Marvel: Impregnation System

Chapter 142 - 137: Passing The Torch

"Man, I forgot how lively this city is," Ricky chuckled, walking through the unusually quiet streets of New York, which were typically bustling with life but now seemed almost deserted.

Amidst the quiet facade, uneasy eyes watched from the shadows as Ricky walked down the street. It seemed that with a snap of a finger, a war could erupt, yet Ricky kept his hands in his pockets, observing the scene with an amused smile.

"This is spectacular!" Asterion exclaimed, his fascination captured by the intricate object of modern design.

"Pretty cool, and look at this." Ricky walked up to the whites-only public fountain, Asterion raising an eyebrow before his eyes widened.

Pressing the pedal below, water slowly emerged as Asterion held his head for a moment before walking around the contraption, examining it from every angle.

Although Asterion had been to New York when Ricky first arrived, he hadn't ventured into the city since. He always got sidetracked by random things along the way, and by the time the day ended, he would head back then restart.

"I-Is there some man pushing water to the top-no, this fountain is too small to house a man, maybe a midget, possibly a child-"

"Asterion, this is simply modern ingenuity," Ricky said, gesturing as the bull man marveled, completely captivated by a mere water fountain.

Asterion leaned down, licked the water before flinching as he let out a hearty laugh and then, he placed his lips on the nozzle to drink more directly.

"Gross," Ricky muttered, sighing as he looked off into the distance, lost in a random thought.

"What is it we are looking at?" Asterion's head hovered above Ricky's shoulder, his lips dripping water onto his shoulder.

"Just thinking of something stupid-"

"Nothing is stupid unless we dictate it as such." Asterion interrupted Ricky, following as he kicked a pebble with a frown.

"It's entirety random and you literally wouldn't get it, I just thought of it now-"

"I'll listen." Asterion smiled warmly, looking at Ricky who had just had a thought before trying to push it to the back of his mind.

Sigh

"It's this stupid spear." Ricky heavily sighed, materializing Chastiefol for Asterion to bear witness upon as the ancient minotaur tilted his head.

It was such a random thought, the kind people have on a whim before moving on with whatever they were doing but this particular issue had been bugging him, refusing to let go.

Chastiefol (Mastery: 0%)

"How do I get this spear to like me?" Ricky asked, literally posing a question that would make any therapist do a double take.

Ricky didn't fully understand, but he had been practicing with the spear, even getting the hang of controlling it and yet, for some reason, the percentage remained at zero. Even Alexander was at a loss when nothing happened during their training, and now, here Ricky was, randomly asking Asterion in the middle of a warzone.

"That is indeed a troubling question to answer." Asterion stroked his own mane, tilting his head the other way at the spear before gazing at Ricky.

"Have you tried understanding it?" Asterion asked, causing Ricky to glance at the spear, then back at him.

"Like,tell it my feelings and sh*t?" Ricky replied, his confusion clear as he stared at Asterion as he wasn't against the idea, but he just didn't get it.

"No, I mean understand what the spear represents," Asterion chuckled, shaking his head and gesturing toward the floating spear.

"Well, not really," Ricky muttered, gazing at the spear before opening the system screen and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It has different forms. Do you think I have to, like, understand them as well?" Ricky asked, walking down the road with Asterion who smiled.

"Well, I don't know, but let's talk it out." Ricky had time to burn while waiting for someone, so he started walking through the streets, talking it out with Asterion. Asterion never gave any answers, instead letting Ricky work through his thoughts and arrive at his own revelation.

Without warning, Ricky began dumping a pile of garbage randomly on the sidewalk, while Asterion merely watched, with Chastiefol hovering to the side.

"Okay, so while we were talking, the names got me thinking. This spear must have something to do with, like, nature and stuff." Ricky said, half to himself as he tried to piece it together.

"Have you come to a conclusion?" Asterion inquired politely, wondering out loud as Ricky turned back to him.

"Okay, so while we were talking, the names got me thinking. This spear must have something to do with, like, nature and stuff." Ricky said, half to himself as he tried to piece it together.

"Maybe it's some sort of hippie spear and then it hit me, I literally have a skill for this!" Ricky gestured to himself, remembering a skill that had one of the most potential out of everything he had.

(Rare Skill) Green Thumb: Turn waste that won't decompose for more than 50 years into trees.

–Effects: Works on toxic waste, plastic, rubber, and others

It was only the beginning, but at that moment, Ricky would actively start to focus on this skill, which would one day become one of his most used abilities.

Pointing his hand at the waste he dumped on the sidewalk, his thumb began to glow green and suddenly, the trash started to contort, twisting and shifting until it formed a tree sapling.

Chastiefol (Mastery: 0→1%)

It was a small thought, addressing a seemingly insignificant issue amidst the looming madness of war. Yet, it was thanks to Asterion's thoughtfulness that Ricky had suddenly realized the skill held a deeper purpose, one that would lead to far more utilization in the future.

"Holy sh*t, it worked." Ricky was a little lost for words, while Asterion clapped and smiled warmly, pleased that Ricky had figured it out.

"Congratulations-"

"There you two are!" Jake yelled from a distance, calling out to them before rushing over.

"What happened to meeting in Times Square?" Jake asked, spreading out his arms, clearly noticing this wasn't Times Square at all while Ricky simply pointed to the tree sapling.

"I figured out how to master my spear," Ricky said, holding Chastiefol up and pointing to the tree sapling as Jake slowly nodded, his face twisting into a confused expression.

"Right." Jake forced a smile, looking at Asterion, who gave Ricky a thumbs up.

"But geez, New York is really on edge." Jake walked to the side, his expression wary as Ricky side-eyed him.

"Did you-"

"Yeah, the big guy kept his word. The feds are pulling back," Jake revealed, surprised that it was true as the entire building had been cleared out.

This was why Ricky stopped by in the middle of the city: to assess the situation and, secondly, to see if Franklin would keep his promise.

"So, what's the plan, are you going to go around taking them down one by one-"

"Nah, I won't give them the satisfaction of letting this take more than a single night." Ricky's eyes glowed with a green aura, slowly dripping into the air before dissipating as if it had never been there.

"Because that's all their legacies will be; all their creations, all their families, built up over the years, only to be destroyed in a single night." Ricky laughed, already picturing their faces, before walking down the street.

"But I have to make two stops first, one for answers and another for goodbye." Ricky then opened a portal, glancing back at Jake.

"Watch the big guy, take him around to the different sights while I handle it." Ricky waved at Jake, but before he could go, Jake stepped up.

"Listen, Slick, I know you're a completely different person from before, but just don't get careless," Jake reminded Ricky, who merely flashed him a smirk before stepping into the portal.

In the calm office within the Luciano family manor, Lucky sat at his study, the scattered toys of Danielle littering the carpet before him.

"Slick?" Lucky, who was currently filling out tedious paperwork for his position as CEO of Lucky Legacy Bank, looked over his glasses to see Ricky suddenly appear before him. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Pops, cut the bullsht, enough of these stupid fcking riddles. Tell me what's going on with you and the High Table, and tell me about the deal you have." Ricky immediately got to the point, walking up to the table and locking eyes with Lucky, his expression stern.

"I already know there's something going on, a deal, and I'm sick of others knowing when the person who could tell me everything is right in front of me." Ricky sat down in front of Lucky, who let out a heavy sigh.

Sigh

"I knew this day would come, but I just thought you'd be a little older, that's all," Lucky spoke honestly, taking off his glasses and setting them to the side.

"I didn't intend to hide it from you but the entire story could take a while-"

"Pops, just tell me." Ricky's eyes were dead serious as Lucky slowly nodded, crossing his hands together.

"It all started before the Luciano family was the Luciano gang, after I adopted you-"

Lucky Narration

It ain't no secret that I had Salvatore Maranzano capped, and it ain't no secret I did it because another war was gonna break out. But the real truth, the real secret, is that Salvatore was killed not because he wanted to be the Boss of Bosses, but because he solely wanted to be recognized as the leader of the families.

He wanted to hold the seat of power that would allow him to become a recognized crime family in the High Table's eyes.

When people think about the underworld, they imagine a lawless place where anyone can do anything, but that misconception is dead wrong.

The reason? Because of the High Table and as you know its a f*cking powerful, ancient crime society that has thrived before any government, before any country existed, and has been around for what seems like forever.

The High Table isn't just a gathering of criminals; it's a machine, a well-oiled system where if one cog breaks, it's quickly replaced.

To keep these cogs in place, there are rules and these rules are the backbone of the High Table's existence.

And those who break the rules? They're immediately killed, no questions asked. Even members of the High Table who violate the code are executed without hesitation.

Within these rules are the crime organizations recognized by the High Table, each belonging to their own sector.

However, the structure of the High Table is such that anyone can join this finely tuned machine, but only a select few crime organizations can be truly recognized.

In these sectors, areas within zones deemed by the High Table, only one organization or faction can hold dominance. New York is one of those zones.

There cannot be two or three, only one. One organization that receives recognition from the High Table and is granted full autonomy over that area.

When the war was settled eight years ago, we all thought that our families would be set up like the Maggio.

The Maggio, if you don't know already from your short stint in Sicily, is an organization made up of a dozen or so mafia families who all work in tandem to form it.

But Salvatore revealed that he thought the Maggio was flawed, that only one family could truly rule a sector and, on some accounts, he was right.

The problem was that he wanted to be the boss and he wanted to condense it all into one family under his rule.

But as you know, leaders lead, they don't follow. And because of that, another war was about to brew, as every day the mob bosses butted heads.

Me, however, I saw a way out of this, and it was something that still gives me nightmares to this day.

Before Salvatore could be acknowledged by the High Table, I had him capped in his restaurant and put a stop to the internal war that was about to erupt.

But when you make an appointment with the High Table, the only way to miss it is to die. And even then, the one who kills you has to take your place.

So I went with the goal of structuring some sort of deal with the High Table that didn't involve the families fighting once more.

When I say that each of those in the twelve seats were monsters, Slick, I mean it. Even when I was at death's doorstep, I didn't shiver the way I did when those pairs of eyes gazed at me.

It was nerve-wracking, and even now I get goosebumps thinking about it. Hell, I even stuttered out my first couple of words.

But basically, I proposed a deal, a deal completely in their favor, where all the families would play by the High Table's rules, follow their every order, and never get in their way but never be recognized.

The commission was formed not as an alliance, but to ensure that none of us broke any of the High Table's rules and that we followed them to the letter.

"Wait, why would they accept that deal, what does that give them?" Ricky interrupted, his curiosity piqued as Lucky poured himself some whisky, letting out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

"If you'd let me f*cking finish, then you'd know that's exactly what they said-"

"Why would we consider that proposal, why wouldn't we wait until you all kill yourselves and one stands atop of them." This guy, I swear, stopped me from breathing as I took a full five minutes to finally answer him with my chest puffed out.

"Because sooner or later, I'm gonna take over New York and I'm going to lead the families, but I am graciously asking for time." I bowed my head, I ain't never bowed to no one but I bowed before these powerful people who could literally kill me in a second.

"So you wish to eliminate all of your compatriots' families and then join as a recognized organization under our High Table?" This woman asked, her tone laced with this sort of playful hint of amusement. I could've sworn she was smiling, but honestly, my ears were ringing so loud from the tension that I couldn't tell if it was just my nerves playing tricks on me.

"Yes, I would fully join under the High Table, but I will not move forward without your permission, since this matter directly falls under your control and jurisdiction, and I know my place." I replied, swallowing hard. My voice steadied as I spoke, but the weight of their gaze felt like it could crush me at any moment.

But I made my stance clear and why wouldn't I, I'm greedy and ambitious.

I wanted it all and I think they saw it in that moment, which is why they all rang out their next answers that are still seared into my mind.

"Why not."

One of them almost laughed, muttering two words that barely registered in my mind as I felt the weight in my chest dissipate. The moment passed, and suddenly, it was as if I wasn't even there as the other members started replying to each other, discussing matters between themselves, completely ignoring my presence. "It is a risk, yes, but it is a calculated one. Waiting a couple of years will be far cleaner than dealing with the aftermath of their war."

"And we really have nothing to lose by letting them figure it out themselves, as long as they follow all our rules."

"Besides, if you fail, we'll get the group who survives."

The air in the room shifted as the decision was made, there was no turning back. The commission was formed, a necessary structure to ensure order and the maintenance of the High Table's interests. Each family knew their place now, whether by rule or by the understanding that crossing certain lines meant instant obliteration.

As time went on, the families convened together when something urgent came up, whether it was a violation of the sacred rules or an unexpected power shift. It became a delicate balance of diplomacy, threats, and negotiation, each meeting a quiet reminder of how close they could be to losing it all, how thin the line was that separated them from a blood-soaked war. And occasionally, the families met just to keep up appearances, to remind each other that despite everything, there was still power to be maintained.

End Of Lucky's Narration

"The card I gave you grants access to any continental, just once." Lucky leaned back, his gaze still fixed on Ricky as he weighed his next words.

"Do the others-"

"No, I was the only one who got it, and I kept the entire agreement hidden." Lucky already knew Ricky's answer and swiftly shot it down.

Sigh

"I know it might not be as grand as people probably made it out to be or how you thought it would be. I just wanted to make sure you were ready." Lucky teetered in his chair, gazing up at Ricky, looking at the man he had become.

Honestly, Lucky had never told Ricky the full weight of what he carried, because it was a burden that wasn't meant for just anyone. It was his torch to carry, a legacy too heavy to pass along easily which is why he bore it alone. For years, Lucky had carried it, protecting the family, maneuvering through the most dangerous of situations, making choices others would shy away from. But now, as he watched Ricky, he realized it was time. Lucky had seen so much potential in him from the beginning as there was always something about Ricky; this charisma, this ability to captivate the room. He could grab people's attention effortlessly, but there was something missing. Ricky could hold their gaze for a moment, but he never truly led it. He was loud, rebellious, and unruly, traits that kept people at a distance as he had a way of disrupting the calm, of bringing chaos, but never really commanding respect, not at the level of a true leader. People would listen, but only for a fleeting moment before their eyes would shift elsewhere.

But that had changed.

As Lucky watched Ricky grow, something within him had shifted and what once seemed like the chaotic, unrefined nature of the young man.

He sailed away a boy with no idea of what it meant to carry a burden and came back a man ready to shoulder it all. Ricky had faced his challenges, not just from outside enemies but from within, his own uncertainties, his struggles with his place in the world. But each time, he rose above them, he adapted, he learned, and more importantly, he didn't let those moments of weakness define him and kept pressing forward.

Lucky could see the change now, he could see it clearly. It wasn't just about Ricky growing older or more experienced, it was something deeper. It was as though the noise and the rough edges had been tempered by something more solid.

Ricky wasn't just surviving; he was evolving into someone that could carry the weight of the family, of the empire, of the legacy. Sure, there were still imperfections, he was still rough around the edges, still learning how to balance it all within the deck of cards, but Lucky could see past all of that.

What Lucky saw now was something generational. Something that, even Ricky himself couldn't yet see, but was unmistakable to those who had been around long enough to know. It was a spark, something that could ignite the future in ways that Lucky never could.

And that was why, in a way, Lucky had already made his decision. It wasn't just about handing over the reins, it was about recognizing when someone had finally earned their place at the helm. It was about passing that torch, not because it was convenient, but because it was necessary for the family, for the future. Ricky was ready in ways that Lucky never had been, his own battles had been different, and he had fought them in his own way, but it was Ricky who would shape the next chapter of their story.

So, as Lucky looked at Ricky now, there was no hesitation in his heart as he could finally see the leader in him, the one who would carry the Luciano name with pride and power. It was time to pass on what had been given to him, and with that, ensure the legacy of the Luciano Family would continue.

"So, what now?" Lucky asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watched Ricky return, still pushing forward instead of winding down or celebrating.

"I think it's time to finish what was started a long time ago." Ricky chuckled, grabbing the torch and walking toward the door as Lucky tapped his cheek, deep in thought before showing a solemn expression.

"Slick, about Profaci-"

"I know, pops, I know." Ricky paused at the doorway, his expression firm as he knew what had to be done as Lucky closed his eyes.

"Good luck Slick, you're on your own now."

Later that night,

The smoldering of the fireplace rang out in the living room, the crackling sound filling the silence as a single chair faced it as the man sitting in that chair was none other than Joe Profaci.

Contrary to the confident figure he'd once been, Joe looked considerably worn down, the effects of time and regret taking their toll as he had shed at least forty pounds over the past three years. His once sharp features now seemed dulled, the lines of age more prominent and bags sagged beneath his eyes, a reflection of sleepless nights. His hair, once thick and dark, had thinned significantly, and what remained had already turned a dull grey. But it wasn't just his appearance that had changed as in his eyes, there was a deep, hollow regret, the kind that haunted him relentlessly. Every crackle of the flames seemed to carry the echoes of his brother's screams, a sound that would never leave his mind.

Clink

Suddenly, the sharp clink of two ice cubes dropping into a bourbon glass broke the stillness of the room. Without a word, Ricky had appeared in the living room, moving with a quiet precision as he poured the dark liquor over the ice. His presence, though unannounced, felt familiar, like it belonged. The glass in his hand shimmered in the firelight, casting fleeting reflections across the room. Joe didn't look up immediately, lost in his thoughts, but he could feel the shift in the air, the weight of someone who understood without needing an explanation.

"I knew you'd come, appearing like some sort of grim reaper." Profaci let out a hollow chuckle, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as his pinky ring caught the flicker of the firelight, gleaming for a moment before vanishing back into the shadows. His gaze remained fixed on the flames, his thoughts far away, haunted by memories too painful to speak as old age made regretting so much more deeper than any threat.

"Ha, I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult." Ricky smirked, turning around to hand Profaci the glass, his own drink in hand. Profaci took it with a slow nod as he raised the glass to his lips, the burn of the bourbon seemed to match the ache that had settled deep in his chest.

"They never do." Profaci's voice was gravelly, his eyes heavy with meaning as he stared at Ricky with an uncertain intensity. Ricky met his gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment and then, unexpectedly, a small chuckle broke the tension, the sound low but genuine, as if they had both shared a private joke they hadn't realized was there all along.

"I heard you became the black knight, I also heard you killed a fictional character, the one in the book-"

"Dracula."

Snap

"Yeah, that fella." Profaci snapped his fingers, a flicker of recognition crossing his face as Ricky couldn't help but chuckle, sipping his drink as he leaned back slightly in the chair across from him.

"Bet it took an arm and a leg." Profaci said with a wry smile, watching as Ricky took another sip.

"It did, but in the end, I f*cked his daughter," Ricky joked, causing Profaci to cackle, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Classic Slick, ha!" Profaci slapped his knee, taking another sip of his bourbon and nodding in amusement.

That joyous laughter slowly faded, and Profaci's smile wavered, his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with his pinky ring. His gaze shifted, locking on the flickering flames in the fireplace as the warmth of the fire seemed to diminish the smile that once gleamed on his face as he leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh.

"Listen Slick, about what I said before you left-"

"Profaci stop, you were right, you don't have to say anything-"

"But I want to." Profaci said, his voice softening as he gestured to himself, his eyes lingering on Ricky with a warmth that contrasted with the shadows under his gaze. "So humor me, will ya?" Profaci asked, his voice tinged with a sincerity that cut through the usual mockery and he looked at Ricky with this gaze that spoke volumes, a mixture of care, nostalgia, and something deeper, something Ricky hadn't expected.

Ricky hesitated for a moment but then nodded, his expression unreadable as he took another sip of his drink.

"I'm man enough to admit when I'm wrong." Profaci tapped his chest, leaning forward slightly, the glass in his hand now just an accessory as he spoke with a surprising humility with his usual bravado replaced by something more vulnerable, more real.

"And man, I'm really glad that I was wrong." Profaci gripped the glass tighter, his knuckles white, as his eyes moved from the fire to Ricky. The shift was palpable, for Profaci wasn't looking at a child anymore, but the real Ricky, the one he always knew, deep down, he could become.

When Ricky left, he was a complete mess.

Profaci had seen it in him, the recklessness, the arrogance, the impulsiveness, and deep down, he feared that Ricky would end up dead because of it like so many guys before him. That fear, that gnawing doubt, had always lingered in his chest and despite the harshness, the cutting words, Profaci still cared about Ricky, like a father-in-law cares about a son.

Back then, Ricky was too young, too naive, too rash. He had that energy, sure, but it was all misdirected and he was a storm, all flash and no direction. But now? Now, there was something different as he was still young, still arrogant, but he wasn't the same fool who rushed into things without thinking. He had learned to plan, to scheme, to think ahead. He didn't just put on a show like some circus clown; he orchestrated the crowd, guiding their every move with the subtle flick of his hand, the power of his presence commanding their attention rather than having to direct it with his loud actions.

Ricky proved he could follow through, and that, more than anything, eased Profaci's mind.

Because, despite everything, this had always been about one thing: Maria. Profaci had always kept her at the forefront of his thoughts as his skepticism, his harsh treatment of Ricky, it was all for her, for her safety. Deep down, he couldn't trust Ricky with Maria, not back then. But now? After seeing what Ricky had become, how he had carried himself through the trials and tribulations, there was a certainty in Profaci's heart. He wasn't sure if he could ever fully trust him, but he knew one thing: Ricky had changed and maybe, just maybe, he was worthy of what was always Profaci's greatest treasure.

"You know, growing up in Sicily, I never wanted to be a leader, I never wanted to be the boss." Profaci downed the rest of his glass, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames, his eyes distant as if the fire held a memory too old to fade.

"In fact, I was comfortable and content with being my older brother's underboss." Profaci laughed, rubbing his thumb against the expressive glass.

"God, Vinny was such a great man, my older brother." Profaci let out a hollow chuckle, rubbing his hand through his deteriorating hair. "He just had that fire." Profaci words were fierce, recalling how he would spark that thing inside that makes every man want to go wild.

"He was the type of guy who just captivated your attention, even when you hated him, you just couldn't look away." Profaci's gaze grew distant, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he reminisced. "God and I know everyone says this but he just had this way, he'd walk into a room, and suddenly, everyone's all eyes on him, whether they liked it or not." Profaci laughed at this retelling, speaking from not his heart, but his soul as he believed in every single word he said.

"He knew how to just pull you in and make you feel like you were part of his world, even if he didn't give a damn about yours. He had this pull, this magnetism, a fire that burned so hot, you couldn't help but be drawn in." Profaci wiped his mouth, trying to hide the smile while ranting about his older brother's greatness. "And then, when you thought you had him figured out, when you thought you could finally get a grip on who he was, he'd just slip away, poof, like smoke, leaving you chasing after him." Profaci laughter echoed out through his telling, leaning back before his smile slowly faltered.

"And I just-...........I just wanted to see the mark he'd make on the world." Profaci's voice faltered as he rubbed his eyes, then his nose, as if trying to erase the weight of the years that had passed.

"Y'know, pressure, it changes everything." Profaci chuckled, his words trailing off as he gazed into the fire, his mind clearly lost in the past.

"Some people, you squeeze them and they focus, but for others, they fold." Profaci gripped his hand tightly for a moment, as if trying to contain the weight of his own memories, before slowly releasing it, the tension in his fingers easing.

"I never got to see the mark he'd make," Profaci muttered, his voice tight with emotion. "I watched him get ripped apart, piece by piece, and all I could do was just run, run away." Profaci hung his head low, biting his lip as he took a long, steadying breath and even now, couldn't focus on one thing.

"I regret it, and I know I shouldn't." Profaci confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves carried the weight of years. "I know Vinny would've wanted me to live, to carry on, but I regret not dying fighting for my brother, with my brother." Profaci's eyes remained fixed on the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows over his face, as though they were drawing out the deepest parts of him, those parts he rarely let anyone see.

"That regret lingered in my affection for my niece, my darling Maria, and it shaped me into the man I am today," Profaci said, his voice steady but heavy with meaning as he set the glass down beside him, the motion deliberate, before his eyes slowly found their way back to Ricky.

"When we met, you reminded me too much of Vinny," Profaci said, his gaze intense as it locked onto Ricky. "But the thing that scared me was that you always reminded me of myself, in all the wrong ways." Profaci paused, waiting for a response that never came. Ricky remained silent, his eyes steady, giving Profaci the space to speak.

"Because you got to pay a price for winning," Profaci's voice was low but firm, his eyes locking with Ricky's. "Everyone thinks they know, know that with victory comes sacrifice," Profaci said, waving his finger as he chuckled softly, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation.

"But the thing is, Slick, most people aren't willing to pay it," Profaci's words trickled out, deliberate and weighted. "And they may pay it once, but the ones who make their mark in history are the ones who pay it every single day." Profaci held up a finger, pointing it directly at Ricky, his eyes locking with his as if to cement the truth in that single, piercing moment.

"But even then, that price you pay, every single day, it changes daily." Profaci's voice softened, yet carried a weight that felt heavier with every word as he leaned forward.

"The price of winning changes on a daily basis, and you gotta be willing to pay that price, whatever it is on that day." Profaci finished his words of wisdom, his voice steady as the weight of the truth settled in the room.

"I won't apologize for what I said to you back then," Profaci's words were firm, the weight of his past decisions hanging in the air as he gazed at Ricky.

"You didn't have the tools, you were too naive, too arrogant, too rash, and too stupid," Profaci said, his voice carrying the weight of truth. He paused for a moment, then smiled slightly, rubbing his thumb over the carvings on his pinky ring.

"But now you seem to have a whole arsenal around you," Profaci chuckled, his worn-down eyes flicking up to meet Ricky's, a glimmer of appreciation flashing through them.

There was no judgment in his gaze now, only a recognition of how far Ricky had come, how much he'd grown, and the dangerous potential he now carried.

"You've grown, you showed your wit, you learned to slow down, and you're still too arrogant," Profaci said, a small chuckle escaping him as Ricky let out a soft laugh, knowing that part would likely never change.

"I called you an entertainer, some flashy sideshow, but it seems that you were always the main event, the calling card that people can't look away from." Profaci said, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling as if lost in thought, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"It just took a little longer for you to be unveiled, that's all." Profaci said, offering a nod of approval as his eyes met Ricky's once again.

"I know you're gonna build something great, and I respect that you're not gonna let me see it," Profaci said, his tone steady, but with a trace of finality as he already knew today was the day he was going to die.

"There can only be one boss, one man to lead the mafia, but even so, I knew you'd spare me," Profaci said, his voice distant, as he turned back to the fire. Ricky gripped the glass harder, his eyes narrowing as he watched him.

"It didn't have f*cking be like this Profaci, you didn't have to cross the line-"

"But I did, I had to teach you one last lesson." Profaci chuckled, clinking his pinky ring on the glass, looking at Ricky.

"It's not gonna be now, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, someone you trust completely, in your entirety, will betray you." Profaci seemingly foretold while wiping his mouth, speaking as if from experience.

"Those people, the ones that betray you, you're gonna want to let them go, give them another chance." Profaci waved his hand in the air, seemingly dissipating those very words he uttered into existence.

"But when they betray you and get away with it, they're only gonna think, 'Wow, he's just letting me off. Does that mean I can do it again?' because once you're a traitor, you're always a traitor." Profaci laughed, smiling at Ricky while the images of all his friends stabbing him in the back appeared within his mind.

"Being a leader is f*cking hard. If anyone says differently, they're wrong. To lead is to make sacrifices, and only cowards try to make compromises." Profaci fixed Ricky with a steady, unwavering gaze, his eyes locking onto him with a weight that seemed to bear down on him.

"You gotta do, what you gotta do, and nothing else." Profaci's gaze drifted to his pinky ring, his fingers working it off slowly before he extended it to Ricky as his hand trembled just slightly as he passed it over.

"It was my brother's, he gave it to me before he died." Profaci chuckled, parting away as Ricky held the gold ring in his palm.

"But it, uh, it's brought me comfort," Profaci smiled warmly at the ring in Ricky's palm, his gaze softening as he looked at it as the ring had been to hell and back with him.

"It was a gag gift, since back in the old days, it was for the associates of the mobster who died, with a source of funding for their funeral expenses in case of their death," Profaci explained, shedding light on the significance of pinky rings and gold rings.

"But it, uh, it's brought me comfort," Profaci smiled warmly at the ring in Ricky's palm, his gaze softening as he looked at it as the ring had been to hell and back with him.

"It was the only thing of value I had coming to America, second to Maria," Profaci chuckled, his eyes distant for a moment as the memories flooded back as Ricky chuckled too, joining in on the moment.

"I-"

COUGH

COUGH

Profaci suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood, his hand shakily reaching for the handkerchief in his suit pocket, already stained with dried blood as Ricky's gaze shifted, his eyes narrowing before really looking at him.

For the first time, he truly noticed the toll the old man's condition had taken as the tough, unyielding figure he had known was now slipping away, and it hit Ricky harder than he expected.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, like some sad sack or something," Profaci muttered, shaking his head as he wiped the blood from his mouth.

"How bad?" Ricky ran his hand through his hair, a sigh escaping him as the old mobster simply shook his head.

"I'm terminal," Profaci said, letting out a slow, somber chuckle, already accepting his fate long before Ricky had arrived.

"Does Maria and Ninfa know?" Ricky asked, his voice calm but probing since he knew this stubborn old man wouldn't tell anyone, but he still had to ask as Profaci responded with a sad smile

"Maria has enough on her plate, and Ninfa, well, I'd like to think she knows, up above in the great beyond," Profaci said, his words carrying an unspoken meaning as Ricky's eyes widened, the words catching him off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless.

"She was a Radium girl." Profaci revealed, his voice tinged with sorrow. "It was one of the reasons she could never have kids." Ricky's head dipped slowly, a deep understanding of the pain behind those words sinking in.

Even Ricky knew about the Radium Girls from Lucky, who had explained it to him a couple of years back. It was a huge issue, especially back then. The story of the Radium Girls had gained widespread attention in the 1920s and 1930s, as the women filed lawsuits against companies like the United States Radium Corporation, shedding light on the horrors they endured.

The workers' legal battles and the tragic nature of their illnesses brought significant media coverage, especially as many of the women suffered visibly horrific symptoms, such as disintegrating jawbones, anemia, and bone fractures.

The plight of the Radium Girls led to widespread reforms in occupational safety, particularly in handling radioactive materials, and helped establish workers' rights to sue employers for unsafe working conditions.

But that didn't mean the victims got a happily ever after.

"I-I had no idea-"

"Well, it was never your business, and besides, Ninfa hated when others looked at her with pity," Profaci shrugged, leaning back in his chair with Ricky mirroring him, reclining into his own seat.

"So, you really just gonna wipe them all out in one night?" Profaci let out a small sigh, genuinely asking and Ricky nodded, already guessing what he was about to do.

"I'm not trying to be a dick, but it's not gonna take more than that." Ricky was honest with Profaci, knowing that compared to Dracula and his forces, he didn't really need to prepare.

Ricky did have some semblance of a plan, but in a worst-case scenario, if one of them escaped, he would just act like a bloodhound and sniff them out. However, Ricky didn't want to wipe them all out on his own; he wanted to include the Luciano family. The reason was simple: Ricky not only wanted to prove he was capable of leading them, but he also wanted to make sure each mobster had a hand in this war so they could feel included.

He understood that power wasn't just about holding the reins; it was about forging unity within the ranks. By making sure each of them played a role, he would solidify his position as a leader who valued loyalty and collaboration. It wasn't just about taking control, it was about giving them a reason to follow him willingly, ensuring they felt like they had a stake in the outcome.

"So the pinkertons-"

"Yep, they were after me at first, but I flipped them from Joe." Ricky smirked, a hint of pride in his voice as Profaci let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head.

"I was wondering who gave those boys the nerve, but of course, it was a little punk." Profaci chuckled, but the humor quickly faded as the atmosphere turned heavy with silence.

"Listen Slick, about Maria-"

"Don't worry, Profaci, I'm going to take care of her. She'll never have to worry about anything ever again." Ricky reassured him, but as Profaci's eyes drifted to the ceiling, his body seemed to grow weaker by the second, the weight of his time catching up to him.

"You're a great man, Profaci, and you did a great job protecting Maria while I was gone." Ricky slowly set the glass aside, his eyes never leaving Profaci's figure as the old mobster's body began to grow stiff. The glass slipped from his hand and shattered, the sound almost deafening in the stillness of the room.

"But I'm here now, so you can rest easy." Ricky stood over Profaci, his expression a mix of resolve and conflict, as the old man offered a faint, weary smile.

This was the best he could do for Profaci, paying back all the kindness he had ever shown Ricky, and giving him the peaceful death he deserved.

"I-I will." A tear slipped from Profaci's eye as he raised his hand, gazing at the vision before him, his beloved Ninfa and his big brother Vinny, smiling and waving, beckoning him to come towards them.

Then, his hand fell limp at his side as the final glimmer of life faded from his eyes as Ricky gently reached over and closed them.

Ricky stood in silence, turning toward the fire and gazing into it for a long while.

There were many things he wasn't, burdened by flaws that could never be erased, but one thing was certain.

Ricky was no longer the coward who failed to step up when it mattered, nor the boy who once ran from tragedy.

He had left as a boy and returned as a man, his eyes hardened with the resolve to face whatever lay ahead, he was ready.

Slowly, he slipped the pinky ring onto his finger, the weight of it settling like a quiet promise.

In this city, there was no room for more than one boss, no space for more than one family.

And now, with every toll paid and every blade sharpened, Ricky was finally ready to claim his place.

As Ricky walked out of the mansion, not a single mobster dared to speak and one by one, they dropped their guns to the ground.

They surrendered in silence, showering Ricky with their unspoken defeat as his footsteps carried him through the growing pile of weapons that gathered in his path.

The final order Profaci had given was clear that if his life was taken, they would answer to the one who took it and Profaci had always known Ricky would come for him.

"Boss, the Profaci family has surrendered. What should we do-" Johnny hurried up to Ricky, his words trailing off as Ricky kept walking toward the car.

"Gather the boys. New York burns tonight," Ricky ordered without a hint of hesitation. He knew that the city would burn today, but tomorrow, it would be reborn with him at its center.

Johnny's eyes widened for a brief moment, but he gave a sharp nod before rushing off to carry out the command.

As Ricky opened the car door, he caught the reflection of the Profaci family members standing still, uncertain, not knowing what to do next.

"If any of you still want to live and be a mobster, then go home, barricade your doors, and show up at Italians tomorrow!" Ricky yelled, his voice sharp and commanding. His presence alone sent a chill down the spines of the men, who exchanged nervous glances before bolting in every direction, desperate to escape.

The car ride was slow, Ricky resting his hand on the window as the driver took him toward a warehouse that housed all the Luciano family members.

But when they arrived, Lucky and Meyer were nowhere to be found as Frank stood off to the side, his presence only raising more questions. The tension in the air was thick, as everyone wondered who could have called this meeting if it wasn't the head of the family.

Click

Click

Click

The sharp click of dress shoes echoed through the warehouse, cutting through the hushed whispers that filled the space as every gaze turned, drawn to the source of the sound.

It was then that Ricky's presence revealed itself to the gathered crowd, his silhouette emerging from the shadows as he walked toward the center, the light above shining down upon him.

This was the same warehouse where it had all begun, three and a half years ago, the same place where he had killed Detective Albert and officially joined the Luciano family.

That wonderful day where everything changed.

But today was different as the air wasn't filled with wonder or surrounding chants; instead, it was thick with unease. Every pair of eyes darted around, uncertain of where their fate now lay and slowly, though, those eyes began to focus entirely on Ricky.

He didn't speak, yet they couldn't look away. "I know what you're all thinking, 'What is this mutant doing here'!" Ricky yelled out, his voice booming in the warehouse.

It wasn't exactly a secret within the Luciano family, though it was always kept under wraps but still, it unsettled quite a few of the mobsters.

What kept their mentality neutral, however, was the fact that Ricky was also the Black Knight, a title that made up for any hostility they might have harbored toward him being a mutant.

"I know many of you think I was supposed to leave, to scurry away, but I'm here to tell you one thing and one thing only!" Ricky paced around, raising a finger in the air before spreading his arms wide.

"I ain't going nowhere!" Ricky declared, his smile widening as he looked out at the shocked mobsters.

"For too long, the families have bickered amongst themselves, dividing the underworld with these meaningless squabbles that lead to nothing but young men dead in the streets!" Ricky clenched his fist, his passion evident as he spoke as to the side, Alexander nodded, his furry chin raised high.

They had been practicing speeches, and right now, Ricky was showcasing every bit of that preparation, delivering his words with a raw intensity that commanded attention.

"Aren't you all tired? Tired of fighting against the guys you grew up with, ending up in a different place just 'cause you were born a couple boroughs over!" Ricky asked, gesturing toward the Italian men who stood in silence, eyes locked on him.

This was true, in fact as many of the members of the families had grown up alongside each other, yet their entire lives had been shaped by the boroughs they were born into.

So many of these men had fought against old friends, gone up against their own cousins, all because of an invisible divide that ran through New York.

"Because I'm tired! I'M F*CKING SICK OF IT!" Ricky roared, his voice shaking the air. In an instant, his sovereignty aura erupted, a green tide swirling around him, filling the room with an overwhelming force.

The air seemed to leave the mobsters as they stared at Ricky, a mixture of shock and horror etched across their faces as his power was on full display, and yet he held it back just enough to prevent them from passing out under its intensity.

"I'M SICK OF HAVING MEANINGLESS FIGHTS OVER SUCH SMALL PORTIONS THAT IT DRIVES ME F*CKING CRAZY!" Ricky shouted, his aura flaring even further, his voice crashing into each and every one of the men.

"BUT LIKE ANYONE ELSE, I WANT IT ALL, ALL THOSE PORTIONS NO MATTER HOW SMALL, DON'T YOU?!" Ricky roared, his voice thundering through the room as he gestured toward the men.

Their eyes, filled with hunger, met his as each one yearned for something more, something beyond what they'd already been given, just like any other man.

"I'm greedy, and I'm selfish!" Ricky lowered his voice, his words cutting through the silence as he preached to the mobsters, who had no choice but to listen, captivated by the raw power in his tone.

"I am the Black Knight, and I am a mutant!" Ricky declared, holding out his hand. In response, the ebony blade flew into his grip, and as he grasped it, his entire body was enveloped in armor as his green aura flared, crackling with power as the air around him seemed to pulse.

"But at my core, I'm Ricky Luciano!" Ricky declared, raising his sword high. He locked eyes with the mobsters, their faces unreadable, but the tension in the air was palpable.

"I'm not going to tell you to do anything, and I ain't gonna force you to follow," Ricky's voice dropped low, but then his eyes blazed with red electricity, crackling with intensity as every man in the room heard his words loud and clear.

"But it's time for a new age, a new era, to enter New York's underworld!" Ricky roared, his voice shaking the very air. The mobsters, caught in the surge of his power, felt their hearts thump in their chests, a mix of respect and anticipation flooding through them.

"One where it's dedicated to the Luciano Family and only for the Luciano Family!" Ricky's words etched themselves into the minds of the men around him, each syllable reverberating through the room like a declaration of dominance.

"ARE YOU WITH ME? ARE YOU GOING TO BE A PART OF HISTORY OR STAY BEHIND AND WATCH IT UNFOLD?!" Ricky yelled, his voice booming as he locked eyes with each mobster as he knew that none of this would work unless the family stood behind him, united in the cause.

"TONIGHT, THE OTHER FAMILIES FALL!" Ricky roared, his aura towering around him, its power rising without crushing the mobsters beneath it, instead empowering them, fueling their anticipation for what was to come.

"TONIGHT, NEW YORK BURNS, AND WITH IT, THE LUCIANO FAMILY RISES!" Ricky shouted, his gesture sweeping toward the other mobsters, the weight of his words igniting a fire in their eyes.

"ARE YOU WITH ME? ARE YOU GOING TO BE A PART OF HISTORY OR STAY BEHIND AND WATCH IT UNFOLD?!" Ricky yelled, his voice booming as he locked eyes with each mobster as he knew that none of this would work unless the family stood behind him, united in the cause.

"WHO'S WITH ME?!" Ricky roared, the red electricity pulsing with his swirling green aura, crackling through the room. The mobsters stood still for a moment, eyes locked on him, each man weighing the choice before them.

They all knew who Ricky was, and that's what scared them but witnessing this momentous display of power, seeing this new side of him, sparked something within them.

A thought, a vision, the sight of a tomorrow that belonged only to the Luciano family. A tomorrow where they would be part of something bigger, something that, at their core, everyone craved. The desire to belong to something greater than themselves, to leave their mark on history.

"SLICK, SLICK, SLICK!" Johnny stood up, his voice ringing through the warehouse, chanting Ricky's name. One by one, the mobsters joined in, their roars building in volume, their allegiance now clear as the air crackled with energy, the Luciano family united behind its new leader.

"SLICK!"

"SLICK!"

"SLICK!"

The cheers that echoed through the warehouse mirrored those of the past, but this time, it was different. They weren't cheering at Ricky, they were cheering for him.

They weren't just spectators anymore; they were part of the act. No longer was Ricky a passing sight, someone you glanced at before returning to your duties.

Not anymore.

Now, you couldn't look away, even if you wanted to and Ricky had become something that demanded your attention, something that commanded all eyes to focus solely on him.

"TONIGHT WE MAKE HISTORY, TONIGHT WE PLUNGE THIS CITY INTO CHAOS SO THAT TOMORROW, WE STAND BEFORE THIS CITY, THIS WORLD, AS ONE!" Ricky shouted, his voice carrying the weight of the revolution he was about to ignite, his words searing into the hearts of the mobsters around him.

"AS THE LUCIANO FAMILY!"