章節 114: Chapter 110: The Calm Before The Storm
In the remote depths of the Colorado Rockies, a group of armed figures emerged, their gear adorned with an eclectic array of religious symbols.
They approached the outskirts of a seemingly abandoned town, their movements tense and anticipatory, prepared for spells to rain down upon them.
Yet, no attack came.
Instead, an unsettling silence blanketed the area as their eyes darted to every shadow, searching for signs of life with only the crawling stillness to meet their unsteady gazes.
It wasn't long before the realization set in that this would be no battleground, this was a ghost town.
At the forefront of the group stood a woman wielding a sword that towered into the sky, her face concealed beneath a veil-like covering.
Her presence was commanding, yet the eerie stillness around them seemed to gnaw at the edges of her resolve.
"Sister Angela, they have fled." A man clad in a crusader's uniform announced, his voice steady but edged with unease.
Sister Angela, standing at the head of the group, tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment, her expression hidden beneath the shadow of her face covering.
BOOM
Without warning, a typhoon of raw energy erupted from Sister Angela, engulfing her in a maelstrom of light and fury.
The ground beneath her seemed to tremble, and the air crackled with the intensity of her unleashed power.
"FIND ANY TRACE, FIND ME THOSE DIRTY WITCHES!"
Meanwhile In New York,
An emergency commission meeting had been called, the room filled with tension and restless murmurs.
Yet amidst the gravity of the gathering, one mob boss sat back, laughing heartily, as if the entire ordeal were a private joke meant for him alone.
BAM
"DAMMIT, LUCKY, THIS ISN'T A F*CKING JOKE!" Carlo bellowed, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tense air.
He slammed his hands onto the table, the sound reverberating through the room like a thunderclap, his face flushed with fury while Lucky started to laugh even harder in his face.
Over the past three years, Vinny had tragically passed away from a sudden heart attack, leaving Carlo to step into his shoes as the new head of what was now known as the Gambino family.
"I mean, come on, how can you expect me not to laugh at these ridiculous accusations?" Lucky said with a casual shrug, the strands of white hair speckled on his otherwise black hair catching the dim light as he leaned back, unfazed by the tension in the room.
"Are we really supposed to believe that Slick; your son, the same reckless fool we all know, somehow landed a cardinal position without a shred of help from you?" Joe asked, his tone dripping with mockery.
Though a smile stretched across his face, the veins bulging along his neck betrayed the simmering anger beneath.
Lucky shrugged again, his expression unreadable, as if Joe's words were nothing more than an amusing aside.
"Beats me how the kid pulled it off, but let's focus on what really matters," Lucky snickered, leaning back in his chair with an air of ease.
His sharp gaze swept over the room, landing on the most ruthless figures in New York as if daring them to challenge him.
"Now that being a mutant has been christened by God, Slick's ban-"
"Absolutely not! ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Carlo roared, his face twisted with fury as his hatred for Lucky surged to new heights the moment Ricky's name was spoken, as if the mere mention of it was a trigger that sent him spiraling.
Carlo, once one of this timeline who was supposed to be the most influential and respected bosses in the city, had been reduced to little more than a punchline, his reputation flapping in the wind due to a butterfly, that was Ricky.
Now, he was a man who controlled the least amount of territory, still the butt of every joke in Manhattan, all because of that damn kid.
"C'mon, Lucky, we all know you helped the kid, be honest." Tommy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
But Lucky only shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned back, refusing to give Tommy, or let alone any of these bosses, the satisfaction.
"I think all of you are confused about the purpose of this meeting." Lucky finally spoke towards the bosses instead of laughing, his voice calm yet firm as the room fell silent, every pair of eyes now fixed on him.
"I'm not asking for your permission to see my son again." Lucky continued, his gaze sweeping over the table, the weight of his words settling in.
"I'm just telling you that he's coming home."
Lucky raised his eyes to meet theirs, unfazed by the dangerous glares aimed his way as the room seemed to grow colder, the tension palpable.
"Watch yourself Lucky-" Tommy warned Lucky only to receive a sneer.
"It's funny you say that cause I have, I've let this constant disrespect go on and watch it happen for the last three years." Lucky said, his tone measure, holding up his hand to each and everyone of these bosses.
"I've been a good scout and followed the rules I set for myself, for the commission, because I believed that respect isn't given in this world, it's f*cking earned. And you can't expect respect from others if you can't even respect the words flowing from your own mouth." Lucky voice commanded their attention, speaking over any thoughts as his words trailed solely in this room.
"I really believed that." Lucky emphasized, showing how much that sentiment meant for him until his hand gripped his cane, almost shaking from the rage built within his heart.
"But that respect, that respect I carried for this commission and every single one of you, is gone." Lucky continued, his voice growing colder, more detached yet it started raising.
"I look at all of you with a hollow gaze, and know that you have no right to judge me, not now, not after you called that meeting to banish my son three years ago, WITHOUT ME!" Lucky's voice grew louder with each word, each syllable booming through the room until he was shouting, his fury impossible to ignore.
"This ain't reconciliation, this wasn't to make peace, this was to get even." Lucky stood up, adjusting his suit while gazing at all the bosses staring at him with deadly gazes.
"Per the commission rules, Ricky Luciano's banishment is effectively released and to any who object, you can go f*ck yourself." Lucky then turned his back, striding out of the room as his dress shoes clicked out into the hallway.
"You know what this means, Lucky, right?" Profaci asked, fiddling with his pinky ring as he glanced up at the departing figure.
"All too well," Lucky replied, strolling out of the room, fully aware that all bridges of peace had now been reduced to nothing more than smoldering ashes.
The room fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence, the weight of Lucky's words hanging heavily in the air.
Every person in that room understood the gravity of the statement, Ricky was coming, whether they wanted him to or not.
No one dared speak, the tension palpable as they absorbed the reality of what was about to unfold.
"Well, if I'm being honest, Lucky's right in saying that the kid has no reason to be banished anymore." Stefano yawned, quite bored with this meeting as he received hateful stares from everyone.
BAM
"HE'S A FREAK-" Carlo slammed his hand onto the table, interjecting into the nonchalant attitude of Stefano.
"But that's just your opinion," Profaci said dismissively, his fingers idly twisting his pinky ring.
"Just like it's my opinion to call a midget tall." Profaci rolled his eyes at Carlo, who glared back at him with a seething intensity, the hatred clear in his gaze.
"Listen up, fellas, Slick doesn't violate any measure put in place anymore, so I propose his banishment be lifted on the grounds of our Lord Almighty," Profaci said with a plain attitude, meeting the steady gazes of all the bosses in the room.
The very reason they had been able to banish Ricky in the first place was because mutants were seen as devils, and, in the name of God, they had expelled him.
But now, those same words had come back to bite them, and they found themselves trapped by the very logic they had once used to justify his exile.
"Then I guess this meeting is adjourned." Stefano said, standing up and adjusting his suit and despite his words, everyone remained seated as he turned and walked away.
The stares of the other families were palpable, intense, almost suffocating, as they slowly began to trickle out of the room one by one.
Yet, Lucky was the first to step outside the building, his presence a quiet defiance against the weight of the lingering glares.
A car was waiting for him, with Frank standing by the door, his hairline visibly receded from the strain of the years.
Frank looked up as Lucky approached, his eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and respect.
"How did it go?" Frank asked, opening the door for Lucky.
Lucky sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes as exhaustion weighed on him as two days without sleep taking its toll.
Lucky slid into the car, his body sinking into the seat, clearly worn down from the battle he'd just fought.
"New York's about to be plunged into chaos any day now," Lucky revealed, his voice low and grim.
"It's almost confirmed at this point." Lucky revealed to Frank who slid into the car on the other side and sat back, his face hardening as the weight of Lucky's words settled between them.
"He really made a big stir," Frank laughed, and Lucky chuckled along.
"I don't think Slick's ever entered into any situation with a peaceful mindset," Lucky replied, his grin a mix of amusement and resignation.
"...." They sat in the car in silence, with Lucky already knowing what Frank was going to say next, but he waited, letting the big man start the conversation.
"D-Do you-........do you think he'll really give Eddy a-"
"I do," Lucky said with a heavy sigh, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"I think it's gonna be the first thing he does when he comes back." Lucky paused, a flicker of doubt crossing his face.
Deep down, he hoped Ricky had grown, that he'd learned something over the past three years, but he couldn't shake the fear that it was simply the same reckless kid coming back instead of the grown man he'd dream of.
"Honestly, I thought he was all talk back then," Frank said with a warm smile, his gaze drifting to the ground.
"But now, I'm really glad he went to such lengths to give Eddy the funeral he always deserved." Frank couldn't help but look down with a warm appreciation, feeling that his shattered existence was slowly molding together with Eddy possibly getting the send off he always deserved.
"Round up the boys and double the patrols across our territories. I don't want them encroaching even a millimeter on what's ours," Lucky said firmly as they pulled up as his tone was polite but resolute, and Frank gave a sharp nod, fully understanding the weight of the order.
"About Jake-"
"That's Meyer's and Slick's problem. Focus on the objective," Lucky said plainly and Frank nodded in understanding as the car smoothly pulled away.
With his cane tapping rhythmically against the floor, Lucky made his way into the house, ascending the stairs with deliberate steps.
Reaching the office, he pushed open the door to reveal his desk, and perched on a stand beside it was a particular crow, its sharp eyes glinting in the dim light.
"We're going to war. The other families aren't relenting on his exile, but they'll make a move soon," Lucky informed the crow, his voice calm yet weighted and the bird remained silent, its unblinking gaze fixed on him, as if absorbing every word.
From the shadows, the bird spread its wings and swooped gracefully onto the desk, revealing itself as Chester.
With an almost human precision, the crow grasped a pen in its talons, his dark eyes sharp with purpose.
Lucky stood silently, watching the scene unfold, still grappling with the surreal reality of how vital this enigmatic creature had become to their organization's operations.
Over the past three years, Chester hadn't simply remained idle; instead, he had taken to assisting Lucky in his various pursuits, perhaps as a means to stave off his own boredom when law curriculum couldn't do the trick.
At first, it was difficult for Lucky to come to terms with the fact that a crow possessed such sentience, but his practical nature helped him adapt quickly.
The bird's sharp intellect and uncanny knack for strategy soon made him an indispensable ally.
Once Lucky realized just how intellectually capable Chester truly was, their conversations began to extend beyond simple matters of strategy to more personal, even familial, topics.
Trust was a rare commodity in Lucky's world, in any mobster's world, and finding someone he could truly confide in was nearly impossible.
Yet, Chester had naturally grown into that role, becoming not just an advisor but a confidant, a rare source of counsel in a life filled with betrayal and secrecy.
Chester had become more than just an anomaly in Lucky's life; he had grown into someone Lucky genuinely depended on for advice in certain predicaments.
The crow's sharp insights and calm demeanor often provided clarity where others couldn't, solidifying his role as an unexpected yet invaluable confidant.
'How long do you expect we have until they take the initiative, instead of just waiting for a move from our operations?' Chester wrote in perfect English, neatly pushing the paper toward Lucky as the mobster rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his mind racing as he considered the growing tension.
"I'd say, three weeks, factoring in the stupid thing Slick's gonna do when he comes back," Lucky shrugged and Chester nodded, then scribbled something down on the paper with a swift motion, his pen gliding smoothly across the surface.
'What about Dewey and his backer?'
"Dewey pulled out after that fiasco three years ago, but the government is just foaming for an excuse to interfere here." Lucky sighed, rocking his chair back and forth while Chester paused, his head tilted slightly as he pondered the situation, the weight of the moment settling in the room.
'What if they couldn't?' Chester wrote, pushing the paper toward Lucky.
Lucky raised an eyebrow at this weird thing to say until he slowly started to catch on, the wheels turning in his mind before realization slowly dawned on him. A plan was beginning to form, one that could shift the balance in their favor.
"Wait Chester, when is the statute of limitations cause couldn't that whole thing be counted as criminal?" Lucky asked Chester, knowing about his proficiency in the law as Chester pondered but shook his head, writing something down.
'It could not be considered criminal. It would only be able to be represented as civil and that limitation is five years.' Chester informed Lucky who gazed down at the scribbling, tapping the desk with a wide smile.
"Huh, well how bout that."
Meanwhile on the boat,
"So you want to sue the government?" Barko asked Ricky, the question hanging in the air as they continued their casual conversation, all while playing a game of Go Fish.
"More like I'm going to try and embarrass them, force those grubby tax collectors' hands before they can stop the takeover before it even starts." Ricky replied, casually plucking a six from Alexander's furry paws, causing Alexander's face to flush with anger.
"Truly pitiful." Garfield lounged on the table, eyeing the scene with a shake of the head at Alexander's dreadful sense of strategy in Go Fish, silently wondering if the author would ever give him a break.
"I mean, they won't expect it. Cause what they know about me, they probably think I'm just gonna come back swinging, tearing sh*t up without a plan. Then, I'll suddenly show up on Capitol Hill, kneecap them, and beat the living crap out of them until they beg for mercy." Ricky laughed, already picturing himself standing over the sniveling politicians.
"That does make sense. If a full-blown war takes place, they'll surely intervene. And while they might not be able to stop you, it would be hard to operate once they paint you as America's number one enemy to the people you profit from." Chores agreed with Ricky from the side, sighing as Asterion took his Jack of Diamonds.
"Interesting, I've never heard of this 'New York' before. Is it a new country?" Asterion asked, looking at Ricky, who nodded in response.
"Well, not really. We're heading to America and New York's just a city, but don't sweat it since you'll figure all of that out as time goes on." Ricky explained, giving Asterion a thumbs up.
Asterion smiled and nodded before he took three cards from three different people, leaving Alexander in shock.
"By the grace of Hestia, how could you possibly know?" Alexander asked, turning to Asterion, who paused for a moment in thought.
"Intuition?" Asterion replied with a shrug, as the gerbil pouted beside him.
"I'm bored," Garfield said, flicking his tail lazily as he stared at Ricky, then nudged him with a paw.
"Give me food." Garfield demanded, starting to annoy Ricky, who shot a glance at the cat.
"You want to go for a swim?" Ricky asked, purposely misinterpreting Garfield's words as the cat's fur bristled instantly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"N-No I-"
"Well, alright, if you say so." Ricky grinned, grabbing Garfield, who immediately started thrashing and spasming in his grip.
"W-WAIT I-"
"Want to go for a swim? Got it." Ricky smirked, cutting Garfield off just as he was about to stand up.
"I-I'M SORRY!" Garfield yelped out, Ricky snickering while putting Garfield in his lap, tapping his head lightly.
"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Ricky asked with a sly grin, watching Garfield seethe hatefully in his lap but not daring to show it.
"Relax, Garfield, I'll feed you when we have lunch," Ricky added, patting Garfield's head. The cat looked up at his owner, then shot a glare at the reader.
"This is animal abuse." Garfiled muttered, resting his chin on Ricky's knee while pouting slightly and gazing at the reader.
"This is all your fault." Garfield shifted the blame onto the reader, feeling slightly hateful and knowing that something would be thrown at him if he insulted the author.
"I have a question," Barko raised a paw, while Alexander teetered on the verge of tears as Asterion casually took another one of his cards.
"Will the other families really just sit back and do nothing while you pursue this case?" Barko inquired. Ricky shrugged in response, and everyone sighed as Asterion claimed victory.
"Nah, I mean, I wouldn't." Ricky adjusted his cards, rearranging and pulling them back as Asterion quietly waited for Ricky's turn to end.
"They'll probably start preparing or attacking, but that won't happen for another two weeks, which gives us more than enough time to get ready." Ricky smirked in his seat, just as an elderly man entered the cabin.
"It has been prepared." The old elder, Cedric Hawke, gestured to Ricky who suddenly shot up.
"Garfield will take my place," Ricky said, handing his cards to his fat cat. Garfield scrunched his brows at the author's description of him but quieted down, knowing he wasn't in control, merely sentient.
"Sentient, my hairball," Garfield muttered under his breath, scratching his belly in Ricky's seat.
"Win, and I'll give you fourth's for dinner." Ricky said, trying to watch the cat's weight but willing to make the sacrifice as Garfield's ears perked up.
"I will crush you all," Garfield declared, his gaze locking onto each of them while sitting up straighter, his claws shot out from his paws as the aura of the Go-Fish master was unleashed.
Following Cedric, Ricky noticed the clear scowl on his face and rolled his eyes, but just as he did, Cedric turned around, catching him in the act.
"I saw that." Cedric pointed at Ricky who sighed, pinching his nose.
"Cedric, can we just not do this-"
"I just don't understand! How is it that Zatanna cares more for you than her Uncle Cedric?" Cedric yelled at Ricky, his voice laced with anger. Ricky, on the other hand, couldn't stand dealing with the council.
It wasn't that he was annoyed at their usual hatred since that didn't bother him, he was used to that, but the fact that all of them vied for Zatanna's affection constantly.
But despite all their efforts, Ricky would swoop in out of the blue and effortlessly claim all of it without even lifting a finger or going out of his way which was the real thorn in Cedric's side.
SIGH
"You're a f*cking child." Ricky, surprised that he was the one saying this, pushed past Cedric who scoffed.
"Well you're a-.......jerk!" Cedric couldn't think of anything and yelled while Ricky gave him a middle finger when he was wasn't looking.
"Dammit, I should've called him a manwhore," Cedric cursed, finally finding the words as he caught up to them after already leaving.
Pushing open the double doors, he was immediately greeted by a flurry of runes and a scattered crowd of witches and warlocks filling the room.
"Hey beautiful-"
"Not talking to you." Agatha muttered, turning away as she held Zatanna, who reached out toward him.
"Papa, papa!" Zatanna chuckled madly, looking towards Ricky as the elder glared at him.
"Honey, we're mad at daddy-"
"NOOOOOOOOOO, I WANT MY PAPA!" Zatanna cried, nearly breaking free from her mother's grasp as Agatha sighed, shooting a glare at Ricky as she reluctantly held her daughter out to him.
"Hey, pumpkin." Ricky smiled as he scooped the girl into his arms and Zatanna giggled, eagerly nestling into his embrace, her small hands wrapping around him tightly.
"Is this a good place for Zatanna, I mean, it's a necromancy ritual?" Ricky asked, glancing around as it felt strange for him to be the one raising concerns, but the unease gnawed at him.
During the ship's journey, the voyage served as little more than a cover, an excuse to perform the necromancy ritual over international waters while transporting their belongings.
Those words from Profaci three years ago always echoed in Ricky's mind, a constant reminder of his limitations.
It was a harsh truth: he couldn't always protect the people he cared about, not when it mattered most.
Even when he was there, there were moments when he couldn't be and that realization gnawed at him, pushing him to search for alternatives.
It was during that search for answers that he had stumbled upon Lilith, and from her, he acquired the skill.
Though it was cruel, Ricky didn't care about any sorts of morals and even if he had to rip apart an entire country, he wouldn't even blink.
It was why Ricky had started getting familiar with necromancy for the sole purpose of forming a secret army, one that would silently protect his loved ones who couldn't entirely protect themselves.
"Eh." Agatha shrugged off his concerns, cradling Johnny in her arms as he happily sucked on his binky.
"Papa, look, look!" Zatanna called, eager for Ricky's attention as she held out her hand as tiny fireworks sparked to life from her palm, and Ricky's eyes widened in surprise.
"Cool, now check this out." Ricky said, grinning as he held out his palm for Zatanna who bounced excitedly in his arms, her eyes wide with anticipation, and suddenly, a fireball sparked to life from his hand.
The bright light illuminated the space beneath the ship, the magic's density thick and oppressive, enough to make weaker practitioners of magic feel its weight as Zatanna marveled at the display, her gaze fixed on the swirling flames.
"Woah~" Zatanna reached out eagerly, her small fingers almost brushing the fireball.
Ricky, with a playful smirk, closed his fist around the magic, snuffing it out instantly, before flicking her forehead gently.
"Ow~" Zatanna pouted, rubbing her forehead dramatically as Ricky couldn't help but laugh at her expression, and soon enough, Zatanna joined in, her giggle infectious as they both laughed together.
"Alright, so I just put my magic into it and chant an inscription, right?" Ricky asked as the magicians exchanged frowns at his simplified explanation but nodded in agreement.
"Anyone want to hold Zatanna-"
"ME!" All of the elders rushed forward, but Zatanna puffed out her cheeks, gripping Ricky's shirt tightly.
"No, don't wanna~" Zatanna whined, giving Ricky her best puppy eyes, but he only laughed at her attempt.
"What do you think your pops is, a chump?" Ricky teased, then handed Zatanna over to one of the elders, Seraphina Wren, before striding up to the ritual circle.
On a stone slab, slick with rotted blood, lay a fully intact skeleton, its bones bare and devoid of flesh, exhumed from the graveyard.
Ricky stretched out his hand, instantly feeling the ritual's pull as the death magic began to seep into the ancient runes, which darkened to a pitch black hue, absorbing his mana in an unrelenting vacuum.
Ricky was unaware of how much the ritual truly required and instead of pacing himself, he abandoned caution and poured all of his magic into the ritual.
The air thickened around him, the surrounding atmosphere coiling into a suffocating black mass as the energy surged.
"Chant your words, like arise!" Cedric shouted from the side, his voice barely audible over the increasing tremors as the boat began to shake violently and Ricky shot him a weird look.
"That sounds gay-"
"GOD DAMMIT RICKY SAY SOMETHING!" Agatha lashed out from the side, holding Johnny tight as Ricky little clicked his tongue.
"Fine, I don't know. Get the f*ck up!"Ricky yelled at the skeleton, his voice full of frustration at why he even needed to chant any words at all.
But the moment he did, the skeleton gasped, and as it did, the black mass surrounding it was drawn in, consumed by its very being.
DING
[New Section Unlocked]
[Due to this innate skill classified under Eldritch Abominations, Necromancy summoning is now registered within the system. A new 'Servants' tab has been established to organize the beings bound to the user, regardless of their rank.]
DING
(Epic Undead) Wraith Knight: Elite skeletal warriors with exceptional combat skills and often tasked with special missions or personal protection. Most often able to wield sentience with their master's permission.
The black mass slowly seeped from its bones, coating its form like a second layer of armor as a terrifying screech echoed from its hollow frame, reverberating through the air.
"Cool~" Ricky and Zatanna said in unison, while the other witches and warlocks stood frozen, their faces pale with terror.
These particular witches and warlocks practiced the dark arts of necromancy, but never had they dared, or succeeded, in summoning such a high-ranking undead.
The sheer power radiating from the creature was enough to send a chill down even their seasoned spines.
One particular witch's pupils contracted violently, her eyes becoming hollow gateways as she stared at the scene unfolding before her as the sight was enough to make her take another hesitant step backward.
"Master, please bestow this servant with a name." The skeleton's scratchy voice rang out, its towering form looming over Ricky by a solid foot.
"You can talk, that's even cooler." Ricky sounded out, waving his head above the black flames hovering around this Wraith Knight.
"Do you like, have any preference or should I just spitball one off the top of my head?" Ricky asked, rubbing the back of his neck since he was blanking right now.
"I merely heed your commands, master." The undead servant bowed his head lower, showing its undying loyalty first hand.
"Uh, alright, anyone want to take a shot at this?" Ricky asked, a bit stumped, looking around. Zatanna eagerly raised her little hand, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Boney, Boney!" Zatanna shouted, her voice full of enthusiasm as Ricky pointed at her with a grin, as if she had just made the perfect guess, and nodded in approval.
"Alright, you heard my pumpkin, you're Boney now." Ricky snapped his fingers, and Boney, ever so obedient, carved the name into its being with a fluid, eerie motion.
DING
(Epic Undead) Boney The Wraith Knight: Elite skeletal warriors with exceptional combat skills and often tasked with special missions or personal protection.
"I am grateful for such a noble name, Master. Boney shall etch that name into the minds of all those who dare stand in your way." Boney's words sent a chill through the room, and the onlookers grew pale as Ricky continued to absentmindedly poke at the black mass, now swirling ominously around Boney with even more fervor.
"So, how do you eat, Boney?" Ricky crouched down to face the kneeling Wraith Knight, who met his gaze with hollow eyes, flickering briefly with a spark of black fire.
"I consume the soul's of your enemies, master."
"Uh huh." Ricky nodded his head, a little glad that Boney was on his side.
"Anything else?"
"To maintain my form, I consume the mana within the air. But to gain more strength for my master, I consume souls," Boney explained, his voice carrying an eerie resonance as Ricky nodded thoughtfully, a sudden idea flashing in his mind.
"Do you, like, remember who you were?"
"I am Boney." Boney simply stated, unable to process anything before it as he was simply Boney.
"Right, right." Ricky nodded, standing up along with Boney who had to lower his head a little.
Ricky had already expended a third of his total mana to conjure this beast before him, and now a curious thought crossed his mind and wondered if he could summon another one like Boney.
"Hey, baby, how many more skeletons do we have left?" Ricky asked, glancing over at Agatha, who responded with nothing but a cold, silent treatment.
"Cedric, how many-OH COME ON!" Ricky turned to Cedric, who, too, was giving him the silent treatment, clearly upset for not being chosen to hold Zatanna.
SIGH
"Someone just get me the next f*cking skeleton."
20 minutes later,
DING
(Common Servant) 40 x Skeleton Soldier: Basic rank and file of the skeletal army, performing standard combat roles and carrying out the general will of their superiors.
"Boom, got it. Your name is Chuck now." Ricky clapped his hands in the air, finally settling on a name for the particular undead before him.
(Epic Servant) Chuck The Wraith Mage: Elite skeletal mage with exceptional magical knowledge and aptitude in the dark arts.
"What up, Chuck." Ricky waved at the other creation in his amalgamations, as Chuck, the Wraith Mage, elegantly bowed toward his master.
"Greetings, Master. I am pleased to meet you and eternally serve at your side." Chuck calmly spoke, his tone far more dignified than Boney's, who was silently assessing whether he could slaughter the people around him or not.
"Can any of you talk?" Ricky peeked behind Chuck, eyeing the other eerie skeletons standing motionless around him.
CHATTER
The skeletons suddenly began clacking their bony jaws together, producing a series of eerie, rattling sounds as Ricky quickly realized they couldn't speak like Chuck or Boney.
"Ricky, that's all the skeletons we managed to acquire from Dracula's graveyards." Agatha stood up, scooping Zatanna into her arms as she swayed toward the door, her movements graceful yet purposeful.
The other witches and warlocks filed out, leaving Ricky alone with his undead army and he stood there, his eyes scanning the row of skeletons, each of them staring back at him with hollow, lifeless gazes.
"Arlight, so here's why I summoned you-"
Ricky began outlining their purpose, his voice steady and commanding as the undead stood in eerie silence, their skeletal forms frozen in attention.
They understood the weight of his words, without fulfilling the task ahead, their existence would hold no meaning.
They were bound to him, their lives, if they could be called lives, wholly dependent on his instructions.
"Any questions?" Ricky asked, glancing around as the room remained silent, every skeleton seated criss-cross apple sauced on the floor, their hollow eyes fixed on him with an almost childlike obedience.
"There are no wrong questions," Ricky said again, scanning the room as his gaze landed on Boney, who slowly raised a skeletal hand, the black miasma swirling faintly around his form.
"Yes Boney."
"When will we be allowed to consume the souls of your enemies, Master?" Boney asked, his skeletal hand rubbing the hollow space where a stomach would be.
"Must you pester our master with such idiocy?" Chuck scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain as his hollow gaze fixed on Boney.
"Read the context of his glorious words. Clearly, we will send all those pests to damnation once we reach the shores of this 'New York.'" Chuck proclaimed, the other skeletons around him nodding since that did make sense.
'Man, I totally feel like some villain in a story right now?' Ricky thought, scratching his head since from every fairy tale he'd ever seen or read, only the bad guys were the ones commanding undead armies.
'Eh, whatever.' Ricky thought, shrugging it off as there was no point wasting time on such a complicated question that would inevitably lead to a shaky yes anyway.
"Listen, gang, we're not going to kill them all just yet." Ricky clarified, raising a hand to calm the eager undead.
"But after I get back from the trial, we might be taking out a small portion." Ricky then added, knowing that it would appease them only for Chuck to tilt his hollow gaze toward his master, the flicker of black fire in his eyes reflecting curiosity and restrained eagerness.
"Now I'm confused." Chuck admitted, his tone calm yet laced with subtle confusion.
"I thought our purpose was to reach the shores of this land, conquer it in your name, and consume the souls of all who dare oppose us." Chuck glanced around at his fellow undead for affirmation, their silent, eerie stances suggesting agreement.
"That's what I thought!" Boney gestured, the other skeleton's clanking their jaws together as Ricky facepalmed.
SIGH
"No I-"
SIGH
"Alright everyone, listen again-"
Ricky sighed, realizing he needed to clarify things for his undead entourage. He paced in front of them, gesturing animatedly as he explained.
The group of undead nodded in unison, their dark energy simmering with anticipation at his every word.
Even Chuck gave a slight bow, seemingly satisfied with the revised plan, while Boney rubbed his bony head, still looking around.
"Ah, I understand."
"I don't."
"Whatever." Ricky said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"The main thing is to sit tight and keep yourselves busy until we hit New York. Chat, plot, do whatever you undead types do." Ricky gave his final words and without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and headed for the exit.
Leaving the underdeck steeped in an eerie silence as the undead exchanged quiet glances, their dark energy pulsing faintly in the dim light.
"How do we 'chat amongst ourselves'?" Boney asked, literally born for the sole purpose of consuming souls.
"I do not know as of now, but I will find out," Chuck replied, his hollow voice carrying a strange depth.
The skeleton soldiers, meanwhile, remained perfectly still, their bony forms frozen in place as if awaiting an order that would never come.
Meanwhile In Agatha's Room,
Compared to the others, her position as the elder of the council granted her privileges far beyond those of an ordinary witch.
With an air of authority, she casually strolled over to the bed within her own private room, her every movement embodying the weight of her rank.
Knock
Knock
"Go away, Ricky." Agatha huffed, her voice tinged with frustration as Ricky hesitated, then slowly opened the door, peeking through with a curious glance.
"No?" Ricky asked, his voice unsure. He stood there for a moment, torn between speaking to her or letting her stew in silence.
Since he had experience with dealing with woman, he wasn't exactly an expert on women, and frankly, who was?
Women were creatures of paradox; unbelievably complex yet so simple in their contradictions that the very attempt to define them left any man feeling helpless, unable to pinpoint where the real issue lay.
"Where is-"
"Oh, your daughter and son? Well, if you actually cared to be in their lives, you'd know they're sleep training, which is why they're not here." Agatha rolled over on the bed, clearly pouting as Ricky quietly shut the door behind him.
"Is this about Lilith-"
"You mean that undead whore? No, it's not," Agatha interrupted Ricky, her tone sharp as he scratched his head.
Ricky found himself in a strange predicament since Agatha had always stated that she didn't seem to care much about his whims, as long as he remained a constant in Zatanna and John's lives.
In fact, she made it painfully clear that their connection was purely physical, with no emotional strings attached.
But time, as it often does, had a way of complicating things and what began as a simple, physical relationship slowly began to shift.
Agatha couldn't help but find herself emotionally attached to the father of her children, despite her best efforts to keep things detached.
"Agatha, look at me." Ricky said, hopping onto the bed and gently nudging her back but she only buried her head deeper into the pillow, ignoring him.
"No."
Sigh
"Listen, I'm sorry-"
Sniff
"No, you're not, you-........you manwhore." Agatha started to sniffle as Ricky shrugged slightly at this.
"I mean-"
Bam
"Ow!" Ricky exaggerated a pained yelp, shielding his head as Agatha began furiously whacking him with her pillow.
"YOU STUPID MANWHORE!" Agatha yelled, hitting Ricky with her pillow as he let her vent the frustration.
'Wait, what day is it-'
GASP
"YOU DID NOT JUST LOOK OVER AT THAT CALENDAR, YOU DID NOT!" Agatha yelled at Ricky, who was immediately caught in the act.
Even though it was just a subtle movement of his head, his intentions were crystal clear.
"Okay, okay-"
BAM
Suddenly, in the spur of the moment, Agatha threw a real left hook, catching Ricky off guard as she socked him right in the jaw.
Ricky, seeing her fist swing at him, simply let it happen as he stumbled back, rubbing his jaw, while she immediately covered her mouth, her eyes wide with regret.
"Darling?!" Agatha gasped, her eyes widening in shock at her own actions.
She quickly crawled to the side of the bed, her hands hovering over Ricky, who was still holding his cheek with a slight bruise forming.
Ricky could've easily dodged the punch, but for some reason, he didn't.
He figured it was only fair since after all, he was constantly out sleeping with other women, and in his mind, he deserved a little bit of the consequences.
As Agatha's fist came toward him, he just braced himself, accepting the blow without flinching.
"Wow, you really pack a punch," Ricky joked, his voice light despite the sting in his cheek.
Agatha, her breath shaky, let out a sigh of relief as she gently rubbed his cheek, her fingers lingering with a trace of regret.
The unease in her stomach tightened, but she couldn't quite place why; was it guilt, or something else entirely?
"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me," Agatha stammered, her hands trembling as she helped Ricky back onto the bed.
She touched his cheek, her magic flowing to heal the small mark that had already faded, leaving his skin smooth once more.
"Just talk to me." Ricky made it simply, grabbing her hand and chaining her to this moment as she let out a long drawn out sigh.
"It doesn't-...it shouldn't bother me, but after seeing how Lilith looked at you and how you looked back I was just-"
"Jealous?" Ricky asked, seeing Agatha face contort into an ugly frown as he raised his hands to stop any punches.
"No, I'm not jealous-........I'm not." Agatha was basically convincing herself at this point, her voice growing quieter with every word uttered from her sensual red lips.
"Alright, you're not jealous," Ricky said, choosing to agree with her for the moment and Agatha nodded, though there was still a hint of unease in her eyes.
"Now hold me while we go to sleep." Agatha then turned over, Ricky chuckling while getting into position to spoon her from behind.
"So-"
"Don't even try to push it, Darling," Agatha muttered, her tone soft yet firm. Ricky nodded in response, a small smile tugging at his lips as she snuggled closer.
Ricky wrapped his arms around her, the warmth of his presence grounding her in the moment, letting that unease slip away.
Agatha smiled instinctively, the warmth and security Ricky exuded wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.
In that moment, she felt a sense of peace, as though everything, despite the chaos swirling around them, it felt as if everything would somehow work out like it always did.
But Agatha knew she was in the wrong.
Deep down, she understood that Ricky was only playing by the rules she herself had set, yet those rules were beginning to wear away at her usual confidence.
Even when she acted like a total b*tch, Ricky still held her with such sincerity, his unwavering care slowly chipping away at the walls she'd built around herself.
It was disorienting, almost maddening, to be confronted with the kindness she didn't think she deserved.
"Good night." Ricky, seeing her slightly tremble, kissed the back of her ear as Agatha leaned even deeper into his embrace.
"Good night Darling."
Author's Note: Saw all the comments and I've read them all on my phone but I'm lazy at heart so I'll just reply over the weekend.
章節 115: Chapter 111: The Prince Has Arrived
2 weeks later,
In the middle of the day, the ship was unloading at one of the docks under the Luciano family's control as Chores approached Agatha with the bustle of activity continuing around them.
"Mistress Agatha, have you seen Slick? He's practically vanished," Chores asked, his voice tinged with concern as Agatha focused intently on checking her list once, checking it twice.
"He said something vague, like 'I have to say hello to an old friend,' and then just took off," Agatha replied, turning to Chores, who sighed and shook his head in frustration.
"What is so important that he just had to up and leave."
Upon arriving in New York, it wasn't his father he met first, nor his string of lovers, or even his friends.
It was a pair of graves, more specifically, Rocco's and Eddy's.
Eddy technically wasn't in the grave; his resting place was a cenotaph, a memorial without remains.
Frank hadn't been allowed to bury Eddy's ashes in the plot, but he was permitted to give him this much, a marker to honor the little brother which was now being honored by Ricky.
Laying flowers on the gravestones, Ricky couldn't shake the feeling that he had no right to mourn, no right to consider himself a good friend, because he knew he wasn't.
Even in death, he hadn't grown out of his selfishness, and now, standing here, he felt the weight of it more than ever.
In some way, their deaths were on his hands as he could never erase that truth, no matter how much time passed.
Ricky knew he could've taken a different path when he first got the system.
He could've prepared more, planned better, done something, anything, to avoid the outcome that still haunted him.
Those thoughts echoed relentlessly in his mind, like ghosts that wouldn't rest as the weight of what he could've done, and failed to do, was something he couldn't escape.
*Sigh*
"I was such a sh*tty friend to both of you." Ricky muttered, sinking down in front of the graves, his smile hollow and empty.
"The worst part is, I wasn't even a good friend when I realized it. I just went off and f*cked around, making it all about me." Ricky muttered, running a hand through his hair, his eyes shutting as a wave of shame washed over him.
"Only when I stopped making everything about me did I wish I could go back and be a better friend to both of you," Ricky said softly, his voice laced with regret.
Ricky had reincarnated, but even in this life, he had become a f*ck-up in his eyes, a failure to the people who mattered most, and that thought made him sick with disappointment in himself.
Taking a deep breath, Ricky stood silently before the graves, his gaze fixed on the names etched into the stone.
His shoulders tensed for a moment as he processed the weight of his thoughts and then, almost imperceptibly at first, a small smile crept onto his face, soft, bittersweet, and filled with a quiet resolve.
"Ha, do you guys remember that time we were being chased by that copper? You both freaked out when you saw me use my powers in action for the first time." Ricky chuckled softly, the sound hollow as it echoed in the stillness.
His smile was laced with sadness as he stared at the graves, their silence heavier than any reply could have been.
"Man, the look on your faces when you realized we'd made it across the bridge, priceless. I almost lost it laughing right then and there." Ricky let out a shaky laugh, his hand brushing against his eyes, seemingly wiping any dust from them.
"And you laughed with me, then at me, and then I punched your shoulders then we'd laugh some more." Ricky said, his voice cracking slightly as the laughter flowed from his stubborn lips.
Ricky ducked his head, his shoulders tense, before tilting his face up toward the sky, a stupid, bittersweet smile stretching across his lips.
"Man, I miss you guys so much," Ricky muttered, his voice heavy with emotion as he gazed into the empty air, his expression softening as memories flooded back.
"I remember back in the day, walking downstairs and finding you two fatasses eating all my food, grinning like idiots." Ricky's shoulders sagged, the weight of nostalgia pushing down on him while reminiscing about them gesturing him towards the kitchen table.
"And now whenever I go to a table-"
*Sniff*
"It's just empty man." Ricky let out a hollow chuckle, venting out all his grievances to the names etched in stone.
"It's just empty and I get this feeling, the one where I want to give y'all sh*t for eating my food," Ricky said, pointing to himself as he laughed a bit harder.
"But I can't cause both of you are gone, you know?" Ricky seemingly asked the etched names, brushing off some moss from Rocco's.
"And now all I want to do is f*ck around with both of you and not have to worry about all this BS that I constantly find myself in." Ricky admitted, his voice cracking slightly as he let out a hollow laugh.
"Ha, my bad, guys. I know y'all are up in heaven telling me to stop being a little b*tch," Ricky said, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky laugh as he pushed himself to his feet.
"Also, sorry for screwing your mom, Rocco, but I'm going to do right by her and your siblings," Ricky admitted, patting the gravestone.
He knew it was a real scumbag move to sleep with his dead friend's mom in the first place, and the weight of that guilt wasn't lost on him.
"And Eddy, I'm getting you that f*cking funeral, first thing, whether the church wants to or not." Ricky muttered, rubbing the dirt off the gravestone before stepping back a bit.
The determination in his voice was unwavering, a promise to make things right, even if only in this small way.
However, his last words were lodged in his throat when he sensed someone approaching from behind as he turned around and found himself face-to-face with a man smiling at him.
"Pops?" Ricky slicked his hair back, regaining his cool as Lucky laughed heartily, but his smile faltered slightly.
The flowers in his hand seemed to say it all was a mere coincidence, but the weight of the gesture lingered.
Lucky smiled softly, walking over to a grave in the distance as he carefully placed the flowers on it, his hand lingering as he gently rubbed the top of the headstone.
Lucky gestured for Ricky to join him, his expression unreadable, yet there was an unspoken understanding between them.
"This was Timmy 'Bolt' Jones." Lucky gazed down at the slightly worn grave, scratching the moss from the side.
"This was Timmy 'Bolt' Jones." Lucky's voice softened as he gazed down at the slightly worn grave, his fingers absentmindedly scratching the moss from the side as his eyes lingered on the name carved into the stone, a flicker of memory passing through him.
"Bled to death in my arms, and all I could do was assure him that heaven was a real place." Lucky's face crumbled for a moment, the weight of the memory pressing down on him.
But just as quickly, he shook it off, taking a deep breath to steady himself before meeting Ricky's eyes.
"You know, I left New York after that. Wound up drunk in New Jersey for around eight months before Frank pulled me out of my own despair." Lucky rubbed the top of the grave gently, his fingers brushing away the dirt as he looked back at Ricky, his expression somber yet resolute.
"Welcome back, son." Lucky pulled Ricky into a tight hug, his grip firm but comforting as he chuckled, returning the embrace and giving his back a light pat.
"Good to be back, pops." Ricky laughed, the two sharing a rare father-and-son moment, a brief yet meaningful connection that spoke louder than words ever could.
"Alright, stop being such a queer," Lucky grumbled, giving Ricky a shove, pushing him back.
Ricky laughed, the irony not lost on him as he was the one who started the hug, yet it was Lucky who was acting all tough.
"Hey, you're speaking to an affiliated cardinal of the church," Ricky said with a dramatic flair, spreading his arms wide. Lucky scoffed, shaking his head.
"Cardinal my ass, more like a jackass." Lucky said with a clear smile only for it to falter for a second, realizing that his playful insult didn't really hit the way he thought it would.
"To think, Lucky Luciano is losing his touch." Ricky elbowed Lucky, who rolled his eyes, knowing it wasn't that great, but he put his arm around Ricky's shoulder as they walked away.
"Come on, fill me in on what life was like overseas since I know you stopped in Sicily." Lucky chuckled at this, and Ricky suddenly remembered something.
"How's Rotolo?" Ricky suddenly asked, and Lucky laughed, gesturing to his suit.
"He's home," Lucky said, genuinely thanking Ricky in his own way, as the latter smiled.
"Now tell me what you've been up to, I cleared the whole day to tell me how much you got your ass kicked." Lucky patted his chest, Ricky laughing since, in a way, he was right.
"Well, it's a long story." Ricky smiled only for Lucky to gesture around him, the area completely void of a single soul.
"Well, I got plenty of time." Lucky announced, knowing that there wasn't anything more he wanted to do in that moment that caught up with Ricky.
"Alright, it really all started after I left-"
Ricky began recounting the whirlwind of events he'd endured, painting a vivid picture for Lucky.
He spoke of the relentless hunt for vampires, the harrowing battle that forced him to kill Dracula himself, and the fateful clash that led him to align with the Van Helsings.
Ricky's story unfolded further, touching on the war that ensued and the allies he'd forged through blood and fire along the way, including the women.
2 hours later,
*Smack*
*Smack*
"Ow, ow, stop that." Ricky said in an annoyed tone, shielding his head with his arms from Lucky's punches.
Lucky's initial happiness had quickly soured the moment he learned he had two more grandchildren.
"WHY CAN'T YOU F*CKING PULL OUT LIKE THE REST OF US!" Lucky yelled, his voice echoing as a vein throbbed prominently on his forehead, his fury radiating with every word.
"BECAUSE IT FEELS BETTER-"
*SMACK*
"DAMMIT, YOU LITTLE SH*T! COME BACK HERE!" Lucky roared, hobbling after Ricky with a noticeable limp who suddenly bolted away.
Ricky darted through the graveyard, his laughter echoing among the tombstones as he effortlessly evaded the older man's pursuit.
"STAND STILL SO I CAN BEAT THE NONSENSE OUT OF YOU!"
10 minutes later,
*Huff*
*Huff*
*Huff*
"When did you get so fast?" Lucky panted, collapsing onto a bench beside Ricky as he struggled to catch his breath.
"It's these tonics the witches make." Ricky explained, pulling up his shirt to flex his bicep.
"They heighten your body during the growth period. I probably wouldn't have been able to kill Dracula without them." Ricky shamelessly flexed, using the tonics as an excuse to show off his muscles.
Lucky only rolled his eyes at the display, but Ricky's triumphant grin seemed to wipe away his annoyance.
"Well, now that I think about it, having them under our ranks doesn't sound so bad," Lucky admitted, leaning back and resting an arm on the bench as his casual posture was betrayed by the sharp, serious look in his eyes as he turned to Ricky.
"But are you sure you can control them?" Lucky asked, his tone firm as his eyes narrowed.
"You know as well as I do, you've got to be stronger in some way than your underlings. It's like the first thing I ever taught you." Lucky said with a frown, clearly underestimating Ricky as the latter chuckled, the sound low and confident, already relishing the moment he'd make his pops eat his skepticism.
"Trust me, check this out," Ricky said with a sly grin and upon rising to his feet, he casually brushed the lint off his sleeves before extending his hand, confidence radiating from his every movement.
"What are you doing-"
*WHOOSH*
The Ebony Blade suddenly boomeranged into Ricky's hand from the ship, the air around them whipping violently as the force sent Lucky's fedora flying off his head.
Lucky flinched, his eyes wide, as Ricky caught the blade effortlessly, his grin widening in response to Lucky's stunned expression.
"What the f*ck is that?!" Lucky shouted as he leaned back on the bench, pointing at the sword as it settled in Ricky's hand.
His disbelief was palpable, his mind struggling to reconcile what he was seeing with the laws of physics he so firmly believed in.
"It's called the Ebony Blade. Pretty cool, right?" Ricky grinned, holding it up with pride.
"And it talks." Ricky's toothy smile made Lucky feel incredibly weird, wanting to doubt his words only to remember literally seconds ago flying into his hands.
At his words, the blade seemed to hum with a sense of pride, its dark surface gleaming as though it were aware of the attention it was receiving.
"Tell your father I say hello," the Ebony Blade's voice echoed, its tone oddly smooth and confident and Ricky nodded in acknowledgment, a smirk tugging at his lips as he turned to Lucky.
"It says hello, by the way," Ricky said, pointing at the sheathed blade with a grin and Lucky, still processing, slowly waved his hand in acknowledgment, his expression a mix of confusion and reluctant acceptance.
"Hi-uh, Ebony Blade," Lucky mumbled, awkwardly waving at the sword.
To his surprise, the blade vibrated in response, almost as if it were waving back, its dark surface shimmering with a life of its own and Lucky finally noticed it.
"And you want to release a sentient sword into the wild?" Lucky whispered, his tone laced with doubt as he couldn't help but think that might not be the best idea and Ricky just shrugged, unfazed by the concern.
"Well, what's the worst that could happen?"
"A lot of things, literally so many things could happen." Lucky muttered, feeling every red flag in his gut and Ricky, however, just shrugged, his indifference only adding to Lucky's growing unease.
"Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see," Ricky shrugged, his gaze fixed on the blade as it reflected in his eyes.
Despite the uncertainty hanging in the air, he couldn't shake the feeling that everything would somehow work out in the end.
*Sigh*
"Well, I'm proud of you," Lucky suddenly said, a rare sincerity in his voice as he reached into his jacket, pulling out a cigar and offering one to Ricky with a small nod of approval.
"Wait what-"
"Shut up, don't ruin the moment and let me speak," Lucky grumbled, his voice rough but laced with a touch of affection.
He clipped the end of his cigar and struck a match, shielding the flame from the wind long enough to light it, the glow briefly illuminating his face.
"When you left, it was really hard for me, Ricky." Lucky continued, his voice heavy with frustration.
"Handling all your irresponsible actions, covering up your messes; it got to a point where it became too damn tiring." Lucky leaned back, jabbing the tip of his cigar in Ricky's direction, the ember glowing as he spoke and Ricky remained silent, absorbing the weight of his words.
"So when you left, choosing to leave, I thought it would be your biggest mistake but after seeing what you did and who you became, I was wrong.
" And honestly, the thing that scared me the most was that when you came back, you'd be the same," Lucky admitted, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability creeping into his words.
"That you would just treat your time away as a vacation, some excuse to shelter yourself from your own problems but I can see that you've changed." Lucky took three slight puffs, bellowing out the smoke into the air.
"But I'm man enough to admit I was wrong," Lucky said, his tone shifting, signaling his approval resonating in his eyes.
Even if Ricky tried to brush past it, to skip over the revelation he'd made in the church, Lucky could see it, the weight that had always chained Ricky to his past was finally lifting.
Lucky had always known there was one thing holding Ricky back from becoming the man he had the potential to be.
It was hard for him to admit, but deep down, Lucky knew he couldn't be the one to fix it.
Ricky had to grow on his own and had to look inward and truly decide if he was strong enough to leave the past behind.
And it seemed, finally, he had found a way; digging deep into the ground, finding the roots that would hold not only him but the people who needed him most.
"I expected you to come running in here without a single plan of action. Guess I underestimated you." Lucky took a long drag from his cigar, his eyes never leaving Ricky.
"Wait, you do have a plan, right?" Lucky asked, his voice tinged with sudden concern, though his posture tense upon seeing Ricky, who simply shrugged in response.
"No."
"YOU LITTLE-"
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, relax~" Ricky joked, plopping down next to Lucky as he lit his own cigar, taking a deep drag as he threw his arm over the back of the bench and laughed heartily, the sound echoing around them.
"I'm going to sue the government, take the fight to them first before they can come after us here," Ricky said, puffing out a cloud of smoke as Lucky's eyes widened, surprised that Ricky had come up with something similar to what he had been considering.
"Wow, I-I didn't think you'd think that far." Lucky flinched, actually thinking the same thing alongside Chester and taken aback that Ricky was in that same sphere of thinking.
"Oh shut the f*ck up." Ricky scoffed, receiving a chuckle from Lucky who nudged him.
"I'm serious." Lucky insisted, his tone more grounded than usual.
"I thought you were going to give me some plan that involved attacking the other mobsters, but I didn't think you'd actually realize the government's just waiting for us to slip up. They're just waiting to pounce on us when we make a move in New York." Lucky laughed, the tension melting away as he felt a surprising sense of relief.
Seeing Ricky think ahead, actually plotting something strategic, was a first, and it made him feel a lot more confident about their next steps.
"Well, whatever, I'm going to sue the government and Dewey in a civil suit, and hopefully win, or at least stall long enough to tie their hands together so we can really make a move." Ricky said, leaning back on the bench, his confidence radiating.
Lucky stood up, pacing around as he processed Ricky's words as the plan wasn't flawless, but it was bold, and it was exactly the kind of move they needed.
"No, it would be better if you win, at least in the lower courts, and take it all the way, or force it to the Supreme Court, like Chester suggested." Lucky said, gesturing toward Ricky as he nodded along, the idea making sense, but then he froze.
Something about the mention of Chester seemed to trigger a shift in his thoughts as he was a little bewildered.
"I'll talk with Chester-"
"I'm sorry, you'll talk with who now?" Ricky asked sharply, his voice a mix of confusion and suspicion.
He immediately stood up, his eyes locking onto Lucky, who had realized his slip of the tongue a moment too late. Lucky's face tightened, realizing the weight of what he had just revealed.
*Cough*
"So you see, the thing is-"
Lucky then proceeded to explain how he and Chester had devised a unique method of communication, a system that allowed them to stay connected and exchange ideas with ease.
Lucky also went on to explain how he had shared and entrusted Chester with his future plans, confiding in him like a trusted ally while receiving advice from a neutral perspective that evolved into a multitude of things.
In a surprising turn, the family had recognized Chester's value and offered him an honorary position as an advisor.
The weight of the gesture caught Chester off guard, even upon hearing this, Ricky's usual composure faltered as he stood there, slack-jawed.
This wasn't just a role you could throw around, especially within the mafia, in a community that was very strict on who was in need to know, it was a sign of the family's trust in him, and one that placed him in a position he never expected.
Chester had always been the quiet observer, the one who stayed in the background, but now, with this new role, he would be pulled deeper into the family's web of power and influence.
"I always thought it was suspicious how Rockefeller just let you off like that," Lucky said, snapping his fingers with a knowing look.
Lucky didn't need to ask; he already had a pretty good idea of how Ricky managed to wriggle out of that jam thanks entirely to Chester.
"Holy sh*t, I completely forgot about that!" Ricky exclaimed, the realization hitting him all at once.
Without warning, he jumped up and down, his excitement palpable as the memory came rushing back.
"Pops, do you know what this means?!" Ricky burst out, his laughter growing uncontrollable, a wild edge to it as he paced in excitement as his eyes gleamed with money signs, his hands rubbing together widely as if he was using lotion.
Meanwhile, Lucky, calm and composed, took a slow drag from his cigar, the smoke curling lazily around him as he watched Ricky with an almost detached amusement.
"That you're insane-"
"No, we're rich!" Ricky shouted, his voice a mix of disbelief and exhilaration. He was grinning ear to ear, as if the revelation was a new discovery.
Lucky, however, simply exhaled a cloud of smoke, already well aware of the news Ricky was so eager to announce, his expression unreadable.
"Slick, we're already rich," Lucky pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact as he leaned back, the weight of his words clear.
Ricky, however, shook his head, a wild grin spreading across his face as if the magnitude of the situation had only just fully sunk in. He wasn't quite ready to accept the calm certainty in Lucky's voice.
"I mean like 20 million dollars richer-"
"Oh yeah, I forgot to fill you in, but Lucky Legacy Bank is worth around 200 million," Lucky revealed casually, as though it was just another piece of information.
The words hung in the air, and Ricky went still, his eyes widening as the weight of the revelation hit him.
For a moment, he froze, the enormity of the number crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
Then Lucky started to reveal just how profitable opening a bank with the motto 'Where Everyone Can Bank' had spiraled into.
At first, Lucky Legacy Bank was nothing more than a joke, a laughingstock in the eyes of the public.
Most saw it as an absurd idea, destined to fail.
The opening of the new establishment within Harlem was met with skeptical eyes, even among its own residents.
Despite Madame's backing, many remained on edge, wary of another white man getting involved with their hard-earned money.
There was a deep-rooted mistrust, a lingering fear that the system would once again exploit them, as it always had.
Even with Madame's influence and the promise of security, the community hesitated, unsure whether this new venture was truly on their side or just another trap disguised as opportunity.
That is, until Elijah opened an actual savings account and was allowed to do so without issue.
It was such a normal action, the man receiving his bank book and all his credentials and even being approved for a small business loan as the the witnesses who saw it were surprised.
He wasn't insulted, beaten, or dismissed and instead, he was treated with the respect of an actual human being, something so rare in their experience that it left them simply shocked.
It wasn't what they expected as the usual coldness, the patronizing gestures, or the violent dismissals were absent.
In their place was a rare sense of decency, a gesture of genuine respect that caught them off guard, leaving them to wonder if they could truly trust the sincerity behind it.
Slowly, through Madame's connections and hushed whispers, the bank's notoriety began to spread within the black community.
What was once dismissed as a one off joke had transformed into a symbol of empowerment, becoming so prominent in certain circles that it was soon known as the 'Negro Bank' to the outside world that wasn't invested within them.
Strangely enough, it was this very label that propelled its success.
By excluding black clientele, the entire banking industry had a unique safe haven for black people, sparing them from the financial ruin that had befallen many in the wake of the stock market crash and allowing Lucky Legacy Bank to be an unusual form of a slush fund.
The average black man, with a modest stash of between $1,000 and $3,500, was protected from the devastating losses that wiped out so many others.
New York City had a rough population of 6.7 million residents, 216,026 within centeral harlem, and only 35% of those of the African American descent, with the entire bulk of that 35% or 70,000 residing within the community of Harlem.
So under the networking of Madame, word spread quickly, and what followed was a domino effect.
The buzz reached ears across the community, sparking a demand for an institution where their money could remain safe and grow along with interest.
This eventually led to what many would come to call 'The Great Flock,' a term initially coined in a sarcastic, almost mocking tone to describe the mass migration of black depositors flocking to Lucky Legacy Bank.
At first, it was a form of ridicule, a way to mock the idea that so many would place their trust in a single institution.
But over time, the phrase lost its sting as it instead marked the bank's rise to prominence, solidifying its place as a financial powerhouse within the community, and a testament to the collective trust they had placed in it.
By 1933, Lucky Legacy Bank had 10,000 accounts. The following year, in 1934, that number skyrocketed to 35,000 as the bank's reputation grew and once it had solidified its position within the community, the numbers truly caught fire.
Word spread quickly, and what began as a modest venture soon exploded in popularity, attracting more depositors than anyone could have anticipated.
Even Black folks from surrounding states, and even from the southern states, would make the long drive to New York just to open an account.
In 1935, LLC had 400,000 and now it was up to 1,250,000, and steadily growing as being the first bank to hold the black peoples trust came with various benefits.
This, of course, began to disrupt the status quo and what was initially mockery, an assumption that the Black community's financial dealings were insignificant, soon turned into sour faces and furrowed brows.
The once-dismissed market of this marginalized group of people had evolved into a profitable venture that couldn't be ignored, even by those who had formed this way of banking.
In simpler terms, Lucky Legacy Bank and its future regional chains made money through a steady flow of deposits and the interest they earned on those accounts.
The bank offered an annual profit of 7.5% on savings accounts, with the average account holding around $2,000.
With 1,250,000 accounts, this resulted in a total annual profit of approximately $187,000,000.
While this may not have seemed extraordinary when compared to larger, more established banks, the real power lay in the bank's growth.
The rapid expansion of accounts, the trust it had earned, and the steady influx of new depositors were reshaping the banking sector.
It wasn't just the numbers that made Lucky Legacy Bank unique; it was the way it had disrupted the industry and created a viable, profitable alternative for a community that had long been overlooked.
Even when smaller banks attempted to tap into this profitable market, they quickly failed for one simple reason: Lucky Legacy Bank had already secured the trust of Madame, the first and most influential illegal bank in the area.
Madame's role in the bank's success was paramount; her vast network of connections reached deep into the heart of Harlem and extended all the way to the farthest corners of the South.
It was through her connections that Lucky Legacy Bank was able to expand rapidly, with plans to open six new branches across the southern states.
This was, of course, overlooking the fact that any bank daring to encroach on Lucky Legacy Bank's territory faced swift and brutal retribution.
Rival institutions that tried to challenge them often found themselves violently confronted, their employees ambushed in dark alleyways with their kneecaps shattered.
These incidents, though undeniably effective in sending a message, were almost always swept under the rug, dismissed as unfortunate and unreported occurrences.
However, it wasn't just the savings accounts that fueled Lucky Legacy Bank's success.
The bank's strategic investments, along with its ability to wash money, played a crucial role in propelling its value to around $250 million.
The combination of these elements made the bank so profitable that Lucky found himself at a crossroads, contemplating whether it would be more beneficial to focus all his energy on this thriving venture and hand over control of the Luciano family to Ricky.
Though the decision was on his mind, Lucky was still waiting to see if Ricky had the capability to handle such responsibility, unsure if he was ready to take the reins just yet.
"Holly sh*t," Ricky muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief. The Luciano family held a staggering 98% stake in Lucky Legacy Bank, as it was a private institution with Madame owning only a mere 2%.
Lucky nodded in acknowledgment, the weight of the numbers settling between them.
Ricky couldn't believe how much control they had, how much power this one venture had given them. It was a game-changer, and the realization that Madame's small share barely registered in comparison to the Luciano family's dominance was almost too much to grasp.
"I've even got people like JP Morgan Jr. trying to invest, but I'll be damned if I let a prick have a piece of the Luciano family name." Lucky scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain at the very mention of Morgan's name.
The thought of someone else gaining control or influence over the family's legacy was an insult he couldn't stomach.
"Anyways, with the Luciano family taking in 50 million and being able to clean half of that, we really don't have to worry about money. Our only concern is someone disrupting the flow." Lucky emphasized, raising an eyebrow at Ricky as his gaze was pointed, a silent challenge lingering in the air, as Ricky was the only one who could truly jeopardize the operation.
Ricky, however, brushed past it, his mind focused elsewhere, as if the warning had already been heard and dismissed.
"Pops, listen I have a great business idea that-"
"Yeah sure, just give me the paperwork." Lucky waved him off, dabbing the cigar ashes to the side.
"Is it that simple?" Ricky asked, genuinely curious, his voice laced with skepticism and Lucky merely shrugged, the gesture casual but carrying an underlying confidence.
"Well, I was going to suggest you start a legitimate business, but it looks like you've already done it for me," Lucky said with a sly grin, his eyes gleaming with approval.
"Wait, you're not just talking out of your ass and actually got the right people for this idea, right?" Lucky suddenly asked, halting his thoughts
"Yerp."
"Well that's good, then let's get to the main event." Lucky stood up, gesturing to the side as Frank slowly walked out from the side.
It was then that Ricky turned to see the entire Luciano family making their way toward the graves, each step measured and resolute.
Frank led the procession, holding the urn containing Eddy's ashes with quiet reverence.
Beside him, their grandmother, the oldest living member of the family, walked with a steady arm linked through his.
She was a symbol of their families endurance, having outlived her son and daughter-in-law, both of whom were already in the afterlife, waiting for Eddy to join them.
The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, as the family moved together, bound by loss and the unspoken ritual of their bloodline that was supposed to given to all those within the christian faith.
Ricky's gaze fell on Frank, and though no words were spoken, an understanding passed between them, silent, yet palpable.
It was the kind of unspoken communication only family could share and without hesitation, Ricky opened his portal, swiftly pulling out his decorative cardinal uniform.
He ducked behind a nearby tree, the rustle of fabric faint in the quiet air as he changed and once the uniform was on, he walked back toward the family, his steps purposeful and steady.
The air was thick with silence as the family stood, eyes fixed on Ricky, their expressions a mix of emotions.
Despite their deeply rooted beliefs and the traditions that defined them, they couldn't ignore the weight of Ricky's position, his authority within the family and his role within the church demanded respect.
Slowly, one by one, they lowered their heads, a silent acknowledgment of his status, awaiting the Honorary Cardinal to speak.
The moment was heavy, charged with the tension of reverence, anticipation, and a deep, unspoken understanding that Ricky's words would carry far more than just familial weight.
Alexander wasn't here to help, but funny enough, Ricky felt as if he wouldn't need his skill to convey everything he wanted to say.
"Three years ago, a young man and one of my closest friends, Eddie Costello, passed away." Ricky began, his voice low as he gently patted the cenotaph.
His hand lingered on it for a moment before he gripped it tightly, as if drawing strength from the stone itself.
"And it's true that Eddy took his own life." Ricky continued, his voice heavy with regret but a determination resonating within his eyes.
"But not only as all of you as my audience, but under the heavens themselves, I need to say; it wasn't Eddy's fault. It was mine." Ricky tapped his chest, his fingers pressing into the fabric of his suit as if to anchor himself in the weight of his words.
The entire family was silent, all eyes on him and Eddy's grandmother, standing at the front of the group, looked as though she wanted to cry, but she held her tears back, her face a mixture of sorrow and restraint.
"I was supposed to be his friend, someone he could depend on, and I failed him." Ricky spoke from the heart, as he looked up at the cloudy sky.
"The writings were painted on the walls, the signs were there but I just ignored them, pretended not to see the pain that Eddy was going through, and there isn't a day I don't want to go back and punch myself, then just talk with him." Ricky gripped the cenotaph tightly, gnashing his teeth.
"It didn't have to be words of comfort, I just needed to be there for him in any sense and I couldn't even do that." Ricky then let out a deep breath, then turned his eyes towards the others.
"That's why I'll bear Eddy's sin." Ricky said, his voice steady but heavy with resolve.
"I'll take on its burden, and in doing so, I'll pardon Eddy from the sin that anchors him to this world. I'll give my forgiveness, as one of God's voices." Ricky's words seemed to manifest in the air, carrying a weight that felt almost tangible.
Yet, deep down, Ricky didn't fully believe in religion, nor did he claim to be a devout man.
But in that moment, he spoke with the authority of someone who needed to say it; not just for the family, but for himself, as if the act of speaking the words would somehow lift a burden he could no longer carry alone but as Ricky spoke those words, something strange began to happen.
A phenomenon, subtle at first, slowly transformed the skies above them as the clouds seemed to peel away, parting as if in response to Ricky's plea, and a bright ray of sunshine broke through, shining down onto the cenotaph with a brilliance that seemed almost divine, as if the heavens themselves were accepting his words.
The entire family stood in stunned silence, each person feeling the weight of the moment.
Eddy's grandmother, overcome with emotion, fell to her knees, clutching her prayer beads tightly, tears of joy streaming down her face.
Frank, usually the stoic one, stood frozen, spellbound by the inexplicable event unfolding before them. The light seemed to wash over the family, a sign, or perhaps a blessing, that no one could deny.
Even Lucky, thinking Ricky wasn't even holy in the metaphorical sense, slowly took off his fedora while gazing up with his mouth agape.
"Now, let's give Eddy the burial he deserved."
With those next words, as if the heavens themselves had willed it, shovels suddenly dug into the empty grave, their rhythmic motion filling the air as the ground was slowly turned.
The hole deepened, and in that moment, Frank stepped forward, a warm, bittersweet smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
The years had worn down the tough, hard-nosed man standing before them, the weight of loss heavy on his shoulders.
Frank had always been the pillar of his family, the one everyone leaned on, but the death of Eddy had cracked him in ways no one could see.
Beneath his hardened exterior, the loss had left him fragile, struggling with the unspoken grief that gnawed at him.
Frank was a believing man.
He believed in the Luciano family, in God, and in his own blood, leaving no room in his heart for anything else.
But after the church had shunned his little brother, condemning him as an eternal sinner, Frank was torn.
To watch his younger brother deteriorate into a hollow shell of the person he once was, and then be treated like some sort of demon, was a wound that ran deeper than Frank had ever admitted.
It shattered him at his core, leaving scars he couldn't ignore even when he desperately tried.
The following years didn't offer any solace and even as Frank pushed the family to new heights, elevating their status and influence, he felt as though he were drowning beneath the weight of it all.
The very beliefs that had once guided him, given him purpose and direction, now felt like a labyrinth with no exit.
His faith, which had once been his anchor, now left him feeling adrift, lost in a sea of confusion and doubt.
At his lowest point, when he felt like he was simply drifting through life, Frank had heard Ricky's speech with a bottle of rum in his hands.
Frank had barricaded himself within his office, as he often did throughout the day, seeking refuge from the world outside.
The walls, thick with the weight of his own thoughts, had become his sanctuary, his only escape from the relentless pressure of running the family and the quiet, gnawing ache that followed him in the wake of Eddy's death.
But then, Ricky's words came to him, clear and unwavering as the sound of them rang in Frank's ears, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if everything clicked into place.
Ricky had promised to recognize Eddy, to give him the funeral he deserved, something Frank never thought he would see in his life, see a moment of redemption for his little brother.
It was then, in that silent moment of realization, that Frank allowed himself to believe, if only for a brief second, that maybe there was still hope.
Maybe, in some way, Eddy could find peace and maybe, just maybe, the smile he always remembered would at least return in the next life.
*Sniff*
"You rest up in heaven, you hear?" Frank sniffled, his voice cracking with emotion and as he whispered the words to Eddy as if speaking directly to his brother's spirit.
His hand trembled slightly as he pressed a kiss to the urn, the weight of the moment bearing down on him.
Slowly, he lowered the urn into the pit, his eyes welling with tears and as the urn settled into the earth, he wiped his eyes quickly, unable to contain the overwhelming flood of grief and relief that surged through him all at once.
A mobster stepped forward, holding the shovel in his calloused hands as it was customary for those close to the deceased to take part in the burial, a final act of respect and loyalty.
He stood by Frank, waiting for him to give the signal, but Frank's smile remained, steady and sure, as he gestured toward Ricky.
"No, I'd like Slick to do the honors," Frank said suddenly, his voice steady but filled with a quiet resolve.
Frank reached out and gently pushed the shovel away, refusing the task of burying his little brother and instead, he turned to Ricky, offering him a warm, almost peaceful smile.
"It'd be my honor." Ricky said softly, his voice steady despite the gravity of the moment and as he reached out, his fingers wrapping around the cold handle of the shovel.
With a purposeful stride, he walked over to the pit, his every step resonating with the weight of the responsibility he was about to carry out.
The shovel sank into the mound of dirt, the heavy metal cutting through the soil with a satisfying thud.
Ricky's arms worked in steady rhythm, lifting and dumping the earth into the pit and each shovelful fell with a quiet finality, covering Eddy's urn as it fulfilled the promise Ricky had made, a funeral for his friend that would honor his life, his struggles, and now, his peace.
The dirt slowly piled higher, shrouding the urn completely as the weight of the moment settled over them all.
Ricky hadn't done much for Eddy while he was alive, the distance between them often marked by unspoken words and missed opportunities.
But in his death, Ricky didn't ask for any amends but used this chance to simply do right by Eddy, like any true friend would.
As the earth fell upon the urn, Ricky's resolve solidified as it wasn't much, but it was everything he had left to give.
The lingering regret that had weighed heavily on Ricky's chest began to lift, the burden easing as earth firmly settled over Eddy's urn.
He couldn't hold onto this part of himself any longer, not when it meant keeping a sorrow alive that had no place in the present.
As he closed his eyes, Ricky felt that part of him, the guilt and the missed chances, finally buried alongside his friend.
'Rest in peace buddy, you deserve that much.'
The family began to disperse from the scene, each member silently returning to their duties.
There were still deals to be made, debts to collect, and people who needed to sleep with the fishes.
"Oh, thank you, thank you~" Eddy's grandmother sobbed into Ricky's embrace, her gratitude pouring out in waves.
She had been thanking him for the past twenty minutes, her voice trembling with emotion as she clung to him, her hands gently patting his back in a mix of sorrow and relief.
"I only did what Eddy would've done for me, that's all," Ricky chuckled, holding the old woman in a gentle embrace.
She looked up at him with teary eyes, then reached up to tap his cheek lightly, her smile bittersweet yet full of gratitude.
"You're a good boy, be proud of yourself." Eddy's grandmother gave him a warm smile, saying such simple words that left Ricky a little speechless.
"Slick, thank you," Frank said, stepping up to Ricky's side as he gave his shoulder a firm tap, his proud expression softening the weathered lines of his face.
While the scars of his grief hadn't healed overnight, there was a noticeable shift, a little more color returned to his complexion, as if the weight he carried had lightened just slightly.
"And grandma, Slick still has stuff he needs to do." Frank then turned to his grandma, prying her from Ricky before gesturing her away.
"You come over for dinner some time, you are too skinny!" Eddy's grandmother shouted as she was essentially shooed away by Frank.
Lucky, unable to suppress his smile, strolled over and draped an arm around Ricky's shoulder, giving his chest a hearty pat.
"C'mon, let's go move all your sh*t from the port." Lucky said with a light shove, nudging Ricky as they began walking toward the car waiting patiently by the curb.
"Also, I got another surprise for you at the house, so let's hurry up," Lucky chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes and Ricky, curious, couldn't help but wonder if it was a brand new car.
Arriving at the dock with Ricky some time later, they all started unpacking all of the three years spent away.
With a strange expression, Lucky tried not to feel like an outsider as he watched warlocks and witches effortlessly lift various items into the air.
Meanwhile, skeletons shuffled around, moving the lesser trinkets off the ship as he couldn't help but feel the weight of it all, he was unknowingly part of this world now, whether he wanted to be or not.
Lucky departed a little while later, feeling a bit overwhelmed and Ricky didn't blame him as he helped until they really didn't need him anymore as he arrived back at the old mansion.
"Ah~" Ricky took in a large breath of fresh air.
"Home sweet, home." Ricky then heaved out that breath of fresh air, walking forwards while rubbing his hands together.
"Pops, pops, you home?" Ricky called out as he walked up the stairs, not expecting anything that huge as he saw Lucky standing outside a door.
"You ready?" Lucky asked, knocking on the door. Ricky rubbed his hands together, curiosity bubbling up inside him about what to expect.
However, contrary to his expectations, the door creaked open to reveal a pink room.
In the center stood a small, four-year-old girl with blonde hair, clutching a teddy bear in her arms as her eyes locked onto Ricky as she stood there, innocently staring.
*SMACK*
Ricky stood frozen in the doorway, momentarily stunned by the unexpected sight of the little girl.
Before he could process what was happening, Lucky smacked the back of his head with a smirk, sneering at him.
"Say hello to your daughter, Danielle." Lucky scoffed, pushing the frozen stiff Ricky forward as he stumbled into the room slathered head to toe in pink.
"F*cking idiot." Lucky hissed out, knowing that Ricky probably thought he was going to get a brand new car as he closed the door behind him.
Ricky stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the girl whose name echoed that of his departed sister.
The mention of it caught him off guard as he stared at the little girl, who shyly lowered her eyes, her grip on the teddy bear tightening as she shyly dug her face into it.
However Ricky didn't shy away this time, he didn't turn around and leave but slowly got on one knee with a bright and loving smile.
"Hi, I'm Ricky Luciano but the best part is that I'm your dad."
Author's Note: I feel like a POS but I'm literally addicted to rewatching and binging all of Overlord, I'll see your comments eventaully. MB.
每周推薦票狀態
200+ 推薦票
榜單 
46 推薦票 
段落評論