Chapter 111: The Prince Has Arrived

2 weeks later,

In the middle of the day, the ship was unloading at one of the docks under the Luciano family's control as Chores approached Agatha with the bustle of activity continuing around them.

"Mistress Agatha, have you seen Slick? He's practically vanished," Chores asked, his voice tinged with concern as Agatha focused intently on checking her list once, checking it twice.

"He said something vague, like 'I have to say hello to an old friend,' and then just took off," Agatha replied, turning to Chores, who sighed and shook his head in frustration.

"What is so important that he just had to up and leave."

Upon arriving in New York, it wasn't his father he met first, nor his string of lovers, or even his friends. 

It was a pair of graves, more specifically, Rocco's and Eddy's.

Eddy technically wasn't in the grave; his resting place was a cenotaph, a memorial without remains. 

Frank hadn't been allowed to bury Eddy's ashes in the plot, but he was permitted to give him this much, a marker to honor the little brother which was now being honored by Ricky.

Laying flowers on the gravestones, Ricky couldn't shake the feeling that he had no right to mourn, no right to consider himself a good friend, because he knew he wasn't. 

Even in death, he hadn't grown out of his selfishness, and now, standing here, he felt the weight of it more than ever. 

In some way, their deaths were on his hands as he could never erase that truth, no matter how much time passed.

Ricky knew he could've taken a different path when he first got the system. 

He could've prepared more, planned better, done something, anything, to avoid the outcome that still haunted him. 

Those thoughts echoed relentlessly in his mind, like ghosts that wouldn't rest as the weight of what he could've done, and failed to do, was something he couldn't escape.

*Sigh*

"I was such a sh*tty friend to both of you." Ricky muttered, sinking down in front of the graves, his smile hollow and empty.

"The worst part is, I wasn't even a good friend when I realized it. I just went off and f*cked around, making it all about me." Ricky muttered, running a hand through his hair, his eyes shutting as a wave of shame washed over him.

"Only when I stopped making everything about me did I wish I could go back and be a better friend to both of you," Ricky said softly, his voice laced with regret. 

Ricky had reincarnated, but even in this life, he had become a f*ck-up in his eyes, a failure to the people who mattered most, and that thought made him sick with disappointment in himself.

Taking a deep breath, Ricky stood silently before the graves, his gaze fixed on the names etched into the stone. 

His shoulders tensed for a moment as he processed the weight of his thoughts and then, almost imperceptibly at first, a small smile crept onto his face, soft, bittersweet, and filled with a quiet resolve.

"Ha, do you guys remember that time we were being chased by that copper? You both freaked out when you saw me use my powers in action for the first time." Ricky chuckled softly, the sound hollow as it echoed in the stillness. 

His smile was laced with sadness as he stared at the graves, their silence heavier than any reply could have been.

"Man, the look on your faces when you realized we'd made it across the bridge, priceless. I almost lost it laughing right then and there." Ricky let out a shaky laugh, his hand brushing against his eyes, seemingly wiping any dust from them.

"And you laughed with me, then at me, and then I punched your shoulders then we'd laugh some more." Ricky said, his voice cracking slightly as the laughter flowed from his stubborn lips.

Ricky ducked his head, his shoulders tense, before tilting his face up toward the sky, a stupid, bittersweet smile stretching across his lips.

"Man, I miss you guys so much," Ricky muttered, his voice heavy with emotion as he gazed into the empty air, his expression softening as memories flooded back. 

"I remember back in the day, walking downstairs and finding you two fatasses eating all my food, grinning like idiots." Ricky's shoulders sagged, the weight of nostalgia pushing down on him while reminiscing about them gesturing him towards the kitchen table.

"And now whenever I go to a table-"

*Sniff*

"It's just empty man." Ricky let out a hollow chuckle, venting out all his grievances to the names etched in stone.

"It's just empty and I get this feeling, the one where I want to give y'all sh*t for eating my food," Ricky said, pointing to himself as he laughed a bit harder.

"But I can't cause both of you are gone, you know?" Ricky seemingly asked the etched names, brushing off some moss from Rocco's.

"And now all I want to do is f*ck around with both of you and not have to worry about all this BS that I constantly find myself in." Ricky admitted, his voice cracking slightly as he let out a hollow laugh.

"Ha, my bad, guys. I know y'all are up in heaven telling me to stop being a little b*tch," Ricky said, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky laugh as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Also, sorry for screwing your mom, Rocco, but I'm going to do right by her and your siblings," Ricky admitted, patting the gravestone. 

He knew it was a real scumbag move to sleep with his dead friend's mom in the first place, and the weight of that guilt wasn't lost on him.

"And Eddy, I'm getting you that f*cking funeral, first thing, whether the church wants to or not." Ricky muttered, rubbing the dirt off the gravestone before stepping back a bit. 

The determination in his voice was unwavering, a promise to make things right, even if only in this small way.

However, his last words were lodged in his throat when he sensed someone approaching from behind as he turned around and found himself face-to-face with a man smiling at him.

"Pops?" Ricky slicked his hair back, regaining his cool as Lucky laughed heartily, but his smile faltered slightly. 

The flowers in his hand seemed to say it all was a mere coincidence, but the weight of the gesture lingered.

Lucky smiled softly, walking over to a grave in the distance as he carefully placed the flowers on it, his hand lingering as he gently rubbed the top of the headstone. 

Lucky gestured for Ricky to join him, his expression unreadable, yet there was an unspoken understanding between them.

"This was Timmy 'Bolt' Jones." Lucky gazed down at the slightly worn grave, scratching the moss from the side.

"This was Timmy 'Bolt' Jones." Lucky's voice softened as he gazed down at the slightly worn grave, his fingers absentmindedly scratching the moss from the side as his eyes lingered on the name carved into the stone, a flicker of memory passing through him.

"Bled to death in my arms, and all I could do was assure him that heaven was a real place." Lucky's face crumbled for a moment, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. 

But just as quickly, he shook it off, taking a deep breath to steady himself before meeting Ricky's eyes.

"You know, I left New York after that. Wound up drunk in New Jersey for around eight months before Frank pulled me out of my own despair." Lucky rubbed the top of the grave gently, his fingers brushing away the dirt as he looked back at Ricky, his expression somber yet resolute.

"Welcome back, son." Lucky pulled Ricky into a tight hug, his grip firm but comforting as he chuckled, returning the embrace and giving his back a light pat.

"Good to be back, pops." Ricky laughed, the two sharing a rare father-and-son moment, a brief yet meaningful connection that spoke louder than words ever could.

"Alright, stop being such a queer," Lucky grumbled, giving Ricky a shove, pushing him back. 

Ricky laughed, the irony not lost on him as he was the one who started the hug, yet it was Lucky who was acting all tough.

"Hey, you're speaking to an affiliated cardinal of the church," Ricky said with a dramatic flair, spreading his arms wide. Lucky scoffed, shaking his head.

"Cardinal my ass, more like a jackass." Lucky said with a clear smile only for it to falter for a second, realizing that his playful insult didn't really hit the way he thought it would.

"To think, Lucky Luciano is losing his touch." Ricky elbowed Lucky, who rolled his eyes, knowing it wasn't that great, but he put his arm around Ricky's shoulder as they walked away.

"Come on, fill me in on what life was like overseas since I know you stopped in Sicily." Lucky chuckled at this, and Ricky suddenly remembered something.

"How's Rotolo?" Ricky suddenly asked, and Lucky laughed, gesturing to his suit.

"He's home," Lucky said, genuinely thanking Ricky in his own way, as the latter smiled.

"Now tell me what you've been up to, I cleared the whole day to tell me how much you got your ass kicked." Lucky patted his chest, Ricky laughing since, in a way, he was right.

"Well, it's a long story." Ricky smiled only for Lucky to gesture around him, the area completely void of a single soul.

"Well, I got plenty of time." Lucky announced, knowing that there wasn't anything more he wanted to do in that moment that caught up with Ricky.

"Alright, it really all started after I left-"

Ricky began recounting the whirlwind of events he'd endured, painting a vivid picture for Lucky. 

He spoke of the relentless hunt for vampires, the harrowing battle that forced him to kill Dracula himself, and the fateful clash that led him to align with the Van Helsings. 

Ricky's story unfolded further, touching on the war that ensued and the allies he'd forged through blood and fire along the way, including the women.

2 hours later,

*Smack*

*Smack*

"Ow, ow, stop that." Ricky said in an annoyed tone, shielding his head with his arms from Lucky's punches. 

Lucky's initial happiness had quickly soured the moment he learned he had two more grandchildren.

"WHY CAN'T YOU F*CKING PULL OUT LIKE THE REST OF US!" Lucky yelled, his voice echoing as a vein throbbed prominently on his forehead, his fury radiating with every word.

"BECAUSE IT FEELS BETTER-"

*SMACK*

"DAMMIT, YOU LITTLE SH*T! COME BACK HERE!" Lucky roared, hobbling after Ricky with a noticeable limp who suddenly bolted away. 

Ricky darted through the graveyard, his laughter echoing among the tombstones as he effortlessly evaded the older man's pursuit.

"STAND STILL SO I CAN BEAT THE NONSENSE OUT OF YOU!"

10 minutes later,

*Huff*

*Huff*

*Huff*

"When did you get so fast?" Lucky panted, collapsing onto a bench beside Ricky as he struggled to catch his breath.

"It's these tonics the witches make." Ricky explained, pulling up his shirt to flex his bicep. 

"They heighten your body during the growth period. I probably wouldn't have been able to kill Dracula without them." Ricky shamelessly flexed, using the tonics as an excuse to show off his muscles.

Lucky only rolled his eyes at the display, but Ricky's triumphant grin seemed to wipe away his annoyance.

"Well, now that I think about it, having them under our ranks doesn't sound so bad," Lucky admitted, leaning back and resting an arm on the bench as his casual posture was betrayed by the sharp, serious look in his eyes as he turned to Ricky.

"But are you sure you can control them?" Lucky asked, his tone firm as his eyes narrowed. 

"You know as well as I do, you've got to be stronger in some way than your underlings. It's like the first thing I ever taught you." Lucky said with a frown, clearly underestimating Ricky as the latter chuckled, the sound low and confident, already relishing the moment he'd make his pops eat his skepticism.

"Trust me, check this out," Ricky said with a sly grin and upon rising to his feet, he casually brushed the lint off his sleeves before extending his hand, confidence radiating from his every movement.

"What are you doing-"

*WHOOSH*

The Ebony Blade suddenly boomeranged into Ricky's hand from the ship, the air around them whipping violently as the force sent Lucky's fedora flying off his head. 

Lucky flinched, his eyes wide, as Ricky caught the blade effortlessly, his grin widening in response to Lucky's stunned expression.

"What the f*ck is that?!" Lucky shouted as he leaned back on the bench, pointing at the sword as it settled in Ricky's hand. 

His disbelief was palpable, his mind struggling to reconcile what he was seeing with the laws of physics he so firmly believed in.

"It's called the Ebony Blade. Pretty cool, right?" Ricky grinned, holding it up with pride. 

"And it talks." Ricky's toothy smile made Lucky feel incredibly weird, wanting to doubt his words only to remember literally seconds ago flying into his hands.

At his words, the blade seemed to hum with a sense of pride, its dark surface gleaming as though it were aware of the attention it was receiving.

"Tell your father I say hello," the Ebony Blade's voice echoed, its tone oddly smooth and confident and Ricky nodded in acknowledgment, a smirk tugging at his lips as he turned to Lucky.

"It says hello, by the way," Ricky said, pointing at the sheathed blade with a grin and Lucky, still processing, slowly waved his hand in acknowledgment, his expression a mix of confusion and reluctant acceptance.

"Hi-uh, Ebony Blade," Lucky mumbled, awkwardly waving at the sword. 

To his surprise, the blade vibrated in response, almost as if it were waving back, its dark surface shimmering with a life of its own and Lucky finally noticed it.

"And you want to release a sentient sword into the wild?" Lucky whispered, his tone laced with doubt as he couldn't help but think that might not be the best idea and Ricky just shrugged, unfazed by the concern.

"Well, what's the worst that could happen?"

"A lot of things, literally so many things could happen." Lucky muttered, feeling every red flag in his gut and Ricky, however, just shrugged, his indifference only adding to Lucky's growing unease.

"Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see," Ricky shrugged, his gaze fixed on the blade as it reflected in his eyes. 

Despite the uncertainty hanging in the air, he couldn't shake the feeling that everything would somehow work out in the end.

*Sigh*

"Well, I'm proud of you," Lucky suddenly said, a rare sincerity in his voice as he reached into his jacket, pulling out a cigar and offering one to Ricky with a small nod of approval.

"Wait what-"

"Shut up, don't ruin the moment and let me speak," Lucky grumbled, his voice rough but laced with a touch of affection. 

He clipped the end of his cigar and struck a match, shielding the flame from the wind long enough to light it, the glow briefly illuminating his face.

"When you left, it was really hard for me, Ricky." Lucky continued, his voice heavy with frustration. 

"Handling all your irresponsible actions, covering up your messes; it got to a point where it became too damn tiring." Lucky leaned back, jabbing the tip of his cigar in Ricky's direction, the ember glowing as he spoke and Ricky remained silent, absorbing the weight of his words.

"So when you left, choosing to leave, I thought it would be your biggest mistake but after seeing what you did and who you became, I was wrong.

" And honestly, the thing that scared me the most was that when you came back, you'd be the same," Lucky admitted, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability creeping into his words.

"That you would just treat your time away as a vacation, some excuse to shelter yourself from your own problems but I can see that you've changed." Lucky took three slight puffs, bellowing out the smoke into the air.

"But I'm man enough to admit I was wrong," Lucky said, his tone shifting, signaling his approval resonating in his eyes.

Even if Ricky tried to brush past it, to skip over the revelation he'd made in the church, Lucky could see it, the weight that had always chained Ricky to his past was finally lifting.

Lucky had always known there was one thing holding Ricky back from becoming the man he had the potential to be. 

It was hard for him to admit, but deep down, Lucky knew he couldn't be the one to fix it.

Ricky had to grow on his own and had to look inward and truly decide if he was strong enough to leave the past behind. 

And it seemed, finally, he had found a way; digging deep into the ground, finding the roots that would hold not only him but the people who needed him most.

"I expected you to come running in here without a single plan of action. Guess I underestimated you." Lucky took a long drag from his cigar, his eyes never leaving Ricky.

"Wait, you do have a plan, right?" Lucky asked, his voice tinged with sudden concern, though his posture tense upon seeing Ricky, who simply shrugged in response.

"No."

"YOU LITTLE-"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, relax~" Ricky joked, plopping down next to Lucky as he lit his own cigar, taking a deep drag as he threw his arm over the back of the bench and laughed heartily, the sound echoing around them.

"I'm going to sue the government, take the fight to them first before they can come after us here," Ricky said, puffing out a cloud of smoke as Lucky's eyes widened, surprised that Ricky had come up with something similar to what he had been considering.

"Wow, I-I didn't think you'd think that far." Lucky flinched, actually thinking the same thing alongside Chester and taken aback that Ricky was in that same sphere of thinking.

"Oh shut the f*ck up." Ricky scoffed, receiving a chuckle from Lucky who nudged him.

"I'm serious." Lucky insisted, his tone more grounded than usual. 

"I thought you were going to give me some plan that involved attacking the other mobsters, but I didn't think you'd actually realize the government's just waiting for us to slip up. They're just waiting to pounce on us when we make a move in New York." Lucky laughed, the tension melting away as he felt a surprising sense of relief. 

Seeing Ricky think ahead, actually plotting something strategic, was a first, and it made him feel a lot more confident about their next steps.

"Well, whatever, I'm going to sue the government and Dewey in a civil suit, and hopefully win, or at least stall long enough to tie their hands together so we can really make a move." Ricky said, leaning back on the bench, his confidence radiating.

Lucky stood up, pacing around as he processed Ricky's words as the plan wasn't flawless, but it was bold, and it was exactly the kind of move they needed.

"No, it would be better if you win, at least in the lower courts, and take it all the way, or force it to the Supreme Court, like Chester suggested." Lucky said, gesturing toward Ricky as he nodded along, the idea making sense, but then he froze. 

Something about the mention of Chester seemed to trigger a shift in his thoughts as he was a little bewildered.

"I'll talk with Chester-"

"I'm sorry, you'll talk with who now?" Ricky asked sharply, his voice a mix of confusion and suspicion. 

He immediately stood up, his eyes locking onto Lucky, who had realized his slip of the tongue a moment too late. Lucky's face tightened, realizing the weight of what he had just revealed.

*Cough*

"So you see, the thing is-"

Lucky then proceeded to explain how he and Chester had devised a unique method of communication, a system that allowed them to stay connected and exchange ideas with ease.

Lucky also went on to explain how he had shared and entrusted Chester with his future plans, confiding in him like a trusted ally while receiving advice from a neutral perspective that evolved into a multitude of things. 

In a surprising turn, the family had recognized Chester's value and offered him an honorary position as an advisor. 

The weight of the gesture caught Chester off guard, even upon hearing this, Ricky's usual composure faltered as he stood there, slack-jawed. 

This wasn't just a role you could throw around, especially within the mafia, in a community that was very strict on who was in need to know, it was a sign of the family's trust in him, and one that placed him in a position he never expected. 

Chester had always been the quiet observer, the one who stayed in the background, but now, with this new role, he would be pulled deeper into the family's web of power and influence.

"I always thought it was suspicious how Rockefeller just let you off like that," Lucky said, snapping his fingers with a knowing look. 

Lucky didn't need to ask; he already had a pretty good idea of how Ricky managed to wriggle out of that jam thanks entirely to Chester.

"Holy sh*t, I completely forgot about that!" Ricky exclaimed, the realization hitting him all at once. 

Without warning, he jumped up and down, his excitement palpable as the memory came rushing back.

"Pops, do you know what this means?!" Ricky burst out, his laughter growing uncontrollable, a wild edge to it as he paced in excitement as his eyes gleamed with money signs, his hands rubbing together widely as if he was using lotion. 

Meanwhile, Lucky, calm and composed, took a slow drag from his cigar, the smoke curling lazily around him as he watched Ricky with an almost detached amusement.

"That you're insane-"

"No, we're rich!" Ricky shouted, his voice a mix of disbelief and exhilaration. He was grinning ear to ear, as if the revelation was a new discovery. 

Lucky, however, simply exhaled a cloud of smoke, already well aware of the news Ricky was so eager to announce, his expression unreadable.

"Slick, we're already rich," Lucky pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact as he leaned back, the weight of his words clear. 

Ricky, however, shook his head, a wild grin spreading across his face as if the magnitude of the situation had only just fully sunk in. He wasn't quite ready to accept the calm certainty in Lucky's voice.

"I mean like 20 million dollars richer-"

"Oh yeah, I forgot to fill you in, but Lucky Legacy Bank is worth around 200 million," Lucky revealed casually, as though it was just another piece of information. 

The words hung in the air, and Ricky went still, his eyes widening as the weight of the revelation hit him. 

For a moment, he froze, the enormity of the number crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

Then Lucky started to reveal just how profitable opening a bank with the motto 'Where Everyone Can Bank' had spiraled into.

At first, Lucky Legacy Bank was nothing more than a joke, a laughingstock in the eyes of the public. 

Most saw it as an absurd idea, destined to fail.

The opening of the new establishment within Harlem was met with skeptical eyes, even among its own residents. 

Despite Madame's backing, many remained on edge, wary of another white man getting involved with their hard-earned money. 

There was a deep-rooted mistrust, a lingering fear that the system would once again exploit them, as it always had. 

Even with Madame's influence and the promise of security, the community hesitated, unsure whether this new venture was truly on their side or just another trap disguised as opportunity.

That is, until Elijah opened an actual savings account and was allowed to do so without issue.

It was such a normal action, the man receiving his bank book and all his credentials and even being approved for a small business loan as the the witnesses who saw it were surprised.

He wasn't insulted, beaten, or dismissed and instead, he was treated with the respect of an actual human being, something so rare in their experience that it left them simply shocked. 

It wasn't what they expected as the usual coldness, the patronizing gestures, or the violent dismissals were absent. 

In their place was a rare sense of decency, a gesture of genuine respect that caught them off guard, leaving them to wonder if they could truly trust the sincerity behind it.

Slowly, through Madame's connections and hushed whispers, the bank's notoriety began to spread within the black community. 

What was once dismissed as a one off joke had transformed into a symbol of empowerment, becoming so prominent in certain circles that it was soon known as the 'Negro Bank' to the outside world that wasn't invested within them.

Strangely enough, it was this very label that propelled its success. 

By excluding black clientele, the entire banking industry had a unique safe haven for black people, sparing them from the financial ruin that had befallen many in the wake of the stock market crash and allowing Lucky Legacy Bank to be an unusual form of a slush fund.

The average black man, with a modest stash of between $1,000 and $3,500, was protected from the devastating losses that wiped out so many others.

New York City had a rough population of 35,000 residents with the entire bulk residing within the community of Harlem.

So under the networking of Madame, word spread quickly, and what followed was a domino effect. 

The buzz reached ears across the community, sparking a demand for an institution where their money could remain safe and grow along with interest. 

This eventually led to what many would come to call 'The Great Flock,' a term initially coined in a sarcastic, almost mocking tone to describe the mass migration of black depositors flocking to Lucky Legacy Bank. 

At first, it was a form of ridicule, a way to mock the idea that so many would place their trust in a single institution. 

But over time, the phrase lost its sting as it instead marked the bank's rise to prominence, solidifying its place as a financial powerhouse within the community, and a testament to the collective trust they had placed in it.

By 1933, Lucky Legacy Bank had 10,000 accounts. The following year, in 1934, that number skyrocketed to 35,000 as the bank's reputation grew and once it had solidified its position within the community, the numbers truly caught fire. 

Word spread quickly, and what began as a modest venture soon exploded in popularity, attracting more depositors than anyone could have anticipated.

Even Black folks from surrounding states, and even from the southern states, would make the long drive to New York just to open an account.

In 1935, LLC had 400,000 and now it was up to 1,250,000, and steadily growing as being the first bank to hold the black peoples trust came with various benefits.

This, of course, began to disrupt the status quo and what was initially mockery, an assumption that the Black community's financial dealings were insignificant, soon turned into sour faces and furrowed brows. 

The once-dismissed market of this marginalized group of people had evolved into a profitable venture that couldn't be ignored, even by those who had formed this way of banking.

In simpler terms, Lucky Legacy Bank and its future regional chains made money through a steady flow of deposits and the interest they earned on those accounts. 

The bank offered an annual profit of 7.5% on savings accounts, with the average account holding around $2,000. 

With 1,250,000 accounts, this resulted in a total annual profit of approximately $187,000,000.

While this may not have seemed extraordinary when compared to larger, more established banks, the real power lay in the bank's growth. 

The rapid expansion of accounts, the trust it had earned, and the steady influx of new depositors were reshaping the banking sector. 

It wasn't just the numbers that made Lucky Legacy Bank unique; it was the way it had disrupted the industry and created a viable, profitable alternative for a community that had long been overlooked.

Even when smaller banks attempted to tap into this profitable market, they quickly failed for one simple reason: Lucky Legacy Bank had already secured the trust of Madame, the first and most influential illegal bank in the area. 

Madame's role in the bank's success was paramount; her vast network of connections reached deep into the heart of Harlem and extended all the way to the farthest corners of the South. 

It was through her connections that Lucky Legacy Bank was able to expand rapidly, with plans to open six new branches across the southern states.

This was, of course, overlooking the fact that any bank daring to encroach on Lucky Legacy Bank's territory faced swift and brutal retribution. 

Rival institutions that tried to challenge them often found themselves violently confronted, their employees ambushed in dark alleyways with their kneecaps shattered. 

These incidents, though undeniably effective in sending a message, were almost always swept under the rug, dismissed as unfortunate and unreported occurrences.

However, it wasn't just the savings accounts that fueled Lucky Legacy Bank's success. 

The bank's strategic investments, along with its ability to wash money, played a crucial role in propelling its value to around $250 million. 

The combination of these elements made the bank so profitable that Lucky found himself at a crossroads, contemplating whether it would be more beneficial to focus all his energy on this thriving venture and hand over control of the Luciano family to Ricky. 

Though the decision was on his mind, Lucky was still waiting to see if Ricky had the capability to handle such responsibility, unsure if he was ready to take the reins just yet.

"Holly sh*t," Ricky muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief. The Luciano family held a staggering 98% stake in Lucky Legacy Bank, as it was a private institution with Madame owning only a mere 2%. 

Lucky nodded in acknowledgment, the weight of the numbers settling between them. 

Ricky couldn't believe how much control they had, how much power this one venture had given them. It was a game-changer, and the realization that Madame's small share barely registered in comparison to the Luciano family's dominance was almost too much to grasp.

"I've even got people like JP Morgan Jr. trying to invest, but I'll be damned if I let a prick have a piece of the Luciano family name." Lucky scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain at the very mention of Morgan's name. 

The thought of someone else gaining control or influence over the family's legacy was an insult he couldn't stomach.

"Anyways, with the Luciano family taking in 50 million and being able to clean half of that, we really don't have to worry about money. Our only concern is someone disrupting the flow." Lucky emphasized, raising an eyebrow at Ricky as his gaze was pointed, a silent challenge lingering in the air, as Ricky was the only one who could truly jeopardize the operation. 

Ricky, however, brushed past it, his mind focused elsewhere, as if the warning had already been heard and dismissed.

"Pops, listen I have a great business idea that-"

"Yeah sure, just give me the paperwork." Lucky waved him off, dabbing the cigar ashes to the side.

"Is it that simple?" Ricky asked, genuinely curious, his voice laced with skepticism and Lucky merely shrugged, the gesture casual but carrying an underlying confidence. 

"Well, I was going to suggest you start a legitimate business, but it looks like you've already done it for me," Lucky said with a sly grin, his eyes gleaming with approval.

"Wait, you're not just talking out of your ass and actually got the right people for this idea, right?" Lucky suddenly asked, halting his thoughts

"Yerp." 

"Well that's good, then let's get to the main event." Lucky stood up, gesturing to the side as Frank slowly walked out from the side.

It was then that Ricky turned to see the entire Luciano family making their way toward the graves, each step measured and resolute. 

Frank led the procession, holding the urn containing Eddy's ashes with quiet reverence. 

Beside him, their grandmother, the oldest living member of the family, walked with a steady arm linked through his. 

She was a symbol of their families endurance, having outlived her son and daughter-in-law, both of whom were already in the afterlife, waiting for Eddy to join them. 

The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, as the family moved together, bound by loss and the unspoken ritual of their bloodline that was supposed to given to all those within the christian faith.

Ricky's gaze fell on Frank, and though no words were spoken, an understanding passed between them, silent, yet palpable. 

It was the kind of unspoken communication only family could share and without hesitation, Ricky opened his portal, swiftly pulling out his decorative cardinal uniform. 

He ducked behind a nearby tree, the rustle of fabric faint in the quiet air as he changed and once the uniform was on, he walked back toward the family, his steps purposeful and steady.

The air was thick with silence as the family stood, eyes fixed on Ricky, their expressions a mix of emotions. 

Despite their deeply rooted beliefs and the traditions that defined them, they couldn't ignore the weight of Ricky's position, his authority within the family and his role within the church demanded respect. 

Slowly, one by one, they lowered their heads, a silent acknowledgment of his status, awaiting the Honorary Cardinal to speak. 

The moment was heavy, charged with the tension of reverence, anticipation, and a deep, unspoken understanding that Ricky's words would carry far more than just familial weight.

Alexander wasn't here to help, but funny enough, Ricky felt as if he wouldn't need his skill to convey everything he wanted to say.

"Three years ago, a young man and one of my closest friends, Eddie Costello, passed away." Ricky began, his voice low as he gently patted the cenotaph. 

His hand lingered on it for a moment before he gripped it tightly, as if drawing strength from the stone itself.

"And it's true that Eddy took his own life." Ricky continued, his voice heavy with regret but a determination resonating within his eyes.

"But not only as all of you as my audience, but under the heavens themselves, I need to say; it wasn't Eddy's fault. It was mine." Ricky tapped his chest, his fingers pressing into the fabric of his suit as if to anchor himself in the weight of his words. 

The entire family was silent, all eyes on him and Eddy's grandmother, standing at the front of the group, looked as though she wanted to cry, but she held her tears back, her face a mixture of sorrow and restraint. 

"I was supposed to be his friend, someone he could depend on, and I failed him." Ricky spoke from the heart, as he looked up at the cloudy sky.

"The writings were painted on the walls, the signs were there but I just ignored them, pretended not to see the pain that Eddy was going through, and there isn't a day I don't want to go back and punch myself, then just talk with him." Ricky gripped the cenotaph tightly, gnashing his teeth.

"It didn't have to be words of comfort, I just needed to be there for him in any sense and I couldn't even do that." Ricky then let out a deep breath, then turned his eyes towards the others.

"That's why I'll bear Eddy's sin." Ricky said, his voice steady but heavy with resolve. 

"I'll take on its burden, and in doing so, I'll pardon Eddy from the sin that anchors him to this world. I'll give my forgiveness, as one of God's voices." Ricky's words seemed to manifest in the air, carrying a weight that felt almost tangible. 

Yet, deep down, Ricky didn't fully believe in religion, nor did he claim to be a devout man. 

But in that moment, he spoke with the authority of someone who needed to say it; not just for the family, but for himself, as if the act of speaking the words would somehow lift a burden he could no longer carry alone but as Ricky spoke those words, something strange began to happen. 

A phenomenon, subtle at first, slowly transformed the skies above them as the clouds seemed to peel away, parting as if in response to Ricky's plea, and a bright ray of sunshine broke through, shining down onto the cenotaph with a brilliance that seemed almost divine, as if the heavens themselves were accepting his words.

The entire family stood in stunned silence, each person feeling the weight of the moment. 

Eddy's grandmother, overcome with emotion, fell to her knees, clutching her prayer beads tightly, tears of joy streaming down her face. 

Frank, usually the stoic one, stood frozen, spellbound by the inexplicable event unfolding before them. The light seemed to wash over the family, a sign, or perhaps a blessing, that no one could deny.

Even Lucky, thinking Ricky wasn't even holy in the metaphorical sense, slowly took off his fedora while gazing up with his mouth agape.

"Now, let's give Eddy the burial he deserved."

With those next words, as if the heavens themselves had willed it, shovels suddenly dug into the empty grave, their rhythmic motion filling the air as the ground was slowly turned. 

The hole deepened, and in that moment, Frank stepped forward, a warm, bittersweet smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

The years had worn down the tough, hard-nosed man standing before them, the weight of loss heavy on his shoulders. 

Frank had always been the pillar of his family, the one everyone leaned on, but the death of Eddy had cracked him in ways no one could see. 

Beneath his hardened exterior, the loss had left him fragile, struggling with the unspoken grief that gnawed at him.

Frank was a believing man. 

He believed in the Luciano family, in God, and in his own blood, leaving no room in his heart for anything else. 

But after the church had shunned his little brother, condemning him as an eternal sinner, Frank was torn. 

To watch his younger brother deteriorate into a hollow shell of the person he once was, and then be treated like some sort of demon, was a wound that ran deeper than Frank had ever admitted. 

It shattered him at his core, leaving scars he couldn't ignore even when he desperately tried.

The following years didn't offer any solace and even as Frank pushed the family to new heights, elevating their status and influence, he felt as though he were drowning beneath the weight of it all. 

The very beliefs that had once guided him, given him purpose and direction, now felt like a labyrinth with no exit. 

His faith, which had once been his anchor, now left him feeling adrift, lost in a sea of confusion and doubt.

At his lowest point, when he felt like he was simply drifting through life, Frank had heard Ricky's speech with a bottle of rum in his hands. 

Frank had barricaded himself within his office, as he often did throughout the day, seeking refuge from the world outside. 

The walls, thick with the weight of his own thoughts, had become his sanctuary, his only escape from the relentless pressure of running the family and the quiet, gnawing ache that followed him in the wake of Eddy's death.

But then, Ricky's words came to him, clear and unwavering as the sound of them rang in Frank's ears, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if everything clicked into place.

Ricky had promised to recognize Eddy, to give him the funeral he deserved, something Frank never thought he would see in his life, see a moment of redemption for his little brother.

It was then, in that silent moment of realization, that Frank allowed himself to believe, if only for a brief second, that maybe there was still hope. 

Maybe, in some way, Eddy could find peace and maybe, just maybe, the smile he always remembered would at least return in the next life.

*Sniff*

"You rest up in heaven, you hear?" Frank sniffled, his voice cracking with emotion and as he whispered the words to Eddy as if speaking directly to his brother's spirit. 

His hand trembled slightly as he pressed a kiss to the urn, the weight of the moment bearing down on him. 

Slowly, he lowered the urn into the pit, his eyes welling with tears and as the urn settled into the earth, he wiped his eyes quickly, unable to contain the overwhelming flood of grief and relief that surged through him all at once.

A mobster stepped forward, holding the shovel in his calloused hands as it was customary for those close to the deceased to take part in the burial, a final act of respect and loyalty. 

He stood by Frank, waiting for him to give the signal, but Frank's smile remained, steady and sure, as he gestured toward Ricky. 

"No, I'd like Slick to do the honors," Frank said suddenly, his voice steady but filled with a quiet resolve. 

Frank reached out and gently pushed the shovel away, refusing the task of burying his little brother and instead, he turned to Ricky, offering him a warm, almost peaceful smile.

"It'd be my honor." Ricky said softly, his voice steady despite the gravity of the moment and as he reached out, his fingers wrapping around the cold handle of the shovel. 

With a purposeful stride, he walked over to the pit, his every step resonating with the weight of the responsibility he was about to carry out.

The shovel sank into the mound of dirt, the heavy metal cutting through the soil with a satisfying thud. 

Ricky's arms worked in steady rhythm, lifting and dumping the earth into the pit and each shovelful fell with a quiet finality, covering Eddy's urn as it fulfilled the promise Ricky had made, a funeral for his friend that would honor his life, his struggles, and now, his peace. 

The dirt slowly piled higher, shrouding the urn completely as the weight of the moment settled over them all.

Ricky hadn't done much for Eddy while he was alive, the distance between them often marked by unspoken words and missed opportunities. 

But in his death, Ricky didn't ask for any amends but used this chance to simply do right by Eddy, like any true friend would. 

As the earth fell upon the urn, Ricky's resolve solidified as it wasn't much, but it was everything he had left to give.

The lingering regret that had weighed heavily on Ricky's chest began to lift, the burden easing as earth firmly settled over Eddy's urn. 

He couldn't hold onto this part of himself any longer, not when it meant keeping a sorrow alive that had no place in the present. 

As he closed his eyes, Ricky felt that part of him, the guilt and the missed chances, finally buried alongside his friend.

'Rest in peace buddy, you deserve that much.'

The family began to disperse from the scene, each member silently returning to their duties. 

There were still deals to be made, debts to collect, and people who needed to sleep with the fishes. 

"Oh, thank you, thank you~" Eddy's grandmother sobbed into Ricky's embrace, her gratitude pouring out in waves. 

She had been thanking him for the past twenty minutes, her voice trembling with emotion as she clung to him, her hands gently patting his back in a mix of sorrow and relief.

"I only did what Eddy would've done for me, that's all," Ricky chuckled, holding the old woman in a gentle embrace. 

She looked up at him with teary eyes, then reached up to tap his cheek lightly, her smile bittersweet yet full of gratitude.

"You're a good boy, be proud of yourself." Eddy's grandmother gave him a warm smile, saying such simple words that left Ricky a little speechless.

"Slick, thank you," Frank said, stepping up to Ricky's side as he gave his shoulder a firm tap, his proud expression softening the weathered lines of his face. 

While the scars of his grief hadn't healed overnight, there was a noticeable shift, a little more color returned to his complexion, as if the weight he carried had lightened just slightly.

 "And grandma, Slick still has stuff he needs to do." Frank then turned to his grandma, prying her from Ricky before gesturing her away.

"You come over for dinner some time, you are too skinny!" Eddy's grandmother shouted as she was essentially shooed away by Frank.

Lucky, unable to suppress his smile, strolled over and draped an arm around Ricky's shoulder, giving his chest a hearty pat.

"C'mon, let's go move all your sh*t from the port." Lucky said with a light shove, nudging Ricky as they began walking toward the car waiting patiently by the curb.

"Also, I got another surprise for you at the house, so let's hurry up," Lucky chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes and Ricky, curious, couldn't help but wonder if it was a brand new car.

Arriving at the dock with Ricky some time later, they all started unpacking all of the three years spent away.

With a strange expression, Lucky tried not to feel like an outsider as he watched warlocks and witches effortlessly lift various items into the air. 

Meanwhile, skeletons shuffled around, moving the lesser trinkets off the ship as he couldn't help but feel the weight of it all, he was unknowingly part of this world now, whether he wanted to be or not.

Lucky departed a little while later, feeling a bit overwhelmed and Ricky didn't blame him as he helped until they really didn't need him anymore as he arrived back at the old mansion.

"Ah~" Ricky took in a large breath of fresh air.

"Home sweet, home." Ricky then heaved out that breath of fresh air, walking forwards while rubbing his hands together.

"Pops, pops, you home?" Ricky called out as he walked up the stairs, not expecting anything that huge as he saw Lucky standing outside a door.

"You ready?" Lucky asked, knocking on the door. Ricky rubbed his hands together, curiosity bubbling up inside him about what to expect.

However, contrary to his expectations, the door creaked open to reveal a pink room. 

In the center stood a small, four-year-old girl with blonde hair, clutching a teddy bear in her arms as her eyes locked onto Ricky as she stood there, innocently staring.

*SMACK*

Ricky stood frozen in the doorway, momentarily stunned by the unexpected sight of the little girl. 

Before he could process what was happening, Lucky smacked the back of his head with a smirk, sneering at him.

"Say hello to your daughter, Danielle." Lucky scoffed, pushing the frozen stiff Ricky forward as he stumbled into the room slathered head to toe in pink.

"F*cking idiot." Lucky hissed out, knowing that Ricky probably thought he was going to get a brand new car as he closed the door behind him.

Ricky stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the girl whose name echoed that of his departed sister. 

The mention of it caught him off guard as he stared at the little girl, who shyly lowered her eyes, her grip on the teddy bear tightening as she shyly dug her face into it.

However Ricky didn't shy away this time, he didn't turn around and leave but slowly got on one knee with a bright and loving smile.

"Hi, I'm Ricky Luciano but the best part is that I'm your dad."

Author's Note: I feel like a POS but I'm literally addicted to rewatching and binging all of Overlord, I'll see your comments eventaully. MB.