章節 128: Chapter 124: The Real Narrative
"I am Cardinal Sebastion, and I am here to read the words of His Holiness." Father Sebastion, now Cardinal Sebastion, glanced toward Ricky, offering a brief, knowing wink before turning his attention to the jury.
"May I begin?" Cardinal Sebastion asked Judge Mason who nodded, giving his approval as the holy man before him smiled.
Ahem
"These past few days, many have looked towards Cardinal Ricky Luciano as a man of the devil and someone to be ashamed of, but that is not true. In fact, Ricky is not only a man of faith but a man of god, someone who has been recognized not for who he is but for the man he is, someone who bears the faith and fortitude needed for such a heavy position." Cardinal Sebastian read aloud, his voice steady as Hawkins' hawk-like gaze never left him, his mind working to find a way to counter this unexpected turn of events.
"Objection, relevance?" Hawkins finally objected once Cardinal Sebastion reached the end of his sentence, not wanting to interrupt a high ranking member of the church.
"Cardinal Sebastion, I apologize but you must show relevance to this case, keep that in mind." Judge Mason warned him politely, Cardinal Sebastion nodding and skipping the next paragraph.
"The claim that Ricky Luciano is a threat to the national interest of the United States can be interpreted as overdramatic but that is a view that belongs to the states." Cardinal Seabstion read, Hawkins not happy for a second and still raising his eyebrow.
"But to say that his actions go against God is something that I, Pope Pius, cannot let go any further for even a second longer." Cardinal Sebastinon's words made Hawkin's eyes shrink, knowing that this letter might actually make his next argument and appeal through the faiths of the Juror's almost completely null and void.
"God welcomes all his children into his kingdom." Cardinal Sebastion said, making Hawkins widen his eyes not believing what he would say.
"And as we are all God's children, so too are mutants, for the pearly gates of Heaven do not discriminate based on a gene. What matters is the soul of faith, and Ricky Luciano possesses that soul, Sincerely, Pope Pius." Cardinal Sebastian continued, reading aloud at the words made Hawkins freeze, leaving him searching for a rebuttal.
"Permission to call Cardinal Sebastion to the stand." Hawkins grasped at straws, needing to discredit this holy man's words before a precedence could be set.
"Granted."
"Your honor-" Marshall began, but Judge Mason cut him off, raising his gavel.
"He is a valid witness. Don't make me put you in contempt, boy." Judge Mason warned sharply and with that, Cardinal Sebastian nodded at the Judge, his smile unwavering, before he calmly made his way to the stand.
"Cardinal, does the power that Ricky Luciano possess, hold any threat to the church-"
"Your honor that is-"
BAM
BAM
"I warned you, boy. Do not make me repeat myself!" Judge Mason barked at Marshall, his voice booming across the courtroom.
Marshall bit down on his lip, the frustration evident on his face, but he had no choice but to sit back down, his hands clenched tightly in his lap.
"Let me say that again. Cardinal, does the power that Ricky Luciano possess, hold any threat to the church-"
"Does prayer enlighten a man?" Cardinal Sebastion countered with his own question, his tone calm yet firm.
"I don't know father, does it?" Hawkins asked, squinting his eyes only for Cardinal Sebastion to shake his head.
"A man only knows enlightenment from within, only he himself knows." Cardinal Sebastion spoke his truth, trying to speak towards Hawkins only for the latter to turn towards the jury.
"So, are you saying that Ricky Luciano would be the only one who could know if he threatened the church?" Hawkins shot back, his voice laced with skepticism as his eyes narrowed as he tried to challenge the cardinal's assertions through twisting his words.
"Absolutely no-"
"And makes Ricky Luciano so special, what allowed for such concessions?" Hawkins interrupted Cardinal Sebastion, repainting the narrative to make Ricky seem entitled.
"I'm not privy to say-"
"That's convenient." Hawkins chuckled, his gaze flickering over to the jury as he turned up the pressure.
"What makes Ricky Luciano more special than any of us? More special than any one of us?" Hawkin's voice dripped with contempt, each word carefully aimed at undermining the cardinal's influence.
"Objection, badgering-"
"Overruled. Cardinal Sebastion, answer the question." Judge Mason interrupted Marshall who could only sit back down as Cardinal Sebastion opened his mouth.
"Nothing, he is a man who possesses power that might be acknowledged by God, but not our savior Jesus Christ." Hawkins spoke first, not even giving Cardinal Sebastion a chance to utter a single syllable.
"OBJECTION!" Marshall screamed out, finding it absurd to discredit God but use Jesus Christ which even made Judge Mason have to frown at this.
"Order in the court! Mr. Hawkins, please maintain focus on the matter at hand. Cardinal Sebastion, please answer the question directly." Judge Mason warned Hawkins, squinting his eyes as some juror's were not pleased with Hawkins choice of words.
"Your Honor, Ricky Luciano's powers are not a matter of spiritual significance in the way that our faith measures. His abilities may be remarkable, but they are not relevant to the Church's mission or doctrine." Cardinal Sebastion clarified, trying to tell them that it wasn't because he was a mutant but because of the hidden relevance which Hawkins clearly picked up on.
"So, Father, if Mr. Luciano's powers are not directly related to the Church, what about them could possibly justify the extraordinary measures taken to elevate him into a position never held by anyone before?" Hawkins turned his hawk-gaze to Cardinal Sebastion, ready to tear him piece by piece until he got the satisfying conclusion he desired.
"The Church's concern is not about the individual but about maintaining order and adherence to divine principles." Cardinal Sebastion avoided the topic, knowing that Ricky being the Black Knight was still a secret.
"Your Honor, if I may interject, this line of questioning is leading us away from the central issue of the case. The relevance of Mr. Luciano's powers and his position to the Church is being overstated and is not a valid justification for the illegal search and seizure conducted by Mr. Dewey." Marshall immediately interjected, knowing that this was his only chance to shoot down Hawkins after seeing Judge Mason even reprimand him.
Sigh
"Sustained. Mr. Hawkins, please return to the matter of the case and the legality of the actions taken." Judge Mason actually agreed with Marshall, leaving Hawkins with a frown but nevertheless continued his clear badgering.
"Of course, Your Honor. The matter at hand is whether Mr. Dewey's actions were legally justified. Mr. Luciano's powers, whether perceived as extraordinary or not, do not override the fundamental rights guaranteed by the Constitution." Hawkins stated, walking around the courtroom and drawing all eyes onto him.
"With that in mind, I would like to emphasize that while Mr. Luciano's abilities may be noteworthy, they do not provide carte blanche for the circumvention of constitutional protections. The law must apply equally to all, regardless of their personal attributes or power." Hawkins spoke as if Ricky's powers were not guaranteed freedom, in fact, he was arguing that because he wasn't normal that he wasn't equal in that sense.
"That in mind, should suspicion not be given to Ricky Luciano if he holds powers that go against the average citizen-"
"Objection, what defines an average american." Marshall objected only for Hawkins to laugh at it, pointing at the Juror's.
"Your honor, the everyday people of America do not wield powers beyond human comprehension, the average American is someone who walks and talks like anyone else, not floating and deflecting bullets." Hawkins had to hold back his laughter, signaling towards everyone except Ricky who couldn't use any powers.
"Your honor, it should be stricken from the record-"
"I'll allow it." Judge Mason skipped over Marshall's words, leaving the man almost helpless as Hawkins waltzed back to his table.
"I rest."
It was then that Marshall stood up, ready to absolutely destroy Hawkins as he walked toward the stand, all eyes on him.
"Cardinal Sebastion, how long have you known Ricky Luciano?" Marshall asked, gesturing toward him as he unbuttoned the lower half of his suit.
"Three years now."
"And in these three years, what has changed within you?" Marshall suddenly asked, catching Cardinal Sebastin off guard.
"Pardon me?"
"I mean to ask, how has your outlook on people changed?" Marshall clarified, seeing that Cardinal Sebastion was confused at how the question was presented.
"Well, from an early age, I entered the church when I was sixteen and worked as a missionary in Europe for ten years, traveling to multiple different countries and meeting various types of people," Cardinal Sebastion clarified, showcasing his experience and impartiality as he grew up surrounded by different cultures.
"In those years, what was your opinion about mutants?" Marshall asked, continuing his line of thought as Cardinal Sebastion thoughtfully pondered it.
"Before Ricky, I'd never truly met a mutant; I'd only heard brief accounts or seen them in those wicked stories," Cardinal Sebastion began, his voice steady.
"And after meeting him, getting to know him, how did your view change?" Marshall pressed, his eyes narrowing.
"In my eyes, Ricky is and always will be a child of God, just like any other person," Cardinal Sebastion replied with unwavering certainty.
"How much has your view on Mr. Luciano's changed in these last three years?" Marshall finally got to his conclusion, his voice loud enough so that everyone in the courtroom could hear him loud and clear.
"When we first met, he was a troubled boy who was sent away for being different from others." Cardinal Sebastion looked proudly at Ricky who felt uncomfortable at the warmth of his gaze, no trace of hostility within his eyes that reflected him.
"Coming to the church, he struggled at first, as most do," Cardinal Sebastion continued, his voice filled with compassion.
"But God loves all His children, and I truly believe that Ricky found his place within the world through God's guidance." Cardinal Sebastion paused for a moment, his eyes glancing toward Ricky, who sat quietly, absorbing the weight of the Cardinal's words.
"In the end, it is not our powers that define us, but our faith and our actions, and Ricky's actions were towards his pure faith." Cardinal Sebastion's gross misinterpretation of Ricky's actions were on full display as it even caught him off guard.
"So, you're suggesting that Mr. Luciano's transformation was largely influenced by his time at the church and his connection with God?" Marshall continued, not leaving anytime for Ricky to pull himself together.
"I do, I think the church provided Ricky with a sense of belonging and purpose, allowing him to embrace his faith and find peace within himself while becoming the man he is now." Cardinal Sebastion looked on with a proud smile, happy about the person he saw Ricky becoming instead of the abomination festering within him.
"And in your view, did Ricky's mutant abilities play a role in his personal growth or his acceptance within the church?" Marshall then creeped towards his second point, pacing around in place.
"Not directly, the church's mission is to guide all individuals, regardless of their abilities or differences. Ricky's abilities were never a barrier to his spiritual journey. Instead, his personal struggles and eventual acceptance were what truly mattered and that came from within." Cardinal Sebastion voiced his own observations, placing a hand on his heart.
"You've also stated that Ricky is a child of God, just like anyone else. Does this imply that the church, not just you, has made accommodations for mutants or those with special abilities?" Marshall asked, looking at the Cardinal who was thoughtful for a moment before nodding.
"We are making efforts, extending our love and support to all individuals. While our doctrine remains consistent, we strive to meet people where they are and provide guidance and care to anyone seeking it." Cardinal Sebastion words rang truthful, knowing that he was even making an effort to shed warmth onto the homeless ones he distributes food too.
"Thank you, Cardinal Sebastion. Your testimony underscores the importance of evaluating Mr. Luciano's case based on legal principles and ensuring that justice is served impartially rather than relying on God's and Jesus' will to determine whether he deserves to be treated like any other man." Marshall sent a subtle jab to Hawkins, leaning back in his seat with a pensive smile as if waiting for this to be over.
"Thank you, Cardinal. Mr. Hawkins, if you have any further questions for the witness, please proceed." Judge Mason gestured towards Hawkins, giving him the floor but the man held up his hand.
"No further questions, Your Honor." Hawkins seemed resolute in this but Ricky chuckled at the side, knowing what he was up to almost immediately.
"Very well. We will now adjourn for the day. Court is recessed until tomorrow-"
"Actually, I do have just one." Hawkins suddenly stood up, looking at Cardinal Sebastion.
"Cardinal Sebastion, would you be able to say those same things, everything you said word for word, if Ricky Luciano wasn't a man of god." Hawkin's pointed a metaphorical gun at Cardinal Sebastion, using all those sincere words that praised Ricky against him in a split second.
"Pardon-"
"I'll rephrase. Could you keep that same sentiment of Ricky Luciano, your faith in him and all if he didn't follow god's doctrines-"
"Objection, hearsay-"
"I'll allow it."
"YOUR HONOR-"
"BOY, DON'T YOU DARE RAISE YOUR VOICE TO ME!" Judge Mason yelled at Marshall, his voice booming and forcing the man to shrink in his seat.
"Cardinal Sebasiton, please answer the question." Judge Mason looked at Cardinal Sebastion who tried to talk but Hawkins walked forward.
"I-"
"Would you let Ricky into the confines of your church if you never knew him but knew of his powers?" Hawkins challenged, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, clearly intent on discrediting the Cardinal.
"Would you let Ricky Luciano into your church if he stood so adamantly against you, as he does my client Mr. Dewey?" Hawkins pressed, his voice filled with challenge as he eyed Cardinal Sebastion with intensity.
"Would you be able to sit against Ricky Luciano, powers and all, and not even think for a mere second that he could be a threat if he had all the powers to do it and none of the faith holding him back!" Hawkins' voice towered over everything Marshall conveyed, wondering out loud if Cardinal Sebastion could say the same exact things if in Dewey's shoes.
"That-I-you-"
"Actually, your honor, I don't need an answer, I rest." Hawkins said, stepping back with a smug look on his face.
His voice dripped with finality as he gestured to the jury, silently challenging Marshall to counter as Marshall, unfazed, straightened his suit and turned to the judge while ready to retort.
Bang
"Court is adjourned for the day." Judge Mason banged his gavel, cutting off any words Marshall had been about to speak.
"Let it go, it's fine." Ricky whispered to Marshall, his voice calm but firm as he bit his lip, frustration boiling beneath his composed exterior.
His nails dug into his palm, the pressure grounding him in the moment, but the simmering anger in his chest refused to subside.
RIP
At the side, Shadow Broker tore up his last piece of paper, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into his user's body as the strain from using his ability wasn't a joke.
He needed a day to recharge, as throughout the entire exchange, Ricky had been manipulating everything from the shadows.
Hawkins may have started playing dirty, but Ricky had been playing dirty from the very beginning, unwilling to let things simply unfold without his intervention.
Hawkins stood up, a smirk playing on his lips, but Ricky only laughed in his face, the sound cold and mocking as Hawkins faltered, his smirk fading as Ricky turned away, a knowing look in his eyes.
It was then that he finally saw it, the jurors didn't wear expressions of certainty that he would've thought, but rather those of unease, even pity, as they gazed at Cardinal Sebastion.
Their discomfort was palpable, their eyes flickering from the cardinal to each other, unsure how to process the clash of faith and law playing out before them.
"After all of that, after you put everything on the line to spin it your way, they don't even look like they're trying to be convinced." Ricky showed his pearly whites to Hawkins, receiving a frown from the man.
"You know, crushing Dewey's gonna be fun, but seeing you flail out there like a fish out of water, day after day, even with that crazy bias on your side, is gonna make everything worth it." Ricky chuckled, turning away from Hawkins while subtly mocking him, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Father, or should I say, Cardinal Sebastion." Ricky walked up to Cardinal Sebastion, still reeling in from being questioned on the stand in such a way.
"Child, I am sorry-"
"Hey, woah, don't apologize." Ricky chuckled, holding up his hands to stop Cardinal Sebastion who he took to the side.
Sigh
"It is just-"
SIGH
"It felt even more suffocating than fighting an undead creature of the night." Cardinal Sebastion lamented, Ricky patting his shoulder as they walked towards a nearby bench to sit.
"But seriously, congrats on the promotion or however it works in the Vatican." Ricky nudged Cardinal Sebastion, the holy man smiling softly before looking forward.
Although he was always addressed as 'Father' and adorned in priestly vestments, the Father Sebastian that Ricky had always known was, in truth, a bishop.
Yet, despite his lofty title, Sebastion had never fully embraced the weight of his ordained role within the Church.
His heart was too restless, drawn more to the open road and the call of adventure of God than to the stillness of a cathedral.
That changed with Abraham's death, the loss was a turning point, shaking something deep within him.
Coupled with the scandal of Dracula's influence, a dark chapter where even members of the Church fell prey to his temptations, Sebastion could no longer stand on the sidelines.
It was then, with a renewed sense of purpose, that he finally stepped into the leadership the Church desperately needed.
In truth, the Vatican had been trying to draw him into such a prestigious role for years.
Father Sebastian's reputation, both as a scholar and a spiritual guide, had long caught the attention of Rome.
So when news of his intentions to embrace leadership finally reached them, it was no surprise that Pope Pius himself chose to preside over the appointment ceremony, making the moment all the more extraordinary.
The Pope can ususally appoint cardinals at his discretion as there is no formal application process; the Pope simply may choose bishops or archbishops from around the world to serve as cardinals.
Sometimes, priests who are not yet bishops can be appointed cardinals, but they must first be consecrated as bishops which Father Sebastion perfectly fell under as he was consecrated but never took on the title.
"Well, it is has been a honor to recieve such a grand postion that even now, don't know if I wholly deserve." Cardinal Sebastion lamented, thinking the Vatican was putting him into to grand of a role too early.
"Oh come on, you'll be fine." Ricky assured Cardinal Sebastion, who heaved out another sigh, before they started laughing.
Being in the courthouse, it was werid for both of them to see how far they have come since in no way could they have anticapted where they are at this exact moment.
"So, how is Carla and my little bugger?" Ricky asked, watching Cardinal Sebastion smile at this statement.
It was then that Cardinal Sebastian began to fill him in on how Augustine had taken to feeding all the animals around the church, ever since Garfield had made such an impression on him.
Carla, on the other hand, was visibly overwhelmed as the shift had been more difficult than she had anticipated, especially when the luxury goods arrived and being pampered in such a way left Ricky unable to suppress his laughter at the description.
"Actually, child, I had another reason for coming here," Cardinal Sebastian informed him, his tone shifting as Ricky stopped laughing to listen closely.
"It concerns your inheritance, more specifically, what you are set to receive now that you've become the sole heir to the Black Knight family."
Five days later,
The next five days unfolded in a blur of relentless questioning, as each lawyer took their turn drilling the witnesses, dissecting every word with precision.
Marshall's strategy was methodical, each inquiry designed to peel back layers of deception as he made sure to establish inconsistencies, no matter how small, in every statement.
His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of intensity, forcing even the most confident witnesses to squirm under the pressure.
With every objection he raised, his presence became more commanding even if he was shut down time after time, making his presence seem more undeniable.
Meanwhile, Hawkins pushed his own agenda with equal fervor, his tone sharp and unyielding.
He expertly maneuvered the witnesses to make his case seem unassailable, his pointed questions aimed at painting Ricky in the darkest light possible.
Trying to rattle any and all witnesses used against him, showing how relentless he was while working tirelessly to ensure that doubt was planted in the minds of the jury.
But a realization had stricken him though it wasn't immediate, in fact, the notion that he was starting to discover was slow, insidious.
At first, Hawkins was completely confident, specializing in these types of cases while even being in his home territory, the stars seemingly aligned just for him.
His questions were calculated, his moves sharp, all designed to subtly steer any train of thought into his favor.
But it seemed the more he tried to maneuver the flow of the trial, the more he realized something was off.
It wasn't just the questions that were being answered, but the thoughts in the minds of the jurors.
They were starting to shift in subtle ways, as if seeds of doubt were being planted, ones he hadn't sowed himself.
It irked him, this frustration gnawed at his heart as he watched, almost helplessly, as the control he had taken for granted was slowly slipping through his fingers.
What should have been a straightforward, cut-and-dry civil case was actually starting to appear to unravel before his eyes.
It was then that a sudden shift occurred within Hawkins, having this thought that appeared in his mind that if he didn't act right now, then this trial would be done for, all while Ricky smiled at the side.
"I'd like to call Ricky Luciano to the stand," Hawkins suddenly said, gesturing toward Judge Mason as the judge glanced over at Ricky, watching him stand up with a confident smile.
Ricky walked over to the stand, casting a side-eye at Dewey, who returned his gaze with palpable hatred and Ricky, unfazed, turned to the jury, offering them a warm smile as he settled into position.
"Mr. Luciano, are you a mutant?" Hawkins asked, his voice sharp as Ricky turned to him, giving a dumbfounded look before shifting his gaze to the jury and laughing.
"Really, it just depends on the day," Ricky replied casually, causing a few of the jurors to smile but Hawkins, however, shot them a glare, silencing the moment.
"Mr. Luciano, answer the question," Judge Mason nearly ordered, his tone firm towards Ricky who shrugged.
"I mean, if that's what you want to call it then yeah, I am a mutant." Ricky gestured, knowing that there were other names for people like him and it was really up to the beholder on how it was spoken.
"Then, Mr. Luciano, is it true that you can stop a bullet with your mind?" Hawkins asked again, pacing around the courtroom, his voice rising as he tried to regain control of the situation.
Ricky leaned back in his chair, maintaining a calm demeanor despite the prosecutor's pointed question.
He glanced at the jury, sensing their anticipation, before shifting his gaze back to Hawkins.
"Yeah."
"I can stop a bullet with my mind, pretty cool right?" Ricky asked Hawkins who disregarded the last part of his statement.
A murmur rippled through the courtroom, and Hawkins seized the moment, turning toward the jury with an almost theatrical flair.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are not just dealing with an ordinary man here. We are dealing with someone who possesses extraordinary, potentially dangerous abilities." Hawkins pointed his finger at Ricky, making sure all of their eyes were directed at him.
"Mr. Luciano, have you ever used this ability to harm anyone?" Hawkins suddenly asked, his voice sharp and accusatory as Marshall stood up almost immediately, his hand raised to object.
"Objection, your honor. The question is irrelevant and speculative-"
"Overruled, Mr. Luicnao answer the question." Judge Mason pointed his gavel at Ricky, clearly wanting to see where Hawkins was going with this line of thinking as Ricky's eyes narrowed slightly, the first hint of irritation crossing his features.
"No," Ricky answered firmly, perjuring himself as Hawkins suddenly slapped his hand on the table, holding up a file.
"Mr. Luciano, when did these powers awaken?" Hawkins asked Ricky, seemingly unaware of this fact and needing clarification.
"When I was thirteen," Ricky replied, already knowing where this was headed, as Dewey let out an audible scoff at his words.
"Eight years ago, a police report was filed about a kidnapping," Hawkins persisted, with Shadow Broker at the side, shredding through paper as if they were about to get raided by the FBI at any moment.
"Yes, I was almost abducted in the middle of the night-"
"How many others were abducted in your orphanage?' Hawkins wondered out loud and Ricky shrugged at these words.
"I don't know-"
"The answer is zero, Ricky was the only one." Hawkins finished his words for him, looking towards the Juror's who all raised an eyebrow.
"Mr. Luciano, it says in this police report that you escaped, and the one who saved you was your future adopted father, Thomas Luciano." Hawkins showed the report to the jury, who glanced back at Ricky, who remained calm.
"Yes, my pops saved my life that day-"
"But did he?" Hawkins asked, walking over to Ricky and stopping just in front of him.
"It was said in the report that a faulty explosive went off in the radius, killing your abductors, correct?" Hawkins once again asked, highlighting this clearly fabricated story on his part.
"Yes."
Hawkins paused, letting the tension build in the room as he stared at Ricky while the prosecutor's voice dropped, becoming almost accusatory.
"And yet, you stand here claiming that your powers never harmed anyone. How do you explain the deaths of those abductors, Mr. Luciano?" Hawkins pressed, his voice sharp as he paced slightly.
"It was the explosive that killed them, not me." Ricky's response was steady, though his jaw tightened, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes as he was clearly irritated and Hawkin's eyes lit up at this reaction.
"But what if it wasn't just the explosive? What if, in the heat of the moment, your powers, powers that had just awakened, reacted instinctively? Perhaps you didn't even know what you were capable of at the time." Hawkins leaned in, locking eyes with Ricky, who stood unwavering, refusing to give any ground.
"That's not how it works-"
"Are you sure? Are you saying that your powers can never hurt anyone or be used in any way to hurt the common people?" Hawkins raised the intensity of the moment, his voice growing louder, as he leaned in closer, trying to provoke a reaction.
"Objection-"
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH, BOY! ONE MORE WORD AND I'LL HAVE YOU IN CONTEMPT!" Judge Mason lashed out at Marshall, his voice booming through the courtroom.
"Mr. Luciano, this is your final warning, answer Mr. Hawkins' question."Judge Mason ordered, also seeing how this courtroom was playing out and needed Hawkins to have a win for him to be able to sleep at night.
"It depends," Ricky shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes flickering with amusement as the annoyance simmered away at where he was going with this.
Hawkins shook his head, disbelief evident on his face as he walked closer to the stand, his posture stiffening with growing frustration.
"Mr. Luciano, that is not what I was asking-"
"But that's not how abilities work, they aren't cut and dry but complicated and trying to paint it like it's black and white is idiotic-"
"Your honor, this is evasion!" Hawkins quickly pointed at Ricky, his voice rising with frustration.
"Mr. Luciano, answer the question in its intended form, yes or no." Judge Mason ordered, Ricky laughing at how they weren't even trying to hide their bias.
"Then yes, if-"
"Then I'd like to present this as circumstantial evidence." Hawkins held up a paper, handing it to the judge who put on his reading glasses.
"That is the autopsy report that was recovered that described the scene as a 'gruesome explosion' but if you actually read the report, the way those five dead doesn't really match the explosion, it is to gruesome for such-" Hawkins, seeing this opportunity to slander Ricky only for the man sitting on the stand to smile.
"Objection, hearsay-" Ricky objected, knowing Marshall would be held in contempt as Judge Mason waved his hand.
"Overruled, Hawkins please continue." Judge Mason gestured to Hawkins, eyes glued to the report and not even realizing it was Ricky who said the statement.
Truthfully, Ricky didn't mind Hawkins bringing up those reports as they were all hearsay anyway, meticulously fabricated by Lucky, who ensured every word was bleached clean of anything incriminating and written completely in his favor.
But the reports weren't the point, it was that Ricky had walked into this trap with a purpose, and this move tethered to Shadow Broker.
The Broker's presence was crucial to the side, a quiet force that tore a slip of paper in his hands, releasing a wave of energy that swirled through the courtroom like an invisible storm.
The target wasn't logic or reason; it was something far more potent; sympathy, the kind of raw emotion that could turn tides and win battles without a single argument.
Ricky turned to the jury, a disarming smile softening his sharp features as their faces knit with uncertainty, brows furrowed as if caught in the gravitational pull of the moment and the thoughts of sympathy furrowed in their minds at that traumatic experience being revealed in such a way, instinctively painting Hawkin's in a negative light.
Just as their curiosity teetered on empathy, Hawkins moved, stepping squarely into their line of sight, blocking Ricky's calculated charm.
"Mr. Luciano, is it possible for your powers to kill another?" Hawkins asked, his voice sharp with accusation and with that question Ricky chuckled, leaning back in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"If you were an idiot and you tried really hard, then I guess a mental barrier could kill someone," Ricky admitted, his tone steady but condescending, catching Hawkins off guard since he was sure that he poked at a soft spot.
The room fell silent for a moment as Hawkins turned towards the jury, expecting a shift in their expressions.
However, instead of the hate or disapproval he had anticipated, the jury's eyes were filled with something entirely different.
The jury's eyes lingered on Ricky, their expressions caught in a strange mix of confusion and pity.
Each of them wrestled silently with the inexplicable pull of pity, of sympathy, that had bloomed in their hearts.
Then their gaze shifted to Hawkins as the lawyer flinched under the weight of their stares, his polished demeanor cracking for a fleeting moment.
He couldn't fathom why he was suddenly cast as the villain, painted in such an unflattering light.
But from the very beginning, Hawkins had been blind, ignorant of the unseen forces weaving through the courtroom, manipulating emotions and perception with effortless precision.
But even this realization was beyond his grasp since as an ordinary American, a powerless human bound by the limitations of his existence, he clung to the tried-and-true certainties of the world he understood.
After all, how could anyone begin to fathom something they had never truly comprehended?
RIP
Shadowbroker ripped another piece of paper, his gaze fixed on the final juror, who squinted at Hawkins, falling victim to this unforeseen force guiding his very thoughts and perceptions.
Hawkins, however, maintained his confident smile, trying to hold onto the narrative he was constructing.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury." Hawkins began, his voice steady, though tinged with desperation.
"Ricky Luciano is fully aware of what he has done, and he is someone who will continue to commit such heinous acts. Do not let this 'accident' serve as a justification for his actions. Do not let this man continue to flaunt his powers, his position, and his influence over others. He is a threat to society." Hawkins continued to connect Ricky to this crime, but the more he did the more reactions he seemed to get making him bite his lip.
Judge Mason raised his gaze at this turn of events, his pupils becoming cold and distant as the thought of taking matters into his own hands lingered within his mind.
"Accused, it is your turn to approach the witness." Judge Mason pointed sharply to Marshall, who stood up, taking a deep breath while suppressing a smile.
"Mr. Luciano, what was it like growing up as a mutant?" Marshall asked, his tone sharp and Ricky paused for a moment, his expression unreadable, before shrugging nonchalantly.
"I mean, I never told anyone I was a mutant growing up but I had an alright childhood." Ricky confessed, only having it revealed to the streets after the commission leaked it all around the tri-state area.
"Let's focus on that for a moment. Why did you never openly tell people you were a mutant?" Marshall asked, his gaze fixed on Ricky as he leaned back in the chair, his expression casual.
"There was a certain stigma around it. My pops advised me to keep it hidden." Ricky answered truthfully and as his words ended, Marshall raised a finger, signaling for further elaboration.
"Is it because you were a threat, is it because you are dangerous?" Marshall wondered not towards him, but at the jury.
"No, it was because the Italian community hated mutants. They were painted as devils," Ricky explained, his tone steady while Hawkins squinted at Marshall, who turned towards him.
"How did that feel, hiding yourself from everyone and having to lie to others about who you were at heart, lying to those who actually cared about you as you carried on as normal?" Marshall leaned in, placing his hands on the stand.
Ricky's frown deepened, even Hawkins and Dewey exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the weight of the question.
"I didn't lie and-"
"But you didn't tell anyone who was close to you outside your family, right?" Marshall pressed, watching Ricky as he opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line.
In fact, he remembered that the only reason Maria and Alina even found out about it was because the rumor surfaced.
He hadn't planned on telling them, but once the whispers started circulating, it became impossible to keep it hidden any longer.
"No." Ricky was a little shocked at this statement, looking at Marshall who had a serious gaze.
"And when they found out who you were, what you were born with, the only difference between you and another Italian being a single gene, what did they do?" Marshall asked him, his voice cold as Ricky fell into a brief silence.
He could feel the weight of the question pressing on him, the memory of their reactions still fresh in his mind.
Raven, having been in disguise throughout every single day, sat in the stands, her eyes fixed on the proceedings before her.
She watched with an intense, almost painful focus, her emotions shifting between anger, empathy, and a quiet sadness.
This was all too familiar to her, she'd seen the discrimination, the fear, the way people turned their backs on those who were different.
But even as her chest tightened with every word, every accusation, and every dirty trick thrown at Ricky, she couldn't look away.
"They forced me out." Ricky's voice almost broke, the weight of the memory almost too much to bear as he spoke.
His eyes darkened, remembering the night he had to leave his home, how he ran away after his own community rejected him after everything he did to be like one of them.
That ostracization, that pain, that feeling of being cast aside, of being forced to walk away from everything he had ever known, hung heavy in the air.
But those thoughts quickly dissolved, overtaken by the real reason he despised that memory.
It wasn't just the event itself, it was the shame of remembering how he had turned tail and fled, abandoning everything he knew the moment the situation became too overwhelming.
He clenched his jaw, trying to steady himself, but the rawness of the moment was impossible to deny.
"You were born in New York, raised in New York, and because of a small difference, you were sent away." Marshall's words hung in the air as he turned towards the jury, his gaze steady and compelling.
"What did you do next, Mr. Luciano? Did you run away and hide like others of your kind?" Marshall's words were laced with a sharp edge, his gaze not on Ricky but directed towards the jury, as if to plant the seed of doubt in their minds.
"Of course not, I set sail towards the Vatican."
"Why."
"Because it was bullsh*t, that the reason that I had to leave everything behind was because I was painted as a devil, so I went to the holiest place on earth." Ricky laughed while playing along with Marshall's line of questioning, finding his own actions back then ironic as he literally went to the one place he shouldn't have.
"Then what did you do?"
"I worked my ass off and became recognized by the Vatican," Ricky revealed, his voice tinged with a mix of pride and defiance as he glanced briefly at the jury, his eyes meeting theirs, daring them to question his worth.
"It's hard for me to stand before you, as a black man, in a place where those with pigmentation are still lynched from oak tree's, I cannot lie," Marshall said, pointing to himself, his voice filled with emotion as he addressed the jury, feeling the emotions uttered with every syllable.
"All I ever hear about down south is how black men and women are treated like nothing but objects," Marshall said, his gaze falling while also voicing his own pain.
"When I was a boy, a couple of white kids threw rocks at me whenever I walked to high school, and instead of confronting them, I always just changed my route," Marshall continued, his voice tinged with a mix of bitterness and reflection.
"Seventy-three times, from elementary to high school, did I change the way I got to school," Marshall bared his heart, his voice heavy with the weight of experience as he faced the jury with one of his deepest insecurities.
"I ran away, at every chance, and told myself that 'I had to endure' because that's what all of us are told to do." Marshall bolstered every word, every syllable as his tone riled upwards.
"But I regret not standing up for myself, I regret not asking them why they threw those rocks at me, and facing the problem head on instead wasting my seventy three chances." Marshall spoke out towards them, then gestured to Ricky on the bench.
"But Mr. Luciano did that!" Marshall exclaimed, struggling to hold back tears as he shared a story he'd never told before.
"He was kicked out of his own home, by his own community, and instead of just enduring and finding somewhere else to go, he went straight to the source of the problem!" Marshall spread his hands wide, his voice rising.
Raven looked away in that moment, unable to fully relate to Ricky's experience as the weight of Marshall's words, however, hung heavily in the air.
Even at her age, Raven was still running from everything, trying to shape a future she couldn't even be sure would come to pass.
"Mr. Luciano went to the Vatican, he worked until he bled, and he was rewarded with an honorary position because the Church saw him as a child of God." Marshall hands gestured wildly, his tone ramping up as his passion seeped into his words.
"Now I ask you, as the jury, to look at Ricky Luciano and then at me." Marshall spoke out towards all twelve of them, pointing to Ricky then at himself.
"I am not like him, I can't just put myself between the scope of a rifle and smile, I'm scared." Marshall put a hand on his heart, showing while telling them how afraid he was even now.
"But Ricky did and is doing so, so I ask you members of the jury to look at Ricky Luciano's situation as one in a million." Marshall paced around, stating the barebones of his speech.
"Because there might be another person like Ricky Luciano, someone brave enough to take on the hate of a nation and fight for the rights he was given, not ordered, at birth. He might be a mutant, you might not like him, you might not even respect him, but he's an American citizen, and you can't take that away from him, just like you can't take away his status of being a mutant." Marshall gestured, as Shadow Broker ripped the last of his paper, and the jury steeled their resolve.
"So I ask you, the jury, to see Ricky for the man he was born as; a man entitled to the same rights as anyone else born within our great land. And I implore you to grant him the same due process that every citizen deserves." Marshall preached out, raising his words to their highest point before slowly simmering his tone.
"I rest my case." Marshall poured out everything, knowing that if this wasn't enough, then nothing would be as he walked back to his chair.
"Mr. Luciano, please take your seat."
"We'll reconvene tomorrow, where the last of the cross-examinations will take place before the jury vote proceeds." Judge Mason announced, banging his gavel as the courtroom emptied and Ricky patted Marshall on the shoulder.
"I know I'm a little late, but you're gonna be a damn fine lawyer." Ricky slung his shoulder around Marshall, walking out of the room as Hawkins looked at Dewey.
It was impossible, it should be impossible and yet, from his experience and the way the jury reacted, there was no denying what he saw.
At that moment, there was only one thing he could say to the defendant, to the man who he had once promised victory.
"We're going to lose." Hawkins whispered to Dewey who looked absolutely shocked.
"But-"
"Don't worry, I have a plan." Hawkins then side-eyed Judge Mason who gave him a subtle nod.
"GO BACK TO HELL YOU DEMON SPAWN!"
"NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE!"
"Ah, it's like music to my ears~" Ricky chuckled, walking alongside Marshall as they made their way out of the courthouse.
A car was waiting for them, with Jake behind the wheel, ready to take them to their next destination.
"How do you even get used to this?" Marshall genuinely asked, getting into the backseat with Ricky.
He glanced to the side, noticing people banging on the windows, their faces pressed against the glass in a desperate attempt to get his attention.
"I honestly think it's hilarious," Ricky chuckled, leaning back in his seat.
"But I guess I could see it as serious if I couldn't just, you know, murder everyone here." Ricky shrugged, his light heartedness leaving Marshall almost speechless.
"Please don't do that," Marshall urged, his tone serious as Ricky just laughed.
"Ricky, I'm serious, don't do that," Marshall repeated, trying to keep his composure, but Ricky only laughed harder, clearly finding the situation amusing.
Later that night,
COUGH
COUGH
"PUSSY!" Ricky laughed, watching as Marshall coughed up his shot, then stuck up his middle finger in response.
"Screw you-"
COUGH
COUGH
Ricky laughed, though he wasn't drinking as he'd promised not only Agatha but also Raven that he'd be more careful.
Over time, he'd cut back significantly on his drinking and even though his body could easily tolerate more, he didn't want the unnecessary nagging or constant worry from others.
Cutting back to just one or two glasses a day seemed like a small enough compromise, but it kept the peace.
"Things I do for women," Ricky sighed, looking at the glass but setting it aside as he suddenly looked back.
"Thank you, it worries me when you drink so much." Raven kissed his cheek, and Ricky kissed her back as he stood up.
"Where were you?" Ricky asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. Raven looked to the side, rubbing her arm.
"Thinking, for a long time." Raven confessed, her voice soft as she recalled having been walking and lost in thought for the last couple of hours.
"Boys, I'll be right back." Ricky waved at them as Asterion, currently asleep, was sprawled on the side with three barrels of Texas whiskey scattered around him.
"I shall hold down the fort!" Alexander declared, raising his paw into the air with enthusiasm as Chester shook his head but then nodded in agreement.
Grabbing Raven's hand, Ricky led her out of the house, his smile wide and his gaze locked on her with a mix of mischief and warmth.
"What-"
"What's wrong?" Ricky asked with a smile, gently parting some of her hair as he looked at her, his expression playful as she chuckled softly in response.
"It's just-"
Sigh
"Aren't you afraid of ruining your chances?" Raven asked again, her voice tinged with the weight of her own experiences.
She'd gone through the same thing as Ricky countless times, always failing and when she did fail, everything around her always seemed to implode, shattering into pieces.
"Of course not, I'm actually really relaxed now." Ricky shrugged, a hint of amusement in his voice as Raven caught up to him, walking beside him as she glanced over with a raised brow.
"Shouldn't you be taking this more seriously, if this fails-"
"Raven, baby, don't take life too seriously, you'll never get out of it alive," Ricky said with a grin, offering his two cents and Raven couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and freeing.
"How can you know it will all work out?" Raven asked seriously, pulling Ricky's hand back as he paused, then gently took her hands in his, slowly starting to dance under the moonlight.
"No one can prepare you for what you go through, Raven. There's no way that even now I'm not fully prepared," Ricky said, his voice steady, yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability as he twirled Raven around, and as she spun back into his arms, she looked up at him, her eyes meeting his green ones
"And if I lose, if it was all for nothing, I'm not going to simply stay down and accept my fate," Ricky said, his voice raw, but determined as he knew Raven would see right through him if he didn't speak from the heart.
"Because no matter what the outcome, I'll still find a way to show my arrogance, my sleazy smile, and when I end up getting knocked down, then I'll just get back up." Ricky pulled Raven closer, his arms encircling her as she laid her head gently on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
"I've failed so much, Raven. My failures feel endless in my mind, but my successes, hell, I can count them on one hand." Ricky said, even showing his hand that had his fingers locked on hers.
"But it's because of those failures that I reached all those successes that changed my life forever. But don't get me wrong, failure f*cking hurts, it sets you back into this state of hopelessness that makes you want to give up, but it's not how you fail that defines your success, it's always how you get back up." Ricky gazed up at the moon, lost in thought as memories of everything he had been through flooded his mind.
"And I did. It took a while, but I finally won and was able to take a couple steps forward on a journey where I always seemed to be walking backwards." Ricky then turned his gaze back to Raven seemingly lost in thought while looking at him.
"So no, Raven, I'm not afraid, nor am I prepared for failure. Why would I be? If I do something, I do it because I believe I can win, even when the cards are stacked against me. I want to win." Ricky assured Raven, knowing that if you think you'll fail then you'll never win.
"So, I'm gonna win. It's as simple as that." Ricky looked down at Raven, who slowly met his gaze, caressing his cheek before gently kissing him.
Ricky scooped Raven up into a princess carry, carrying her back to the bed with a gentle smile.
He carefully placed her down, but Raven refused to let go, her hands pulling him closer, their lips met again, this time more tenderly, before they slowly broke the kiss, lingering in the moment.
"What if I'm a failure?" Raven couldn't help but ask, her voice tinged with uncertainty as Ricky simply laughed.
"Baby, if anyone between the two of us is a failure, it isn't you." Ricky rolled onto the bed, putting Raven on top of him as she sat on his stomach with a frown.
"And why is that?"
"Because I'm telling you you're not, and I'd just hope you would believe my words," Ricky spoke, his voice firm with conviction.
Raven paused, gazing into his eyes before leaning in and kissing him once again, the warmth of the moment overwhelming.
"Oh, Tiger, you've got such a way with words," Raven smiled, her voice soft and teasing as she slowly removed her shirt and Ricky sat below her with smile widening as only one word escaped his rising lips.
"Nice."
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章節 129: A Christmas Side Story
"Grandpa, GRANDPA!"
"W-What?" Ricky, holding a big mug of his special spiked eggnog, opened his eyes to the litter of his consequences in the form of his dozens of grandchildren and even great-grandchildren.
However, thanks to the special elixir that left him utterly incapacitated, the very spiked eggnog he had been perfecting over the years, their faces were conveniently blurred.
"Tell us a story!" One of the grandchildren demanded, the others nodding their resolute heads.
"Yeah, everyone we know has old grandparents who tell them fun stories, you don't look old but you can tell a story!" Another grandchild yelled out, the others all nodding in unison.
"Yeah!"
"We want a story!"
"Can I have a sip of your eggnog?"
"Alright, ALRIGHT!" Ricky pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice towering over them before he took another sip.
"Uh, then during the war-"
"NO!?
"BOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"We want a Christmas story!" Another one yelled, pointing to the Christmas decorations around them as Ricky leaned his head on his hand in his chair.
"Man, talk about spoiled brats," Ricky yawned, blinking as he opened his eyes to see his grandchildren, all looking dejected at his words.
"Ugh, fine-"
"YEAHHHHHHHHH!" All of them cheered, Ricky gulping down the rest of his eggnog before tossing it to the side.
"Alright, let me tell you the story of why Santa and his little sh*tstains he calls elves have a long-standing grudge against the Luciano family." Ricky gestured, drawing their attention and pulling them closer to listen.
"It all started decades ago when I was with my pops, Lucky Luciano."
### years ago,
Before Ricky faced the trial and set out to carve a name for himself, challenging the very institution of America, he first stayed home to celebrate Christmas not only with the family, but with his pops.
It was Christmas Eve, and a gentle snowfall blanketed the world outside, casting a soft glow over the Luciano estate.
Ricky and Lucky, caught up in their whirlwind lives, rarely found moments to simply be father and son.
But this Christmas Eve was different.
With rifles slung over their shoulders and boots crunching through the fresh snow, they decided to leave behind the chaos of their schedules for a while.
The world of business and power could wait since tonight, it was just the two of them, the stillness of the forest, and the thrill of the hunt.
"This f*cking blows." Ricky muttered, trudging through the snow in his hunter's gear, his breath visible in the frosty air.
"Well, numb nuts, I didn't think it would snow this bad." Lucky retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm as he trudged along, his cane sinking into the drifts, a shotgun slung over his shoulder.
"If you want I can fire this place up and melt it-"
"No, no, no, no powers, no weird talking animals, and no weird objects you pull out of thin air." Lucky waved his hand, stopping Ricky before he could intervene with nature itself.
"Just a gun and some old grit, that's the only thing we are doing today." Lucky waved his finger, watching Ricky shrug and simply follow along.
Ricky had reluctantly agreed to a no-powered Christmas and hunting trip, honoring Lucky's wish for a normal, down-to-earth outing without any supernatural interference.
"Ah, there it is!" Lucky clapped his hands, wobbling up with a renewed sense of vigor as Ricky looked up into the distance.
Tucked between two towering oak trees, their branches heavy with freshly fallen snow, stood a rustic log cabin.
It was a recent acquisition of Lucky's, won in the smoky haze of a card game, a gamble that had paid off handsomely.
The cabin, with its weathered timber and inviting chimney smoke curling into the frosty air, seemed almost timeless.
BAM
Kicking open the door, Lucky threw his gloves over onto the wooden table and rubbed his hands together with an excited expression.
Lucky made his way to the stone fireplace, kneeling down to start a fire as the crackle of kindling soon echoed through the cabin as flames began to dance, casting a warm glow on the wooden walls.
Ricky stepped inside, brushing off the lingering chill before pausing to take in the cabin's cozy interior.
His eyes wandered over the rustic furnishings before curiosity pulled him toward the small kitchen, where he began inspecting its simple setup.
"HOLY SH*T!" Ricky yelled, Lucky immediately jumping up in an alarmed state only to hit his head on the fireplace.
"Son of a bitc-"
"Moonshine, this cabin has moonshine!" Ricky hopped out from the corner, holding two jars of moonshine with a large smile.
"Here!" Ricky exclaimed, his excitement bubbling over like a kid in a candy store as he tossed one of the jars to Lucky, already unscrewing the cap of his own with eager hands.
For Ricky, there weren't many simple pleasures in life, actually that was a lie but it was the holidays so just go with it.
One of his undeniable indulgences was savoring unique brews of alcohol, each sip offering a story of its own.
As he lifted the jar to his lips, a gleam of anticipation lit up his eyes, ready to lose himself in the warmth of something handcrafted and rare.
"Stop getting your panties in a twist, it's not like it's anything to shout over-oh, my god." Lucky scoffed initially, unscrewing the lid of the jar of moonshine but when he tasted it, his eyes widened.
"It's candy cane moonshine, I've never tasted candy cane moonshine before!" Ricky laughed out, turning back to the other jars before reading the labels.
"Gingerbread, chocolate-what is this, Christmas moonshine paradise?!" Ricky couldn't help but find his seasonal joy within these jars, grabbing handfuls of them and putting them in his hunting bag.
"Is there like a recipe in there or something?" Lucky inquired, Ricky nodding his head but when he went to check, he kept seeing the same name.
"No, but it looks like some guy named 'Nick' is behind all this," Ricky said, his tone casual as he examined the jars of moonshine.
Each one bore the same signature: Nick.
"Man, this is some good sh*t." Ricky took another sip, smacking his lips before Lucky flicked his head to the side.
"Well, you can day dream about him later, the deer ain't gonna hunt themselves."
Four hours later,
"Yeah, it looks like someone did that for us." Ricky chuckled, leaning back against the wall of the ground blind.
For those unfamiliar with hunting, there are two popular methods for waiting on deer: using a tree stand or a ground blind.
A ground blind is usually the best choice for beginners since for one, it keeps hunters on the ground, eliminating the risks associated with climbing or falling from a tree stand which when your waiting for a deer for long periods of time, the only buddies you have is the guy to your left and the case of beer to your right.
Second, ground blinds are good at concealing as they provide a sturdy, enclosed space that masks movement, scent, and sound, allowing hunters to stay hidden from deer with minimal effort.
Lastly, ground blinds are easy to set up and don't require the same level of scouting or preparation as tree stands.
However for the last four hours, they had been sitting in their ground blind with literally no signs of life.
"Damn." Lucky muttered, his head hanging low as a wave of nostalgia washed over him.
It had been a long time since it was just the two of them, without the weight of towering responsibilities between them.
Lucky's mind wandered to the days ahead, knowing that Ricky would soon be buried in trial dates and the pressure of his growing responsibilities.
Lucky just wanted to make one good memory, something simple yet meaningful that they could remember in the future and laugh about it.
Although Ricky could be clueless at times, actually most times, even with a slight buzz coming on and four jars of moonshine at his feet, he could see the expression on Lucky's face.
"Well, I guess there isn't anything left to do but drink and wait, what do you say?" Ricky showed a toothy smile, nudging a jar of Gingerbread moonshine to Lucky who laughed before grabbing it.
"Yeah, I guess it couldn't hurt to knock back a few jars."
Too many jar of Moonshine later,
"No, no way!" Ricky laughed, cackling backwards as he fell to the ground amidst the dozens of jars of moonshine.
"I swear, by the hair on Mother Mary's vag, that I boned that old bag and she paid me for it too." Lucky snorted, slapping his knee at his disgusting story before he looked forward.
"Man, I thought hunting was supposed to be fun but this blows~" Lucky drunkenly sighed, stumbling over to his mounted rifle.
"Right~" Ricky, also completely wasted, agreed with Lucky who aimed down the barrel of his gun before widening his eyes.
Through the thickening fog, which seemed to settle both in the distance and within his mind, Lucky squinted down the scope of his rifle.
At first, it was just a shadow, an elusive shape barely visible through the mist.
But as his focus sharpened, the figure became clearer, moving with deliberate purpose as his grip on the barrel tightened, his senses heightening, as he tried to make out what, or who, it was in the swirling haze.
"HOLY SH*T, I THINK I SEE ONE!" Lucky yelled in a drunken whisper, Ricky shooting up to his feet and squinting his eyes.
"Well, hurry up. I'm starving, and I haven't had venison since I was in italy!" Ricky drunkenly nudged Lucky, bouncing on his feet with impatience.
His stomach growled, reminding him that they'd come with nothing but moonshine and no snacks to their ground blind.
The lack of food was starting to hit hard, and Ricky, already feeling the buzz from the alcohol, was getting more antsy by the second.
Tightening his grip on the rifle, Lucky steadied his aim as the crosshair swayed, matching the dizzying fog that clouded his mind.
His focus was strained, the alcohol muddling his clarity, but he pushed it aside as this day had to count, it had to mean something.
He couldn't let it slip away, couldn't let it be another wasted moment between him and Ricky.
As his finger tightened on the trigger, he knew this was his shot, not just at the target ahead, but at making this day something more than just another hunt.
BANG
The gunshot zipped through the fog, almost at the speed of light, its sharp crack swallowed by the thick air.
The figure, blissfully unaware of the impending danger, was muffled by the mittens covering its ears, its senses dulled.
But before the shadow could react, the bullet found its mark, slicing through the fog and piercing its throat with deadly precision.
"A-Arghhhhh~" A guttural, gargling moan escaped the figure, sounding like a dying animal on its last hind legs.
Lucky jerked his head up from the scope, eyes wide in disbelief as he quickly glanced over at Ricky, his expression unreadable, the weight of the moment settling heavily between them.
"Holy sh*t, I got it."
"YOU GOT IT!"
Ricky and Lucky hugged, knowing that being in this stupid ground blind wasn't a waste after all.
"Wait, it's getting away!" Lucky pointed drunkenly, the figure seemingly limping away only for Ricky to rush to the rifle.
"F*ck that, I'm getting my venison, TONIGHT!" Ricky yelled out, grabbing the rifle and looking down the barrel as his confident smile extended across his face.
BANG
BANG
BANG
THUMP
Three shots were fired in rapid succession, with one after another, tearing into the shadowy figure before its large body collided into the ground.
"YEAH!" Lucky fist pumped, crawling out of the ground blind as Ricky mirrored this action while jogging up to their kill.
The figure slowly came into view, its wide smile growing as large as the silhouette in the distance.
At first, it appeared to be a deer, a shape they were both expecting, a hunter's familiar target.
But as it drew closer, the outline began to shift, its form no longer that of an animal as the graceful curve of antlers vanished, replaced by the unmistakable shape of a human.
The smile, once bright, began to freeze in place, the figure's features contorting as if caught in some unnatural, horrifying pause.
Their mouths hung open, locked in an eerie expression, as if time itself had stopped around them.
"Hey pops."
"Yeah."
"You're seeing this too and not me just tripping out on this moonshine, right?"
"Yeah."
"And you're also not seeing a deer, right?"
"Yeah."
"And instead you're seeing four bullet holes in a guy dressed as Santa, right?"
Sigh
"F*ck."
It wasn't a deer, nor any animal at all.
As the figure came into focus, it revealed itself to be a man, lying flat and motionless in a tattered Santa Claus outfit.
The red suit was torn and ragged, the white fur stained with dirt and blood as his face was pressed against the cold ground, his lifeless eyes hidden beneath the weight of his own body.
Blood pooled around him, staining the powdered snow a deep crimson which weirdly reflected in his outfit, perfectly matching the color.
"Well, I'm not gonna forget this Christmas-ow~" Ricky immediately made a joke, only for Lucky to hit him with his cane.
"Really, right now, really?" Lucky asked Ricky, gesturing towards the dead man they both shot as the latter shrugged.
"Oh come one, how many people can say they shot Santa Clause-"
"SLICK!" Lucky yelled, burying his face into his hand in frustration as this evening was completely ruined.
"Alright, geez, I'll go get the shovel." Ricky scoffed, turning back to the ground blind as Lucky paced back and forth.
Looking back at the clearly dead man dressed as Santa Clause, a tag stuck out from his collar with one name: Nick.
"Oh, f*ck me." Lucky threw his hands in the air, thinking this couldn't get any worse but realizing that the cabin he won might not have been his in the first place.
Worst case scenario, in Lucky's mind, O'l Jimmy Buckets lied to him and gave him the address of a moonshiner, the very same one in which they had drunk all his stock.
"Got the shovel, where do you want to bury him?" Ricky held the shovel in one hand, looking at Lucky who was in disbelief at it all.
"Maybe at his cabin, Nick here would probably want that." Lucky sarcastically said, kicking the snow under him as Ricky looked over at the slumped man, then at the tag hanging out, and immediately smiled.
"Holy sh*t no way, did we just drink this guy's moonshine and then shoot him. What a merry Christmas he's having, right, pops?" Ricky cracked, his tone light despite the grim scene as he looked over at Lucky, expecting a chuckle, but was met with a deadpan stare.
"Okay, Scrooge," Ricky scoffed, rolling his eyes as he dragged the limp man by his hand. Lucky wobbled behind them, his movements sluggish, still reeling from the mix of alcohol and the unsettling mess before them.
As Ricky dug the hole, the shovel cutting into the frozen earth with a dull thud, Lucky stood watch, scanning the surrounding woods with a sharp eye.
Keeping his gaze at the distant trees, the fog rolling in, and the stillness around them, just in case any of the man's 'friends' were lurking nearby.
Wiping his forehead, Ricky hopped out of the hole and almost immediately afterward, kicked the Santa Clause lookalike into the hole.
Ricky didn't bother with any care as he roughly kicked the Santa lookalike into the hole.
The limp body slowly draped into the hole, the body tumbling unceremoniously into the narrow grave.
But instead of falling in, the fat man's waist was bigger than the width of the hole, making Ricky curse under his breath, slouching down into the hole himself in an awkward, cramped position.
"God dammit." Ricky muttered, frustration seeping into his voice.
With a quick, forceful stomp, he shoved the man deeper into the hole, pressing him against the sides.
Finally, the man was nudged far enough into the hole that Ricky let out a sigh of relief, wiping the dirt from his hands.
"Hey pops." Ricky got Lucky's attention, throwing the shotgun that was slung around his shoulder at him.
Lucky raised an eyebrow, easily catching the shotgun with one hand almost effortlessly.
"Double tap, just in case." Ricky shrugged, gesturing towards the fat man as Lucky looked at the shotgun then back at the grave.
Sigh
"Just in case," Lucky muttered with a heavy sigh, his voice carrying the weight of both caution and frustration.
He knew all too well that there was nothing worse than being mistakenly buried alive, but at the same time, the entire hunt had spiraled into something he hadn't expected which made his fingers twitch, the frustration clear on his face as he surveyed the scene.
Click
With one hand, Lucky held up the shotgun and pumped it before flicking his cane to the side, aiming the barrel at the body slumped in the grave.
BANG
BANG
BANG
Three rapid shots rang out from the shotgun, each blast of buckshot tearing into the lookalike's body with brutal force.
The man's flesh shredded under the impact, blood splattering into the air as his form jerked violently with each strike.
"Now we're even, now let's get him buried and get out of this f*cking forest." Lucky was about to turn only for Ricky to throw the shovel at him, smirking while walking back to the cabin.
"What is this-"
"It's the shovel, the same one you're gonna use to bury that sad sack while I raid Old St. Nick's liquor cabinet." Ricky laughed, waving along his merry way up the cabin.
"You're kidding, Slick, SLICK!"
30 minutes later,
"So, we shot Santa-"
"WAIT!" One of the grandchildren interrupted Ricky, who was in the zone mind you, halting the story all together.
"You shot Santa?"
"THE Santa."
"Like Santa and his reindeer Santa?"
"I don't know, maybe if I could get to the juicy part of the story then you wouldn't berate me with these questions." Ricky drunkenly sniped back at his own grandchildren, clearly not mature enough to be patient with them but instead, combat a childish attitude with a childish attitude.
"Okay, geez." Some of the grandchildren muttered as Ricky shrugged, munching on a gingerbread cookie.
"Well, what do you expect, I was really getting into it and you guys completely ruined my mojo, so much so that I don't really want to continue-" Ricky leaned back in his chair, only for his grandchildren to lunge at his feet, showing him the illustrious puppy dog eyes.
"PLEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSEEEEEEEE!" They all said in unison, almost begging him as a long drawn out sigh resounded from him.
"Fine, but no interrupting with your questions or I'm gonna pass out on that couch over there, got it?" Ricky warned them, pointing the gingerbread cookie at all their nodding little heads as he got comfy.
"Alright so like, thirty minutes afterwards were in the car and my pops-"
"I cannot believe you forced a crippled old man to bury a dead man." Lucky scoffed, looking out the window as Ricky chuckled while turning the corner.
"Says the guy that shot Santa." Ricky laughed even harder, still tipsy from the moonshine which was stacked high in his rearview mirror which only made his smile stretch in glee.
"You shot him too-"
"Yeah, but you shot him first." Ricky waved his finger, hitting the steering wheel as his words halted Lucky in his tracks.
SIGH
"Can we just go home, this entire day has been such a waste." Lucky muttered under his breath, watching the snowfall amidst his disappointed eyes.
Ricky started to say something but couldn't find the right words at that moment and instead, he simply shut his mouth, knowing that some stupid quip wouldn't make his pops feel any better.
They pulled up to the Luciano manor, the grandeur of its façade illuminated by the Christmas lights.
Ricky stepped out with an air of nonchalance, tossing his keys to a mere grunt as if the man were a valet, while Lucky wobbled toward the door, his cane tapping rhythmically against the stone steps.
"Pops, wait." Ricky caught up to the stubborn Lucky, slinging his arms around his shoulder while patting his chest.
"What now-"
"Thanks for taking me out. I know I can be a little sh*t almost all the time, but I appreciate the effort," Ricky said with a rare, genuine smile as his words, however, seemed to fall short of their mark as Lucky sighed, his expression unreadable, and continued walking forward without a response.
Sometimes kids don't understand it, especially when their parents are consumed by work and the demands of daily life, but the reason parents pour so much effort into planning special outings runs far deeper than it seems.
It's not just about having fun or creating a long lasting moment for the family album.
It's about the quiet guilt they carry, this nagging feeling that their constant absence has left a void within their kid.
Deep down, they hope that these carefully crafted memories can make up for the moments they missed, the bedtime stories they were too busy to tell, the school plays unattended, or the milestones they had failed to make.
To them, these outings or plans they make are more than just trips to a theme park or an elaborate dinner.
They're an attempt to reclaim something they lost with their kid, to bridge that emotional gap left by their absence.
It's as if they believe that a single cherished day filled with laughter and togetherness can somehow outweigh the countless hours spent apart, where work or other responsibilities took precedence.
Of course, it's not always a fair trade.
A child might never fully understand the weight of their parents' intentions, or why they try so hard to make those moments count.
It's sort of this silent promise, one that implies that even when they are not there for you, they care enough to go above and beyond to show how much you mean to them.
Sigh
"No problem, night Slick." Lucky forced a half-smile, walking up the stairs as Ricky watched the dejected man who raised him like his own walk up the stairs.
"Daddy?" Danielle, in her pink pajamas, rubbed her eyes from the side while holding her doll.
"Hey, sweetie." Ricky flashed a toothy smile as he gently scooped her up, keeping his promise to tuck her in that he made before they went hunting.
"Why does Grandpops look so sad?" Danielle asked sleepily, her innocent words slipping out with a blunt honesty only a child could muster.
"He's just sad that I was the one who got to tuck you in." Ricky chuckled, making a quiet excuse for Lucky before kissing Danielle's cheek as she rested her head on his shoulder.
"Okay."
Meanwhile, Lucky entered his study, setting his ivory cane aside with a soft click before making his way to his desk.
He dropped into the chair with a weary grunt, his body aching from the weight of the day.
Reaching for his bottle of scotch, he uncorked it with practiced ease, the smooth amber liquid glistening in the low light as he poured himself a generous drink.
Grabbing the glass, Lucky's eyes drifted over the various pictures on his desk.
Ranging from a framed playing card that was the King of Diamonds to a faded picture of himself as a boy.
His gaze lingered on the man standing next to him in that photo, a small frown tugging at his lips.
Without a moment's hesitation, Lucky downed the entire glass in one smooth motion, the burn of the scotch crawling down his throat.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the bitter taste lingering, before carefully setting the empty glass back on the desk.
His eyes remained fixed on the photo for a moment longer before he eventually reached for it, the dust of the frame rubbing against his fingers.
His fingers traced the edges of the photograph, lingering on the figure beside him and upon closer inspection, it became clear that the man was his own father, Antonio Luciano.
If you asked anyone, and I mean anyone, in Sicily who had been around when Antonio Luciano walked the streets, you would be met with nothing but resounding applause.
He was the epitome of what it meant to be a mobster, a man who had started with absolutely nothing except his sheer grit and determination.
Born from humble beginnings, he had cultivated a family that could only be rivaled by a horde of ghouls.
Antonio wasn't just a name in the criminal world; he was an icon, a living legend in the mobster scene.
But the sad fact was that Lucky barely even knew his father since Antonio was always so consumed by his dream, an unyielding drive to build his family, that he often neglected the very one he had at home.
The only things Lucky really knew about him were the stories told second-hand by those close to him, each tale painting a picture of a larger-than-life figure.
While others revered Antonio for what he had built, for who he was, Lucky couldn't help but loathe him for it.
He hated the fact that his father's obsession with constructing a dynasty came at the cost of the one thing that should have mattered most: his own family.
It was because of his father that Lucky never wanted children as the fear of becoming the same kind of man, driven by ambition to the point of neglecting those closest to him, haunted him for years.
But then came Ricky who he met by accident, someone who had fallen into his life by sheer chance.
Yet, that chance encounter ended up being the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.
Although Ricky wasn't his blood, he was his son, and that bond meant more to Lucky than any title or position.
So when Ricky thought of him as his father, it gave him a sense of fulfillment that nothing else ever could.
It was why he tried so hard to be the father his own had never been to him as he wanted to correct the mistakes Antonio had made onto him, to be the man Ricky needed when growing up.
But no matter how hard he tried, the shadow of Antonio's mistakes loomed over him.
The insecurity, the feeling of never being able to live up to the Luciano name, had always plagued him, creeping into every decision he made and even now, in the quiet moments when he was alone with his thoughts, it still haunted him.
"Damn." Lucky muttered out, holding the picture against his chest and slowly drifting off into a deep slumber.
Only for a Christmas miracle to occur, as the hole that Ricky and Lucky had made suddenly erupted with sparkles, slowly floating into the sky.
It was a sight so surreal, it almost felt like a blessing, an omen that would bring joy and laughter to all the good kids of the world.
But for the Luciano family, what seemed like a miracle would soon unravel into a disaster as the sparkles that ascended into the sky weren't a sign of hope for them, but a harbinger of revenge.
"Oh Luciano's, you've been truly naughty this year." Those words were left as the particles vanished into thin air.
Slowly, the night turned into day as Christmas morning dawned upon the Luciano manor.
The mansion, typically cold and imposing, was now filled with warmth and cheer as the family gathered in the grand living room, basking in the glow of the decorated tree.
Alina, Agatha, and Carla sat off to the side, their faces lit with warm smiles as they watched their children eagerly gathered beneath the tree.
"Here." Danielle shyly said, almost in a whisper while holding out a present towards Zatanna.
Zatanna looked up, her eyes wide with curiosity as she tilted her head slightly, her attention fully focused on her half-sister before her face lit up with a wide, toothy smile.
"Is that for me?" Zatanna gasped, shooting to her feet in excitement. Her jaw dropped in surprise, and she placed both hands on her cheeks as her eyes sparkled with joy.
Danielle nodded, her own cheeks flushed, and her head ducked in slight embarrassment, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her dress.
"YEAH!" Zatanna exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Danielle in an enthusiastic hug.
Danielle froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden embrace, but the joy radiating from her younger sister quickly softened her surprise.
As Zatanna squeezed her tighter, laughing heartily, Danielle could feel the genuine happiness, the warmth that made her feel appreciated.
Blushing deeply, Danielle hesitantly returned the hug, her arms slowly wrapping around Zatanna.
It was hard for Danielle to make friends, and she often felt that weight of nervousness in situations like this.
So when Danielle smiled hesitantly, her face flushed as that familiar nervous feeling crept in, it was slowly overtaken by something softer.
There was this quiet pride in her chest, something she wasn't used to feeling but couldn't ignore.
The simple act of her sister's joy, her wide grin and sparkling eyes, made Danielle's heart swell in a way she couldn't quite describe but even so, it was enough to make her lean into the hug, her shy smile blossoming into something genuine.
"You're hurting him!" Augustus yelled from the side, rushing to pull Garfield away from Johnny and Moxie's grip.
The two toddlers furrowed their brows, watching their toy being taken from them as Augustus gently cooed to the panting Garfield.
"Demons, all of you!" Garfield yelled, holding Augustus for dear life as his fur stood on ends.
"You have to pet him like this, like this," Augustus said, struggling to find the right words, but trying his best to show how to be gentle with Garfield.
Only for his toddler half-brothers to furrow their brows even more, clearly confused by the instructions.
"Cat, give," Moxie said, holding out his hand, demanding rather than asking while Johnny's eyes narrowed as he stood up.
"My toy," Johnny said in a threatening tone, glaring at Moxie as Garfield shrank further into Augustus' embrace.
"Manservant, get me out of here!" Garfield yelled, tugging on Augustus' shirt as he backed away, the toddlers stepping forward with determination.
TWACK
"Aye, enough." Marco smacked Moxie on the back of the head, frowning at his little brother's actions while holding a turkey baster.
"But cat is mine-"
"No, he ain't, and besides, cats aren't toys, they're living beings. Don't be a psycho." Marco said, yanking Moxie's ear to the side.
He pulled him away, muttering under his breath about how he didn't want him growing up to be a psychopath, considering they usually start by hurting animals.
"Marco, be gentle." Sophie quietly spoke, stopping him and releasing his grip on Moxie who lunged into her embrace.
"Don't baby him-"
"But he is a baby," Sophie pouted, picking Moxie up and holding him against her shoulder as he sniffled softly, but then side-eyed Marco, flashing a mischievous smile at him.
"YOU LITTLE-"
"RUN AWAY, MANSERVANT, RUN!" Garfield yelled, his voice filled with panic as he watched the blond toddler demon chase after Augustus, who turned the corner in a hurry.
"GIVE MY TOY!" Johnny angrily shouted, his face flushed with frustration as Augustus held Garfield close and quickly rounded another corner.
"NO!" Augustus yelled back, glancing over his shoulder to see Johnny's eyes flare with anger at the sight of his beloved toy escaping from his grasp.
"To think, someone like you could create precious things, baffling, almost." Lucky chuckled from the side, glancing over at Ricky and giving his shoulder a playful pat as he leaned back.
"I just hope they don't end up like me, honestly." Ricky sighed, his words causing Lucky to chuckle again as he gave his back a reassuring pat.
"They're gonna be fine. Just don't be too much of a little sh*t all the time, and it will work out," Lucky joked, his grin wide as Ricky rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips as he took a sip of his hot cocoa.
Soon afterwards, the little ones began eagerly tearing into their presents, their eyes wide with wonder as they marveled at the toys and delightful surprises they received.
Gasps of excitement filled the air until only two presents remained under the tree but the children, already absorbed in their new gifts, hardly took notice, except for Danielle, who quietly walked over to the last two remaining packages, her curiosity piqued.
Tilting her head, Danielle read the bold names on the tags: Ricky Luciano and Tommy Luciano.
"What is it, darling?" Lucky asked, smiling at his granddaughter as she struggled to drag the presents toward them with all her little might.
"Look." Danielle said, her voice filled with curiosity as she pointed to the names on the tags.
Ricky and Lucky both leaned forward, picking up the gifts with a mix of surprise and intrigue before their brows furrowed in confusion.
It wasn't the gifts themselves that caught their attention, but rather the name on the tags as the five letters came together to form one word: Santa.
"Real funny, pops, hilarious," Ricky scoffed, rolling his eyes but Lucky's frown only deepened at his words.
"This wasn't me, Slick." Lucky muttered, his tone serious as he opened his own present.
Both men paused, eyes widening in surprise as at the center of the gift was a large lump of coal, and sprawled across the inside was a message: You've been naughty and all you'll get is coal.
"What the fuc-" They both muttered only for Frank and Meyer to burst through the door, having ragged expressions on their faces.
"BOSS, WE GOT A PROBLEM!" Meyer yelled, almost scaring the children as they rushed up to them with an urgent pace.
"The PRODU-"
"IT'S GONE LUCKY, IT'S ALL GONE!" Frank pushed Meyer out of the way, interrupting him with his own anxiety as Lucky recoiled in shock.
"What are you talking about-" Lucky scoffed, thinking this was some cruel joke only for Meyer to throw a brick of product at his feet.
"What the?" Ricky laughed out, knowing this wrapping and this formation since it should be a brick of cocaine, white as snow and yet, it was ash black.
Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed a pocket knife and opened the brick only to smell that familiar scent that was currently in the box.
"What the f*ck, is this-" Ricky said in disbelief only for Meyer to interrupt him
"Coal powder, it and coal has replaced everything; the cash, the product, and anything we had in storage, all coal." Meyer's voice dimmed, ashen as the color of the brick as Lucky immediately stood up.
"Show me." Lucky squinted his eyes, the scene changing to a sight that he would have never been able to describe to anyone.
In their storages, in every single one that had once held anything valuable, a mountain of coal now sat in its place.
It was as if everything they had worked for, every precious asset they had accumulated, had been reduced to nothing but a worthless pile of ash and stone.
"Hey, there's a letter!" Ricky yelled from the side, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. Lucky's disbelieving eyes were drawn to the red-sealed envelope resting atop the pile of coal, its presence almost mocking in its calmness amid the chaos.
Climbing the mountain, Lucky stood at the bottom, watching Ricky reach the summit before he opened the letter as his lips parted as he began to read its contents aloud.
"I checked my list, I checked it twice, and then, to get even, I checked it two more times. It seems the Luciano Family has been naughty, not nice." Ricky read aloud, his brow furrowing in confusion as he looked around at the others in the room.
"Christmas only comes once a year, so we have to make it count. To truly get even, we go to where everything evened out." Ricky finished, a sudden realization dawning on him as the look on his face mirrored the one that appeared on Lucky's, an expression of both understanding and disbelief.
"Pops, you don't think-"
"No, there's no way," Lucky let out a disbelieving laugh, glancing at Frank and Meyer, who looked at them with confusion in their eyes.
"Well, there's only one way to find out," Ricky clicked his tongue, hopping off the mountain of coal and walking up to Lucky as he handed him the letter to which he briefly read it on his own.
"Meyer, Frank, hold it down until we get back." Lucky pocketed the letter, turning towards the exit with Ricky, leaving the two men speechless.
"What about this mess? Where are you going? !" Meyer yelled emphatically, pointing to the mountain of coal that filled the room.
"Some old fat man came to town, we gotta pay him a visit." Ricky couldn't help himself, reciting the later half of the jingle as Lucky nudged him.
"Huh?" Frank asked, clearly confused while Meyer rubbed his chin before having this weird expression.
"Old fat man, you mean-"
"Santa, pops, we f*cking shot Santa!" Ricky couldn't believe he was saying it, but the words spilled out as soon as they both got into the car.
"No, no way-"
"Pops, we find this random cabin, raid a moonshine cellar filled with all kinds of Christmas flavors, and every single one of them has the name Nick, St. Nick?" Ricky was piecing it together, his words making Lucky grip the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles going white as his gaze hardened on the road ahead.
"Then the guy we mistook for a deer turned out to be some dude dressed as Santa, and we woke up to all of our stuff replaced with coal, it can't be a coincidence." Ricky slicked his hand through his hair, his mind racing.
After everything they'd seen, hell, after finding out Dracula was real, nothing from fairy tales felt impossible anymore.
Lucky was silent, his eyes fixed on the road as Ricky kept rambling on, going off about how insane the situation sounded.
It wasn't until they reached the cabin that their thoughts aligned and without hesitation, they both ran to the hole, the shovel digging into the dirt as they unearthed something buried deep.
"F*ck~" Lucky cursed, his voice sharp as he pulled the large lump of coal from the earth.
Just as the weight of the discovery hit them, the unmistakable sound of bells began ringing through the air.
Ricky nudged Lucky, the older man's gaze slowly shifting upward to a sight that made both father and son freeze at what should be impossible.
A sleigh, a real red flying sleigh, appeared in the sky, its eight reindeer pulling it effortlessly through the mid-day.
The sound of bells rang louder now, and their breaths stilled in awe as it was as if time itself had paused, leaving only the surreal image above them.
Slowly, the sleigh touched down onto the ground and then, a pair of black boots hit the earth with a firm step.
The man who emerged from the sleigh was unmistakable, dressed in the traditional red suit, his belly round and jolly, a thick white beard hanging from his chin.
A pipe rested between his lips, the smoke swirling into the cold air as his squinting eyes scanned the scene before him.
He looked every bit the Santa Claus they had heard of in stories and now it was confirmed without a doubt in Ricky and Lucky's mind.
"Holy sh*t, we shot Santa." They both whispered under their breath, realizing that they both indeed shot and buried the famous Santa.
Snap
"Bernard." Santa snapped his fingers, and with a soft rustle, an elf appeared at the side of the sleigh.
Small and sprightly, the elf wore a green tunic with a pointy hat, his large ears twitching as he approached.
He held a tightly bound scroll in his hands, the edges of the parchment yellowed with age.
The elf bowed slightly before handing the list to Santa, who unfurled it with a swift motion, his eyes scanning it with a slight frown.
"Ricky Luciano, permanent naughty lister." Santa muttered, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through the cold air as he rolled the scroll open further.
Bernard, standing at attention beside him, squinting at the two with hate-filled eyes, the only other sound being the faint jingling of his boots.
Santa's eyes narrowed as he read aloud, his voice taking on an almost mocking tone.
"Let's see; murder, stealing, lying, hoarding, all the way down to stealing a little balloon from a child, a mere child." Santa's lips curled into a half-smile, looking upwards towards Ricky with his squinted eyes.
"Real classy."
"Thanks, I take pride in my work." Ricky quipped, shaking his head at these bogus claims as Bernard marched forward.
"How dare you speak to Mr. Clause like thaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!" Bernard, in his tiny elf form, marched up to Ricky about to sternly lecture him only for the degenerate man to wind up his leg.
In the next moment, Ricky drop kicked the small elf Bernard all the way back into the sleigh as Santa shook his head, taking out a pen.
"Kicking an elf." Santa muttered, writing down his actions onto the list before checking it twice, and finally looked towards Lucky.
"But you Tommy, I had expectations of you." Santa's words struck something deep within Lucky, looking at him with almost an expression of regret.
"You were such a kind and wise child, you were such a good boy, what happened?" Santa asked, almost regretting for Lucky at what he had become.
"Uh, ouch-" Ricky spoke from the side, watching Santa not even check twice to see that he had been a lost cause from the beginning.
"What happened to Little Tommy?" Santa wondered out loud, trying to reach Lucky who looked to be in reach and yet, so far gone.
"Little Tommy, huh?" Lucky chuckled, a smile spreading across his face as he noticed the hope rekindle in Santa's eyes.
"Yes, what happened to-"
Santa's voice trailed off, fading into the background as an old memory resurfaced in Lucky's mind.
"Little Tommy, Merry Christmas!" One of Antonio's mobsters called out, waving at young Lucky and a young Tommy, their laughter echoing in the cold night air.
"Merry christmas." Lucky nodded to the man, holding a present in his arms as the snow fell across the street, the town.
"Whatcha got there?" The mobster eyed the present, bending down to ruffle Tommy's hair and take time out of his day to ask his boss's boy.
"It's a present for my pops." Tommy smiled warmly, holding the present close to his heart as the mobster laughed heartily.
"Well, I'm sure he'll love it-"
BOOM
In the distance, a terrifying explosion erupted, silencing the mobster's words as it wiped out all the laughter, all the joy that had echoed through the town.
The only sound that followed was the chaotic chorus of screams, cutting through the cold night like a dagger.
"INTRUDERS, INTRUDER-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" A man's desperate scream echoed through the air as he tried to warn the others but before he could finish, a grotesque ghoul lunged at him, sinking its teeth into his leg.
"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" The ghoul's high-pitched screech filled the air as it slammed its clawed hand onto the man's head, crushing it with sickening force.
His skull cracked open, and his brain splattered across the snow, painting the white ground with a gruesome display.
"Little Tommy, run!" The mobster yelled, his voice tinged with panic as he shoved the frightened child away.
Tommy, wide-eyed and trembling, stumbled back, his gaze darting around in terror and without a second thought, he turned and bolted, his small legs carrying him as fast as they could through the snow, his heart pounding in his chest as the nightmare unfolded around him.
HUFF
HUFF
HUFF
The sounds of his breath came in sharp, frantic gasps, each exhale mixing with the mist that swirled around him.
His tears streamed down his cheeks, frozen in the cold air, as the horrors unfolded around him.
The screams of the fallen and the grotesque, monstrous figures looming in the distance blurred together in a nightmare he couldn't escape.
People, the very same he grew up with, devoured on the mere streets as the pure white snow was tainted by the crimson carnage of their wraith.
"MA, POPS-" Lucky cried out, only for the present to drop from his grasp as his knees fell in the snow, the next words catching in his throat.
The house, the home he once knew with warmth and love, was now nothing but a towering inferno, flames licking the sky in a cruel mockery of everything it once stood for.
But what shattered him even more than the devastation was what lingered, scattered among the charred remains were bodies.
His mother, his siblings, were strewn across the ground in grotesque disarray, their lifeless forms marred by bullet holes that left them unrecognizable.
The stench of blood and smoke hung heavy in the air, but it was the sight of their mangled bodies that seared into his mind.
His eyes hollowed, the weight of the loss crashing over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of despair.
In the next second, a hand clamped over Tommy's mouth, and his eyes widened in shock at the sudden motion.
Before he could react, a familiar figure appeared from the shadows, bloodied and battered, yet unmistakable.
"Shhhhh!" Antonio hissed, pressing a finger to his lips, his other arm tightly wrapping around Tommy to keep him still.
Despite the blood staining his clothes and the tears staining his eyes, Antonio managed a strained smile, attempting to project some sense of calm.
But Tommy could see the fear and sorrow behind his father's eyes, the same fear and sorrow behind his own.
Without hesitation, Antonio scooped Tommy into his arms, running with urgency as the chaos unfolded behind them.
Watching as his family burned away under the towering flames before the remnants were buried in the falling snow.
Antonio ran, his breath ragged, his legs burning from the exertion as he sprinted toward the dock.
The ship, its sails already unfurled, was ready to depart, but Antonio pushed himself harder, desperate to escape the nightmare unfolding behind him.
His foot slammed against the wooden planks of the dock, the sound echoing through the tense air as Tommy looked upon Sicily, the place he had once called home, now engulfed in flames.
Getting into the boat, Anitno placed Tommy down only to gaze back and his pupils to shrink.
"SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" The horde of ghouls were closing in on the docks, slaughtering all those before them as their path was headed towards them.
"THERE HE IS, ANTONIO RIGHT THERE!" One of the enemy mob bosses roared outwards, his finger turning towards Antonio about to flee.
"Tommy, listen to me, listen!" Antonio got on one knee, holding Tommy's pale andfrighted cheek while the urgency was laced within his face.
"Don't ever come back here, never come back to this hell!" Antonio's voice was cold, detached, as he shoved Tommy away.
His words were not of love, but of a final command, a warning carved into his son's soul.
"Don't ever come back here, never come back to this hell!" Antonio's voice was cold and harsh, devoid of love, leaving Tommy with nothing but a warning, a warning that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
"POPS-" Tommy screamed, his heart shattering as he watched Antonio run back into his certain death.
He reached out desperately, his hand trembling, but before he could move any further, other passengers yanked him back, holding him tight as he fought to escape their grip.
The only thing Tommy could do was watch, helpless, as Antonio moved with purpose as his father grabbed lanterns and oil, the kind used to scrub the boats, and began to douse the docks, leaving a trail behind him and with a final, determined gesture, he threw the lantern to the ground.
The fire spread wildly, its orange tendrils creeping over the wood, but Antonio kept moving, relentlessly laying down more oil as he ran toward the horde without a hint of fear.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-" Antonio's battle cry echoed into the night as he charged toward certain death.
Before the horde surged, crashing onto him like a wave, consuming him whole in seconds with the last thing Tommy saw was the explosion of flames, a burst of fire that engulfed everything in its path, a violent flare that lit up the entire dock, allowing for his son's escape.
All his life, he had been called Lucky, but no one ever really knew where it all started, no one knew when he stopped being Tommy.
As the passengers released their grip on him, the boat sailed farther and farther away from the burning city.
Little Tommy, the boy who had once known only warmth, looked back at the city now engulfed in flames, a city that had taken everything from him.
The fire raged in the distance, and with it, his past was swallowed whole, leaving him with nothing but the smoldering remnants of a life that could never be reclaimed.
The tears slowly stopped flowing down his cheeks, the fear and sorrow gradually being consumed by something far darker, hatred.
His hands gripped the edge of the boat, knuckles white as his body trembled with the weight of what he had witnessed.
Christmas was the day Tommy died.
The day that innocent, naive boy, who once saw the world with jolly cheer, was erased.
The moment that boy's soul was shattered and replaced with something much colder, something that would give form to something darker.
That was the day Tommy's spirit soured, and in its place, a hardened mobster emerged, the man who now stood before Santa, the man who had become Lucky Luciano.
"What happened to him?" Santa stood before Lucky, no, he stood before Little Tommy.
"You wanna know what happened to Little Tommy?" Lucky asked, looking up at Santa without a shred of warmth.
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a pistol and pointed it St. Nick's forehead, pressing into his jolly skin.
"I killed him, there is no f*cking Little Tommy, only Lucky." Lucky words were cold and harsh, uncaring for the man who showed compassion towards him.
"Now give me back my f*ck merchandise before I blow your brains out-"
"I can't do that." Santa shook his head, uncaring if Lucky shot him since a bullet couldn't kill him.
Sigh
"So, you're telling me that even if we kill you and put you through the most excruciating f*cking hell imaginable, you still won't give up what belongs to us?" Ricky asked skeptically, tilting his head as he regarded the mythical figure.
"Nothing you can do-"
"Fine, then let's go." Lucky suddenly said, putting down the pistol as both Ricky and Santa looked on in disbelief.
"Pops what are you-"
"If St. Nick over there won't cough up the merchandise, then every kid and their families are gonna have to pay." Lucky words were cold, unforgiving almost as Santa's eyes widened.
"You wouldn't-" Santa tried to stop Lucky, reaching out only for the mobster to turn around with his pistol still in hand.
BANG
Brains scattered amongst the powder white snow, Santa's body slumping down onto the ground as Bernard gasped from inside the sleigh
"Y-You shot Santa, AGAIN!" Bernard cried out, tears flowing down his small elf face while rushing towards Santa's side.
"Oh come on, if he survived that hunting accident then a shot in the head won't kill him-"
"IT'S THE PRINCIPLE, DON'T YOU PERMANENT NAUGHTY LISTERS GET IT!" Bernard screeched at the two, Ricky raising an eyebrow and looking at Lucky already walking back to the car.
"Get how you stole our product and holding our merchandise hostage-"
"THAT COAL IS YOUR PRODUCT!" Bernard angrily roared out, his words making Ricky and Lucky's body halt.
"It was supposed to be a lesson, Santa wanted you to understand the weight of your actions and feel some remorse so-KUERK" Bernard tried to explain Santa's deeper meaning though Ricky grabbed the young elf's neck.
"Stop with that christmas spirit nonsense and tell me how to turn it back, right f*cking now." Ricky held out his hand, threatening Bernard who wriggled in his grasp before the Ebony blade landed within his palm.
The blade slowly pressed against the little elves neck, watching it squirm within his grasp as Lucky sighed from the side.
"Slick, you're wasting your time, they're probably just like this fatass here." Lucky kicked the big man in his jolly belly, frowning at how this even happened.
"Y-Yep, y-you can't kill us since we're immortal!" Bernard gulped heavily, his body shaking as Ricky's expression halted.
Slowly, Ricky's gaze shifted to Bernard, whose face grew pale as he noticed the annoyed expression morphing into a predatory smile.
"You're lying," Ricky said with a chilling chuckle, his voice cold as the realization settled, elves could die, unlike Santa, who now lay face down in a pool of his own blood.
"I-you-KUREK!" Bernard tried to say anything, only for his hand to squeeze even tighter.
"Now, you little sh*t stain, how do I turn the coal back into our product?" Ricky demanded, his voice sharp and unrelenting as the elf's face turned blue from lack of air.
"S-Stop-" Santa tried to reach up, his body swirling in the Christmas spirit that made his wounds sparkle with wonder only for a gun to be pressed against his forehead once more.
BANG
"KUERK!" Bernard coughed out, tears streaking down his cheeks as Lucky blew Santa's brain out once more.
"Do you want to watch us kill Santa over and over again, or are you going to talk?" Ricky asked, his tone icy as he dropped Bernard to the floor, leaving the elf gasping for breath.
"I-I won't." Bernard cried out, his rageful face looking up at Ricky filled with hatred since he would never betray Santa, never.
"Fine." Ricky laughed, rubbing his mouth before slowly backing up while tapping the Ebony blade on his shoulder.
SPLAT
Without hesitation, Ricky suddenly drove his sword into Santa's belly, piercing through flesh and muscle until the blade buried itself deep into the earth beneath.
"SANTA-" Bernard screeched, trying to reach out only for Lucky to press his foot on his head.
"Where is our product-"
"YOU FOOLS, DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND CHRISTMAS MAGIC!" Bernard roared, his little body tensing up as he pulled out a candy cane out of his coat.
"Obviously not-"
"You will, you'll all learn what the Christmas spirit means." Bernard looked up at Ricky and Lucky, their cold gazes looking down at him and his hope without a shred of concern.
"B-Bernard, don't-" Santa, with tears at the end of his eyes, reached out towards Bernard making a rash decision.
"CODE 0001, SEND-" Bernard yelled into his candy cane, speaking out an order only used in drills as Lucky cocked back his revolver.
"W-Wait-" Santa tried to stop, only to wince as the sword was still pierced in his stomach with his eyes watching the scene unfold before he could finish.
BANG
Bernard, a mortal being, had his tiny head explode under the impact of one bullet as Lucky ruthlessly snuffed out his life.
"Head Elf Bernard, what is that-" A voice spoke from the other side of the candy cane comsat, urgently trying to know more about the situation only for Lucky to bring down his foot.
CRUNCH
The candy cane crushed under the weight of his decision, the candy cane comsat crumbling under his foot.
"BENARD, BENARD!"
Meanwhile, at the North Pole, an elf spoke urgently from behind a desk, interrupting a celebration meant to honor their successful delivery of gifts to every child.
The event, a fleeting moment of joy and recognition for their hard work, was to be followed immediately by preparations for the next Christmas.
At the center of the holiday bash, within the North Village where all the elves resided, stood an enormous Christmas tree, a towering monument that acted as the world tree of Christmas spirit.
This tree, stretching miles into the sky, bore countless ornaments, each connected to the life force of an elf.
Suddenly, one ornament at the very top dimmed, its light extinguished in an ominous sign.
"N-No." the elf stammered, his gaze shifting to the side, joined by all the celebratory elves who turned to witness the horrifying sight.
The ornament, blackened and devoid of all life and joy, detached from the towering tree and began its slow descent.
All eyes followed it as it fell, cutting through the festive air, before landing in the snow with a muffled thud.
The once-joyful chatter and movement among the elves ceased, a heavy silence settling over the gathering.
Slowly, the elves gathered, a somber hush falling over the crowd as Bernard's little son stepped forward.
He dropped to his tiny knees, his green mittens digging into the snow as he gently scooped up the darkened ornament, the extinguished life of his father, and held it close, trembling.
Nearby, his brother, Bushy, stood frozen for a moment, his breaths coming in heavy puffs that clouded the air.
The cheer in his eyes darkened, giving way to a simmering hatred and without a word, he turned and bolted toward the control station, his small figure brimming with determined fury.
Tears fell from his eyes but their was no sadness, only rage as he ran towards the main counsel that was supposed to be for his rbtoehr, and looked toward a button only pressed in drills.
Bam
"VOICE AUTHORIZATION AND MECHANICAL AUTHORIZATION CONFIRMED, CODE 0001 HAS TAKEN FULL EFFECT!" A cold, mechanical voice declared, the sound of an alarm bell ringing out as the entire North Village was bathed in a menacing red hue.
"SANTA HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED!" The voice sounded out, all the elves covering their mouths at this horrifying fact while Bushy took the nearby mic.
He knew he couldn't compare to his brother, someone so devoted and loyal to Christmas itself, but right now, he was gone.
Everyone knew it, but no one could accept it but Bushy would, he would carry on the torch, no matter the weight, and ensure that his brother's sacrifice wasn't in vain.
"I know you're scared." Bushy's voice rang out through the elf village, causing even Bernard's son to gaze up.
"I-I am too, but right now, Santa needs our help!" Bushy yelled, his tiny hands gripping around the mic as all the elves slowly stopped crying.
"THERE IS A GRINCH OUT THERE WHO HAS TAKEN A MAN WHO ONLY WANTS TO SPREAD JOY AND LOVE!" Bushy's voice became passionate, his words forcing the elves off their knees and slowly taking a stand.
"WE MUST SAVE HIM, WE MUST DO SOMETHING BECAUSE IF WE WONT-" Bushy voice suddenly froze at the picture on Bernard's desk.
For as long as he could remember, Bushy had always fallen short in his efforts to be a good elf, constantly mocked for his failures.
He even thought his brother didn't care, until he stumbled upon a picture lying among the others on Bernard's desk.
It was a photo of Bushy, beaming with pride as he held up his elf degree after passing his exams, a moment of accomplishment he thought had gone unnoticed.
"B-Because if we don't, who will." Bushy eyes watered, his voice trembling as his sincerity spread throughout the elf village as that lost hope slowly rekindled.
"ELVES, TO YOUR BATTLE STATIONS!" Bushy roared, the elves all gripping their tiny hands and rushing out to fulfill their duties, as elves should.
Across the village, the elves were preparing for a mission unlike any they had ever embarked upon: to save Santa.
The once cheerful and joyous holiday atmosphere had turned into one of grim determination and urgency.
Weapons loaded with Christmas spirit, infused with pure holiday magic, were being strategically equipped.
Guns shaped like candy canes, their barrels shimmering with frosty energy, were mounted along rooftops and in hidden corners.
These weren't just ordinary weapons; they were powered by the essence of Christmas itself, designed to harness the magic of the season to protect and defend.
Reindeer, their coats glistening in the red-hued sky, were draped in ornate armor made of gold and silver.
The once playful creatures now looked like formidable steeds, ready for battle.
The armor they wore shimmered with enchanted snowflakes and holly, each piece carefully crafted to protect them from any attack.
They would carry the elves into the heart of danger, ready to face whatever it took to rescue Santa.
In the village square, elves were gathering in groups, donning their battle gear, some wearing helmets adorned with jingling bells, others clutching swords imbued with Christmas magic.
They had trained for years for a moment like this, but none had imagined that they would ever face such a dire situation and with Santa's life on the line, they were prepared to risk everything.
A crowd of onlookers, the non-combatant elves, silently observed the scene, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe.
The murmurs among them grew quieter as they parted to make way for one elf, one brave elf.
Clad in his own battle gear, Bushy walked through the crowd, his figure and his expression resolute.
The helmet adorned in jingle bells, once a symbol of the battle elves department he thought he could never qualify for, now sat firmly atop his head.
In his hand, he gripped his Christmas sword, its blade gleaming with the spirit of the season.
With steady steps, Bushy walked toward a reindeer, its majestic form draped in golden armor, reserved only for commanders.
"Uncle Bushy?" Bernard's little son stepped up with teary eyes, holding the darkened ornament in his hands that signaled Bernard's death.
"Yeah, Jingle?" Bushy got on one knee, smiling at his nephew Jingle who looked at him with a concerned expression.
"W-Will you save Santa?" Jingle asked the question on every single elf's mind, all eyes looking at him as Bushy looked him straight in the eyes without a single ounce of hesitation.
"Yes, I will save Santa."
Meanwhile at the old cabin,
"Y-You're making a mistake~" Santa groaned, his voice weak as he strained against the chains that bound him to a nearby wooden beam.
The ebony blade, still lodged deep in his stomach, pressed into the beam, ensuring that his healing powers couldn't fully regenerate.
Blood seeped steadily from the wound, staining his once-pristine attire as he struggled to keep his focus.
His hands and legs were tightly bound, the ropes digging into his skin as the cold, relentless pain surged through him.
Despite his condition, he lifted his gaze to Ricky and Lucky, who sat off to the side, observing with an unsettling calmness.
Santa's chest heaved with each labored breath, his eyes filled with disbelief and defiance, even as his strength waned.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this, it was supposed to be a lesson~" Santa muttered, his voice barely audible as the weight of his weakness sank in.
His body struggled to heal, the regeneration process fighting against the damage, but the ebony blade lodged deep in his stomach thwarted every attempt.
Each time his flesh tried to push it out, the blade sliced through his regeneration, preventing him from fully healing.
"You keep saying that but what do you even mean, just spit it out already." Ricky scoffed from the side, Lucky nodding as his ramblings were getting out of hand.
"C-Christmas magic, the same one that was used to turn your merchandise and horrid product into coal-......w-will wear off once Christmas ends." Santa cried, his voice trembling with the weight of his realization.
He tried to rationalize the situation, convinced that this entire ordeal was one big misunderstanding.
Santa had originally intended to teach these two a lesson, to make them feel some sense of remorse or guilt before they woke up the next day with their products restored.
He had wanted them to understand the consequences of their actions, to feel the gravity of their choices but now, everything had spiraled out of control.
Santa knew the evils of the world well, his years of experience showing him the darker sides of human nature.
But he had always remained neutral, not choosing sides, but instead seeking to spread a little joy to those who were constantly weighed down by despair.
This was his purpose, his gift to the world but this time, this time, it had gotten personal.
It had started with good intentions, but now, as he lay there, bloodied and bound, he understood how terribly wrong things had gone.
"Oh my f*cking god." Ricky stood up, kicking the chair in frustration with Lucky scrunching his eyebrows.
"Why didn't you tell us-"
"You wouldn't let me!" Santa yelled, hitting his head back against the wooden beam.
"I-I just wanted you to feel remorse or even guilt but y-you're too far gone, hopeless and I see that now." Santa huffed out, shaking his head since permanent naughty listers were on the list for a reason.
There was a brief moment, a fragile sliver of time, where the situation could have been resolved.
If only they had understood each other, if only the air hadn't thickened with suspicion and resentment.
But now, with no intentions left and the assurance that their product would return tomorrow, Ricky and Lucky had no further use for Santa as he had become irrelevant, a broken figure chained to a beam.
Yet, misunderstandings only ever led to more misunderstandings and outside, the sun began to drift downwards, casting a pale midday light across the forest.
That was when they appeared, a sea of figures, marching in the very air towards them.
In another reality, things could have been different.
The elves might have waited, might have gathered to ask for Santa's return, and everything could have returned to normal.
The cycle of Christmas, the gift-giving, the joy, could have continued as it always had.
But Bernard had unknowingly ignited the spark that would shape a new chapter in elf history.
His activation of Code 0001 had set the wheels in motion, pulling them all into an irreversible conflict.
Benard had unknowingly started The Great Elf War.
"ATTACK, GIVE YOUR LIVES TO SAVE SANTA!" Bushy roared, his voice echoing through the cold air as he pointed his candy cane sword toward the cabin where Santa lay bound.
His eyes burned with resolve, a fire ignited within him by the need to right the wrongs and end this madness.
Around him, the elves rallied, their voices rising in a unified roar as they charged forward with a mixture of desperation and defiance, their determination fueling every step.
And then, they did the one single act that would forever make the situation unresolvable.
The elves, in their blind rush to save Santa, unleashed the full force of their fury.
Christmas cannons, mounted on sleighs, were wheeled into position, their massive barrels aimed directly at the cabin where Santa lay bleeding.
The air crackled with the tension, the festive decor of the cannons at odds with the grim purpose they now served.
As they were loaded with joy and brimming with Christmas wonder to a lethal degree, the elves did the one thing that would prolong the conflict.
They attack Ricky with the intent to kill.
In the cabin, Ricky, who was annoyed at this all suddenly jerked his head to the side, his eyes turning back with a smile forming on his face.
"Don't tell me-"
"FIRE!"
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
With a single, resounding command, the cannons roared to life as a burst of glittering, explosive magic surged forward, filling the air with a deafening blast as the ground shook beneath their feet.
The power behind the attack was unimaginable, the combination of Christmas magic and destructive force rendering the situation irreparable.
The elves had crossed a line, one that could never be undone.
An array of explosive power all poured from the skies, down onto the cabin as the cabin roof suddenly exploded open.
Having reclaimed the ebony blade, Ricky stood tall, clad in all its eldritch horror alongside his black knight attire.
As the light neared its peak, ready to explode, Ricky bent his knees, preparing himself as in a swift motion, he swung the ebony blade across his body, its dark edge cutting through the air with deadly precision.
As the blade moved, he whispered two words, the weight of them carrying a silent promise of what was to come.
'Full counter.'
Whoosh
The air around Ricky wavered, a strange energy building as a sudden light erupted, blinding everyone nearby.
His smile stretched further, a twisted gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as the attack, once aimed at him, was repelled with devastating force.
The energy surged back at its origin, amplified and twice as lethal, as if the very essence of the attack had been twisted to Ricky's will.
"INCOMING-" One of the elves signaled only to be the first hit as the reindeer he was ride on exploded into mere dust.
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
The horror of their own attack rippled across the skies as Bushy stood frozen, unable to tear his gaze away from the carnage unfolding around him.
He watched, numb, as his fellow elves were eviscerated in mere moments, their bodies reduced to mere ashes.
The explosions sent shockwaves through the air, rippling outward with devastating precision, claiming even more lives in their wake.
"REGROUP, RE-"
SPLAT
An elf commander, desperate to regain control of the chaos, charged forward, only to have his body impaled by Chastifol.
The spear, crackling with an otherworldly energy, tore through his chest with ease, pinning him to the ground.
In a blinding daze, the spear seemed to come alive, its power surging outward like a wave of destruction.
One by one, it skewered the elves, its pole slicing through their bodies with relentless precision.
"STOP NO-"
BAM
Santa tried to stop the elves' efforts only to be pistol whipped across the face by Lucky, shutting him up.
"Slick-"
"I know, I went overboard-"
"No, I need you to go further." Lucky turned back to Ricky, seeing his son's surprised expression.
"This can't just walk into our territory, demand from us, and then walk away." Lucky was a little concerned and anxious, maybe it was the reason why he was about to push Ricky to go further.
But the fact that Santa had been able to reach each of their compounds and storage houses was a grim reminder to the mobster.
If they let this slip, they knew it could happen again, something that could never be allowed.
"They gotta be taught a lesson," Lucky muttered, his eyes cold as ice as the memory of the burning city he once called home resurfaced, the flames licking at the edges of his past.
Lucky couldn't afford to jeopardize his family, not now as he couldn't walk away, not when the threat loomed so close.
"What about St. Nick there?" Ricky asked, kicking his black boot as Lucky cocked the shotgun in his hand.
"I'll watch him. Now go out there and make them pay for coming here for our blood. Stain the snow beneath our f*cking feet with theirs." Lucky's words were a command, raw with fury and the need for retribution.
It was his way of telling Ricky to unleash hell as he let out a low, dark laugh, the sound filled with menace as he understood exactly what was expected.
"You got it, pops." Ricky bent down, before launching himself into the air as his form suddenly took on a new look.
CRACK
Ricky's transformation began with a sickening crack, the sound of bones reshaping and sinew stretching far beyond its natural limits.
His muscles swelled, expanding grotesquely as if his body could no longer contain the power surging through him.
His skin stretched taut over his growing frame, and veins bulging beneath the surface before wings sprouted from his back.
Ricky's eyes glowed a sickly shade, reflecting a predatory hunger as his face elongated into a vicious, vampiric etch.
Teeth, sharp and jagged, pushed past his lips, and claws like blackened daggers sprouted from his fingertips.
WHOOSH
With a single, powerful flap of his devilish wings, Ricky soared into the sky, his monstrous form silhouetted against the slowly darkening sky.
Hovering before the army of elves, Ricky extended his other hand, and with a swift, commanding motion, Chastiefol, which had been mercilessly slaughtering the elves, rocketed back into his grip.
"M-Monster." One of the elves fearfully uttered, looking upon Ricky as the unholy abomination he was.
"DISPERSE!" Bushy commanded, knowing they couldn't take that being head on.
Suddenly, a dark dome materialized around the entire forest, its edges pulsating with an eerie, unnatural energy that sealed off any possible escape.
DINK
The sleds and reindeer, once symbols of holiday cheer, collided into the dome as their fate had unknowingly been sealed.
The elves, trapped within the dome, realized too late that the forest and the sky above had become their battleground, whether they liked it or not.
"Where do you think you're going?" Ricky laughed out, his voice monstrous and scraping against the eardrums of all those who heard it.
"G-GIVE US BACK SANTA, NOW!" Bushy screamed, his voice trembling with fear, yet forcing itself into boldness as the gravity of the situation set in.
His words were barely out of his mouth when a chilling chuckle echoed through the air, sending a wave of terror down the spines of everyone present.
"How about you come and f*cking get him?" Ricky asked, chains slowly swaying behind his back like tentacles as Bushy gulped heavily.
GULP
"ATTACK-" Bushy set out to give the command only for Chastiefol to pierce his abdomen then rip outwards.
"BUSHY-" Another elf roared out only for Ricky to appear above him and slash down.
SPLAT
Falling towards the forest, Bushy's eyes widened in horror as he witnessed the brutal scene unfold before him.
In an instant, an elf and reindeer were cleaved in two, their bodies falling apart with a single, devastating slash from Ricky's blade.
BAM
Bushy's falling form crashed into the snow below, the cold surface breaking his fall, but it was already too late.
His small body, battered and broken, could never withstand the overwhelming force that had been unleashed.
Blood pooled from the gash in his side as his hollow eyes stared up at the sky, his breath ragged and shallow.
Above him, the anguished cries of his fellow elves echoed through the air, but they were swiftly silenced, falling like lambs to the slaughter as it was a massacre.
The battle was completely one-sided.
The elves and reindeer, who had spent their lives spreading joy and cheer, were no match for the sheer brutality Ricky had come to embody.
Years of violence and brutality had molded him into something monstrous, something beyond their reckoning.
His power, honed through what seemed like endless conflict, swept through the battlefield with terrifying ease, crushing all in its path.
The elves, once symbols of holiday spirit, were reduced to nothing more than prey before being ripped apart.
Pieces of elves and reindeer rained down from the sky, their broken bodies scattering across the forest like discarded remnants.
The once pristine snow was now stained with the vivid crimson of their blood, the forest beneath them transforming into a grim mass grave as limbs, torsos, and fragments of once-lively creatures littered the ground.
"B-Bushy?" An elf gasped, blood spilling from his mouth, his body torn and broken, missing an arm and a leg.
With a pained, desperate crawl, he dragged himself towards the fallen elf, clutching a small bag of rainbow powder in his remaining hand.
"S-Simon?" Bushy whispered, his vision blurred and fading as he turned his head, offering a weak smile despite the agony.
"I-I guess you were right, I guess I'm not the elf-"
"No, I-I was wrong." Simon shook his head, weakly setting down the bag on the ground to then scoop it up with the only hand he had.
"Y-You're an elf, no matter what anyone says you became an elf when everyone needed it the most." Simon gulped, tears streaking down his cheeks while pushing the powder into his wound.
"W-What are you-"
HUFF
HUFF
"S-Save Santa." Simon huffed out pained breaths, his wounds catching up with him while using his heal powder on him.
"H-Here, it will bring Santa home." Simon stammered, his hand trembling as he placed a Christmas tree locket gently on Bushy's chest.
With a final sigh, he collapsed, falling forward but before he could hit the ground, Bushy's now-healed form caught him, his strength returning just in time to cradle his friend's broken body.
"Why?" Bushy asked, choking as this was the only word that he could muster.
"B-Because w-when w-we were all hopeless, y-you s-still p-pressed f-foward-" Simons pushed the locket further onto his chest, his eyes becoming more and more lifeless with every word uttered until he lost all strength.
Just as the locket was about to slip from Simon's hand and fall to the ground, Bushy's fingers shot out, catching it mid-air as Simon's fading gaze locked onto him.
"I'll save Santa, all of this won't be in vain I promise!" Bushy assured, holding the locket tightly before rushing towards the cabin.
'G-Go Bushy, s-save Santa.' Simon thought, too weak to speak as his eyes slowly hollowed before he took his last breath.
Bushy's ragged breaths echoed through the forest as he stared at the cabin that once held Santa.
He knew this after the roof was blown open by Ricky's attack, seeing Santa before the onslaught of their attack pushed back.
Reaching the door, Bushy cautiously pushed it open, his eyes falling on Lucky as he reloaded his shotgun.
The grim sight of Santa, riddled with bullets, lay before him as Lucky had been relentlessly pumping him full of lead the entire time.
Gripping a candy cane dagger, Bushy's eyes steeled with determination as he bit his lip, then, with the locket clutched tightly in his other hand, he rushed forward.
"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Bushy drew Lucky's attention with his battle cry, seeing the tiny elf rush forward only for the double barrel shotgun to point at him.
BANG
The buckshot slammed into Bushy, the force sending his body reeling backward as his newly healed guts splattered against the wall, and with a painful thud, he crashed into it.
"Well, that was stupid." Lucky surmised, casting his gaze down onto Bushy slumped against the wall, heaving out breaths as he was barely holding onto his life.
"I-I knew I wouldn't m-make it out of here alive, I-I accepted that." Bushy chuckled painfully, releasing the candy cane dagger in one hand but when he opened his other palm, it was empty.
"What are you-"
WHOOSH
A flash of light suddenly resounded in the cabin, catching Ricky's eyes as his head jerked over to where Lucky was, only for the other elves to realize what that meant.
"EVERYONE BUY SANTA TIME, THROW DOWN YOUR LIVES!" An elf knew what that flash meant, knowing that Bushy had succeeded as all the elves suddenly swarmed around Ricky.
"GET OUT OF MY F*CKING WAY!" Ricky roared, ripping these elves apart like paper but they were blocking him by throwing their own bodies at him.
In the cabin, Santa's being swirled in Christmas wonder, turning his entire body into sparkles as the locket was teleporting him back to the North Pole.
"You little sh*t stain." Lucky hissed at Bushy, turning the shotgun back at Santa and firing one round.
BANG
DINK
But it was no use as the Christmas tree, imbued with an unyielding magic that sprang alive on this day, shielded Santa, its warmth wrapping protectively around him.
The only force that could possibly disrupt this defense, Ricky, was too preoccupied with mowing down wave after wave of elves.
Santa's eyes lingered on Bushy, watching the young elf, battered and bloodied, teetering on the edge of death.
Then, Santa's gaze shifted, his heart heavy as he watched the elves, his beloved workers and loyal followers, fall one after another.
They were dying, not for him, but so that he could escape and continue to carry out the very wonder of Christmas they had all devoted their lives to.
"I won't forget this," Santa's voice echoed, cold and devoid of any trace of jolly cheer.
"I won't forget what you Luciano's have done." Santa hatefully spoke towards Lucky, carving this very experience into his heart.
"I won't ever forget-"
"Good, but just know that next time, you won't be getting out alive, like this fella right here." Lucky's voice was cold, his gaze unwavering as he aimed the shotgun at Bushy.
Santa's eyes widened in horror, his hand reaching out in a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable.
But before he could act, a sudden force whisked him away, his body vanishing into thin air, transported back to the North Pole.
"Any last words, run?" Lucky asked, turning towards Bushy who simply gave him a smug and bloody smile.
"I saved Santa-"
BANG
SPLAT
Bushy's body crumpled to the ground, his head exploding from the force of the buckshot, blood and fragments scattering across the snow.
Lucky clicked his tongue in annoyance, glancing down at the fallen elf, before turning his attention back to Ricky who had returned back to his normal state and landed in the cabin.
"Where did he go?" Ricky, having slaughtered every single elf in his path, asked Lucky since Santa was gone.
"No way, you let him get away-" Ricky wasn't mad but laughed at Lucky who scoffed, kicking the headless elf slumped on the wall.
"This little sh*t like, whisked him away with some weird-"
"You let him get away, you let him get away~" Ricky, in his childish ways, started rubbing it in Lucky's face as he facepalmed but couldn't refute.
"I-I'm sorry, for everything." Lucky muttered out, ducking his head in shame since a supposed hunting trip became a nightmarish war against Santa and his elves.
"I just wanted to make this Christmas count before you left and-"
"Pops, are you kidding?" Ricky laughed out, spreading out his hands with a baffled expression.
"This was the best Christmas ever!" Ricky couldn't help but shout, his voice carrying into the sky, exhilaration buzzing through him.
"Slick, you don't have to make me feel better-"
"I'm serious, I will literally never forget this day and will always brag to anyone who will listen about how I shot Santa, with my pops." Ricky slung his arm around Lucky's shoulder, patting his chest while leading him out of the ruined cabin.
All across the forest, the bloody remains of the elves and reindeer slowly disintegrated, turning to Christmas dust that swirled away with the wind.
The land, stained with the chaos of the battle, began to cleanse itself, as if the forest itself sought to erase the violence.
Ricky and Lucky walked through the devastation, their footsteps leaving prints in the snow as they walked towards the nearby road.
Even though today, or yesterday, hadn't gone as planned, not even remotely close to how Lucky had imagined it, when he looked at Ricky, laughing along with him as the blood of elves stained their clothes, he smiled.
Christmas had always been a terrible time for him, one of the reasons he had never truly experienced it.
He had lost his family long ago, and the holiday only reminded him of that absence.
But now, looking at Ricky, remembering the laughter of his grandkids happily opening presents by the Christmas tree, he felt a warmth in his chest.
He was thankful.
Thankful for the privilege of having another chance at a family, however unconventional it might be.
Because Christmas wasn't about grandiose gestures or the overindulgence of gifts and spiked eggnog, it was about who you spent it with.
The moments you shared and the memories they created.
Ricky would never forget today and for Lucky, that was enough.
"Merry Christmas, Slick."
"Merry Christmas, pops."
Meanwhile at the North Pole,
"Bushy?" Santa reached out, only for his surroundings to change and it was then that he saw it.
It wasn't the elves holding their mouths in disbelief, not their worried faces that haunted him.
Once lively and colorful ornaments, the very same that should be hanging on the tree at the center of the North Pole village, were all laying around him.
Blackened, showing no single ounce of light and having fallen from the tree that brimmed with Christmas spirit, scattered all around Santa by the dozens.
Signaling the gruesome realization that all the elves, reindeer, and countless heralds of Christmas joy that went to save him, were all extinguished in the wake of his own selfishness, his desire to teach unreachable people a lesson.
Ricky and Lucky were beyond redemption, lost causes in the eyes of anyone who cared to look.
Santa should have known that after everything the list, even after checking it twice, had revealed.
Santa should have known that the darkness within them was too deep to be undone by simple gestures, too ingrained to be washed away with a few lessons or moments of pity.
And as the scene unfolded before him, Santa couldn't help but feel a deep, gnawing regret as this had been his fault.
Sniff
"Never again." Santa's hands clutched the snow around him, his eyes once filled with cheer filled with one single thing, vengeance.
"Never again will I underestimate a Luciano." Santa swore, marking this loss in the bottom of his aching heart.
"I will check my list, and I will check it twice," Santa muttered, his voice low and cold.
"But next Christmas, I'll make sure those Lucianos who are naughty, will die before the end of Christmas night."
This vow, this singular vow, would unknowingly give birth to the most brutal and bloody Christmas tradition and every Luciano who had been deemed naughty would pay the price.
For not only would Santa spend 364 days preparing to spread Christmas joy to the world's children, but he would also spend that time crafting a bundle full of wrath specifically for the Luciano family.
"The end." Ricky finally finished, heaving out since that story took forever.
The kids all stood around Ricky with weird smiles since they were so desensitized to violence due to all being Luciano's that it wasn't even a little bit weird for them.
"Alright, time for bed." Ricky clapped his hands, his words immediately making those smiles freeze stiff.
"AWWWWWWWWWWW~" They all let out, whining to the top of their lungs but Ricky really just couldn't care.
"Come on." One by one, their parents dragged them away until Ricky was left all by himself.
"Father, the preparations have been made." One of his sons calmly walked up next to him, standing resolute.
"Then, let's go pay that f*cking fatass a visit, on his own turf."
To be continued,
Author's Note: I was gonna post this yesterday and I'm f*cking sorry about that but I got way to wasted. MERRY CHRISTMAS!
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