DING
The faint ringing echoed in Ricky's mind, but right now, he was too busy annoying Lucky, who was stomping his way toward the office.
"C'mon, pops-"
"No, I need an aspirin." Lucky laughed, holding his forehead while barging into his office, rubbing his stressed features.
Ricky leaned against the doorway, watching as Lucky sat down at his desk without even glancing toward anything remotely pill-shaped.
Instead, his hand went straight for his favorite bottle of whiskey.
"That ain't aspirin-"
"It's my aspirin." Lucky interrupted, waving Ricky off as he hurriedly poured a glass to soothe his nerves.
"And I better not hear jacksh*t from you of all people." Lucky scoffed, raising the glass and downing it in a single gulp.
"F*ck~" Lucky exhaled, the burn washing through him and giving his nerves that familiar buzz he needed to finally settle down.
For anyone without powers, that moment would've been enough to break them.
For someone like Lucky who was mortal, aging, and half-crippled, it was something far worse.
To feel it, to see that raw power on display, was like an ant staring up at a lion, realizing just how small and fragile it really was.
Every instinct in him screamed to submit, to bow, to accept that he didn't belong in the same world as something like that.
The only thing that kept him grounded was Ricky.
Shielded by his own son, it was the single thread keeping Lucky's spirit from being crushed completely under the weight of that impossible display.
"I mean, what would I even do against that-"
Lucky started to rant, rambling about everything that had happened, while Ricky slowly tuned him out.
DING
[Mission Received: Lily Cromwell]
Difficulty: Extremely easy
Character Sheet: A
Description: Lily Cromwell was born the daughter of the village doctor, Jacob Charles Cromwell. Unknown to most, her father secretly served Dracula. One day, he received orders to resurrect John Falsworth, who lay entombed in the Tower of London with a stake through his heart. When Jacob removed the stake, Falsworth returned to life as Baron Blood, slaughtered Lily's sister Charlotte, and turned Lily into a vampire. Over time, a twisted bond of sadistic Stockholm syndrome formed between her and Baron Blood. However, following her battle with Dracula, the last shred of love she had held onto, was brutally stripped away by Baron Blood turning his back to her. Left for dead, she now exists as little more than a walking meat puppet, her body and will enslaved to darkness.
Objective: Simply command her to fulfill your desires and she'll do so, without any questions.
Reward: 10 IP
Main Mission:
Impregnante Once:
Choose: Lily's Power or 1 Mythic Coupon, 5 Legendary Coupons
Impregnate Twice:
Rewards: ?????????
Additional Missions:
Fix Lily's shattered heart: (Incomplete)
Reward: Mythic Skill Coupon
Bonus Missions:
???????????????????
???????????????????
???????????????????
???????????????????
???????????????????
???????????????????]
Honestly speaking, Ricky could've put more thought into his exchange with Lily, but he'd wanted something right then and there.
If Lucky had his whiskey to steady his nerves, Ricky had Lily.
Using her body as his own way to regain composure amidst the narrative chaos he'd just stepped into with another one of his bold actions.
So when Ricky looked at his rewards, his disappointment wasn't obvious, but the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn't satisfied with what he'd gotten from Lily as a whole.
Now faced with the choice between Lily's powers or the stack of coupons, Ricky felt none of the allure he'd usually have for a vampire's abilities.
His mind turned, weighing the logic behind it.
Lilith was the superior of their kind, and Ricky doubted he could gain anything from Lily that he hadn't already taken from the vampire queen.
Considering how easily he'd defeated her months ago during his clash with Dracula, Lily's power felt like little more than a drop in the bucket.
It was why, in a rare move for him, especially when it came to women with powers, Ricky chose to step to explore the other option.
'Choose coupons and open them all.'
DING
As the rewards revealed themselves, Ricky's eyes widened in pure ecstasy at what he'd just received.
Nothing about his body changed.
Not even Lucky noticed, still caught up in his rant, but to Ricky, what he had just gained felt like a godsend from heavens he didn't even believe in.
"Listen, can I just interrupt you? I haven't really been listening," Ricky asked, finally stepping into the room as Lucky side-eyed him.
"You're still here?" Lucky genuinely asked, having talked so much for the sole purpose of boring Ricky out of his office.
"Good, we're on the same page." Ricky chuckled, watching Lucky roll his eyes toward the whiskey bottle and pour himself another glass.
"I know you're mad about me dragging you into another one of my-"
"I ain't mad 'cause of that, Slick." Lucky sighed, halting his pour and turning his tired expression toward him.
"You're a grown-ass man, the head of the family, and at the end of the day, it's your call," Lucky admitted, knowing he had issues with plenty of what Ricky did, but it didn't matter.
To him, to everyone, Ricky was the head of the Luciano family.
If his way was the right way, all Lucky could do was wait to see how it played out; if it fell through, he'd adjust and move forward from there.
"You wanna start sh*t with the president and whatever was in those clouds? F*cking fine." Lucky said, gesturing with his hands like any cliché Italian would.
"But when you drag me into the lion's den, at least give me a heads-up about whatever that was." Lucky huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose while continuing to pour his whiskey.
"I-"
"You didn't know-"
"I do know, actually-"
"Yeah, but did you know before?" Lucky asked, a little impressed that Ricky had already figured out whatever it was, but still wary of his old habits.
"Ok, you got me," Ricky said, holding up his hands in mock surrender as he walked over to the bottle.
"And now, I'm taking another aspirin," Lucky sighed, downing a full glass of whiskey in one gulp and setting it flatly on the desk.
"So, what's your plan?" Lucky asked, finally sinking into his late-night buzz after a long day of stress-fueled work.
"I'm going to Germany." Ricky revealed, taking his adopted father's favorite whiskey and pouring himself a generous glass.
"You're what?!" Lucky exclaimed, dropping his jaw at Ricky's stupid smile as he watched the glass raise to his lips.
"I'm going to the Hellfire Ball and the Olympics to meet with-"
"Jesus Christ, Slick." Lucky sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat and pinching the bridge of his nose as Ricky frowned.
"What?" Ricky asked, pretending to be surprised as he watched Lucky slowly drag his hand across his face before finally turning to address him.
"Listen, Slick, I know I'm always on your case and just get surprised whenever you end up doing something I could never imagine," Lucky said, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.
"But you just got back." Lucky added, his voice tinged with disbelief as he glanced at Ricky over the rim of his glass.
"You got back from a place, from a guy that targeted and almost killed your kids-"
"Don't remind me-"
"That's exactly why I'm reminding you, Slick." Lucky said, letting out a short laugh as he watched Ricky down his glass and set it next to his empty one.
"You saw what happened when you left-"
"But look what happened when I stayed, when I just sat in New York," Ricky sighed, flicking his hand at Lucky as he paced around the office.
"Y'know, part of me just wants to leave to make sure everyone knows who I am, knows the name Ricky Luciano, and shows them what happens when they mess with me, with our family." Ricky started, genuinely giving Lucky the lie he'd originally prepared rather than the truth he'd been hiding all this time.
"And I know that deep down, you're probably a little worried that I'm just running away," Ricky continued, knowing that while those days were behind him, the fear of it never really left, it lingered, especially in someone like Lucky.
"But the truth is, I ain't you." Ricky revealed, admitting the realization he'd come to all the way back after beating Merlyn.
"Huh?" Lucky asked, already aware of this truth since after all, it was hard to ever compare someone like Ricky to him in the first place.
"A part-"
Sigh
"F*ck, how do I say this?" Ricky muttered to himself, rubbing his mouth as if that alone could spur the words he needed to explain what he truly felt.
While Ricky struggled to find the words, Lucky just watched him, and it felt strange.
Ricky hadn't been gone long, yet the weary, stressed man Lucky remembered seemed to melt away, replaced by the invigorated version he had always known him to be.
The difference, however, was that Ricky now moved with a purpose, looking out into the far off distance, rather than constantly waiting for something to pop up in his view.
"I think, for so long, I chased after what I wanted to be, and when I got it, I think I just lost a part of myself," Ricky finally admitted, realizing the truth in that moment.
For all intents and purposes, he had become whole.
For the longest time, all he had ever wanted was to pick up the pieces of his shattered existence, and when he finally did, the mirror reflected back someone who didn't know what to do next.
"Like, I lost that drive. I was just a guy trying to pick up the pieces of myself that were shattered all around me," Ricky said, speaking from the heart, catching Lucky almost off guard with the genuineness in his voice.
"Then when I did, I just sort of stagnated." Ricky continued, his eyes dropping toward the ground as a wry smile slowly formed.
"And how can you become any wholer, when you've already put the pieces together, ya know?" Ricky asked, posing the most philosophically loaded question Lucky had ever heard from him.
The words hung in the office, catching Lucky off guard once again, too stunned to reply, and simply waited for him to continue.
"I think of it like a mirror," Ricky said, gesturing with his hands as if turning the reflection of his life over to the man he respected most.
"I thought I had to reflect, to be who you are."
When Ricky came back from everything, his banishment, the White House, and became head of the family, in his own clichéd way, he instinctively felt as if he needed to be like Lucky.
He needed to handle all the paperwork, oversee every operation, and embody the weight of the family in every decision, every interaction, every glance.
"When you handed me the reins of the Luciano family, Pops, I felt like I needed to be you, and everyone expected me to be the second coming of you," Ricky said, remembering that stress and the words Asterion had imparted onto him.
"But I know now that I'll never be more than me." Ricky finally admitted, having learned so much from the man before him while understanding that he could never be Lucky.
He had to be Ricky 'Slick' Luciano.
"I ain't you pops, I gotta be me."
"I ain't cut out to work at a desk, and it's not like before, when I just ran away. I really tried." Ricky chuckled, though the sound carried something older, something more mature.
"I really tried." Ricky emphasized again, needing Lucky to understand this above all else before spreading his arms wide.
"But how can someone so selfish be so selfless?" Ricky asked with a light laugh, drawing a faint, reluctant smile from Lucky.
"I know now, after all that sh*t, that I'll stand on my own two feet, that I can be right there, behind your desk." Ricky said, pointing at Lucky as if to finally mark the line separating past and future heads of the family.
Ricky paused for a moment, turning toward the nearby window and tugging the curtain aside as moonlight poured in.
But all Ricky saw was the sun.
Even beneath the night sky, he felt its warm, golden light spill over his face like a spotlight, as if the world itself was recognizing the shift taking place within him.
"You built the foundation, pops." Ricky said, voice low and reverent, like a priest speaking in a cathedral of dust and legacy.
"Let me build onto it, but not here."
At those single words, a long silence stretched between them.
It wasn't hostile, but it carried weight.
Lucky didn't blink, his eyes fixed on Ricky, trying to decipher the full shape of the man his son was becoming.
But Ricky's gaze was already somewhere else, already reaching past the city skyline, past the borders of what had once been enough.
He was finally gazing into the distance, outside.
"When you were head of the Luciano family, you saw it rising to the top of New York." Ricky continued, his tone sharpening while staring out into the distance, towards the city.
"But I see the Luciano family on top of the world."
And just like that, the air changed.
Ambition pulsed through him, not as a fantasy, not as a boast, but as a quiet fire he had been nurturing in the dark.
After the trial, after returning to New York and becoming the head of the Luciano family, Ricky had truly tasted power; tasted it, devoured it, and felt it settle in his gut like fire.
He had digested victory, savored the illusion of control, and for a moment, he believed that was enough.
That the crown was his, that he had won.
But with victory, came the silence.
Then came Merlyn.
Then Arthur.
And with all of that, the vision of what a true king was meant to be became clear.
A lot could be learned from the entire encounter, and Ricky had absorbed much.
Understanding his own mistakes, his enemies' missteps, and already beginning to better himself through those challenges.
But what stood out most to Ricky was what it truly meant to be revered, not just feared, but loved.
He saw the kind of legacy that carved itself into history, not through brute force, but through meaning.
And it left him simmering.
Because what came after his victory wasn't peace, it wasn't purpose, it was that continued form of hollowness.
Standing atop the wreckage of everything Arthur represented, standing over his new grave, Ricky realized that he had held power in his hands like a crown made of smoke.
In that moment, he looked regal, majestic, even.
So when Ricky looked down at his changing army during that scuffle, he wasn't seeing a sea of people bowing to him, but a crown made of smoke.
Impossible to hold.
Ricky watched it drift and fade from his fingertips, spilling through his hands no matter how tightly he tried to clutch it.
What he'd won had been real; the title, the fear, even the loyalty.
But the feeling behind it, that drive, that ambition.
That had been borrowed.
Borrowed from the hunger of others, from wrath, from the weight of expectations Lucky left behind.
From the frantic pace of survival and circumstance, at some point he had become reactive.
At some point, his entire existence had been built upon retaliation and meaning that had not been born of him, not his Luciano family.
He hadn't built it.
He'd inherited it.
And now that he understood the difference.
He couldn't go back.
Because Ricky was a wrathful man, and Merlyn had seen it, used it against him.
But now, Ricky saw his own wraith, how it was rotting him.
That was the thing about wrath, the fatal flaw buried in its core since for all its fire and righteousness, revenge was a hollow purpose.
A façade dressed up as meaning and it had plagued Ricky's path, obscuring his true nature, the essence of who he was meant to be: the unexpected.
But in that new meaning of existence formed a dilemma, a new paradox of his existence.
Because how do you become greater than the unexpected?
You go further, you take a step further.
Ricky wasn't Lucky, he wasn't a man of the boroughs, content to rule one corner of the map.
He didn't want to be a king of fences or familiar turf.
No, Ricky was something else entirely.
Finally, he wanted to be something more.
What made Ricky different, what made his new development dangerous, was that he was no longer content to wait for an opportunity.
Now, Ricky was reaching for it, for more, pushing past his comfort zone, past what he had been told was enough.
One thing had become clear the moment he returned.
New York was too small.
He had been a potted plant grown only as much as the container allowed, but now he saw the pot for what it truly was, limiting, controlling, and safe.
He needed earth.
He needed space to dig his roots in deep, to stretch far and wide until the Luciano name wasn't just a whisper in alleyways, but a roar in boardrooms, on airwaves, in every language spoken under the sun.
The Luciano family wasn't meant to rule a city.
It was meant to rule the world.
"Just tell me what you want instead of wearing that smug grin you've got over there." Lucky said, waving his hand but unable to hide the proud smile blooming on his face.
"I want to make the president my b*tch."
Next Day,
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
An alarm clock rang in a dusty, rinky-dink studio apartment in Manhattan.
"Stop~" a young man groaned, fumbling across his dresser as his fingernails barely missed the button.
The alarm continued, relentless, as his hand lunged again and again before he finally had enough.
"Argh!" He grunted, tossing the blanket that had cocooned him across the room and slamming his clenched fist onto the button.
*BE-
The beeping stopped abruptly as his fist smashed the button, silencing the alarm before it could further infuriate him.
SIGH
A heavy sigh escaped the young man, his fury cut short by the weight of reality, but more importantly, by the morning dew clinging to the edges of his tiny, rinky-dink terrace.
Rubbing his face, he pushed back his white hair and slowly rose to his feet, reaching for a cigarette on the side table.
He stepped out onto the cramped balcony, the cool morning air brushing against his skin as he lit the cigarette and inhaled, letting the smoke curl lazily into the city sky.
"Franky?"
The name drifted across the street, and Frank turned his head upward, a smile spreading across his face.
"How lovely to see you on this beautiful morning." The old Italian woman called, her eyes crinkling with warmth as she gazed across her tiny balcony, until a form formed at the cigarette in his left hand.
"And you too Mrs. Ricci-"
"No, no, no!" She exclaimed, waving her laundry in the air with every word, her wrinkled lips quivering with emphasis.
"Call me Camilla." Camilla added with a warm smile, turning that expression toward Frank, who chuckled lightly.
"Good morning, Camilla-"
"Is that your breakfast?" Camilla interjected immediately, her motherly instincts flaring as she peered at Frank with sharp, caring eyes.
"Yes-"
"No, no, no!" Camilla cut him off sternly, shaking her head as if the very idea made her physically recoil.
"You can never start the day with an empty stomach, especially you, Franky." Camellia said, leaning closer over the balcony, her voice softening yet still filled with concern.
"You're too skinny-"
"Camillia-"
"TOO SKINNY!" Camillia yelled, her voice carrying across the narrow gap between terraces as Frank pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Come over, I always have extra's-Franky!" Camillia called again, waving a hand with exaggerated urgency as Frank started to back away.
"Sorry, Camillia, I have to go!" Frank laughed, flicking the cigarette off the terrace and shrugging his shoulders, turning his back to the motherly figure as he prepared to leave.
Frank moved back into his cramped Manhattan apartment, sunlight cutting through the grimy windows and dust motes dancing in the golden beams.
He stretched, letting out a long yawn, and ran a hand through his tousled white hair before reaching for a worn undershirt hanging over a chair.
He tugged it over his shoulders and fastened the suspenders holding up his faded trousers, then polished off his scuffed leather shoes with a quick brush of an old rag.
From the tiny kitchenette that was littered in wear and tear, he poured a strong cup of black coffee into a chipped mug.
In the cracked mirror by the door, he adjusted his collar and slicked back his hair, checking that he looked presentable enough for the streets outside.
Before finally leaving his tiny apartment and stepping into the vastness of New York City.
However, rather than weaving through the abnormally crowded streets, he slipped quietly into a back alley, letting the city's chaos fade behind him.
He continued down the alley until he came upon a secluded building, an old, run down garage hidden from the bustle of the city.
But his excitement wasn't for the building he had purchased with the last of his life savings; it was for the tarp that covered a distinctive object inside.
WHOOSH
With the tug of his hands, the curtain was unveiled before him, a Gutenberg-style hand press.
With all the money he had left from buying this tiny little garage, Frank used the rest of it on the only printing machine that his little money could buy.
Right now, printing presses were all the rage, as Handmade papers were a thing of the past.
However, in this garage at least, the art hadn't yet died.
Instead, it would be the seeds for the first mutant paper.
BAM
BAM
BAM
Three hard knocks echoed outside the garage, making Frank's smile twitch involuntarily. He turned and lifted the garage door to reveal a familiar face.
"Matteo, listen." Frank said immediately, clasping his hands together as he looked at the deadpan expression before him.
"I don't-"
"You don't have the protection money, I know," Matteo scoffed, pushing the items in his hands toward Frank, who looked down.
His eyes widened slightly at the plates upon plates of food Matteo had stacked, finally wiping his hands clean.
"You think I'm f*cking jew enough to charge you protection, in this place?" Matteo asked, spreading his arms toward what appeared to be a dumpster.
"Matteo, this isn't just a place but ground work of my paper, the-"
"Whatever, who cares," Matteo sighed, waving off anything the poor schmuck had to say.
"Just return the plates when you're done-"
"Come on, Matteo, wait," Frank laughed, hurriedly placing the plates on a worn-out table before stepping in front of him.
"No-"
"I didn't even say anything-"
"I ain't telling you nothing about nobody, not for free that is." Matteo scoffed, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
"Come on Matteo, we're family-"
"My ma invited you to diner once-"
"Twice actually-"
"Whatever!" Matteo laughed, spreading his hands in absurdity as if that was enough to justify free information.
"We ain't family, either one." Matteo said, raising an eyebrow to Frank who ducked his head at the raised gaze.
"It was you who told me that-"
"I know, I know," Frank sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
It wasn't exactly hidden information; everyone knew how aggressively the Luciano family was recruiting mutants.
Matteo, a made man, had been one of the men sent to monitor all the mutants processed by the foundation Raven was running.
The ones released into the wild, not being groomed to be trafficked into the Luciano family.
This was Frank Bohannan, what many people would dismissively refer to as a dreg.
"I just-"
SIGH
"Matteo, please." Frank sighed, turning his gaze toward Matteo while gesturing at his handmade press.
"I've got an untapped market here!" Frank said enthusiastically, running his hands along the grooves and cracks of the press.
"There are hundreds of mutants flooding into New York every day, and while every other community has a news source, we don't." Frank excitedly said, smiling at his future which was as bright as his smile.
"Now, I came to you because of the respect I not only have for Mr. Luciano, but for your family-"
"And I appreciate that, I do." Matteo said, raising a hand to halt Frank's words.
"It's a pain in the ass to make these people understand how the city works, and it's a weight off my shoulder when a guy with common sense comes around," Matteo sighed lightly, already thinking about the twenty or so other mutants he had to check on today who still didn't get how the city worked.
If you know what I mean.
"But that ain't enough." Matteo flatly stated, chuckling at the naive kid in front of him with dreams bigger than the reality before him.
"Now, if ya'll excuse me, I gotta go to that f*cking conference." Matteo said, hurriedly checking his watch before turning around.
However, when the words came out of his mouth, there was only one thing on Franks's mind
"What conference?"