer and kissing his lips.
His hands trailed down her back, the moonlight casting a soft glow over them as they stood in that quiet, intimate moment.
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
They sat in each other's company, gazing at the horizon as the world around them seemed to pause.
The silence between them stretched for what felt like an eternity, each lost in their own thoughts, until finally, Ricky broke the stillness.
"Hey Raven, what do you know about the High Table?" Ricky asked, the words slipping out before he had a chance to really think about it.
He remembered how she had stepped foot into the Continental so long ago, and the curiosity lingered in his mind.
The question was so simple on the surface, yet it carried so much weight, and it took Raven a moment to process it.
"What did you do?" Raven asked, squinting her eyes before thinking Ricky got caught up in something.
"Wha-nothing, I'm just wondering since my pops made some sort of deal with them-"
"What?!" Raven shot out of his grasp, her eyes widening in shock as she pulled away from him, her expression quickly darkening into a frown.
"I know it's a big deal, come on, my hands are feeling empty-" Ricky reached out, annoyed that he couldn't grope Raven all he wanted.
"Ricky, I don't know anything about the High Table," Raven said, her voice steady but firm. Ricky looked at her as if she was mistaken.
"But you've-"
"I know what you're going to say, but if you call me old, I'm going to scratch your face," Raven hissed, her fingers curling slightly as she shot him a playful glare.
"Alright but how, you've-"
"I've only met one High Table member, which is Selene," Raven said, holding up her finger as she recalled her brief stint in the Hellfire Club, where she crossed paths with Selene.
"But she's been in that position since the Roman Empire, and I only knew this because she told me," Raven continued, her voice tinged with caution.
"The members of the High Table are not just dangerous, they're untouchable. These are people who rule entire continents underbelly's, who can shift the balance of power with the flick of a finger, all while running the underworld with a vicious intensity. The kind of people you don't want to get caught in their sights who have been setting the rules since before there were any." Raven spoke, rubbing her own shoulder since the high table always made her uneasy.
"If Lucky, an unpowered man, was able to make a deal with them, then it had to be enough to catch their interest, which is something people have literally killed themselves for," Raven said, her voice laced with concern as she walked over to Ricky, settling herself onto his lap.
"I know you want to celebrate after what you did, but promise me you'll be careful." She caressed his cheek gently, her yellow eyes searching for any sign of understanding.
"Of course, who else is more careful than me?" Ricky showed a sleazy smile, not giving a direct answer while looking in a certain direction.
1 hour later,
Meanwhile at the local holding center,
Now, defeated and left disheveled and broken within the confines of his cell, Dewey had a hollow look on his face as he had essentially lost everything.
From his career all the way down to the love of his life, everything had shattered around him. Each piece of his once-ordered world lay in ruins, and in this moment, he felt utterly hollow.
His hands, once steady and sure, now trembled as they rested against the cold, unforgiving walls of the cell.
There was no escape from this darkness, no way to undo the choices that had led him here.
All that remained was the painful silence that echoed within him, a reminder of everything he had destroyed and everything he would never get back, until even that was broken.
Click
Click
Click
The sound of heels clicking in the distance resounded, growing louder with each step. Dewey slowly looked up, his hollow gaze meeting Ricky's pleasant smile.
They didn't say anything and didn't have to, they already knew why he was here as Ricky opened the cell door without a sound, closing it gently behind him as he stepped inside.
Without saying a word, he walked over and sat on the other side of the wall, the distance between them marked only by the silence that filled the room while the broken man stood on the other side of him.
"You're a monster." Dewey's voice cracked, the words escaping him like a dam breaking, as he looked at Ricky with raw anguish.
His eyes were empty, but the pain was still there, lingering in the depths all while Ricky just sat there, watching him with the same patient expression, as if expecting this.
"You're going to burn this country to the ground and become the heart of its suffering," Dewey spat, his hollow eyes igniting with the last ember of hate he had left, all of it focused on the man sitting across from him.
"I don't know how you did it or why, but I know one thing-.....y-you were just lucky!" Dewey yelled at Ricky, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and frustration, the anger barely contained beneath the surface.
Even now, even after everything, it was as if Dewey couldn't accept the weight of his failure which made Ricky let out a small laugh, turning away as if his words were nothing more than a joke.
"It was like everything was a line of dominoes, one thing falling after another, all perfectly lined up for you. And everyone credits you for it, but I know better. I know you didn't have the skill, the intelligence, or the guts to pull this off. It was all just luck, nothing more." Dewey could only hang onto his own delusion, knowing his words were false and yet, he continued.
"Someone is backing you like me, someone is helping you and-"
"You want to know why they call my pops 'Lucky'? The real reason, not the bullsh*t excuse he gives?" Ricky suddenly asked, cutting off Dewey's hateful breaths with the sharpness of his words.
"It's because whenever the odds were stacked against him, no matter what was in front of him, he won anyway." Ricky leaned his head back against the wall, resting his arms on his knees while his gaze stayed fixed on the broken man before him.
"He'd always tell me there's no such thing as luck, and so I never understood why they called him lucky, but I think I do now." Ricky chuckled, making a playing card appear before Dewey's eyes, spinning it through his fingers effortlessly.
"You got lucky-"
"You see, that's it." Ricky continued, his smile widening while the realization hit him at that moment.
"Guys like you always think that other people get lucky." Ricky tilted his head, showcasing his pearly whites with his cheeky smile on the side.
"And just like my pops," Ricky let his words drip, making each one cut deeper. He raised his gaze, locking eyes with Dewey.
"I don't get lucky, I make my own luck." Ricky laughed, the sound sharp and almost freeing, as the realization hit him fully, understanding now what his pops meant when he said there's no such thing as luck that you don't make yourself.
"Everything that happened to you didn't happen by some anomaly, it happened because it was meant to happen." Ricky leaned forward, his eyes narrowing into crescent moons, his pupils betraying the shock of revealing to Dewey that he was the root cause of it all.
"Don't you get it, Dewey? You didn't survive the blast. That front you had? It's evaporated. Now, just like I told you three years ago, I'm just gonna scurry out of the rubble." Ricky laughed maniacally, his promise coming full circle as Dewey trembled violently.
"Just like the cockroach you are," Dewey hissed, watching him rise slowly, adjusting his suit, and bending down to his level.
"And this cockroach also makes good on his promises." Ricky said, his voice low and cold as he grabbed Dewey's throat, squeezing tightly while lifting him off the ground.
"You're right, Dewey," Ricky whispered into his ear, his grip tightening on Dewey's throat.
"I'm the reason everything that happened to you, from your job and into France's, went down the way it did because of me." Ricky's words forced Dewey's eyes to widen in shock, and tears welled up as the weight of Ricky's words sunk in.
"But don't you worry, I'll take care of her and if you're wondering, she will be fuFILLED." Ricky laughed after highlighting the last part of his words, Dewey's heart shattering even further as Ricky brought out some rope.
Tying the rope above, he hoisted Dewey up, looping it around his neck before letting it go, the weight of it tightening instantly as the man succumbed to gravity.
"Kuerk!" Dewey let out a strangled grunt, desperately clawing at the rope as he hung above Ricky.
At first, he struggled, but gradually his body went limp, his face turning purple from the strain until he finally succumbed, his body becoming lifeless as the last image of Ricky's sleazy smile encapsulated his being before his eyes slowly shut for good.
"Goodbye Dewey."
The cold, dark void clung to Dewey's mind, his soul drifting away, until a bright light appeared in its wake.
It felt as though the light was calling to him, urging him to move forward as a warm pulse echoed around him.
Everything was over now, he could finally rest, leave his worldly troubles behind, and find the peace he had longed for.
"OH COME ON DEWEY, WHO SAID IT ENDS HERE!"
Then, within that void, dark green chains slowly coiled around his soul, their weight heavy and unrelenting.
Symbols began to materialize in the space around him, glowing with an eerie light, their meanings cryptic yet binding.
'N-No, NO PLEASE!' Dewey's soul cried out, screeching up towards the light only for the chains to yank him back down.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I JUST F*CKING SAID I'D BE THE ONE TO TAKE YOUR LIFE, I DIDN'T MEAN YOU COULD JUST DIE!"
The words echoed all around the void, their resonance deep and suffocating, dragging Dewey's soul down deeper and deeper.
It was as though all the drifting, all the fleeting moments of peace he had hoped for, had been in vain.
The chains tightened, and the symbols pulsed with a cold, merciless energy, pulling him further away from the light he had once felt drawn to.
"WHAT'S THE POINT OF A F*CKING EXAMPLE IF NO ONE GETS TO SEE IT FIRSTHAND, OH NO DEWEY, I'M GONNA F*CKING OWN YOU!"
The intensity of Ricky's words cut through the void like a blade, a sharp declaration that reverberated through Dewey's fading consciousness.
The darkness around him seemed to throb with the weight of Ricky's fury, as if the very air was heavy with his wrath.
The chains constricted further, each symbol etched into Dewey's soul, marking him as Ricky's possession until they had finished.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Dewey's scream tore through the air, a raw, gut-wrenching wail as his grotesque form twisted and contorted in the pit beneath him.
The relentless rain hammered down, soaking his twisted body, mixing with the mud as it clung to him.
Above, Ricky stood, a maddened grin stretched across his face, his hand gripping the shovel while personally taking Dewey out from the hole he'd been buried in.
The rain intensified, but Ricky's smile only grew, savoring every moment as Dewey wailed in his new body.
When Dewey was eventually pulled from the pit, lifeless and unmoving, the authorities declared it a suicide, processing his body with a detached coldness.
They found no sign of foul play, and Dewey's death was chalked up to his own despair.
His body was handed over to the only family he had left, Frances, who, with grim determination, gave him an impromptu funeral.
But as the mourners dispersed, Ricky emerged from the shadows, his grin never faltering.
The torment Dewey had endured was far from over and in a twisted revelation, Ricky made it clear that death was only the beginning of his suffering.
"W-What did you do to me?" Dewey trembled uncontrollably, his voice cracking with panic as he stared at his hands, the flesh rotting away in grotesque patches.
His heart wasn't even pounding and yet the surge of terror washed over him as he looked up at Ricky, whose smile was unsettlingly warm, as if nothing was amiss.
"When I said take your life, I meant it in the literal sense." Ricky's words were almost cheerful, chuckling while reaching down.
"But don't worry, Dewey, we're gonna have so much fun." Ricky said as his hand reached down, casting a shadow over the grotesque form of Dewey, who shook his head madly.
"No, NOOOOOOOOOOOOO-"
DING
(Legendary Servant) Dewey The Tortured Wraithbound: The Tortured Wraithbound, known as Dewey, is a grotesque, decaying zombie, distinguished by the eerie glow of its hollow eyes, an unsettling sign of the soul trapped within, eternally suffering. Its withered, blackened flesh is stretched taut over brittle bones, as if the weight of the tormented soul forces its body into unnatural contortions. The most tragic aspect of Dewey's existence is that while it is cognizant of its actions, it is powerless to control its own body. Its every movement is dictated by the summoner's will, a slave to the user's commands. The soul within endlessly cries for release, yet it remains bound, trapped in an agonizing limbo until the user's will is either exhausted or it is freed.
Abilities:
Eternal Agony (Passive):
The Wraithbound's presence induces overwhelming sorrow and dread, causing enemies nearby to experience brief hallucinations and weakened resolve.
Soulcry (Active):
The Wraithbound releases a torment-filled wail that disorients enemies, causing confusion or paralysis. Its strength grows the longer it's bound to the mortal realm.
Author's note: I'd love some feedback on whether you think I went too far with Dewey. The whole point was to make him an example, along with the families in the future, but I turned him into an undead because of Ricky's psychology. Him having this need to always go further and I really feel like Ricky wouldn't stop at this point cause he already crossed the line in earlier chapters. Does this seem out of character, or am I just second-guessing myself?
SHOUT OUT: Thanks M7TH1C for the image and to everyone who submitted images but I just kinda liked the raven one also, I realized that I can't even use the one I had in my mind since the stupid AI said it was inappropriate as well so I just can't stop taking L's.
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!"
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