CRASH
CRASH
CRASH
The thunderous sounds rattled the marble floors, echoing through the hallway which was now littered with the President's own Cabinet members.
"Are you-"
"I'm not going in there." Cordell Hull, the Secretary of State, shrugged with a calm defiance, already resigned to the punishment later rather than braving the storm pounding at the doors.
"What about you Henry-"
"Not a chance." Henry Morgenthau Jr., the Treasury Secretary, adjusted his glasses, his face set in a stern refusal.
"Move."
Then, as the two stumbled aside, their eyes followed J. Edgar Hoover, who strode forward with purpose, ambition flickering coldly in his gaze.
"Mr. President-"
Before Hoover could finish, a vase came hurtling at his face as the FBI director snapped downward to duck, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision.
CRASH
The vase crushed in on itself, the sound making the two men, the ones too afraid to face their president's fury, flinch.
Their eyes drifted through the open doors to Hoover, now standing before Roosevelt, who panted hatefully, his bloodshot gaze locking on the intruder.
"Mr. President-"
"Shut up." Roosevelt hissed, his breath ragged as he slowly pointed at the first man to step into his Oval Office.
"Get me-"
TWHACK
TWHACK
TWHACK
The words seemingly trailed out towards an identical event, but instead of vases, it was a whip lashing angrily, with Selene brandishing it hatefully over the toy groveling at her feet.
"My queen-"
TWHACK
TWHACK
TWHACK
"How is it that I have to hear about this vote like the rest of the peasants in the world, HOW!" Selene screamed, her whip cracking down as her trembling toy writhed, torn between groveling in pain or surrendering to twisted pleasure.
"You useless-"
TWHACK
"IMBECILE!"
TWHACK
The whip slammed into the obsidian-laced man, strike after strike, etching groove after groove into his very mutant skin.
Until suddenly, it stopped.
"You're not even worth it." Selene spat, her scowl cutting into her bishop more than any blade as she tossed the whip aside and turned for the double doors.
Her heels clicked against the marble floor of her penthouse suite, her expression unshaken as her manservant slowly lifted his eyes to her retreating figure.
"My queen, where are you going?" Dorian begged, weakly reaching out toward her silhouette as it neared the door.
But instead of ignoring his pitiful existence, Selene side-eyed her work, then turned forward again, leaving him only with the words of another man.
"To get-"
On a marble train platform, a blonde woman stood waiting for her train, her hollow eyes drifting curiously across the station.
Surrounded by luggage that marked her readiness to leave, that empty gaze searched for the last thing she had left behind.
"Aye, lady." A random Italian kid called out, strolling toward her with his hands in his pockets and a toothpick dangling from his mouth.
"Benny gave me three bucks to give you this." The kid said, pulling out a folded letter and holding it toward Benny's mother.
"*Benni-" She tried to correct, only to be cut off.
"Whatever." The kid scoffed, dropping the letter into her hand before strolling away.
Benny's mother's hollow eyes blinked, following the retreating figure, then slowly fell to the unfolded paper in her hand.
Her gaze traced the inked lines, reflecting everything her son had poured into this final goodbye.
Dear Mother,
I know you haven't left the train station, since you still expect me to go to Germany.
I'm not going.
I know you won't understand, because in your mind, I'm supposed to automatically agree with everything you think.
But before you leave, before we never see each other again.
I need, for once, to speak with the very thing you watched Father beat out of me: with emotion-
CRUNCH
But before Benny could show any real emotion, his mother crumpled the paper in her hateful hands, erasing the words he had poured himself into.
Once she had balled it tightly in her fists, she threw it onto the tracks, turning her back on it completely.
The heartless act was only sealed as the train slowly rolled over it, obliterating every trace of what had made Benny this way.
She tugged her luggage behind her, moving toward the train, but before she could reach her seat, her eyes caught something nearby, a mirror.
And instead of the hollow smile she usually wore, her reflection was twisted.
Her eyes met her own hateful frown, a frown carved by only one man.
"Damn you-"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The laughter tore across the air like a storm ripping through the Luciano manor, yet it was not contained to a single estate.
His name pierced the White House, Selene's penthouse, and even a distant train station.
He was everywhere.
Echoing across oceans, through streets and alleyways, through the hearts of kings and the shadows of every country.
At this moment, there was only one man the world spoke of.
"RICKY!"
"What?" Ricky chuckled, wiping his eyes, the biggest smile curling around his lips as he looked down at his loving family.
"You're scaring them." Raven whispered, her eyes following Ricky to the kids, confused and a little unnerved by his insidious laugh.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" Lucky asked, scowling as Ricky's villainous laughter ruined what had been a perfectly good moment.
"Kids, who's the best in the world?" Ricky asked, narcissistically, completely ignoring the judgmental stares surrounding him.
"You are?" They all said in unison, glancing at each other briefly before collectively looking toward the head of their family.
"That's f*cking right. And now, every goddamn country's gonna know it as the truth," Ricky joked, hopping to his feet as his inner circle immediately fell in line behind him.
"BOYS!" Ricky yelled, and the community around him fell silent as the Luciano family immediately perked up.
"WHO'S READY FOR A F*CKING SHOW!" Ricky roared, his voice cracking through the air like a whip, commanding the neighborhood like the ringmaster for their criminal circus.
The made men, feeling the raw charge in his energy, matched him instantly, fists pumping, voices shouting, and moving in perfect unison as they followed his lead down the street.
The entire crowd split like the Red Sea, nearly a thousand wiseguys hyping each other up, trailing the leader who felt larger than life itself.
Ricky spread out his hands, feeling the wind rush over his body, and with that single gesture, rows upon rows of windows across the city seemed to slam shut.
It was like dominoes, toppling down one window after another, warning everyone of the approaching mob boss.
One man capable of stirring every emotion in the city, from awe to respect.
Yet through it all, the strongest current in the air was something else entirely: pure, unadulterated fear.
Fate, it seemed, had unfolded exactly as Joe Profaci had predicted.
Power had so many forms, but Ricky had always believed in its rawest, most brutish incarnation.
And now, at this very moment, he had become a spectacle.
But unlike Profaci's words, he was no longer a mere entertainer.
He was the leading man; he was the show, and he had become a force that could command the attention of the world with a single name.
The potential that the old mobster once glimpsed at had come to fruition in its rawest, most intoxicating form.
And Ricky was drunk on it.
Not the kind of intoxication that drugs or alcohol could ever match, but a hotboxing euphoria that inflamed the spirits of his entire family.
They followed him, swept into the frenzy, feeling the thrill of his power as it coursed through them.
They banged on things like drums, clattered against buildings, and carved a path behind him, each step amplifying the chaos, until it all funneled seamlessly into the old warehouse.
To a stage awaiting the culmination of his storm.
"SLICK!"
"SLICK!"
"SLICK!"
Ricky basked in the familiar chanting, drowning in the nostalgia from when he was first initiated into this family.
"WHAT A WONDERFUL DAY!" Ricky yelled, raising his hands higher, commanding the cheers to surge to new heights.
Then, as if holding a conversation with every single member, the family answered him in unison.
"WHAT A WONDERFUL DAY!" The family roared back, their voices rising in perfect harmony, completely answering his call as Ricky circled through the suffocating waves of their cheers.
"ARE WE NOT THANKFUL FOR EVERY SINGLE WISEGUY WHO BUILT THIS FAMILY INTO WHAT IT IS TODAY!" Ricky yelled, exhilaration lighting up his expression as he gestured to everyone surrounding him.
"WE ARE THANKFUL!" The Luciano family laughed back in response, their voices almost echoing their leader's mentality as their ambitious eyes met his.
"AND WHO IS YOUR FAMILY!" Ricky asked, his fists pumping in the air, scanning the sea of faces that hung on every word.
"SLICK!"
"SLICK!"
"SLICK!"
"THEN SAY OUR FAMILY'S WORDS!" Ricky bellowed, his voice booming across the warehouse, filled to the brim with riled-up mobsters.
"LUCIANO'S LOOK AFTER THEIR OWN!" They all responded in unison, shouting the family's motto by heart as Ricky shook his head, a slow smile of approval spreading across his face.
"AGAIN!" Ricky beckoned, savoring the sheer rush of commanding a crowd this large to his every whim.
"LUCIANO'S LOOK AFTER THEIR OWN!" They roared back, thrilled to even be part of something led by this single man.
"GOD, WHAT A WONDERFUL F*CKING DAY!" Ricky laughed, gesturing at them as if to acknowledge their loyalty, feeding off the energy that surged around him.
But as the volume reached its crescendo, Ricky lowered his hands toward gravity, and the voices fell with the sway.
The warehouse dropped into a deathly silence, every eye fixed on him, every breath caught, as if the air itself awaited his next move.
"Man, that felt good." Ricky chuckled, heaving out a deep breath as the energy around him left everyone panting slightly.
"And I wanna start the show." Ricky continued, pacing slightly, his eyes scanning the riled-up crowd barely calming themselves down.
"I wanna say so much about what those idiots just did, so f*cking much." Ricky added, letting his words hang, each one weighted with anticipation and barely contained fury.
To the side, Alexander finally landed alongside Chester atop the warehouse roof, settling into a vantage point where the partially torn ceiling gave them a clear view of everything below.
"But I only wanna start on one goddamn note."
Now, as Alexander and Chester looked down through this crack, it was almost as if they were fully unveiled to the madness behind the method.
Ricky stood atop his mountain, looking down at all those struggling, clawing, and scrambling toward him.
He reveled in it, drinking in the sight of ambition and desperation tangled together like a living thing.
The endless scratching, pulling, and climbing of this tedious, tireless mountain of power made him pause.
For a fleeting moment, he didn't reach for the stars he had promised himself; instead, his gaze drifted downward, toward the ground where it had all begun
"I wanna first begin with my pops."
The familiar words, twisted to fit Ricky's vocabulary, suddenly revealed themselves on Alexander's face as the gerbil realized he was stealing his speech.
"That is my-" Alexander started, only for his words to die in the rush of Chester's feathers muffling the sound, his wide eyes locked on his boss.
"When he came here, he was nothing more than an immigrant kid off a ship from Sicily, no power, and barely enough to survive in the streets of this city."
Because through it all, over the years of Ricky molding himself into the man they all saw before him.
At his heart, he was a mobster.
"But he had a name, Luciano."
Now, before them all, he was the head of the Luciano family.
Not some filthy, idiotic, hypocritical alcoholic degenerate, known to most as Ricky Freeman.
But Ricky Luciano.
"You asked to join that name, our family, and under him, we became bound by loyalty, by law, and by blood."
Yet, at his core, he was Ricky.
A man who wanted power.
A ruthless monster.
A lying scumbag who had all the ambition to raise his gaze towards the stars.
And unlike Icarus, when he reached for the sun, the guilt that had always melted his wings now became a part of him.
For within Frank's funeral didn't lie just another stone to weigh down his back, but a fire, a resolve, and a willingness to never let their deaths be in vain.
What had once been suffocating grief turned into a hardened resolve.
What had once been mourning turned into fuel.
And as the earth closed over Frank's coffin, Ricky Luciano buried his guilt with it.
What rose in its place was something far more dangerous: a man no longer afraid of his own sins.
No longer afraid of everything looming in his way.
No longer afraid of himself being to blame.
And no longer afraid to take what he wanted, including his gerbil's words as he reached for one of history's greatest speeches.
Back to where it all started: his father, Lucky Luciano.
"And he turned you from being just immigrants into wiseguys, who now command the very f*cking heartbeat of this great city." Ricky chuckled, swaying his hand across the crowd, their eyes locked on every motion.
"He came to the very grounds we're standing on now and took it with nothing but his goddamn fists, carving out a place of belonging for our people who had been shunned to the streets." Ricky said, his voice echoing through the warehouse as the crowd's eyes continued to follow every word, hanging on his every gesture.
"I mean, the Irish used to terrify us!" Ricky laughed, earning a few chuckles from the old men who actually remembered fearing those gingers.
"He wiped them out in a single day." Ricky added, sweeping his hand through the air in a single gesture to emphasize his point, the motion drawing every eye toward him.
"He made the Luciano name so feared that the other gangs and families around could only swallow their ambitions as he constantly fended them off." Ricky said, his eyes scanning the crowd, letting the weight of each word sink in.
"And when those Jews acted up, he put their house in order." Ricky continued, his voice sharp, cutting through the warehouse like a blade.
"He then became the most powerful head within the families, remembered not only by all of us, but will be remembered by history itself." Ricky finished, letting a slow, approving nod punctuate the statement as they absorbed every syllable.
"This is what my pops, Lucky, did for you!" Ricky exclaimed, voice rising as he gestured broadly, letting the words speak for themselves.
"Just f*cking great enough on its own!" Rickky added, pausing for effect before holding up two fingers, letting the gesture punctuate his point.
"But it's small, only a tiny fraction of what you've gained, from me."
The words rang out as his pinched fingers slowly widened, arms stretching outward to, of course, gesture at himself.
"When I came back from the Vatician, I didn't just come back as an honorary bishop, I came back a new man."
"And the first thing I didn't wasn't to stick it to those bastards who cast me out, but to this f*cking country."
"The country that took us in, and then, washed their hands with us when they were done!"
"I WALKED RIGHT ONTO CAPITOL HILL AND MADE THEM UNDERSTAND THE WEIGHT OF WHAT THE NAME LUCIANO MEANT!" Ricky roared, his voice cracking across the room, everyone around him surging to meet his level.
"Then, I came back."
It was like flipping a switch.
The roar of voices rose to impossible heights, then fell instantly at Ricky's single motion, a clear testament to the control he held over his Luciano family.
"I came back and made our Luciano family, the only family in New York city." Ricky's words rolled out like a decree, echoing off the walls as if the streets themselves carried his voice.
"AND WHEN THE FAMILIES FELL, NEW YORK BECAME MINE!" Ricky's shout rang like a triumphal horn, claiming dominion over every corner of the city as if he had marched victorious through its gates.
"AND THEN, IT BECAME YOURS!" Ricky twisted the declaration, letting the power feel like it belonged to the people, though every eye knew it originated from him.
"YOU WALK DOWN ANY STREET, ANY ALLEY, AND INTO ANY GODDAMN BUILDING, THEY BOW THEIR HEADS UNDER YOUR GAZE!" Ricky roared, his words thundering from his lips, each syllable striking like the clang of what almost appeared as a legion before him.
"CAUSE THEY KNOW THE NAME, THEY KNOW OUR FAMILY, AND MOST OF ALL, THEY KNOW WHOSE AT ITS HEAD!" Ricky commanded, raising his hands toward the stars, beckoning the answer they all knew by heart at this point.
"SLICK!"
"SLICK!"
"SLICK!"
The crowd roared out his name, suddenly perfectly imitating another moment that was only captured by mere words on a page.
Julius Caesar was offered a crown by Mark Antony during the Lupercalia festival, atop the hallowed Palatine Hill, in the heart of Rome.
Ancient historians tell us Antony lifted it before him, not once, not twice, but three times, and each time, he turned it away.
Just as Ricky always had.
Whenever the crown appeared before him, he had always denied it.
Time and again, he had turned away, eyes tracing the dangers circling around him rather than staring at the glory right before him.
Yet now, with nothing to hold him back, no chains, no melting of the wings, he finally reached for it.
'Could I even do that?'
Once, these were the words Ricky whispered to himself as he stared at Alexander beneath the tree of sacred memories.
Now, that thought lived in the minds of all the wise guys surrounding him, their voices no longer whispering, but roaring in unison, chanting his name, washing over him in the same dizzying rush he had first felt in that dream.
"Gentlemen, it's time." Ricky said, lowering his voice, and with it, the mobsters surrounding him instinctively dropped theirs, leaning in to catch every word, every nuance.
"Our predecessors laid the roots of this family, forging it with their blood, their sweat, and their tears." Ricky paused, sweeping his hands across the faces before him, as if searching for a single familiar gaze amidst the sea of men.
"Now, it's time to grow." Ricky chuckled, his gaze locking onto that one pair of familiar blue eyes, staring directly back at him.
"To grow past this potted city!" Ricky yelled, raising his hands upwards and giving them permission to follow his lead.
"IT IS TIME TO SEEP OURSELVES INTO EVERY INCH OF SOIL THERE IS, AND CAST OUR SHADOW UPON THIS ENTIRE WORLD!" Ricky roared, his excitement crackling through the air, ready to soar toward the skies that stretched above the earth.
"A NEW AGE IS UPON US, BOYS!" Ricky shouted, his voice cutting through the air, rewriting history and bending the world toward what had wanted it to be.
"ONE WHERE ONLY WISE GUYS THRIVE!" Ricky thundered, the words rolling from his lips like the clash of legions across a swarming battlefield.
"GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE ERA OF THE MOBSTER!" Ricky roared, sweeping his hands into the air, and with it, the very earth beneath them seemed to quake.
The warehouse itself seemed to awaken, trembling under the weight of his command.
The roar of the wise guys surged outward, each cheer pounding against the walls, sending tremors through the floorboards, until the building itself felt alive.
Above them, the lights danced and swayed, flaring in chaotic rhythm, yet only making the scene more spectacular.
It was as if their host, Ricky, were being crowned in the glow, shrouded by the light show of their constant sway, and the crowd couldn't tear their eyes away, drinking in every second of it.
"Now, to kick off this new age, let's first remember that bastard Merlyn!" Ricky yelled, gesturing to the side as the family slowly parted, parting like waves before a storm.
"Good men, our men, died that day because of a f*cking creep who thought he could use us for his little plans." Ricky revealed, a pained expression stretching across his face as he pressed a hand to his chest.
"WE F*CKING OWN MERLYN NOW!" Ricky roared, gesturing sharply to the side as Merlyn began to hover toward him.
The air thickened with anticipation, the room vibrating with the collective power and fury of the family, every gaze burning hungrily on his figure as he hovered through their ranks.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"F*CK YOU!"
"MY PAL DIED CAUSE OF YOUR STUPID SH*T!"
Hateful words rained down around Merlyn's hovering form, his twisted expression laid bare in pure humiliation.
Shoes, fists, and curses flew from every direction, battering him until he finally reached Ricky's side.
"NOW, THIS BASTARD TRIED TO TEAR US APART AT THE SEAMS, INFUSING RATS INTO OUR WEAKEST SPOTS!" Ricky bellowed, gesturing toward Merlyn as if the man were nothing more than a prop in his grand spectacle.
"BUT WE DIDN'T GO DOWN, NO! INSTEAD, WE KICKED HIS ASS!"
"However, it all started because of one guy, one single guy we trusted, and he betrayed us!" Ricky yelled, lowering his voice just enough to control the boiling anger within, a brief pause before it erupted outward in the next sentence.
"HE CHOSE THIS BASTARDS SIDE AND FOR THAT, I TOOK HIS F*CKING FLESH!" Ricky screamed, fury amplifying around him, infecting the others until their bloodthirst bled into a roar that shook the rafters.
"PLEASE WELCOME, CEDRIC!"
From the shadows, Cedric stepped forward, grotesque in his undead form, the second attraction in Ricky's twisted freakshow.
He was paraded by his master, his ringmaster, not as the man he once had been, but as a monster who had betrayed them, displayed for all to witness his fall.
"YOU FC*KING RAT, YOU MOTHERF*CKING RAT!"
"HOW COULD YOU BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS YOU!"
"F*CK YOOOOOOOOOOOOU!"
The hate surged around him like death's cruel embrace.
Before it all, Cedric lowered his head to the ground, confronted by the burning truth of what he had become.
His undead eyes lingered on his ectoplasmic limbs, unable to hide a single fragment of himself, as the viscous, otherworldly liquid revealed with brutal clarity what he had always been.
"But like any tree, any family, we gotta grow!" Ricky laughed, shoving Cedric toward Merlyn's side as his eyes swept over the family, all staring intently at him.
"We gotta grow with more branches, more leaves, and extend our shadow further than ever possible." Ricky declared, his voice carrying through the ranks like a drumbeat.
"That's why, right now, we're gonna make a man." Ricky said, finally getting to the main attraction they had all been waiting for.
"WE'RE GONNA ADD TO OUR LUCIANO FAMILY!" Ricky laughed, gesturing expansively as the men leaned forward, knowing what was coming next.
"AND WE'RE GONNA DO IT BY CAPPING THE ONE SINGLE MAN WHO COULD'VE STOPPED THIS ALL!" Ricky roared, letting the words echo off the walls, each one striking like a hammer on steel, sending the warehouse into a frenzy of anticipation.
"BRING HIM OUT!"
At his command, the entire family turned their gaze to the side, and if their eyes could have grown any colder, any more hateful, they saw him.
Samuel Frost.
Bloodied, bruised, and barely conscious as he was dragged forward by the arms byJohnny and Shades.
His head hung low, saliva and blood slowly dripping from his slack lips.
Unlike the other golden cloaks, who had met immediate death, he had been spared.
But only to serve as Ricky's centerpiece for this exact moment.
Samuel's green eyes flared faintly as Merlyn and Cedric held him upright, forcing him into view.
Johnny and Shades melted into the sides, leaving only one man to seize the scene: a handful of Samuel's hair was yanked upward, snapping his head to meet the crowd and Ricky's commanding gaze.
"I WANTED SO BADLY TO WIPE THIS MOTHERF*CKING RAT OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH WHEN I FIRST HEARD WHAT HE DID!" Ricky thundered, not looking at Samuel so much as addressing the army of mobsters around him.
"BUT I WANTED ONE RUNNER TO DO THE HONORS HIMSELF!" Ricky suddenly stopped, dropping Samuel's head and slowly stepping back towards the crowd.
"I MEAN, YOU ALL KNOW HIM, YOU'VE HEARD OF ALL THE BATSH*T CRAZY THINGS HE HAS DONE FOR THIS FAMILY, MY FAMILY!" Ricky laughed, a sharp, echoing sound that needed no further explanation since every man around him already understood the meaning.
"AND TODAY, WE LET HIM INTO OUR RANKS, OUR FAMILY!" Ricky beckoned, speaking with the authority of a general, the showmanship of a ringmaster, and finally commanding presence of a king.
"SO SAY HIS F*CKING NAME!" Ricky commanded, gesturing toward the crowd, demanding they speak the only other name permitted on their lips besides his own.
"BENNY!"
"BENNY!"
"BENNY!"
The warehouse roared, its sound focused like a summons for the one runner who deserved not only his nickname but all the accolades that came with it.
Benny.
He walked forward with a deadpan expression, the long pathway unfolding before him, carved open by his only family. Yet his eyes weren't on the path.
They lifted toward the towering mountain ahead, a peak that stretched endlessly before him.
His gaze lifted to all the wonders Ricky had sworn he would see.
DING
[(Uncommon Item) The Nineblood (9mm Pistol):
A compact firearm that has shed its mechanical nature and become an eldric entity. Its blood forms the ammunition, oozing into the chamber as copper-tinged rounds ready to fire. When gripped, pale tendrils unfurl from the handle and burrow into the wielder's palm, sealing a bond. This connection amplifies the wielder's loyalty, binding them more deeply to their chosen allies, while sharpening their lethality in combat. It comes alive in the hand, feeding off its host, and in return, turning hesitation into resolve.]
Benny was introduced to power.
The very thing that made him feel real, the only thing that made him feel alive.
All the emptiness he had carried for so long was gone, replaced with a need to follow the man before him, a hunger that resonated through the entire family.
"Benny, this is it," Ricky said with a chuckle, stepping forward and placing a steady hand on his shoulder.
All while Benny's gaze was fixed, blank and unblinking, on the pistol he held in his hand, the weight of what was to come pressing down like the walls of the warehouse itself.
"Once you're in, you can't ever leave. You'll be a Luciano forever," Ricky mused, a small smile tugging at his lips as Benny slowly lifted his gaze back up.
And with it, his hollow eyes reflected only one person he had ever truly believed in.
"So, here you go." Ricky's smile deepened, his hand steady as he placed his trust in the boy, gesturing toward Samuel.
He presented the young rogue with a catalyst.
An instrument that would cement Benny's initiation, the ultimate proving ground for his loyalty and resolve.
Benny moved forward slowly, gripping the gun's handle with a steady hand as pale tendrils snaked into his palm, drawing blood that glowed fiercely with his loyalty.
He raised the weapon, the blood congealing into a single, deadly bullet at the trigger, his index finger hovering just above it, ready to squeeze.
"M-Mercy~"
Samuel looked up, utterly broken and defeated, beaten day after day with nothing but miserable sleep to carry him through.
For a fleeting moment, he felt almost relieved, closing his eyes as if this nightmare were finally over.
SIGH
He exhaled, a long, regretful breath, letting go of the regret he had carried for so long and let himself smile, once last time.
"Mercy-"
BANG
The melodic words were brutally interrupted by Benny's finger squeezing the trigger, sending a lethal, blood‑forged bullet into Samuel's head, finally tearing apart the remnants of his miserable life.
THUMP
Samuel's head dropped lifelessly to the floor, slamming against the ground like a bag of potatoes.
Yet the crowd erupted in cheers, their voices shaking the warehouse walls.
For a brief, violent moment, the warehouse felt less like a building and more like a colosseum, a stage for the spectacle of power.
Though his mentor had once been Alexander the Great, Ricky was becoming something else entirely.
He was becoming a Caesar.
"SO TO EVERYONE, TO OUR LUCIANO FAMILY!" Ricky roared, slinging his arm around his newly forged gladiator and sweeping his hand across the crowd, commanding their attention like a general surveying his legions.
"I ONLY GOT ONE THING TO F*CKING SAY!" Ricky bellowed, basking in the power of his criminal empire, speaking with the authority and grandeur of a true leader of Rome.
"LET THE GAMES, BEGIN!"
Author's Note: This is the end of the volume and with it, I'll put up the Q&A in a bit but really quick. I wanna thank everyone who has appreciated my story enough to support me even through a crazy long ass hiatus. And ngl, this volume's been a little rough, espcially after writing about Merlyn, so I thougth I'd end it off in this funny way to end it on a high note. Anyways, apperciate you all.