SIGH
"You know, after all that, I actually feel a bit relieved." Ricky said, opening his eyes and drawing in a deep breath before slowly letting it out.
"Like a weight's been lifted off my chest. I feel like I can breathe again." Ricky laughed, leaning forward as he gazed at his finished cigar, twirling it between his fingers.
"How 'bout you, Cedric? How you feeling?" Ricky asked casually, flicking the end of the cigar at Cedric's forehead, looking upon the results of Merlyn's work.
Cedric simply stared off into the distance rather than respond, his gaze hollow, as if his mind had finally caved inward and granted him some twisted form of release.
Though Cedric's head remained neatly intact, it was only when Ricky's gaze lowered that the full horror revealed itself as every inch of flesh had been stripped from his body.
Peeled away slowly then promptly discarded like waste off to the side.
The only thing keeping him alive at this point was Merlyn's bioorganic device, cradling his organs, veins, and whatever else was left, somehow holding him together.
Snap
Snap
Ricky snapped his fingers twice in front of Cedric's hollow gaze, testing if there was even a flicker of consciousness left, while Merlyn hovered silently off to the side.
"Well, let's get this over with." Ricky muttered, rising to his feet as a construct of a pistol began to form, piece by piece, in his hands.
"Any last words before I end your miserable life?" Ricky asked, pressing the glowing green construct of a pistol against Cedric's forehead.
But Cedric said nothing and just sat there limply, his head bobbing back and forth with each nudge, like a broken doll long past its purpose.
BANG
SPLAT
Cedric's brain splattered against the wall behind him as his head slumped forward, finally succumbing to the sweet release of death.
Without a second's hesitation, Ricky calmly extended his hand.
"Now, for the best part," Ricky said with a grin, putting on a show for Merlyn who simply rolled his eyes in response.
AHEM
"Get the f*ck up."
[(Legendary Undead) Cedric the Phantom: Once the feared leader of the Coven, Cedric was betrayed and handed to Ricky, who flayed him alive and sealed his still-living organs inside cursed ectoplasm. Only his head remains intact.
Abilities:
Ectoplasmic Dominion: Cedric manipulates the cursed ectoplasm forming his body into tendrils, weapons, or shields. These spectral extensions lash out with corrosive energy and bind anything they touch.
Ectoplasmic Surge: Cedric releases a burst of condensed ectoplasm in all directions, knocking back enemies and leaving behind a ghostly residue that slows and weakens those who walk through it.
Plasmic Hex: Using the organs floating inside him as catalysts, Cedric curses a target with decaying ectoplasm that eats away at armor, dulls senses, and makes healing less effective.]
"W-What have you done to me-" Cedric gasped in a horrifying gurgle, choking on his own shock as he slowly raised his hand only to see it wasn't flesh, but some kind of strange goo.
"Blah, blah, blah, your life is over, we get it," Ricky interrupted dismissively, letting out a heavy sigh at the all-too-familiar reaction from his undead.
"Just go sit in the corner." Ricky sighed again, shooing him aside as Cedric's skin, flesh, and muscles gave way, replaced entirely by swirling ectoplasm.
The only limb he still had was his head as he slowly shuffled toward the corner and there, his ectoplasmic limbs folded beneath him, sitting quietly while he faced the wall.
"Well, I'm beat." Ricky sighed, rubbing his eyes as he shifted his gaze toward Merlyn.
His mouth opened, about to ask if Merlyn could sever the blood connection between him and the Ebony Blade.
But then he abruptly closed his mouth, tucking the question away beneath the weight of his exhaustion.
'Later.' Ricky thought, pushing it off until tomorrow as he waved his hand at the undead.
"Uh, go get all your stuff ready since we're leaving soon." Ricky ordered, walking over to the cell door and stopping in front of it.
"And by your stuff, I mean-"
"Your stuff, I understand." Merlyn sighed, rolling his eyes as he watched Ricky hold up his thumb.
"Imbeci-"
BAM
Merlyn's head involuntarily slammed against the wall, while Ricky's laughter echoed down the halls, fading off into the distance while he slowly left the dungeon.
Rubbing his skull, Merlyn's eyes darted to the side and froze at the sight of Lady Roma, sitting quietly in her corner, her gaze heavy with a tangled mix of emotions that would forever go unsaid.
Without a word, the undead slipped away through a shimmering portal, leaving his daughter alone with nothing but the cold silence of the dungeon.
The only sounds were the soft, subtle taps of Ricky's dragging feet.
He rubbed his tired expression and let out a slow sigh, slicking his hair back with weary hands.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, clear in the slow, deliberate pace he kept when walking up the endless spiral staircase.
With each step, the faint tapping echoed as he gradually made his way upward until he finally reached a single door.
SIGH
Ricky heaved a deep sigh, the night finally settling over him as he opened the door.
Inside, Morgana looked to be laying asleep, her figure turned toward the moonlight spilling softly through the bedroom window.
"Ricky?" Morgana said tiredly, raising her head to see him walking over and slowly taking off his shirt.
She rubbed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Ricky was already crawling onto the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder.
Wrapping his arm around her, Ricky pulled her closer into his embrace as she smiled tiredly and rolled over, resting her forehead against his chest.
Snuggled into his warmth, she chuckled softly while his hands slowly wrapped around her supple body, holding her quietly beneath the moonlight.
Slowly, Ricky closed his eyes, the darkness fading around him as he finally let his body relax and slipped completely into his dreams.
Usually, Ricky didn't dream, except for the brief stint of the ebony blade feeding him past memories of its past users.
But other than those rare moments, his nights were swallowed by endless blackness until the next day arrived.
This time, however, when he woke, instead of clarity, the world around him felt blurred, distant, as if reality itself had slipped just beyond his grasp.
A harsh glare made it almost impossible for Ricky to open his eyes fully as he slowly sat up, his gaze drifting over the shimmering gold accents that filled the room.
However, the moment he tried to focus, the world blurred again.
Despite the haze, he could still make out the countless naked women sprawled across the pristine white sheets of the bed he now occupied.
Their faces remained hazy, slipping through his focus as he struggled to make out their features until a sharp sound pierced the silence.
'Ricky!'
A faint chant echoed, whispering through the air as his head snapped forward, drawn toward the source, only to be met by a blinding, overwhelming light.
As his gaze locked onto the light, the whispers of his name sharpened in his ears, pulling him instinctively toward it.
Almost magnetized, Ricky reached out, his legs moving to follow but the moment they did, a crushing heaviness weighed them down, as if he were submerged underwater.
Even then he pushed forward, keeping his gaze locked ahead while ignoring the mounting chorus of whispers swirling in his mind.
'What is taking Slick so long-'
'I want eyes and ears on wherever Ricky Luciano is and what he's up too-'
'Do not worry, Ricky Luciano is but one man, the reich-'
Voices echoed around him, scenes swirling past his figure, each one whispering fragments of something actually real as he walked down the endless hall that wasn't.
But Ricky paid them no mind.
His eyes stayed fixed, completely fixed, on the light that grew steadily closer with each step, until he finally reached it.
In that instant, the light dimmed, revealing a balcony entrance.
Ricky stepped forward, his hand brushing the railing as he looked out over a vast expanse of towering structures, each lined with his name and statues in his honor.
From the balcony, his gaze drifted downward to the crowd below, to people smiling, their eyes shining with gratitude simply because he acknowledged them with his mere gaze.
Then they screamed a name at the top of their lungs, united in reverence for one man.
"Ricky!"
"Ricky!"
They chanted, showering Ricky with reverence and for reasons he couldn't explain, he raised his hand.
The applause swelled, surging to new heights as Ricky began to bask in the intoxicating power of being worshipped.
And he loved it.
So much so that laughter spilled from him, bright and unrestrained, as he lifted his other hand, urging the crowd's cheers even higher.
They worshipped him, drenched him in their adoration and Ricky could only laugh at the dizzying rush of it.
This shallow love stretched his smile wider, filling him with a fleeting exhilaration until his eyes felt heavy.
Yet, for some strange reason, Ricky fought to keep his eyes open, even as they began to slip down.
Because the second they closed, Ricky reopened them to Morgana's bedroom.
'HOW HAVE WE NOT FOUND RICKY LUCIANO!'
The words hissed into his ears, snapping his gaze upward toward the rising sun, whose pale morning light barely pierced the room.
Ricky's eyes slowly darkened, deepening into an impossible shade of black, and yet, they still mirrored the scene before him: the president berating a man who could do nothing but swallow his shame in silence.
'Listen, Slick's really rough around the edges, but he's someone you can get behind-' Eldric's voice whispered in Ricky's ear as he turned toward a corner of the castle, where Eldric stood among a group of hungover coven members.
Ricky pushed the whispers to the back of his mind, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.
Morgana, still aching in every inch of her body, pulled the blanket over her head just as Ricky swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
Looking up, Ricky spotted the balcony and almost instinctively rose, walking toward it with the same smile that had graced his dream.
But as he drew near, his smile vanished.
Because at the ledge, there were no chanting crowds, no statues, only the endless glow of the rising sun stretching over the mythical city of Camelot.
"Ricky?" Alexander muttered, wobbling out of Ricky's shirt lying crumpled on the floor.
"Has anyone ever chanted your name?" Ricky asked suddenly, turning toward the gerbil who had just stumbled to his feet.
"Where am I?" Alexander whispered, rubbing his eyes with a trembling hand while wobbling toward Ricky who stood completely naked on the balcony.
"Morgana's room, but who cares about that? Did people ever chant your name?" Ricky brushed the question off quickly as Alexander finally reached the balcony.
"Of course, is that really even a question?" Alexander asked genuinely, climbing onto the ledge and plopping down onto his ass the moment he arrived.
"What did it feel like?" Ricky asked, though the moment the words left his mouth, Alexander's expression shifted, surprised by the unusual question.
"Vindicating." Alexander replied, raising his furry eyebrow after noticing Ricky staring oddly out toward the horizon.
Watching as Ricky stared into the distance, lost in his thoughts for a long moment before suddenly chuckling.
"Did you know he apologized to me before I cut him in half? Arthur, I mean." Ricky said almost out of the blue, as if he needed to say it, knowing Alexander couldn't have known.
"Then he asked if we could've been friends, just like, out of the blue." Ricky muttered, leaning on the edge as he reminisced about that day.
"What a f*cking loser." Ricky laughed, mocking Arthur before rubbing his mouth until the chuckles slowly faded away.
"What is this about, Ricky?" Alexander asked, watching Ricky stare ahead for a moment longer before finally turning toward the gerbil.
"Putting aside how annoying the guy was, do you remember when he came back?" Ricky asked, seemingly pacing around the main point, softening it in at first.
"When Melryn came in his pants and they all bowed before him, like all that promised, motherf*cking king stuff was actually worth it." Ricky said, his tone a subtle reminder as Alexander just pondered.
"Were you jealous?" Alexander asked honestly, his curious eyes locked on Ricky, who just laughed.
"Me? Jealous?" Ricky asked, looking at Alexander like he was an idiot before turning his gaze back to the sun.
"Uh-huh." Alexander nodded, smacking his lips and then shifting his eyes toward the setting sun as well.
"Would you care for a story?" Alexander asked, sensing what Ricky was holding back but deciding to urge it out of him in another way.
"When I invaded Persia, I did so under the banner of avenging past conflicts with Greece along with my unquenchable thirst to expand my empire." Alexander said, recalling those days of old before lowering his gaze.
"However, I met a wall in the form of a great man named Darius III." Alexander recounted, smiling the second the man's name escaped his lips.
"He wasn't a skilled warrior, but he was a good king, a good man." Alexander said with a tinge of regret, lowering his gaze to the sight of Camelot.
"I felt honored to fight such a man, I even admired how he rallied his kingdom with nothing but his mere words." Alexander said but as he finished, the warmth in his eyes cooled into something harder.
"But as my army pushed his men back, the snakes slowly began to slither around him," Alexander said, no louder than a whisper, yet laced with a fury that made his fist clench tightly.
"Around 330 BCE, I was strategizing a siege when an embassy of his officers arrived." Alexander continued, his fist trembling with each word that hissed through his teeth.
"In one of their hands was a basket, and inside it rested the severed head of Darius." Alexander said, closing his eyes as he slowly released his clenched fist while Ricky sat quietly at the side.
"They had killed him after inviting him to a banquet, butchered him and his family, then wrapped them like presents and delivered them to me." Alexander said with a sigh, opening his eyes with a look of quiet disappointment.
"The end of the war was inevitable; it was only a matter of time before I would win. I knew it, my camp knew it, and even they knew it too." Alexander let the words hang in the air before a slow, bitter chuckle escaped him.
"What they didn't know, what no one knew, was that Darius had slipped into my tent the day before."
"Somehow, he'd memorized my men's patrol schedules and shift changes, slipping in the night I'd asked to be left alone. It was impressive, so much so that he became the first person to ever make me paranoid about something as routine as guard shifts." Alexander said, adding that remark at the end with a hint of amusement before continuing his story.
"I thought he was there to kill me, but Darius came not with malice. He simply fell to his knees before me." Alexander said, his voice tinged with disbelief as if reliving the shock of seeing a king kneel before another for the first time.
"He told me he would give me his head at the end of the summer if I spared his people," Alexander repeated, recalling every word as if hearing Darius beg for mercy all over again.
"I accepted."
"So, his guys made good on his promise-" Ricky began, only to be promptly cut off.
"No, I received his head in the spring." Alexander said, his eyes heavy with a deep sadness but filled with a genuine respect for Darius.
"Those cowards killed the king who had already offered up his own head the day before." Alexander said with a bitter laugh, turning his gaze toward the sun.
"I had killed rulers before, and not once, not a single time, had any of them sacrificed themselves," Alexander said, speaking with unexpected reverence for the man who had knelt before him.
"Instead, they sacrificed everything around them to save their own lives. But Darius, he wanted his people to live." Alexander's voice tinged with irony as the gerbil shook his head.
"He wanted his people to laugh, to be happy, and do you know what they gave him?" Alexander asked, though Ricky knew the answer wasn't his to give.
"A sword slashing down on his neck," Alexander said, gesturing sharply with his hand as if reenacting the very blade that had struck Darius down.
For a long moment, he remained silent, the screams echoing in his ears and drowning his senses until he finally raised his voice above his memories.
"I-I can only remember my rage." Alexander's voice was hoarse, recalling how his emotions took over after seeing the expression frozen on Darius's severed head.
"I killed them, I killed them all."
"I hung their bodies from the rafters and unleashed my hatred on their delegation." Alexander's voice grew ruthless as he recalled how those ungrateful men begged, offering everything to spare their lives while he personally cut them down one by one.
"That is how I really conquered Persia and I was victorious." Alexander coughed, shaking off the harshness in his tone and choosing to make his point clear.
"Rule wasn't meant for good men, Ricky." Alexander finally got to his point, lifting his gaze up at him, his eyes piercing.
"I've seen many good rulers fall, and only the wicked survive." Alexander said, distilling his entire story into the belief that drove him.
"Because the good can only sacrifice themselves and that's never enough to win." Alexander believed, understanding that victory rarely comes from personal sacrifice alone.
Winning almost always demands the sacrifice of others.
Alexander personally had sent countless men, entire legions, as diversions to achieve his greater goal of conquest.
Leading and being a king, wasn't about ensuring everyone's happiness.
It was about making the hard decisions, bearing the weight of those sacrifices, and accepting that some would fall so others could rise.
True power meant cold calculation, ruthless strategy, and the willingness to do what others could not, even when it meant sacrificing those who looked to you for protection.
"If you think I look upon you with disgust for what you did to Camelot, you're wrong," Alexander said, gesturing knowingly towards the city next to them since he had heard the screams that day, too.
"You're my disciple, I shaped you in my ways." Alexander said though not with anger, but almost proud that Ricky had done what was necessary to achieve victory.
"Now, how did this originally come about?" Alexander finally asked, deciding to stop circling around the real reason and get straight to the point after sharing something so personal.
"Ha~" Ricky exhaled, slicking his hair back and turning towards the gerbil.
"Alright, you got me, this ain't about Arthur," Ricky smiled, reaching out to poke the gerbil who instinctively swatted his finger away.
"I just had this dream," Ricky muttered, recalling it as if it were clear as day, his heartbeat quickening slightly.
Alexander watched him closely, as if witnessing Ricky being transported back into that scene.
"Everything was hazy, like I was looking through the wrong pair of glasses. It made it hard to tell where I was, but it looked like some kind of weirdly white castle." Ricky said in awe, gesturing with his hands to give the retelling more effect.
"And this strange, white castle had these little f*cking golden accents that blinded me whenever I tried to adjust my eyes." Ricky chuckled, his quiet tone growing just a bit as he described the dream that was slowly coming alive in Alexander's imagination.
"And I was walking down this big ass hallway that seemed to stretch forever, with visions of people all around me, but I just couldn't look away from this light." Ricky said, almost surprised at how drawn he was to it.
"Until I got onto a ledge, just like this one." Ricky said, tapping the stone railing as the night sky began to simmer with the colors of a new dawn.
"And there, I saw a mass horde of people stretching as far as that f*cking horizon." Ricky said, gesturing toward the rising sun in the distance, remembering how packed it was with faces.
"Then, for some reason that I just can't explain, even now, I raised my hand and that's when I heard it." Ricky said, lifting his hand toward the empty space before him.
"'Ricky, Ricky, Ricky~'" Ricky whispered his own name low and soft, but all he really heard were the wild cheers echoing through his dream.
"And the look they had, uh, it was like they were, uh-"
"Revering."
Snap
"Yeah, like they were revering me." Ricky laughed, snapping his fingers at Alexander, who had just helped him find the missing piece of the puzzle.
Thump
"They all looked at me, not with hate or fear, but with complete devotion." Ricky laughed a little harder, his heart pounding wildly at the dangerous thought that could ignite the world.
"Ain't that something." Ricky said, gazing into the distance as if he could still see that dream playing out before him.
Although his eyes were locked on the horizon, Alexander's gaze was fixed not on Ricky's intense stare, but on his smile.
A smile that spoke volumes about ambition, about what Ricky wanted, but never about what he truly dreamed of.
No, Ricky always told everyone what he wanted, but he never truly yearned for it.
It had never haunted his mind the way it did now, because for all Ricky was, deep inside his heart, there had always been a seed.
A seed planted long ago in that abandoned warehouse, the night the mobsters first chanted his name, again and again, where he felt that spark of ambition take root.
But sometimes, seeds don't bloom the way you expect.
Sometimes they stagnate in the dirt, waiting for the right time and the right environment to grow.
Until this moment, Ricky had been tending that seed all wrong.
Before, there never seemed to be enough soil, the weather was never right, and the season just never arrived.
So why was it that when Alexander looked at Ricky now, it seemed the seed was finally beginning to bud?
He wasn't blossoming, but budding with new aspirations.
Aspirations that didn't revolve around what others wanted for him and for the first time, from Alexander's perspective, Ricky truly yearned for something.
Alexander would never know the why or how, but what he did know was this: at this moment, Ricky had stopped waiting for things to happen to him.
He had finally begun to make things happen for himself.
"I've got an idea." Ricky thought, taking the first step down a very long path.
"What is it, Ricky?" Alexander asked, scurrying after him as Ricky started looking for something around the room.
"I need to write, I need-" Ricky snapped his fingers repeatedly, eyes darting around as the idea struck him.
"There you are~" Ricky said, a sleazy smile spreading across his face as he stumbled over to a typewriter sitting to the side.
"Is that one of those typewriters?" Alexander asked, climbing onto the table and eyeing the machine Ricky sat at.
Although he came from centuries past, the gerbil had already acclimated to this era and was familiar with nearly all the new-age technology of the innovating 1930s.
"What are you doing, Ricky?" Alexander mused, rubbing his chin as Ricky plopped down into the seat in front of the machine.
"About to make some goddamn history."
Click
Click
Click
In his motivated state of mind, still riding the adrenaline high from that vivid dream of his rule.
At last, Ricky had taken his first step toward ambition, toward a future rising from the foundation the Luciano family had carved out with blood, sweat, and expectation.
And now, in that future, Ricky began to write.
Not a story, but a mission statement, a suggestion for the future of the Luciano family.
It was a time that doesn't come along very often and yet, Ricky seized it.
At first, the sound of typing filled the space quietly, slowly building from one page to two, until there were twenty-five pages.
Suddenly, Ricky was his father's son again, recalling the simple pleasure of being the boss.
He remembered the feeling when Lucky handed the family over to him, and the adrenaline rush that came with New York becoming his.
But with all the events constantly swirling around him, dragging him from one conflict to another, Ricky had forgotten what truly mattered.
So he wrote and wrote.
He wasn't a writer, yet that didn't stop him from reflecting on himself and everything around him as he poured word after word into the typewriter.
Ricky was a man far from being perfect.
He often needed so much help and hand-holding that it sometimes bordered on pathetic.
But one of his greatest strengths, if not the greatest, was his shameless ability to steal and absorb ideas, philosophies, and styles.
Every time Ricky faced a worthy opponent, he took a piece of them with him while twisting it into something usable, something his.
Dracula showed him the value of becoming a pillar in the mutant community.
Dewey proved why you never leave an enemy alive; the families taught him there can only be one boss.
And Merlyn taught him the most important lesson yet: the power of control.
Before coming to Otherworld, Ricky had hit a wall not just physically, but philosophically.
His world had grown stagnant, every ambition, every desire, and every feeling felt trapped beneath an invisible ceiling.
He moved through his days like a man weighed down by routine and expectation, his mind circling the same thoughts without progress.
However, that block had finally lifted.
The part of him that once held him back had loosened its grip, allowing him to truly see himself in the present.
And what he discovered was a random flaw so unexpected, it would've surprised even those who knew him best.
Ricky had stopped appreciating wealth.
It seemed like such a strange thing to dwell on, obvious to anyone who heard it, but for Ricky, it ran deeper than that.
Alexander had been right: money always followed notable people.
What Ricky hadn't realized was that the overflow of wealth drowning him was dulling his senses.
He remembered the early days, when he uncovered Daedalus's tomb, and stole the fortunes of the three mob heads from Sicily.
Yet it was that one acquisition that changed everything.
Without even knowing it, he had spoiled himself.
Once, he'd throw cash like it was water and now, he was lobbing gold bars at problems.
It was subtle at first, something you wouldn't notice unless you looked close.
But the second Ricky paid the Pope in gold bars to keep Carla's lifestyle afloat, something shifted.
His perception of money warped and a dollar no longer had weight to him.
The wealth surrounding him had become a kind of white noise, dulling his hunger to chase more.
Merlyn, though, reminded him what real power was.
And that hunger, once dulled, came roaring back though not for more riches, not for wealth at all, but for one thing: control.
To control the flow of money.
To control New York.
To control every part of his family.
He wanted to control everything like Merlyn had.
The ability to manipulate the entire board while appearing like you weren't playing at all.
Merlyn's strength wasn't just that he had power, it was that he controlled the situation.
How Merlyn made you feel free while quietly tying every string to his fingers.
Looking back, Ricky realized just how close he'd come to being a puppet in Merlyn's hands.
If not for his unpredictability and his jack-of-all-trades nature, he might've lost.
But that trick only works so many times.
And now, finally, Ricky was beginning to understand: he didn't want to escape the strings, he wanted to hold them.
All of them.
What started as a single page became a staggering twenty-five, each word pouring out as Ricky's mind raced with clarity and purpose.
And somewhere between the tapping keys and the inked lines, Ricky felt something he hadn't in a long time, whole.
Wickedness, corporate greed, all of these horrid things have existed long before Ricky and will do so longer after him.
There was a common sentiment that no idea is truly original, and in this case, that might well be true.
But there was a method to the madness being etched into the pages before him.
A vision that would define the future of the Lucky Corporation.
A blueprint that would reshape corporate power, and with it, the very foundation of capitalism itself.
It was this idea that justified his heavy investment in Chores, and the sweeping incorporation of all workers under his growing control.
Click
"This is it." Ricky laughed, eyes wide as he stared at the towering stack of pages before him, realizing he had written it all.
"The Veil Method?" Alexander read aloud, eyes scanning the title page Ricky had just finished typing.
"This is how the Luciano family is gonna f*cking dominate, Alexander." Ricky said, taking the page from the typewriter and adding it to the growing stack.
"Well, it's comforting to see you actually pondering something like this," Alexander said with a genuine smile, his curious eyes scanning the pages beneath the title.
"But it ain't just gibberish, Alexander. It's about having a direction to follow." Ricky said, gesturing forward as if he could already see it laid out.
"My problem before was that when I got to being the head of the family, I kinda lost my motivation," Ricky said, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes as he turned toward Alexander.
"I was the top dog, but I already had all the bones I could ever want." Ricky quickly leaned in, choosing to use an example since to him, it was easier than explaining it outright.
"So I just sat there, until another dog tried to come up and take what's mine." Ricky said, poking Alexander who again, swatted his finger.
"When I was making moves, none of the other dogs dared come up and bark at me. But the second I sat down, they started yapping like chihuahuas," Ricky said, knowing it wasn't entirely true but choosing to ignore the little things.
"Ah, I see." Alexander nodded immediately, his eyes moving from the title page to the first page.
"Exactly, you get it." Ricky tapped the table, then stood up and began pacing, letting the thoughts spill out.
"'Cause back in New York, everyone wanted me to hunker down like Lucky and just run the streets because that's how they came to fear him." Ricky revealed in his own way, looking at it in this sort of way.
"No one messed with Lucky because they knew he'd retaliate and crush them. But out there? Those guys don't believe I won't do even worse." Ricky gestured toward the horizon, then turned back to Alexander, who was already deep into the first page.
"So, you want to go on the full offensive?" Alexander asked, raising an eyebrow as he started reading the first page of Ricky's so-called 'Veil Method.'
"Not just that, I want to be so aggressive the whole world goes on the defensive." Ricky said, wagging his finger as his ambition flared even higher.
"I want control of the f*cking board, Alexander, I want to move my hand and have everyone cheering my goddamn name." Ricky said, his mind flashing back to that dream and now, having this burning need to make it real.
"And when we get back, with Merlyn as my paper b*tch, we're doing it right." Ricky revealed, his voice rising with intensity, every word bursting from his chest.
"This time, before I leave, I'm making that place a goddamn fortress for the family."
"We're going aggressive, and I'm just gonna flood the family with gold bars for the expansion." Ricky smacked his hands together, rubbing them as his heart raced imagining all the cities that would fall under his control.
Part of him knew he hadn't truly gone all in before.
It's why he had been hoarding money in storage until now, a safety net tucked away just in case the worst happened.
But now, none of that mattered.
Ricky didn't want safety, he wanted the dream.
So he made the choice: push every chip to the center, go all in, and see it through no matter what.
"Hazzay." Alexander said absentmindedly, his eyes scanning the pages as he listened to Ricky's conversation.
"It's time the Luciano family's hand is shoved so far up New York's ass that every time we move, the whole city feels it." Ricky laughed, the energy buzzing through him like electricity.
"F*cking hell, Alexander, are you excited or what!?" Ricky asked, completely pumped as Alexander nodded with a contemplating expression.
"I am always up for conquering, Ricky. It is my favorite pastime, after all." Alexander stated, turning his gaze from the pages.
"But this, what you've written-........you-" Alexander trailed off, words failing him as he closed his mouth, struck by the weight of Ricky's vision.
This was the first thing that Ricky ever wrote with actual passion, with real ambition.
However, the problem was that what Ricky had proposed was something already happening behind the scenes of the world, just carefully kept under wraps.
But that's what made it fit him so well; no one else had the guts to actually put their name on it, page by page, like Ricky did.
So, instead of dismissing the idea, Alexander carefully placed the title page back on top of the stack and looked at Ricky.
"You've outdone yourself." Alexander actually said, his voice tinged with genuine surprise as Ricky's face broke into a shocked expression, clearly not expecting to be met with praise.
"What?"
"I said you've out done yourself with this 'Veil Method'." Alexander repeated, tapping the title page as Ricky squinted his eyes in response.
Alexander had decided this was something worthy of his one-sided encouragement, even if it ultimately failed.
The gerbil had no idea what would come of it, but as Ricky's comrade, Alexander knew he had to support this newfound mindset.
Though it was only a first step, he didn't expect Ricky to be perfect since he knew the flaws would come later.
But none of that mattered.
What mattered was the ambition finally budding in Ricky's heart, and Alexander would never discourage such fierce motivation.
"Are you serious? Like really serious and not f*cking with me?" Ricky asked, leaning in as Alexander looked at the stack of documents and nodded.
"I am serious, it's good work."
For all his worth as a loyal comrade, Alexander genuinely wanted to honor his commitment to teaching Ricky.
But at some point along the lines of being a mentor, teaching shifts into guiding.
Although Alexander hadn't imparted everything he knew, he still wanted Ricky to grow into his own, unique self.
"I can't tell if your f*cking with me, I'm gonna need second opinions." Ricky said, still half in disbelief as he suddenly walked out of the room.
He knew Alexander wasn't lying, but it just felt too strange to accept that weird approval he wasn't used to.
A few seconds later, Ricky returned to the room, holding the four ebony artifacts, each shouting at him in their own intense way.
'WHAT ARE YOU DOING, UNHAND US AT ONCE!' the Ebony Crown screamed, torn away from the rerun of the broadcasting show 'Amos & Andy'.
'THAT'S RIGHT, RELEASE US!' The Ebony Shield shouted, desperate to hear what happened next since Ricky had pulled them away right at the best part.
'WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!' The Ebony Chalice cheered, feeling the wind brush against the rim of its chalice as Ricky approached the table.
Meanwhile The Ebony Blade remained deathly silent, clearly avoiding a topic it thought Ricky was about to bring up.
"I wrote what direction I want the Luciano family to take, and I want you guys to read it, then tell me it's awesome as well." Ricky said quickly, catching the sigh of relief from the Ebony Blade as it finally adjusted itself.
'I see.' The Ebony Blade responded, regaining its composure as all four artifacts were carefully placed on the table beside the stack of papers.
"Now, before I show you, don't be f*cking jerks cause this is just a rough draft." Ricky held up his hand, ready to stop any criticism before it started, as the ebony artifacts scoffed in response.
'Why not show it to Merlyn-' the Ebony Shield began, only to be cut off by a sharp scoff.
"Because he's a prick for one, secondly he's just gonna absolutely tear it apart with his big-ass words, and finally, he's busy doing all the lame work in the background that I don't wanna do," Ricky interrupted, giving them three solid reasons before showing them the pages.
'It is 'there' not 'their'.' the Ebony Crown quickly corrected, spotting the typo and immediately pointing it out.
"Got it-"
'Why are there so many comma's?' the Ebony Blade asked, noticing the overwhelming number of them, while Ricky frowned.
'It's obviously because he's too afraid of standalone sentences.' The Ebony Crown chimed in, shaking his head as the Ebony Shield tilted his own in agreement.
'I swears I've seen this before, with the British-' the Ebony shield muttered, rubbing its chin, only for its sibling to add,
'Not only the British, but almost every significant force.' The Ebony Crown added, clearly hinting that it wasn't as original as he thought it was.
'I think it is a rather good start.' the Ebony Blade said, its words coming out naturally, before being met with a heavy, deathly silence.
"See, thank you." Ricky said, not noticing either as he gestured toward the blade while its siblings slowly turned their attention to the eldest.
"And who cares if others have done this before? In five years, I'll be so famous that the history books will say I was the first because I'll make sure they do." Ricky mused to himself, scanning his own pages with a confident smile.
"Ricky, must you be so loud?" Morgana said tiredly, sitting up and turning over to see the scattered papers.
Then, turning her gaze toward the ebony artifacts and Alexander, Morgana raised an eyebrow at Ricky, who stood at the center of the disruption as usual.
"What are you doing?"
10 minutes of explaining later,
"And you didn't get any help from Alexander?" Morgana asked, perched at the edge of the bed as Ricky shook his head.
"Nah, he just sat to the side and weirdly watched me." Ricky shrugged, smacking his hand over the pages since this was his entire work.
"I wouldn't say it was weird," Alexander muttered to himself, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
Then remembered he was Alexander the Great and promptly puffed out his chest.
"It is not weird!" Alexander proclaimed, smiling ear to ear as Ricky glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, then turned back to Morgana.
"But it's pretty good for a rough draft, right?" Ricky nodded toward Morgana, hoping to coax a nod from her in return.
"Yes, I agree," Morgana mused, resting her head on her hands and kicking her legs behind her body, still curled up in the covers.
'May I speak my blunt words?' The Ebony Crown asked Ricky, knowing their honesty would be harsh but necessary.
"Shoot-"
'Nothing you wrote down is original-'
"Nothing is original, there's probably someone out there right now thinking about this exact thing while taking a sh*t," Ricky said, completely defensive about his work and cutting off the Ebony Crown.
"The important thing is that I'm the boss, so that means I can make things happen." Ricky spread his arms wide, feeling like he had everything he needed to turn this method into madness.
"Speaking of making things happen, how's your tacit agreement with the Ebony Blade over there?" Morgana asked, purposely poking the fire as Ricky froze for a moment, caught off guard by the question.
Now glaring at Morgana, Ricky caught her playful wink and that mischievous smile lighting up her lips.
"Well, I haven't thought about it cause y'know-" Ricky fumbled, eyes darting toward the Ebony Blade as his words trailed off.
'It slipped my mind as well,' the Ebony Blade replied coolly, its blade flicking as if to shrug off the topic.
"Right?" Ricky laughed, nodding along with the Ebony Blade, who responded with a low hum of its blade which was its form of giving an approving nod.
"With everything going on with the coven and stuff, I just haven't found the time-"
'No, no, I understand, it's no rush-'
"You know, Merlyn could probably break the blood bond," Morgana continued, swirling her finger around the sheets while Alexander merely raised an eyebrow to the side.
"Morgana, are you sure that you want to provoke-" Alexander genuinely began, knowing full well that Ricky would surely retaliate, but the witch tuned the gerbil out.
"In fact, you should tell him right now," Morgana pressed, watching Ricky stand there for a moment before he finally shrugged.
"Uh, yeah, sure." Ricky said casually, then glanced back at the silent blade.
"You don't mind, right?" Ricky asked the Ebony Blade, who had been silent moments before, then let out an awkward bark of laughter.
'Of course not. I mean, that was the deal after all,' the Ebony Blade replied, sounding a bit uneasy as the two nodded in agreement.
Ricky just didn't want to be the one to say it, the truth that he wanted the Ebony Blade.
After all the time he'd spent trying to get rid of it, the thought felt strange.
It was like they were playing chicken, both clearly wanting to say something but unable to really get it out.
They'd grown closer, but never quite reached the level of comrades.
They were still just partners bound by an agreement: if the Ebony Blade cooperated, Ricky would release it.
Yet somehow, they'd come so far, built so much mutual ground to ensure their cooperation succeeded, they almost forgot the terms of their deal.
Then, when the moment came, neither wanted to back out because doing so would mean admitting they actually liked the other, in some way, as a friend.
"You summoned me?" Merlyn finally asked from the side, stepping forward and settling into the awkward silence that had fallen over the room.
"Yeah, do you know the whole blood bond stuff-"
"If you're talking about the spell Percival used to bind the Ebony Blade to his bloodline, then yes, I was the one who manipulated him into doing it, after all," Merlyn said in a pretentious tone, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
"Are you asking me if I can undo it?" Merlyn asked, raising his rotted brow as Ricky glanced over at the Ebony Blade.
"Yup, what about you?" Ricky asked, though quickly looked over at the Ebony Blade.
'Sure, yes, it is what I always wanted.'
"Then go and do it, shoo shoo." Ricky waved Merlyn away, the undead lich scrunching his tortured eyebrows in reluctant acceptance.
"It will take around a day to-"
"You're still here?" Ricky asked, surprised that Merlyn hadn't left immediately after he was told to do something.
Merlyn couldn't even raise his rotted lips in protest before Ricky forced him to open a shimmering portal and throw himself into it at Ricky's command, without question.
Clap
"So, while that's happening, you guys wanna explore Camelot?" Ricky clapped his hands, smiling ear to ear.
"Oh, and I almost forgot." Ricky added, remembering how Morgana had just put him in a tight spot.
The queen's smile slowly froze as Ricky's head turned toward her, his sleazy grin spreading across his face like a slow, calculated threat.
"We should talk about the fee you owe me."
Author's Note: Just watched jerry maguire again, that movie is f*cking gas.