章節 131: Chapter 126: Confrontation With The KKK
"Ricky, I understand that, but right now I'm naked on a rock." Raven scrunched her eyebrows, pointing to the blanket being the only form of clothing she had.
"Yeah you are~" Ricky let out a sleazy chuckle, nodding to himself while looking at the skimpy Raven covering all the juicy parts with a comforter from the bed.
Sigh
"Can you at least leave me a fire-"
Boom
"Well, that was disappointing." Ricky muttered, exploding a nearby cactus in a towering flame only for it to dwindle shortly afterwards.
Cactus aren't easily combustible since they store a lot of water relative to their dry weight, which Ricky was now learning.
"Wait, hold on." Ricky walked to the side, Raven watching with a plain expression only for her eyes to widen as he picked up a huge hollow trunk and set it in front of her.
Boom
Controlling his pyrokinesis, he conjured a warm fire in front of Raven as the warmth slowly radiated towards her.
"Thank you." Raven said sweetly, smiling warmly at him as he kissed her forehead.
"I'll be back in an hour!" Ricky called out before dashing through the portal while Raven shook her head, clutching the blanket tightly around herself as she settled onto a nearby rock before nudging near the fire.
Arriving in the house stark naked, he pulled out the Necronium, which immediately began spewing massive torrents of water throughout the space.
"Alexander! Chester!" Ricky shouted, bursting through the door to find the two amidst a pile of playing cards next to a passed out Asterion.
"I'm here too, jerk." Garfield coughed up from the side, pouting as Ricky scooped him up.
"ONE MORE CARD, ALL I NEED IS ONE MORE CARD AND I WIN-" Alexander screeched, trying to reach out his paws only for Chester to look at the scene.
Although Alexander had never won before, and letting him take this one would be the friendly thing to do, Chester's pride stung at the thought of actually losing to the hopeless Alexander.
"No time." Chester yanked Alexander backwards, swiping his wing at the disposable playing cards as they blew into the fire.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
BAM
The windows shattered from the fire, and Ricky glanced back to see Chester already taking charge of Alexander.
BAM
Ricky stomped on Asterion's white belly, but the latter barely reacted, his eyes slowly flickering open.
Ricky knew the flames wouldn't harm Asterion, but it was the principle of being a good companion that truly mattered.
"Ugh, wha-" Asterion groaned, holding his head as he looked around, only to notice the entire room engulfed in flames.
"Here, take this," Ricky said abruptly, shoving something toward him and Asterion instinctively complied, still too disoriented to question it.
BOOM
Within moments, Asterion's body was hurled out of the house as Ricky had formed a mental wall and forcefully pushed him out of the burning wreckage.
Turning back, Ricky frantically searched through the inferno until his eyes landed on an unconscious Jake pinned beneath a fallen wooden beam.
BAM
Ricky heaved the beam to the side, slung Jake over his shoulder, and sprinted out of the house. The moment he was clear of the flames, he carefully set Jake down.
Seeing Jake's body covered in burns, Ricky placed a hand on him, channeling psychic healing; a skill he'd barely practiced before but the desperation outweighed his inexperience as he focused all his energy on mending the damage.
Ricky felt the strain as using healing was far more taxing than his other abilities, but it was manageable.
Slowly, a wave of energy pulsed around Jake, the burns and wounds gradually receding as his original form began to reappear.
GASP
COUGH
COUGH
Jake gasped, smoke billowing from his lungs, and Ricky let out a sigh of relief before slapping him across the cheek.
Smack
"What the hell-"
"WHO SLEEPS THROUGH A FIRE?!" Ricky exclaimed, baffled, shaking his collar as if he wanted to scold him as Jake scratched his head, glancing back at the burning wreckage.
"There was a fire-"
"Nevermind-wait, where's Marshall?" Ricky suddenly realized, his gaze darting around as he was certain he had checked the entire house.
"Chester, what happened?" Ricky walked up to Chester, looking at him as Garfield pouted.
"Why do you always ask him for help-"
"Oh my god, fine, what happened Gafield." Ricky faceplamed, looking towards Garfiled who looked to the side.
However Garfield, being the useless cat he was, didn't know that the local Ku Klux Klan had been monitoring Ricky's trial carefully.
As it proceeded, so did the updates and upon seeing the shocking fact that Ricky actually had a chance to win the trial, they finally decided to act and-
"Uh, the Ku Klux Klan took them." Garfield, actually being useful in his abilities, read the narration and interrupted the author's in depth narration.
"Oh come on, you can't blame me when you go overboard at every chance." Garfield scoffed at the author, but the cat was lying to himself and truly cherished the narrations that most people skip over.
"Yeah, whatever-"
"How could you have known that?" Chester said in a baffled tone, not at all expecting Garfiled to actually manage to be useful.
"Garfield, tell me what happened and I'll give you all the lasagna a cat can f*cking stomach!" Ricky grabbed the cat, shaking him vigorously as his mouth watered before looking towards the author as if waiting for the flashback.
10 minutes before the fire,
BLERGH
Asterion vomited mouthfuls of whiskey back into one of the barrels he had drunk from, as everyone around him let out a collective sigh.
"We literally told you, Asterion, don't drink the vanilla-flavored whiskey," Jake lamented from the side, his eyes drifting over to Marshall as he slipped on his coat.
"Uh, where are you going?" Jake asked, standing up, but Marshall simply waved him off.
"For a small walk out back, I need fresh air to think-"
"Buddy, hey, that ain't a good idea, especially with a community that has a tradition of hanging people like you," Jake said, waving his hands in an attempt to dissuade Marshall. But Marshall only gave him a stubborn response.
"I need this," Marshall said, his tone firm while wiping his mouth, hiding the clear concern in his already uneasy expression.
"I need to think about how I'm going to cross-examine Dewey and win this case. The judge is a piece of work, and I'll need every second of thinking that isn't filled with the pungent aroma of vomited whiskey." Marshall gestured to the side, watching Asterion having his back pat back by Alexander.
"I'm sorry~" Asterion murmured, looking up and wiping his mouth, as Alexander gently patted his human cheek.
"Fear not, Asterion, for all might is triumphed by alcohol. Show no shame in your efforts, but glory in your pursuits." Alexander declared, clenching his mighty paw as Asterion heaved up another mouthful of vomit.
"Give it back." Chester muttered from the side, squinting his brows, his focus not on the ongoing conversation but on Garfield, who was holding the sack of bird seed.
"Give what back?" Garfield asked, slumping back on the couch and swaying the bag side to side.
"That is my bird seed-"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know your name was 'Nut Incorporated.'" Garfield chuckled, snobbishly reading the label on the bag before glancing at Chester.
"Garfield, I'm trying really hard to be patient with you but-"
"You're sick and tired of being treated like your opinion doesn't matter, huh? Yeah, me too." Garfield scoffed, clutching the bag as he looked toward the reader.
"I'm literally a cosmic cat, but I'm being treated like a handheld accessory that is only used when needed." Garfield pointed at his majestic and round self, scrunching his brows at his own unique description.
"I have feelings, I feel things!" Garfield thumped his chest, explaining his situation to Chester, the reader, and to the author who merely shrugged behind the computer.
"I understand, but Ricky is human, and it takes time for him to find value in things. Even I was neglected at first because of his own ignorance," Chester said, trying hard to get along with Garfield.
However, unlike the other familiars who had bonded easily with him, the cat just didn't like him.
"But I found my place, within the fold due to hardwork and-"
"But I don't want to do that," Garfield said unabashedly, looking at Chester with a shrug.
"I want all the things, and I want them now because I deserve them." Garfield spoke as if there was nothing wrong with his state of mind, thinking everyone around him needed to change to accommodate him.
"Wow." Chester replied, the only word he could muster, as Alexander let out a scoff from the side.
"Yeah, try being stuck with him for over a year. It only gets worse," Alexander added, feeling bad but not wanting to get involved with Garfield since he was just too much of a handful.
"Marshall-"
"I'm fine, anyways, don't worry about me and focus on the vomiting giant of a man over there," Marshall called out, gesturing toward Asterion before closing the door behind him and walking into the night.
This case was brutal for Marshall, and he knew deep down that if he wanted to stay on this path, it would only get harder.
The blatant favoritism, the casual disregard for proper procedure, it was wearing him down.
Judge Mason was making sure he never caught a break, always shutting him down before he could get a foothold.
Marshall had to work three times as hard just to scrape the surface of Hawkins' case, and that infuriated him.
He knew Hawkins would object to everything he said against Dewey, dragging out every detail which is why Marshall had to steel himself, lock in his mindset, and brace for the fight ahead.
It was then that shadowy figures, cloaked in white, began to slowly circle around him.
Marshall, too lost in thought to notice at first, finally snapped out of his reverie when three of them stepped directly in front of him.
"Hey, boy, nice night for a stroll, don't you think?" A man's voice chuckled from behind the white, drooping outfit, his thick Southern accent cutting through the air.
Marshall's eyes widened, his body convulsing with shock as the reality of the situation hit him.
It was only when he looked around that he saw the members of the actual Ku Klux Klan surrounding him completely, their white robes blending into the darkness like specters closing in.
"GET HIM!" one of the men yelled, and in an instant, they all surged toward Marshall.
Panic flooded his veins as he turned to run, his heart pounding in his chest, but the figures closed in on him with relentless speed.
Just as Marshall managed to break free and catch a sliver of daylight, he was yanked back by his collar and thrown violently to the ground.
His body slammed against the pavement, pain shooting through him, before a heavy boot collided with his face.
He instinctively raised his arms to protect himself, but it did little to stop the onslaught.
Stomps and kicks rained down on him from all sides, each blow harder than the last.
The men surrounding him unleashed a brutal barrage of punches and kicks, pummeling him without mercy.
Marshall could barely process the pain before another hit landed, each strike pushing him further into the grim reality of his helplessness.
The men were merciless, punishing him until he was on the brink of losing consciousness, his breath ragged and shallow.
They looped a rope around his neck and yanked him backward, the sudden pressure choking the air from his lungs.
Desperately grabbing at the rope, he was pulled away with force as one of the older members glanced toward another group, his face cold and resolute.
He handed them a lighter and a bottle of alcohol, the ominous gesture setting Marshall's nerves on fire with the growing sense of dread.
"Go set that negro lovers house aflame." The man spat, his words heavy with hatred as the others nodded, their expressions hardening, before they turned and left, heading toward the house.
Ripping cloth into strips, they stuffed them into the bottle, waiting just long enough for the fabric to dampen.
Once the end was set ablaze, they hurled the bottle through the window as it exploded on impact, sending a burst of fire through the room, filling the air with the crackling roar of flames.
"AH!" Jake yelled as the Molotov cocktail hit him directly in the head as he stumbled backward, but before he could douse the flames, his head slammed against the wall, and everything went black as he fell into unconsciousness.
Present time,
"Well damn, now I feel like an asshole for yelling at Jake." Ricky rubbed the back of his neck, frowning while outside.
"But seriously, holy sh*t Garfield, how did you know all of that?" Ricky asked, bending down to the spot where Marshall was beaten to a pulp and picked up a drop of his almost dried blood.
It was then that the Seeker's Orb Integration slowly seeped out of his palm, coming out of his flesh before he put the drop into it.
"What can I say, I'm just the best." Garfield smugly shrugged, never knowing he could actually read all of the author's hard work then pass it off as his.
"You're no saint, constantly making fat jokes about me and-"
SMACK
"Woah, what the hell?" Ricky recoiled instinctively, Garfield tripping and slamming his face right into a sewer cover as if perfectly timed.
Garfield simply gazed up at the author, holding his choice words back as Ricky started healing him.
"Anyways, good job Garfield." Ricky held up a thumbs up, smiling at Garfield who rubbed his arm.
"Thanks." Garfield didn't respond in a smug way, actually feeling thankful for Ricky actually appreciating his abilities.
"Alright, Chester come with me, along with Alexander, Jake and Asterion will stay here, and Garfield." Ricky ordered out, making his way to everyone before arriving on Garfield.
"Uh, just do you I guess, you've already done more than enough so take a breather." Ricky informed, grabbing Alexander and running in a certain direction as the cat crossed its tiny orange arms while raising his furry chin high.
"I will."
"What are you planning to do, Ricky? Slay the enemy? Claim penance in their deaths? I am curious." Alexander asked cautiously, nestled in the pocket of his shirt.
"Well, those guys f*cked up and it pisses me off that they think that everything's gonna go their way." Ricky scoffed, his eyes turning void black as he cracked his neck to the side.
"But on the other hand, I've been wanting to test out some of my abilities that I haven't had the chance to try yet," Ricky explained, glancing at his system panel before focusing on a specific one.
'Just to be safe.'
Digital Cloaking: ON
Ricky had turned it off, originally wanting to keep a low profile in the media for the trial.
But with everything that could go wrong, it was reassuring not to have to worry about someone catching him off guard with something like surveillance.
Taking out Chastelfold, he watched as it hovered in the air beside him as he gazed at the first mythical weapon he had ever obtained, feeling the weight of its significance.
'But just in case.' Ricky thought, extending his arm as the Ebony Blade, currently dormant, in New York.
He had left it behind in the city, not wanting to disregard its power, but the blade didn't want to come unless there would be an enemy or when someone needed to be slain
"What are you doing-"
"Wait for it," Alexander interrupted Chester, knowing he hadn't noticed it yet, as they ran toward their destination.
BAM
BAM
BAM
Trees exploded in a straight line toward Ricky until a dark object collided with his outstretched hand, stopping the onslaught in its tracks.
'You called.' The Ebony Blade asked out, Ricky putting the holster on his back and running with the blade while Chastelfold hovered to the side.
'Yeah, some dipsh*t's set my house on fire.' Ricky explained with a frown, still annoyed that they actually had the balls to do something to a mobster.
'Fair enough.' The Ebony Blade uttered, agreeing since at the end of the day, it was a sword.
Although it really understands human emotions or desires, it wouldn't go against Ricky since it was something so insignificant in its eyes.
"Why are you running? I thought you could fly now?" Chester asked, looking at Ricky but he smiled at the question, and Chastiefold suddenly hovered in front of him.
"Yeah but I want a running start." Ricky clarified, a mischievous glint in his eye as he jumped onto the weapon, swaying back and forth, ready for the flight ahead.
Rickt waved his arms all about to stop him from falling but when he caught his balance on the hovering sword, he fist pumped as if his suspicions were right.
"This weapon is so f*cking cool." Ricky thought aloud, the ebony blade at his side emitting a faint, sour energy as if it was aware of his words.
'Ahem.'
"What? We all know how cool you were back there, I thought it went unsaid." Ricky glanced down at the pitch-black blade that sat silently, its dark aura almost unreadable.
'I suppose it goes without saying.' The Ebony Blade understood quietly, Ricky seemingly swaying through the air.
If Ricky had to describe the feeling, it was like surfing with a hint of longboarding; the way the weapon swayed under his feet felt strikingly similar, smooth yet responsive.
"Remarkable." Chester commented from the side, gazing at the spear that could bend to Ricky's will while holding his weight.
Then, in the next second, Ricky shot forward at a speed that left Chester in the dust. Chester flapped his wings tirelessly, struggling to catch up.
As Ricky sped ahead, he noticed something in the horizon, something so distinct that it immediately caught his eyes, a burning cross.
He glanced down at it, suspicion creeping into his mind as his eyes gleamed green, his sovereign aura radiating from him, as if the very air around him responded to his focus.
The Necronomicon hovered at his side, flipping open to one of its familiar pages as the spell 'Search' resonated in the air, guiding his gaze to a figure concealed within the distant treeline.
"Ha~" Ricky's eyes glinted, his gaze piercing through the trees as every detail sharpened in his vision.
Instead of rushing to confront the ominous sight, he simply smiled, the mystery only adding to his sense of calm.
"Hold Alexander for me." Ricky said, handing the gerbil to Chester who raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure, but relented nonetheless.
Hovering above the mass congregation of white-clad figures, Ricky's smile grew wider, his expression twisting with anticipation.
Slowly, he took a step forward in the air, then, without warning, plummeted toward the ground, his descent as swift and purposeful as a storm unleashed.
"Today we judge not a man, but a beast-" The grand wizard announced as Marshall was bound up behind him.
BOOOM
A massive cloud of dust, dirt, and debris exploded into the air, the shockwave reverberating through the ground.
All eyes that had been focused on Ricky now snapped toward the source of the commotion, the once-calm air now thick with tension.
The figures in white froze, as if waiting for the storm to settle, unsure of what would come next.
"Woah, woah, woah. Why wasn't I invited to this party, I mean, I'm Marshall's plus one?" Ricky laughed out, walking from the debris and spreading out his arms in a welcoming gesture.
"Oh hey, look, I already see a familiar face. How are you doing, Marshall?" Ricky called out with a grin, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Marshall, blood drooling from his mouth, slowly lifted his head, his eyes dull with exhaustion as he sighed deeply, the weight of the situation clearly taking its toll on him.
"Just peachy, Ricky." Marshall muttered with a slight groan, clearly not thrilled by the sudden turn of events.
"Good to hear man, probably would've been bad if you died before I got here." Ricky smiled, holding up his thumb as Marshall frowned.
All the members of the Klan stared at Ricky with contempt, their faces twisted in disgust at the sight of him.
Ricky, unphased by their hatred, surveyed the scene of their ritual with a calm, calculating gaze.
Holding up his hands in a square, he took in the details, the fiery cross, the robed figures, the oppressive atmosphere as he exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing with cold determination.
"You know what, at first I wasn't really into this whole burning cross thing, cause when you hear about it it sounds f*cking dumb, but I kinda see the appeal." Ricky tilted his head at the cross, rubbing his chin since seeing it is completely different then hearing about it.
While Ricky was busy looking at the spectacle, a member dressed in robes walked behind him as he put a hand on his shoulder.
"Now you listen here-"
SPLAT
Everyone froze, as still as a board, unmoving in the face of the sight before them as the oppressive silence hung in the air, thick with tension, until the only exception to the stillness was the one who had caused it, Ricky.
His presence alone seemed to disrupt the unnatural calm, his stance unwavering, as if he were the eye of a storm, untouched by the fear that gripped the others.
"But I really have to hand it to you all," Ricky said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I didn't think you'd be this stupid." Ricky tossed the severed hand of the KKK member aside, watching it land with a sickening thud in the dirt.
His gaze fell to the bloodied puddle beneath him, a grotesque mess of what had once been a person.
Ricky's expression remained calm, almost amused, as the shock of his brutality sank into the crowd.
When the man touched Ricky's shoulder, he reacted instantly, summoning a beam of solid psionic energy that materialized above the unsuspecting regular man.
Then, with a brutal motion, Ricky smashed it down onto the man with unrelenting force.
The man was obliterated in an instant, reduced to mere paste; a bloody, unrecognizable mess that splattered across the ground.
Now, Ricky stood over the puddle of what remained, his eyes cold, devoid of any emotion and yet, he had this smile that sent shivers down anyone who looked at it.
"Oh come on, don't tell me you weren't expecting retaliation?" Ricky chuckled darkly, his voice laced with amusement as he watched their pale faces, the fear evident in their wide eyes.
They stood frozen, caught between disbelief and terror, unable to fathom what had just transpired.
"Y-You can't kill us-"
"Oh, I'm going to stop you there." Ricky held up his finger at a young southern boy no older than nineteen.
"Listen schmuck, I get what you're thinking, how I was supposed to be some noble knight who wanted to do just a little good for mutant kind, right?" Ricky asked, the southern boy backing up only to have his collar yanked by him.
"Right?" Ricky's eyes gleamed green, staring deeply into the brown eyes of this naive and barely adult man.
"Y-Yes?" The young man stammered, his voice shaking since he didn't understand why, didn't know how, but as he gazed into Ricky's eyes, it was as if a shadow of death itself had settled over him.
"And that's how it was supposed to be, I was going to play this stupid fcking role of a goddamn savior then you, the racists, were supposed to hold the picket signs and tell me how much you hate me until I won then moved along from this godforsaken sht stain of a town." Ricky laughed out, disbelief in his own laugh as the guy started convulsing in his grip.
"That was it, that was all you had to do!" Ricky's voice raised to a higher octave along with his sovereign will, his green aura fluttering around him.
"But of course, you just had to go and ruin it, make it more complicated since change, regardless of whether it's good or bad, is never that easy." Ricky raised gaze, watching the guy foam at the mouth as his anger seethed to another degree.
"But why, THE F*CK, DID YOU GUYS HAVE TO COME AT THE TIME WHEN I HAD A BUSTY BEAUTIFUL NAKED WOMAN IN MY GODDAMN ARMS!" Ricky roared out, slamming the guy onto the ground and breaking his vertebrae.
"WHEN MY HANDS WHERE CRADING THAT GORGEOUS BODY WITH MY FINGERS NESTLED ON HER TITS, BUT NO, I COULDN'T F*CKING HAVE THAT!" Ricky yelled out, showing where his real frustration lay as the members backed up.
"Help-" The guy reached out towards his colleagues, trying to escape only for Ricky to unsheathe his sword.
SPLAT
Horrified gasps echoed through the air, each breath laced with terror as all eyes were fixed, wide and unblinking, on the gruesome scene unfolding before them.
Ricky's hand remained steady as the ebony blade sliced through the air with brutal precision, cleaving the young man cleanly in two as the halves parted perfectly along the seam, collapsing to the ground on either side.
A sickening slice echoed, embedding itself in the ears of the onlookers as they witnessed the gruesome yet precise spectacle.
The man was severed so cleanly that blood erupted from the halves, cascading like a grotesque fountain.
"I know what you're thinking 'this guy is crazy'." Ricky said with a chuckle, drawing there attention, appealing to their point of view as he could almost hear the thoughts echoing in their minds, the fear and disbelief clouding their judgment.
"But if you could, try to look from my point of view, okay?" Ricky continued, his voice now dripping with an eerie calm as he pointed to himself, the gesture almost mocking.
Sigh
"I mean come on, I can't let you just roam free after you threw a molotov cocktail into my house." Ricky laughed, turning to the side while wiping his mouth and then shrugging.
"I already made the mistake of letting that little sh*t run free and look where I am now, well, whatever. Mistakes are only mistakes if you don't learn from them." Ricky tapped the ebony blade on his shoulder, looking at them before he then pointed the sword at them.
"But like I said, I knew something like this would happen, in fact, I kinda expected it." Ricky placed a hand on his chest, explaining how it was supposed to go.
"At first, I was just going to kill you all and be done with it after I won the trial, sending a message to your little community of white-robed assholes when this stupid case gets appealed so you wouldn't bother me later." Ricky gestured to the group before him, his eyes never leaving their terrified faces.
They tried to scatter, tried to run away from this monster before them, but an invisible barrier stopped them in their tracks, a wall of dread closing in on them. Ricky smirked, enjoying the sight of their helplessness.
"But man, I'm just really f*cking angry." Ricky continued, his voice colder now, sharper, but still keeping his smile.
"Like, instead of coming to me and trying to kill me, you took the sh*tty way out. You went after the people around me." Ricky shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping him as the members banged against the barrier.
"Because all of you didn't have the balls to face me directly, did you?" Ricky shook his head, waving his finger dismissively, a look of almost sick amusement on his face.
"Not that I'm upset you tried it, I mean, you're cowards, but the fact that you thought you could do it right under my nose? Come on now, really?" Ricky let the silence hang in the air for a moment, savoring the weight of his words.
Now, Ricky would honestly do the same in their position, he'd take the cheap shot, the underhanded approach, if it meant getting what he wanted.
But that was the thing about him, he was a hypocrite, and he knew it as he didn't care about fairness or playing by the rules.
The only thing that truly mattered was that they had crossed a line, his line, by going after the people around him.
It wasn't about right or wrong, it was about him.
They had made a move on his territory, and that was unforgivable in his eyes as the hypocrisy didn't bother him.
If anything, it made the whole thing more satisfying since Ricky didn't care about fairness, he cared about power, control, and making sure no one ever threatened what was his, not even indirectly.
"SOMEBODY HELP!" The members screamed, banging desperately against the barrier.
Ricky stood unmoved, his gaze cold and unfeeling as he watched the squirming humans with not even a shred of pity flickered in his eyes.
Ricky knew that after this, he would kill many more, too many to count and yet, there was no flicker of hesitation.
It was unsettling how little he felt as he looked at the mass of people before him.
Maybe it was because they had gone after Raven when she was in his arms, or maybe it was because they had targeted those in his circle.
Whatever the reason, the anger within him burned hot, but the emptiness remained where his hesitation of taking another human life should be.
But Ricky honestly felt more angry with himself for letting it happen right under his nose.
Even now, he struggled with keeping the people around him safe as it was a painful realization, he wasn't as invincible as he thought.
Still, this was a valuable lesson, one he couldn't afford to ignore as he knew that even when things seemed to be going smoothly, everything could twist in an instant.
And whether these screaming men wanted him to or not, Ricky would learn from this situation.
"Now, let's see what Chastiefol can really do," Ricky muttered, his fingers moving with precision as in an instant, the weapon shot forward, impaling one of the men with a sickening thud.
COUGH
"Oof, brutal," Ricky narrated, watching the scene unfold.
The spear pierced through the man's neck with ease, like molten butter, its sharp tip jutting out the other side.
The man's hands grasped at his throat, gasping for air as he slowly sank to the ground before Ricky flicked his finger casually.
Then Chastiefold spun in a full circle, its edge slicing through the air with terrifying precision, ripping the man's head clean off.
Ricky bit his tongue, focusing intensely as he controlled the spear's movements with a steady hand.
The decapitated body crumpled to the ground, the head falling a few feet away, still fresh with the brutal mark of Ricky's power.
'This is way harder than I thought.' Ricky muttered to himself, his focus sharpening as he guided Chastiefol with precision.
The spear sliced through the members one by one, each movement a delicate balance of power and control.
With every swing, the weapon's lethal edge tore through flesh and bone, sending bodies falling to the ground in a bloody heap.
Ricky's grip tightened, his jaw clenched, as he fought to maintain control over the chaos unfolding before him.
It was like playing a game of Galactica for the first time as Ricky could feel the input lag, a frustrating delay that made it hard to fully grasp the controls.
The spear obeyed his commands, but there was a slight hesitation, a lingering moment between his intention and the weapon's movement.
It wasn't a huge delay, but enough to throw him off just when precision was everything.
Despite the challenge, he pressed on, his focus unwavering as Chastiefold cleaved through his enemies, each swing more deliberate as he adjusted to the rhythm of control.
The members were scurrying around like headless chickens, desperately trying to escape as Ricky turned them into mincemeat.
One by one, they were sliced apart, their bodies falling to the ground in grotesque pieces.
Ricky moved with ruthless efficiency, treating them as nothing more than training dummies, each swing of Chastiefol cutting through flesh and bone with ease.
The Grand Wizard, watching the carnage unfold, realized he had only one means of escape, Marshall.
As he reached out, desperate to grab him and flee, a barrier suddenly materialized around him, freezing him in place.
The invisible force held him fast, and his gaze turned to Ricky, now standing at the center of the chaos, with a cold smile on his face.
"There we go, I was waiting for someone to go after him so I could just crush anyone's last bit of hope," Ricky chuckled from the side, his voice dripping with amusement at the Grand Wizard, realizing his escape was futile, slowly turned to face Ricky.
His body trembled with a mix of fear and disbelief, his once-confident demeanor crumbling in the face of such overwhelming power.
He dropped to his knees, his hands pressing into the dirt as he gasped for air, the weight of his impending defeat sinking in.
"You can't kill me! Do you know who I am?" The Grand Wizard stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and arrogance and Ricky, recognizing the familiar tone, walked slowly toward him, his expression unreadable.
"Judge Mason?" Ricky said in a scooby doo voice, unveiling his hood and looking upon Judge Mason.
"You can't get away with this, I'm-"
"Oh, thank you, Lord! Oh, thank you!" Ricky interrupted him with a sharp, mocking laugh, mimicking a prayer toward the heavens before swiping his hand across the air with a sweeping gesture.
SPLAT
THUMP
All the members around Judge Mason were decapitated in an instant and Ricky, opting to use his psychic powers rather than Chastiefol, found the maneuver far more efficient.
The swift turnaround felt far more satisfying, as his mental control sliced through them with surgical precision.
There was no way he would leave them alive, not after everything that had transpired.
But he needed at least one alive for his plan to come to fruition, and it only made the discovery of Judge Mason within the fold all the more satisfying.
"Oh, Chester~" Ricky hummed, his voice dripping with amusement as he grabbed Judge Mason by the neck, yanking him to the side.
With a swift motion, he raised a wall of earth to shield themselves from prying eyes.
Chester landed gracefully on Ricky's shoulder, his eyes gleaming with understanding as he instinctively knew what Ricky wanted and without a word, he settled in, prepared for whatever came next.
"And Chester, make sure to break his mind into mush, for me," Ricky joked, his tone light but with a dark edge.
Chester's eyes shifted to Judge Mason, who began to gasp for air, his body trembling in fear.
The judge's eyes widened, and the panic in his chest was palpable as Chester's gaze locked onto him, a silent promise of the horrors to come.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Far away, hidden in the treeline, Dewey and Hawkins stood frozen, their eyes wide with horror at the nightmare they had just witnessed.
The chaos and brutality unfolding before them felt like something out of a twisted nightmare, yet it was all too real.
Neither could tear their eyes away, the scene etched into their minds as they struggled to comprehend the violence they had just seen.
"I-I didn't know-" Hawkins gasped, his voice trembling as he shook his head in disbelief, sinking to his knees.
The weight of what they had just witnessed seemed to crush him, his body unable to handle the sheer horror.
Meanwhile, Dewey remained motionless, the camera in his hands clicking with a steady rhythm.
His eyes were fixed on the unfolding carnage, almost detached, as he captured the twisted scene before him with a maniacal smile.
"We got him, we f*cking got him!" Dewey laughed maniacally, his voice rising with a twisted sense of triumph.
His eyes were wild, bloodshot, and filled with a dark satisfaction as he looked through the lens of the camera, capturing the destruction.
Hawkins stared at the scene in utter horror, his gaze shifting from the carnage to the attorney general beside him.
"Y-You knew, you tricked me-"
"Oh, can it, Hawkins. You wanted to win just as bad as I did, and we succeeded," Dewey sneered, clicking the camera as he adjusted the hood of his jacket.
Hawkins stood frozen, his face pale as he tried to make sense of what was happening as his hands trembled slightly as he gripped the ground beneath him.
"I mean, forget just winning this case." Dewey continued, his voice growing darker with every word.
"This will propel not only my career, but yours as well." Dewey laughed, the sound hollow and cruel, as his mind raced with the endless possibilities of what he could do next.
He could already feel the power slipping into his grasp, the illusion of control intoxicating him.
The twisted things he could unleash on Ricky danced in his thoughts, each more devious than the last and dreaming about all the things he would do to retaliate for all the years he had suffered under his shadow.
"We'll be heroes, saving our country from the evils of this bastard." Dewey spoke manically, his eyes wide with a feverish gleam.
He pictured himself standing on a grand stage, surrounded by adoring faces, the crowd chanting his name.
In his mind, the accolades poured in; awards, recognition, the respect of everyone who had ever doubted him.
The applause was deafening, and he basked in the glow of his newfound power, as if the world owed him everything for ridding it of Ricky.
"Now come on, we need to get this film processed before the start of my cross-examination," Dewey said with a cold, determined tone, grabbing the camera and quickly retreating as his footsteps were confident, almost too sure of himself, as he headed toward the car.
Hawkins remained where he stood, his eyes hollow, staring at the ground as he felt a heavy and grueling weight in his chest, the sense of dread sinking deeper with each passing second.
As Dewey disappeared into the distance, Hawkins remained motionless for a moment longer, the sound of his own shaky breath filling the silence.
"What about judge Mason-"
"Oh, who cares? He dug his own grave, and now he has to lay in it," Dewey said dismissively, shaking his head as he walked back to the car.
"Besides, we can just find a stand-in judge." Dewey paused, glancing back at Hawkins with an almost mocking smile as his words were coated with a cold, unfeeling certainty.
"You coming or what?" Dewey asked, his voice impatient as he turned toward the car.
Dewey hadn't even realized it, but the bravado of justice that he once wore so confidently, like a shield of dignity, had completely evaporated.
The air of superiority, the puffed chest he'd carried like armor, was gone as in its place was something far more vulnerable, far less certain.
Ricky's intervention had shattered him in a way he couldn't immediately comprehend, but the toll was clear in the subtle ways Dewey moved, spoke, and even breathed.
He wasn't the same man who had so easily deluded himself into thinking justice was a game he could win.
The truth had hit harder than he expected, so much so that it left Dewey oblivious to what he had become.
The righteousness that once coursed through his veins felt hollow, replaced with a gnawing desire for vengeance, anything to regain some control after the humiliation he'd suffered.
His focus had shifted and even the notion of justice didn't matter anymore, all Dewey cared about now was finding a way, any way, to finally break Ricky, to win this twisted war between them.
As he glanced at Hawkins, sitting quietly in front of him, even Hawkins could see the weight of his own change pressing on him.
Dewey wasn't the imposing figure he used to be, the one he read about in his briefing as the dignity, the poise, all of it had crumbled, replaced with a man desperate for victory at any cost.
Even the way he sat in the car was different as his back was hunched, shoulders tense, as if the weight of his failure and the knowledge that he had to do something, anything to restore his sense of power, were too much to bear on his own shoulders alone.
The battle was no longer about law or justice, it was about personal redemption and that shift had changed everything, which only made Ricky smile while the car retreated.
"Is that a good idea?" Chester asked, noticing the headlights shining through the trees, while Judge Mason sat slumped over, drooling from his mouth.
"Yeah, tomorrow is going to be hilarious," Ricky laughed, already imagining the stupid look on his face.
Ricky wanted to destroy Dewey, push him to the brink of despair and seeing how the fear of him was already creeping into Dewey's mind delighted him.
As he surveyed the corpses, a relieved expression crossed his face, feeling a little better as his anger settled.
"Now let's get to work."
10 minutes later,
With all the bodies thrown into a pile, Ricky had already drawn the necessary ritual symbols, rubbing his hands together with anticipation.
'Now get the f*ck up.' Ricky raised the power output in his hands, the dark energy swirling around him as the corpses slowly began to stir, bathed in the twisted arts of necromancy.
DING
(Common) 50 x Crawler: A zombie with its legs damaged or missing, forcing it to drag itself along the ground. It's slower than other zombies but can surprise unwary victims by attacking from below.
"R-Ricky, what have you done-"
"Chester." Ricky nodded to Chester, his voice calm despite the chaos.
Marshall clutched his head in distress, his eyes darting around at the carnage, unable to comprehend the brutality that had unfolded.
"I-how could you-why?" Marshall asked, seeing how brutal Ricky was in his actions and second guessing everything he was led to believe until now.
"Just relax, Marshall. Look into Chester's eyes," Ricky said, his tone almost soothing despite the bloodshed around them.
Marshall hesitated, his gaze slowly shifting toward Chester, who stood still, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling calm.
As Marshall locked eyes with Chester, his blinking slowed, a trance-like daze beginning to settle over him.
"Marshall, you okay?"
Then, in almost an instant, the scenery shifted as Marshall's surroundings seemed to warp and distort, his eyes wide with panic as the world around him spun into an unfathomable blur.
The once familiar landscape of corpses and blood faded away from his thoughts and sight.
"W-What, where-"
"Easy there, calm down." Ricky's voice was soothing but firm as he placed a hand on Marshall's shoulder, steadying him as Marshall's eyes darted around in confusion, still caught in the haze of panic.
He reached up to touch his head, feeling the bandages wrapped around it, his fingers trembling as he tried to make sense of the situation.
"Listen, Marshall," Ricky began, his voice casual but tinged with a hint of concern.
"You went out for a walk, but some dickhole threw a brick at your head. You almost died, man." Ricky paused, watching Marshall closely as the details of the false story took root.
"How're you feeling?"
Marshall's head throbbed slightly, but the lingering fog in his mind made it hard to piece everything together.
The vivid memories of the chaos, the blood, and the strange, eerie feeling of death crept in, but they were already starting to fade, replaced by the fabricated narrative Ricky had woven.
"Was it-"
"Yeah, some Klan members were spotted in the area, but I found you and brought you back here," Ricky explained, gesturing to the half-burnt house around them as Marshall blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dim surroundings as he took in the dilapidated state of the place.
"THE TRIAL!" Marshall immediately stood up, his mind racing as he forgot the massacre Ricky had just orchestrated.
He sprang to his feet, his urgency clear, as Ricky rose with him, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
"Relax, it's in an hour-"
"I have to prepare, I have to-"
"Calm down, you'll be fine. Besides, I think we've got this in the bag," Ricky said with a reassuring smile, his confidence unwavering but Marshall, however, let out a heavy sigh, still visibly shaken from the ordeal.
"If you say so."
Meanwhile at a hotel,
A gate opened, and Raven sat on the bed, engrossed in a book since after the entire scuffle, Ricky had returned to her, holding a bouquet of flowers.
Raven accepted the bouquet with a smile, placing it gently on the nightstand as the vibrant colors of the flowers added a touch of brightness to the room, contrasting against the otherwise somber atmosphere.
She'd decided to stay here with Ricky until he found a better place for them, though she couldn't help but appreciate the small comforts that came with this temporary arrangement.
As he stepped into the room, she looked up, a playful glint in her eyes. Spreading her arms wide, she gave him a welcoming smile.
"Hey baby." Ricky chuckled, Raven putting the book down and crawling into his arms.
"Hey tiger, how was the hunting?" Raven asked, pecking his cheek while laying in his arms as he kissed her head.
"Good, but I need a favor."
Author's Note: Sorry for the late post I think fcking caught the flu again cause I woke up feeling like sht. So i ended up taking a nap for like half the day.
章節 132: Chapter 127: The Trial Has Been Flipped On It's Head
The next day,
With patient steps, Hawkins moved quietly through the dim room, the soft glow of a red safelight casting an otherworldly hue around him.
The subtle, eerie illumination bathed his figure in an ominous light, accentuating the grim set of his expression.
His tired, hollow eyes lingered on the soft gurgle of water in the rinse tank, the faint tick of the timer echoing in his ears, which still rang with an incessant buzz.
The low hum of the ventilation fan melded with the muted sounds, its steady drone seeming to smother the weight of his anxiety.
Hawkins had been up all night developing the film, knowing it was crucial evidence that might make or break the trial.
Yet, even if the opportunity to rest had presented itself, sleep would have been pointless as his mind churned too relentlessly, burdened by the gravity of what the images might reveal.
That vivid imagery, the same haunting scenes that consumed his every thought, was on full display, not on the developing film, but in the restless theater of his mind.
Desperate to sidetrack his spiraling thoughts, Hawkins pulled a film reel from its light-tight canister.
Unlike his weary, bloodshot eyes, his fingers moved with unwavering precision, steady despite the unbearable weight of the task.
The air was heavy with the pungent tang of chemicals; a sharp blend of developer, fixer, and stop bath that seemed to cling to every surface and almost seep into the walls.
Before him sat the developer tray, its shallow pool of glossy liquid shimmering faintly under the safelight's soft red hue, casting an ethereal glow across the workspace.
Then, Hawkins submerged the film, his movements deliberate while his mind ticked through each step of the process like a mantra.
"Thirty seconds," Hawkins murmured to himself, his voice barely audible above the faint rustle of the film reel unwinding, trying to keep his eyes focused and preparing himself for what was to come.
Hawkins gently agitated the tray, his movements deliberate as he watched the blank frames gradually yield their secrets.
Slowly, they melted away, giving form to the gruesome images of Ricky's wrath in all its horrifying detail as each emerging shape seemed to twist the atmosphere tighter around him.
The timer clicked, its sound sharp in the quiet room and Hawkins inhaled deeply, steadying his nerves as he moved the film to the stop bath.
The acrid scent rose sharply, more pungent than the developer, stinging his nose and anchoring him to the grim reality of his task.
He dipped his fingers briefly in the water to ensure the reel was fully submerged, wiping them on the cloth slung over his shoulder.
The process demanded patience, precision, and an almost obsessive attention to detail, qualities he had cultivated over years in this dimly lit haven.
This was his hobby, the one thing that was supposed to bring him joy, a reprieve from the chaos of life.
Yet now, he could barely bring himself to look at his craft, the weight of its purpose eclipsing any semblance of passion.
As the final rinse began, Hawkins leaned back for a moment, his shoulders sagging under invisible pressure.
His tired eyes traced the soft glow of the safelight as it painted faint patterns against the walls, a fleeting distraction from the torment lingering in his mind.
Finally, Hawkins hung the developed film on the drying line, the faint light catching on the droplets clinging to the edges, transforming them into tiny, shimmering constellations.
But when the images, those grim scenes that already churned his stomach, were fully revealed, Hawkins froze.
His eyes widened, his breath hitching as the stark reality of what he had captured unfolded before him.
"It can't be?!" Hawkins muttered, rushing forward, careful not to contaminate the delicate film with his fingers.
His heart pounded in his chest as he leaned in closer, desperate to confirm what he already feared.
But when his eyes locked onto the images once again, the horror of Ricky Luciano was there in its fullest, undeniable display.
Bodies lay scattered, a gruesome testament to the violence unleashed,but there was something crucially wrong.
Something was missing.
Hawkins's disbelief deepened as his eyes scanned the film again, and the chilling realization hit him like a blow.
The one thing that should have been there, the thing he had been hoping to see, the very core of the nightmare, was gone.
"He's-"
"A DEVIL, HE'S A DEVIL!"
"KILL YOURSELF, GO ON AND KILL YOUR F*CKING SELF!"
"DIE YOU FOUL DEMON!"
"I'M GONNA F*CKING MURDER YOU, JUST YOU WAIT I'LL FIGURE IT OUT!"
"Ah, like music to my ears~" Ricky sighed, taking in a deep breath as he stepped into the courthouse, the flood of hate and anger directed at him palpable in the air.
"Thank you, thank you, I love you all!" Ricky turned with a dramatic flair, just in time to catch a tomato mid-air, thrown in his direction.
Not even flinching, Ricky caught the tomato in his hand with relative ease as if he was playing catch with the crowd.
"Ah, you guys~" Ricky placed a hand over his heart, staring at the ripe, not even slightly rotten tomato, as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
"How did you guys know I skipped breakfast?" Ricky grinned, holding the tomato up like a trophy, his tone dripping with mock sincerity.
"URGH, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOUUUUUUUUUUUU!" One of the protestors screeched, the very same one who threw the tomato at him.
The crowd's disdain was palpable, their jeers and boos cutting through the air as Ricky turned around, rubbing the tomato on his suit to give it that glossy shine before taking a deliberate bite while Marshall stood at the side, speechless, stunned by the audacity of it all.
"Seriously?" Marshall sighed, his voice dripping with frustration as he followed Ricky inside, who was still scanning the room, seemingly unaffected by the hostility that surrounded him.
"What? I'm f*cking famished, and I didn't get a lot of sleep because-ah, there you are." Ricky's words trailed off as his eyes landed on Dewey, who was standing off to the side, arms crossed, and looking like he'd been waiting for someone.
"If it isn't the pathological failure, Thomas Dewey himself," Ricky sneered, striding over to him.
Dewey met his gaze head-on, unflinching, though a little hunched over as he had to tilt his slouched neck upwards.
"If it isn't the pathological murderer, Ricky Luciano himself," Dewey countered, his voice steady and cold as Ricky let out a laugh, a sharp, mocking sound, before holding up his hands in mock surrender.
"Quite the accusation you've got there. Any proof?" Ricky asked, watching Dewey squint his eyes while recalling the brutal memory of Ricky slicing a KKK member like a vegetable.
"To the last receipt." Dewey shot back in a seething tone, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving Ricky's.
Ricky simply gazed down at him, his smile condescending, as if Dewey were nothing more than a minor inconvenience to be dealt with.
"Your reign of terror ends in that courtroom-"
"Are you sure? Because I think it's just beginning," Ricky taunted, his laughter echoing in the tense air.
Dewey scoffed, his jaw tightening as he turned away, clearly not in the mood to entertain Ricky's game any longer.
"Well, I just can't wait to see this proof you have. Marshall, let's go." Ricky said with a smirk, turning and walking away.
Dewey, unfazed, simply stepped aside, as if continuing to wait for something, his eyes fixed ahead, unreadable.
"What do you think they're scheming, it must be a last minute-"
"Marshall, it's fine, we've got this trial in the bag," Ricky said confidently, shooting Marshall a reassuring glance as the latter was once again left speechless.
He strode into the courtroom, his posture relaxed as he took in the sight of Judge Mason receiving some documents at the bench.
However that seemed to be an act when one truly looked closer, seeing that his eyes that were scanning the documents were hollow and his mouth was slightly open, seeping out a small stream of drool that was covered by the bustling papers.
The air was thick with tension, but Ricky didn't seem to notice, he was already sure of his victory and was only waiting for the singular intention that came from all of this.
"What do you mean 'in the bag', this trial is at its boiling point and-"
"Will you calm down? Seriously, I got this, just trust me." Ricky said, walking over to the seat and plopping down with a grin, glancing at Marshall.
Sigh
"Maybe you should take your own case more seriously," Marshall remarked passively, his frustration evident.
He was clearly unnerved, his perspective on the trial growing more grim with each passing moment and in his eyes, things weren't shaping up well at all.
"Listen, Marshall, you shouldn't take life too seriously," Ricky said with a grin, offering a piece of his personal motto as he leaned back in his chair, the smile never leaving his face.
"And why is that?"
"Because you'll never make it out alive," Ricky laughed, finding dark humor in the words and for some reason, Marshall felt a strange comfort in the irony, though he wasn't sure why.
Meanwhile, outside the courtroom, Dewey stood waiting, his gaze fixed on the door.
Suddenly, it swung open, revealing Hawkins, who stepped through holding a packet with an almost queasy expression.
"Dewey, we have a problem-"
"We'll worry about it later, we have to submit this as evidence." Dewey turned away from Hawkins, gazing down at the evidence with greed as the desire for beating Ricky had already consumed his patience.
Nothing seemed to matter the moment that packet touched Dewey's hand as the images of how he would take center stage resurfaced, blinding him in the spotlight of possibilities.
It was only then that Hawkins reached out, calling out to him.
"Dewey! DEWEY!" Hawkins shouted, his voice cutting through the room.
Watching Dewey make the mistake that would ultimately cost him everything, Hawkins could only watch his hunched form scurry towards the double doors.
His own greed had blinded him to the inevitable, and now, as Dewey stormed into the courtroom, his presence unmistakable, Dewey couldn't resist sending a victorious glare Ricky's way.
The game had shifted, the table was about to be flipped, all by Dewey's own doing, almost poetic.
Meanwhile, Ricky leaned back in his chair, a sly smile curling on his lips, leaning back and enjoying the show rather than stopping him.
Dewey, unaware of the trap closing in around him, turned forward toward the judge, his focus sharp, but his downfall already set in motion.
"DEWEY-" Hawkins shouted, rushing in after Dewey only to find him already facing Judge Mason.
"Your Honor, I have new evidence to support my lawyer's claim that Ricky Luciano is, in fact, someone who abuses their powers, someone not only capable, but a clear murder!" Dewey exclaimed emphatically, holding out the packet just as the jury walked in, their eyes immediately drawn to the confrontation.
"WHAT?!" Marshall shouted, taken aback by the boldness of the claim as he sprang to his feet, his voice rising in disbelief
"This is highly unprofessional-"
"Just look, these images show him caught in the act!" Dewey interrupted, his voice brimming with confidence as he saw victory within his grasp.
Judge Mason, his brows furrowed in concern, took the packet, his hands steady despite the mounting claim.
Dewey side-eyed Ricky, who was also curious, though his demeanor remained calm until he had a sudden thought on how to get a quick laugh.
As Judge Mason slowly unfolded the pictures, Ricky's eyes widened, and his hands began to tremble.
Dewey's eyes gleamed with anticipation, almost craving the scene unfolding before him as he watched, almost relishing, at what he thought was the almighty front Ricky always wore began to crumble.
The once-impenetrable confidence in Ricky's eyes was seemingly faltering, and Dewey could taste his victory.
SNORT
Until Ricky couldn't contain himself any longer and covered his mouth, trying desperately not to ruin the moment, but the sight of Dewey, so desperate to see him fall, was too much.
The urge to laugh bubbled up, and he just couldn't stop it while covering his eyes while revealing his mocking smile before Dewey's questioning eyes.
"WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING, I CAUGHT YOU, I WON-" Dewey stormed over to Ricky, slamming his hands down as his disheveled appearance unveiled itself before him.
"But, did you really?" Ricky asked, his fingers opening to look at his sure eyes as Dewey had an aching feeling forming in the pit of his stomach, turning back to Judge Mason finally looking at the images.
"Y-You-" Judge Mason stammered, covering his mouth as he glanced at the photos and Dewey, his eyes wide with self-assuredness, turned to Ricky.
"I followed Ricky Luciano last night after his house was burned down and captured an image of him slaughtering those responsible-" Dewey's voice was almost relentless, clinging to the last shred of hope he had, desperate for the courtroom to believe him but Ricky, with an almost casual air, interrupted.
"But, did you really?" Ricky asked, his voice smooth, reiterating his earlier challenge as a laugh escaped him while looking at Dewey.
Dewey faltered, his smugness beginning to crack as he turned toward Judge Mason, now pale, his earlier confidence slipping as the weight of Ricky's question lingered in the room.
"What did you do?" Judge Mason's voice was low and venomous, his gaze fixed on not Ricky but Dewey with a hateful glare.
The room seemed to freeze as the words hit Dewey like a cold wave, his confidence now shattered.
Dewey stood there, momentarily stunned, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to form a response as the shock on his face was unmistakable, his plan unraveling in front of everyone.
"W-What-"
"Where in these pictures, of these men being SLAUGHTERED, IS RICKY LUCIANO?!" Judge Mason bellowed, turning the photos over in a frenzy, his voice rising with fury.
He slammed the images down on the table, his eyes burning with anger as he stared at Dewey, who stood frozen in place.
Dewey's eyes shrank in disbelief as he looked at the photos, picking them up as he scavenged through the images for the sight that he had seen and yet, Ricky was nowhere to be found.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out, the truth staring him in the face.
Instead of Ricky slaughtering anyone, the photos revealed blurry images of men being torn apart in a chaotic, distorted, and unrecognizable way.
The horror of the scenes was unmistakable, but what struck the deepest was the absence of clarity.
In every frame, there was no sign of Ricky Luciano but even worse, Judge Mason's face, which should have been a part of the scene in his position, was nowhere to be found as if the blurry flying object had purposely covered it in every scene.
The absence was deafening, as if the images themselves were mocking Dewey's claims.
"I-I-"
"These abhorrent pictures show no relation to our case." Judge Mason thundered, his voice laced with full-fledged anger as he slammed down his hand over the photos, his glare searing through Dewey.
"These will be turned over to the authorities after this session, and the proper authorities will take over." Judge Mason's voice was almost akin to a warning and yet, it all fell on deaf ears for Dewey.
Who stood frozen, his body locked in place as the gravity of the situation sank in and his mind, once so confident and sure, was now spiraling into a mental breakdown.
His breath hitched, growing shallow and frantic as the weight of his own failure crushed him as he couldn't move, couldn't speak before his body betrayed him as the reality of his defeat shattered every ounce of composure he had left.
"B-But I saw-"
"TAKE YOUR SEAT, THIS MATTER WILL BE HANDLED AFTER YOUR CROSS-EXAMINATION!" Judge Mason screeched at Dewey, his voice trembling with a mixture of fury and disbelief.
Not only was Judge Mason consumed with anger, but a deep sadness began to settle in as well.
His eyes fell on the photos, and the truth sank in like a heavy stone as these weren't just random victims, these were his friends.
People he had grown up with, shared memories of his community, watched grow up, and fought alongside.
The realization tore at him from the inside out and it was because of this expression that Ricky had a devious smile, watching it all unfold as everything he could've ever wanted.
Dewey was speechless, his mind racing as the courtroom's weight pressed down on him as this wasn't how it was supposed to go.
He had meticulously planned everything, every detail to bring Ricky down, to expose him for what Dewey had convinced himself he was.
But now, standing frozen in the wake of his failure, Dewey's gaze flickered towards Judge Mason.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut as Judge Mason shouldn't be here, not in this moment, not witnessing this chaos.
And as Dewey turned his eyes toward Ricky, he saw something unsettling.
Ricky's calm demeanor hadn't changed; in fact, it seemed to intensify and because of it Dewey's breath hitched when he saw Ricky's lips move, slowly, deliberately, mouthing two words.
'A cockroach.'
"Court is in session. Defendant, take the stand," Judge Mason hissed, his voice dripping with venom as he fixed Dewey with a glare brimming with contempt.
Hawkins pinched the bridge of his nose, watching Dewey who rose with a hollow gaze.
Confusion clouded his face as he walked to the stand, unable to grasp how things had spiraled so far out of control.
"Mr. Marshall, please proceed," Judge Mason gestured to him, his tone unexpectedly calm, almost favorable.
Marshall hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the shift, but quickly composed himself and approached Dewey.
"Mr. Dewey, you claim your unlawful stop of Ricky was justified due to his supposed risk to public safety and in the interest of complete protection. Is that correct?" Marshall asked, his voice steady as he scrutinized Dewey's hollow gaze.
"Yes, Ricky Luciano is a threat and needed to be handled with precaution," Dewey declared, his voice faltering slightly as he glanced toward the jury.
Their faces reflected a mix of confusion and suspicion, the earlier display of photos still looming over the courtroom and in the minds of all those who didn't catch a glimpse.
Meanwhile, at the defense table, Ricky's stand, Shadow Broker, idly ripped a piece of paper, the subtle sound cutting through the tense silence like a whisper of defiance as if proning those wonders to the surface and even further.
"Could you say that you were acting without bias and entirely in favor of national security?" Marshall asked, his tone sharp as he locked eyes with Dewey.
"Yes, I believe I was doing the right thing at the time-"
"So this had nothing to do with the former Detective Albert?" Marshall asked, his voice steady but pointed as he leaned in slightly as Dewey's jaw tightened, his glare snapping to Marshall like a whip.
"Objection, relevance-"
"Overruled, continue your questioning," Judge Mason's voice cut through the courtroom like a blade, shocking everyone present.
Hawkins stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape as he exchanged a glance with Dewey, who looked equally blindsided.
The jury's murmurs grew louder, their confusion palpable, while Marshall stood there, thinking that this was only something that would happen in his dream and yet, Judge Mason ruled in his favor.
"I'm sorry your honor, could you repeat that-"
"I SAID OVERRULED, NOW SIT DOWN!" Judge Mason's voice boomed across the courtroom, silencing everyone.
Hawkins flinched visibly and quickly sank into his seat, his face pale and his hands trembling slightly as he fumbled with his notes.
"Mr. Dewey, answer the question." Judge Mason's voice cut through the courtroom like a blade once more, his gavel aimed toward Dewey with an unmistakable glare.
"No-"
"Then you're saying you didn't visit Ricky Luciano's father and threaten him? Nor did you approach Ricky without his parental guidance to do the same when he was still, in fact, a minor?" Marshall asked, his words pressing down on him as he gestured toward Dewey.
His composure faltered for a brief moment, his gaze darting towards to the side to Ricky, seated with an air of smug confidence, barely contained his laughter, a mocking grin playing on his lips.
Dewey's eyes were bloodshot at this, his nails digging into his palms with a soft trickle of blood dropping onto his pant legs.
"I-" Dewey began, his voice catching in his throat as his eyes flickered to Judge Mason.
The weight of realization hit him like a freight train since Judge Mason, very much alive, glared down from the bench with an expression that combined disdain and rage.
Dewey's words faltered, his confidence draining visibly as beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.
'Why is he still alive-wait.' Dewey's mind spiraled, the courtroom walls seeming to close in as fragmented thoughts battled for clarity.
Suddenly, Dewey shot up from his seat, the tenuous thread of restraint snapping as realization completely dawned upon him.
His instincts to hold back dissolved completely, and with reckless abandon, he threw caution to the wind, his finger trembling as he pointed it squarely at Judge Mason.
"You're in on this! You're taking his side!" Dewey yelled, his baffled accusation directed squarely at Judge Mason.
The room erupted into gasps and murmurs, jurors exchanging uneasy glances while Hawkins buried his face in his hands, visibly cringing at the outburst.
Judge Mason froze, his gavel hovering midair, his expression morphing from surprise to unfiltered indignation.
"Mr. Dewey, you best watch those words-"
"No way would you have allowed this negro to speak out of turn towards us otherwise," Dewey shouted, his voice dripping with venom as his eyes darted around the courtroom as if seeking allies among the stunned audience.
"They clearly have something on you, maybe some dirt, some leverage-"
"Mr. Dewey, another word and I'll hold you in contempt-"
"HOLD ME IN CONTEMPT? HE SLAUGHTERED YOUR FRIENDS IN THE KK-"
"THAT'S IT! I HOLD THOMAS E. DEWEY IN CONTEMPT!" Judge Mason thundered, his voice echoing through the courtroom as he slammed his gavel down with such force it seemed to shake the entire room.
"BAILIFF, TAKE HIM AWAY!"
The bailiffs sprang into action, closing in on Dewey, who lashed out in a desperate frenzy, struggling against their grip.
"YOU'RE ALL IN ON THIS!" Dewey screeched, his voice cracking as he flailed.
"YOU'RE ALL UNDER HIS CONTROL, AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IT!"
His wild accusations hung in the air, the courtroom plunged into a stunned silence save for the echoing sounds of his protests as he was forcibly dragged out.
The jury exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier confusion now mingled with disbelief at Dewey's complete breakdown.
Meanwhile, in the corner, Shadow Broker remained eerily calm, methodically tearing away another strip of paper the sound almost inaudible but strangely foreboding.
All the while Ricky watched the spectacle unfold, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head as if this was everything he wanted it to be and more.
Ricky could've done more, he could've intervened or had Marshall speak on his behalf but there was this unnerving satisfaction in watching Dewey spiraled further into the depths of his own madness, his grip on reason slipping with every frantic accusation and outburst, without him having to do a single thing.
The best part was it was a slow unraveling, one that Ricky had orchestrated with precision.
Piece by piece, Ricky had chipped away at Dewey's credibility, exposing the cracks within his being and his testimonies for all to see.
It was as if everything that Hawkins had based his argument on, his case, all whittled away under Dewey's outburst.
"Your Honor, I'd like to proceed with a motion to strike Mr. Hawkins' comments regarding Mr. Dewey being a reasonable and capable official." Marshall said, rising to his feet and adjusting his tie.
"Given the events that have just unfolded, I believe Mr. Dewey's mental stability should be called into question and cannot serve as a reliable basis for such statements-"
"Objection-"
"Overruled," Judge Mason declared firmly, his gavel slamming down to punctuate the decision.
"Strike it from the record, and I ask the jury to disregard his remarks entirely in your deliberations." Judge Mason turned his hollow gaze toward the jury, who exchanged uncertain glances, clearly grappling with the chaotic turn of events that had just happened.
"Cross-examination has ended. We will reconvene once the jury has made their decision," Judge Mason declared, his voice cutting through the tension in the room and Hawkins, unable to contain his growing panic, slammed his hands onto the table, his voice rising in frustration at the unraveling of this case before his very eyes.
"YOUR HONOR-"
BAM
"Session dismissed," Judge Mason declared, his voice laced with finality as he squinted his eyes, his expression heavy with the weight of the proceedings as he turned and walked toward his chambers, his steps deliberate and unwavering.
"Man, this is not looking good for you." Ricky said from the side, his voice dripping with mockery as he looked at Hawkins.
His shoulders slumped as he ducked his head, realizing the case was slipping further away with every passing second.
The walls seemed to close in around him, and the weight of the courtroom's scrutiny felt heavier than ever.
Ricky, savoring the moment of victory, let out a chuckle, watching as Hawkins struggled with the inevitable.
Hawkins couldn't even bring himself to look Ricky in the eye as he hastily gathered his things, his hands trembling slightly as he packed up the paperwork.
Without a word, he quickly exited the courtroom, heading straight for the county jail.
The weight of the day's events pressed on him, and the realization that his position was crumbling left him with an overwhelming sense of dread as he had lost control, and there was no going back.
Meanwhile, Ricky, his victory palpable, had no intention of basking in the courtroom's aftermath.
As if he knew of the sight to come, he quietly followed after Hawkins who was chasing after Dewey being dragged away by the soles of his shoes.
Meanwhile outside the local police station,
"Thomas Dewey, you're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder and harboring dangerous information." The officer's voice was cold as he pulled Dewey's hands behind his back, securing the handcuffs with a sharp click.
Dewey, his face pale and his eyes wide with shock, stumbled as they guided him further into the department.
"What is the meaning of this?" Hawkins burst into the room, breathless and disoriented, his mind still reeling from the courtroom drama.
He barely caught a glimpse of Dewey being led away before the officers turned their attention to him.
"Hawkins, you mean a lot to this community, and it pains me to do this, but you're also under arrest for assisting in the murder." The officer's voice was firm and emotionless as he approached Hawkins, the cold metal of the handcuffs clamping around his wrists.
"On what grounds?!" Hawkins yelled, resisting arrest only for the cuffs to be wrapped around his wrists regardless.
"On the grounds of Johnson's girl." The officer repeated, shaking his head as if the revelation alone was enough to seal Hawkins' fate.
"She said that you and Dewey went out there to kill those young men. But what's worse is that you actually handed the evidence to Judge Mason. What were you thinking?" The officer asked, knowing how easy it would've been if they had been able to pin it on the mutant.
Everything was happening so fast, too fast for Hawkins to process as his mind was swirling, thoughts crashing against each other like waves in a storm, drowning him in a sea of confusion and regret.
The walls of the small room seemed to close in around him, and the sound of his own heartbeat thundered in his ears, as if everything was moving in slow motion while his world spun out of control.
"I-I-"
"Judge Mason wants your heads, and I'll be damned if they don't roll," the officer muttered, his voice thick with frustration.
He turned away, leaving Hawkins standing there, the weight of his words settling heavily in the air.
The officer knew that the judge wasn't just angry; he was vengeful, and he would make sure that Hawkins and Dewey paid for what they had done.
As the cell door clanged shut, Hawkins found himself pushed inside, the cold steel bars closing in around him like a tomb.
He barely registered the sound of the heavy lock turning, trying to piece together how things had gone so terribly wrong.
He looked across the cell to Dewey, who was pacing near the bars, his frantic movements punctuated by angry mutterings.
"I DIDN'T DO THIS-"
BAM
The cold, metal door clanged shut behind the officers, the sound reverberating in the small, dimly lit cell.
With a heavy sigh, Hawkins slammed his forehead against the cold, unforgiving barsl.
The sting of the metal pressing against his skin was nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of defeat and loss that surged through him.
"Don't you see, Ricky's doing this-"
"WILL YOU SHUT UP? WE'VE BEEN JAILED BECAUSE OF YOUR OBSESSION!" Hawkins screeched, his voice trembling as he turned to glare at Dewey.
"We would've won if-"
Sigh
"Listen, all we have to do is not turn on each other and we'll be fine." Dewey assured Hawkins, looking at the disheveled lawyer who was literally in a courtroom just ten minutes ago.
Hours passed, and the two men sat in their cell until an officer emerged, escorting Marshall as he glanced at the two of them, his expression unreadable.
"Hawkins, your lawyer is here to see you." The officer gestured toward Marshall and at the mention of him, Dewey shot up immediately, his eyes narrowing.
"Hawkins, don't do it-"
"Back away, or I'll be forced to use force," the officer warned, his hand resting on his sidearm which had his fingers slowly wrapping around his baton.
Dewey hesitated but backed away, his eyes fixed on the officer as Hawkins glanced back at him.
"I'm in over my head, Dewey. I'm sorry," Hawkins muttered, his voice tinged with regret.
Hawkins stepped forward, his body tense with the weight of his words while Dewey gripped the bars of the cell, his knuckles white.
"HAWKINS, YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! NOT WHEN I'M SO CLOSE, HAWKINS!" Dewey screamed, his voice cracking as he gripped the bars tighter, watching Hawkins retreat down the hall.
Hawkins didn't turn around, his head hung low as he walked away, each step echoing in the cold silence of the holding area.
"DON'T DO IT, DON'T GIVE INTO THAT DEVIL!"
Led into an isolated room, Marshall and Hawkins stood in silence as the door clicked shut behind them.
The atmosphere was thick with tension, the sterile walls and harsh lighting casting an unforgiving glare over everything.
Marshall, his expression unreadable, was gathering the necessary paperwork and files from his briefcase, the rustling of paper the only sound in the room.
Hawkins stood nearby, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, eyes darting between Marshall and the door as if expecting something, anything, to break the quiet.
"I know it's sudden but Mr. Luciano hired me on your behalf-"
"Just cut to the chase," Hawkins sniffed, his gaze narrowed with disdain as he looked up at Marshall, the man he once considered beneath him.
Marshall didn't flinch as he calmly placed the papers on the table between them and pushed them forward.
"This is a plea agreement." Marshall began, his voice steady and wondering how the hell Ricky managed to get one so quickly.
"It states that you will receive full immunity, but in exchange, you'll vouch that it was all Dewey's plan and actions that led you down this path." Marshall tapped the highlighted section, the words clear and damning.
Hawkins glanced down at the paper, his disheveled form slumped slightly in disbelief not at the plea, but at the conditions that went with it.
"However, you will lose your license to practice law in the state of Texas," Marshall stated firmly, presenting the ultimatum.
Marshall knew it was a tough pill for him to swallow and because of that, Hawkins let out a stiff, almost incredulous laugh in response.
"Being a lawyer is my life, it's all that I'm known for-"
"What you 'were' known for." Marshall corrected, his tone heavy with finality, knowing that after this, Hawkins would be nothing more than a disgrace.
Hawkins looked up, his mental and physical appearance almost beaten to a pulp compared to who he once was.
Standing across from the man he had once threatened with a plea deal, he now realized how far he had fallen, the irony of it all.
"You were there, you saw what we saw, so how can you go along with that monster?" Hawkins asked, leaning in, his voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and helplessness as his eyes locked onto Marshall's, desperate for some kind of answer, some glimmer of justification.
"How could you take his side, how could-"
"A negro take a mutant's side?" Marshall misinterpreted his words since he couldn't quite remember the events of that day due to Ricky's interference.
"Let me ask you a question." Marshall continued, his tone colder now while gazing at Hawkins.
"How is it that you can live with yourself after causing so much pain?"
Hawkins opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as he paused, struggling to find anything to say.
"Because I think I'm doing the right thing, for my kind." Hawkins let out an ironic laugh, a bitter edge to his words, before meeting Marshall's gaze.
"Then I guess we're the same in that way. We're just trying to do what we think is right for our people." Marshall looked down, his voice tinged with regret as he didn't want it to turn out like this, but it felt inevitable.
"Now sign the damn plea agreement." Marshall slid it forward, his voice laced with contempt for the first time as Hawkins stared at the document, unable to tear his gaze away.
Hesitating, Hawkins reached toward the side and grabbed the pen, signing away his future for what he hoped would be his freedom.
His hand trembled as he dotted the line, each stroke feeling like a weight being lifted and yet, a heavier one being placed in its place.
Marshall took the paper, glanced at it one last time, then stood up but as he walked towards the doorway, stopping just before leaving.
"For what it's worth, I think you were a great lawyer," Marshall muttered, his tone softening for just a moment as he side-eyed Hawkins, watching the man's face briefly crack.
Hawkins didn't respond, his eyes focused on the table, as Marshall turned and walked toward the door.
The weight of the realization that his career was over pressed heavily on Hawkins.
The agonizing process of being released from custody did nothing to ease the feeling of his world crumbling.
No one was there to greet him as he stepped out of the police department, the streets eerily quiet.
His torn suit hung loosely on his frame, a physical manifestation of his shattered life as he walked alone, his footsteps heavy, the darkness of the night reflecting the emptiness within him as he made his way back to his house, his once-proud home, now a hollow reminder of everything he had lost.
Click
Hawkins flicked the light switch, the harsh illumination flooding into the room as he saw Ricky standing by the bar, pouring himself a drink, his back turned.
Hawkins' eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't let his gaze linger and instead, he walked over to the nearby chair, slumping into it, the weight of the day dragging him down.
Without a word, he reached for his own drink, the burn of old bourbon familiar, though it offered little comfort.
"You really won." Hawkins muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion as he leaned his head back.
"Almost." Ricky said, his tone light but edged with something deeper.
"Marshall says this will be appealed at the Supreme Court, but the damage is done here at least." Ricky chuckled softly, the sound laced with a quiet satisfaction.
Ricky poured another glass of bourbon, the liquid sloshing slightly in the bottle before he handed it to Hawkins.
Gulping it on breath, Hawkins wiped his mouth while watching Ricky sit in front of him and sipping on his drink.
"How?" Hawkins asked, his voice raw with frustration, the single word giving way to a torrent of unspoken questions but Ricky simply laughed.
"Does it matter?" Ricky responded, his tone calm but piercing.
"Will it help you get over everything you lost?" Ricky genuinely asked, knowing that if he truly wanted an explanation, then he'd give him one.
"No, no it won't." Hawkins admitted quietly, letting out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he looked down.
He wiped his eyes, sniffling as he gazed up at Chester, who landed gracefully on the coffee table.
"A-Are you going to kill me?" Hawkins asked, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief as he watched Ricky take another sip from his glass before quietly setting it down.
"I made the mistake of leaving Dewey alive years ago," Ricky said, his voice calm but heavy with meaning.
"It was for my own selfish reasons, and sure, it made me better. But I won't leave any more loose ends, not after him." Ricky said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a pen and a piece of paper, and placed it on the coffee table as the quiet, deliberate motion sent a chill through Hawkins.
"It's unfair, knowing that your life is but a mere stepping stone towards my own ambitions, but the saddest part is that you don't even have a choice," Ricky voiced, the weight of his words hitting Hawkins hard as his confusion shifted to shock before his shoulders slump and his eyes dilated.
For a long time, Ricky observed Hawkins as he mechanically scribbled something on the paper, his expression hollow and distant.
When he finally finished, Hawkins walked toward the corner where a rope and a chair stood, his movements slow and deliberate.
He positioned the chair beneath him, wrapping the rope around his neck with a sense of finality.
Without hesitation, he kicked the chair away, the sound of it scraping against the floor cutting through the stillness.
"Let's go, Chester." Ricky murmured, gesturing toward the bird as he turned away from the man. Chester promptly landed on his shoulder.
A gate opened, and they stepped through it, the weight of the moment lingering.
Meanwhile, Raven entered from a nearby door, her eyes scanning the room only to see that Ricky had returned.
"I did what you asked but I won't be able to always be here-"
"Chester already took care of it while we were in court. She'll believe exactly what we want her to." Ricky said, motioning to Chester perched on his shoulder as Raven smiled and walked up, scratching under his beak.
"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Raven chuckled, pulling out a sunflower seed and offering it to Chester as he accepted it with a nod.
"Accepted." Chester responded, approving of her gesture before flying off to join Alexander and enjoy the treat.
"So, how does it look?" Raven asked, her smile betraying the anxiety in her eyes as she referred to the trial.
"It looks really good. The jury's going to meet, and it looks like we're going to win," Ricky said, delivering the good news as a wave of relief washed over her, the tension in her shoulders easing as she exhaled.
Raven rushed forward, leaping into Ricky's arms as she grabbed the back of his head, pulling him close and nestling into his neck, her body relaxing in the warmth of his embrace.
"You did so good." Raven whispered, squeezing Ricky tightly as they collapsed onto the bed.
"Does that mean I get my good boy treat?" Ricky laughed, referencing their first encounter as she kissed him deeply on the lips.
"It's only fair."
Next morning,
"Jury, what is your verdict?" Judge Mason asked, his voice steady, though the tension in the courtroom was palpable.
Everyone waited with bated breath, everyone except Hawkins, whose fate had already been sealed earlier in the day with it being revealed in his suicide note.
At the front of the room, Dewey sat in his prison attire, his gaze fixed on the jury as his face was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a sense of uncertainty.
He had played his cards, but now it was out of his hands and he could only hope for a miracle that would never come.
"We find in favor of Ricky Luciano, on all counts," The head juror announced, his voice firm.
It was the same juror Marshall had tried to discredit earlier, the one who Ricky had decided to let in at the last moment.
Heartache and despair were evident on Dewey's face and those around him, their expressions heavy with defeat.
Raven clutched her heart, tears streaming down her face as the weight of the moment hit her.
Marshall, on the other hand, threw his arms around Ricky in a wild, almost manic hug, laughing hysterically as the relief washed over him.
Ricky, however, remained composed, smiling at the verdict, but his mind was still working as he knew the war wasn't over yet.
"But we have found that the ten million dollars is insufficient to cover the damages incurred onto Ricky Luciano, and as such, we have decided to award him twenty-five million." The juror declared, his thick Southern accent heavy in the courtroom.
He glanced at Ricky Luciano, who raised an eyebrow in response, before seeing the head juror give a slight nod to him.
GASP
Many in the courtroom gasped, Raven included, as the enormity of the decision settled in.
This wasn't just a historic win, it was the largest payout to date, a staggering sum that would leave an indelible mark on legal history.
Raven's eyes widened in disbelief, her heart racing as she processed the weight of the moment.
"Then I find this case resolved."
BANG
The gavel slammed down, cutting through the chaos of the room as screams of disbelief and triumph echoed, drowning out the cheers of victory.
Ricky glanced back at Raven, a mischievous grin forming on his face as he winked at her, his confidence unmistakable.
The moment was his, and he knew it.
"Ricky we need to-"
"I know but first, let's go make history." Ricky said, ushering Marshall toward the door as the courtroom was filled with a mix of hate and applause as they made their exit.
The atmosphere outside was thick with disbelief, the intensity of the reactions escalating to an almost unfathomable level since no one could quite grasp what had just happened.
"MR. LUCIANO, OVER HERE!" a reporter shouted, the blinding flashes of cameras and broken light bulbs buzzing around Ricky as he stood tall before it all, a sleazy smile playing on his lips.
This wouldn't only be a defining moment for Ricky, but for history as this photo of him laughing amidst the crowd would go on to be put in textbooks that would later be distributed in schools nationwide.
"MR. LUCIANO, WHAT DOES THIS WIN MEAN?" The reporter pressed eagerly.
"One small step for man, and one giant leap for mutant kind!" Ricky laughed, twisting the iconic quote to fit his own narrative as reporters scrambled to scribble it down in their notepads.
"Anyway, I've got a lot of celebrating to do, so I'll hold another conference when I get back to New York." Ricky raised his hand, signaling the end of the conversation as he walked off with Marshall.
The screams of hatred roared after him, but Ricky paid them no mind as he effortlessly yanked Marshall and walked across a psychic bridge, hovering over the crowd.
The onlookers stood frozen in shock, unable to process what they were witnessing.
Flashbulbs popped as photographers scrambled to capture the surreal moment, eager to make headlines with the extraordinary scene.
Ricky pulled Marshall through the chaos, heading to a private location where the rest of the group had gathered.
1 hour later,
Soon after, they sat around a lavish table, piled high with the finest food money could buy.
Ricky, with a grin on his face, reveled in the occasion, making sure every detail of his celebration was as extravagant as the victory itself.
The restaurant owner, eager for the generous bribe of two thousand dollars, had ensured the space was prepared to perfection, creating an atmosphere of wealth and excess to match the moment.
Ricky's gaze drifted to the window, and there, walking down the street, he spotted the head juror.
The man was strolling with his daughter, who tugged playfully at his shirt as the head juror raised an eyebrow when his daughter pointed in Ricky's direction, her little finger aimed straight at him.
The juror's eyes followed the gesture, locking onto Ricky with a mixture of recognition and curiosity as it was then that he whispered something into his daughter's ear.
The girl beamed up at him, smiling brightly before turning back to Ricky as she waved enthusiastically before her eyes blinked, horizontally.
The head juror had spent his entire life in this town, steeped in its traditions, its biases, and its expectations.
He had learned, like everyone around him, to see the world through a certain lens but everything changed the moment he became a father, a father of a mutant.
Ricky let out a surprised chuckle, the irony of it hitting him with full force as he nodded to the man, acknowledging the unspoken bond between them.
The juror returned the gesture, his face softening with a knowing smile, one filled with gratitude and quiet understanding.
As they continued down the street, the juror walked on with his daughter, their steps slow and steady.
He wouldn't be anything more than what he was right now and everything he would benefit from had come through Ricky's own ambition.
Yet, it was enough for this sheep, this father and his child, navigating a world that had just become a little more complicated, but a little more forgiving to be herded in.
"Wow." Raven rested her head on her hand, gazing at Ricky with clear affection as he turned to face her.
Jake, Asterion, Marshall, and the rest of the familiar faces were laughing and enjoying the whiskey flowing into their glasses, while these two remained in a sort of separate world, absorbed in their own quiet moment.
"Did I just take your breath away?" Ricky asked with a sly grin, cutting into his steak as she chuckled softly.
"I'm just-well, a little jealous," Raven admitted, glancing down at her food as Ricky shook his head, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
"You shouldn't be, you've done the same-"
"But in the shadows, I'm jealous that you did it all without hiding from the world," Raven said, her voice thick with emotion as she looked up at him and Ricky reached out, taking her hand in his.
"Then stand with me, don't just fade back but stand smugly with me." Ricky smiled warmly at her, Raven letting out an anxious laugh.
"You don't need me-"
"But I want you by my side, and that's enough." Ricky interrupted her with his tender words, Raven looking up at him before quickly looking away.
"I want this to be real, I really do, but I'm not going to force you here," Ricky lied, his thoughts already spinning with ways to bind this exotic woman to his side as she looked up at him.
"Oh tiger, you're a real charmer."
"Only for you, baby," Ricky winked at her, and Raven, deciding to embrace the moment, let the good vibes flow as they held each other's hand throughout the dinner.
Hours passed, liquor flowing and the food devoured before Ricky slowly stood up with a champagne glass and a knife.
Clink
Clink
"Aye, all of you shut up, I want to make a heartfelt toast!" Ricky chuckled, clinging the knife against the glass to get their attention.
Slowly, they all stopped what they were doing and looked at them, some, Alexander mostly, were more sh*tfaced then others as the gerbil was only propped up due to Chester's sincerity.
"First, I want to thank my lawyer Marshall, who had the absolute balls to walk into the tiger's den without any fear." Ricky tipped his glass to Marshall, the lawyer tipping his own glass with a tooth smile.
"Job ain't over yet!" Marshall, a little drunk off the champagne and vanilla flavored whiskey, shouted as everyone around laughed.
"Damn straight, but I wanna take the time to really say, you know, thank you for putting up with my sh*t." Ricky honestly spoke from the heart, knowing the piece of work he could be at times and thanking everyone for putting up with it.
"From Asterion, the literal creation of a Greek god, who decided he wanted to see the world with me." Ricky pointed his glass to Asteiron, watching the mighty Minotaur completely devour a barrel of vanilla flavor whiskey at the side.
"To my familiars, who always offer me advice when I need it most or sometimes when I don't," Ricky smiled at Alexander and Chester, with Garfield pushing himself into view and shrugging playfully at him.
"But I want to take some time to thank my oldest friend here, Jake." Ricky then turned to Jake who was at the side, rubbing his arm only to see the attention turned to him.
"I know it's been rough lately, and I know you might've felt outta place, but I'm glad you're here, man." Ricky nodded to Jake, acknowledging the tough times he'd been through and appreciating his presence.
"Thanks, Slick." Jake smiled, nodding to him with an appreciative expression before Ricky turned to Raven who rolled her eyes.
"I'd also like to thank the beautiful Raven here for being my motivation through all of this, cheering me on from the sidelines," Ricky said with a laugh, watching Raven shake her head and lean back, arms crossed, clearly trying to act unimpressed.
"How she dances around in such skimpy attire all for my pleas-"
"RICKY!" Raven's face immediately blushed, throwing a napkin at him since he was going too much into detail as he pulled it off his still smiling face.
"But most of all, I'd like to take the time to thank myself." Ricky said, raising his nose and placing a hand on his heart as everyone rolled their eyes.
"How crazy handsome and downright ballsy I am to even do this in the first place. I mean, I cut through the odds like my jaw cuts through granite." Ricky laughed, rubbing his chin as his narcissism flared to its peak, clearly basking in his own glory.
"God, and can we take a moment to appreciate how I said I'd win, then I went out and won-"
SIGH
Everyone let out a unified sigh, clearly over it and eager for Ricky to wrap it up already and with a dramatic flourish, he raised his glass high.
"TO ME!" Ricky declared boldly, his grin wide.
The others laughed, rolling their eyes, but couldn't help themselves as they lifted their own glasses in unison, indulging him for the moment.
"To Ricky!"
(READ) SICK NOTE: Hey guys, I feel like I'm f*cking dying and at first it wasn't so bad until I got halfway through the day then it felt like everything around me was spinning. It's why I don't think I can do a chap tommorrow which is why it will be pushed to wedsday instead of sunday to make up for it.
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