"Do you know why coins have their ridges?"
The question slipped from his lips with practiced ease, smoke curling upward as he toyed idly with his cigar, as though he had spent years rehearsing for this very moment.
"It is because the Jews once shaved the edges from coins, melting the shavings to fashion new ones." Morgan smiled, almost fond of the words, as he drew on his cigar and let the smoke curl lazily toward the ceiling.
"My father always declared it was our ancestor who conceived the ridges, that without him, commerce itself might have faltered. It was by that brilliance the Morgan family endured, while the industry remained plagued by such vile parasites." Morgan exhaled a slow puff of smoke, savoring the taste as he held the cigar with practiced elegance.
Ricky stood there with a puzzled look, glancing at Alexander, who wore the exact same expression.
Before the two of them turned back to Morgan, as if trying to decide whether he was serious.
"Come, sit." Morgan urged, gesturing toward the lone chair across from him.
Ricky opened his mouth as if to remind Morgan how easily he could crush him, just like the snobs at the dinner, but the thought curled into a chuckle as he stepped forward.
"Y'know what? Why not." Ricky shrugged, laughing to himself as he strolled to the chair and plopped down.
"Now, I'm sure you're aware of my most recent transgression?" Morgan asked, smiling at Ricky's sudden compliance as he was nothing like the rumors suggested.
"Uh huh," Ricky hummed, leaning back in his seat with a playful grin, the guards watching him intently as though even his breathing needed measuring.
"Then you are, of course, aware of our common adversary in President Roosevelt?" Morgan smiled, gesturing toward Ricky, who only shrugged at the wording.
"Sure."
"Well, that makes things easier." Morgan laughed, his men chuckling with him, trading looks at how simple this was turning out to be.
"And since you're here, I'll assume you've read the invitation, at least to some extent." Morgan gestured toward Ricky, who held back a laugh and kept nodding.
"Yep."
"For context, my most recent actions have left me in a bind, with the president using them against me and all." Morgan sighed, shaking his head as though it were nothing short of a travesty.
"Uh huh."
"But this is where you come in." Morgan suddenly pointed, smiling ear to ear at what he assumed to be his missing piece.
Ricky exaggerated a flinch, clutching his hand over his heart and glancing around as if someone stood behind him.
"Where I come in?" Ricky asked with mock surprise, glancing at Alexander, who pressed his tiny paws to his furry cheek as though joining in the act.
"Yes, he means to use this slight transgression to force our council into funding his allies' campaign," Morgan revealed, explaining where all those politicians who had skipped Raven's dinner suddenly found the confidence to oppose Ricky.
"No, he wouldn't." Ricky gasped, clutching his chest as Alexander shook his head in disbelief.
"I–It can't be!" Alexander stammered, as if his entire world were crumbling at Morgan's words.
However, instead of lashing out, the old man nodded solemnly, completely unaware that they were subtly mocking him.
"Unfortunately, yes," Morgan sighed again, seemingly unable to grasp that the two were clearly making fun of him.
"I'm sure you're not a man of muddy politics, so to summarize: he wishes to use this leverage to easily secure the DNC election," Morgan explained, lifting his nose ever so slightly, a subtle display of superiority.
"That's what he was doing?!" Alexander exclaimed, eyes widening as he watched Ricky force himself to flinch.
"No, but he's the president! He can't do that!" Ricky snapped, his anger flashing toward Morgan, who calmly raised a hand.
"But it's more than that," Morgan said, seemingly letting them glimpse the deeper layers of this tangled problem.
"After the DNC, he will ride the momentum of the Olympics to secure his re-election in the coming November." Morgan sighed, raising his cigar to his lips as he watched Ricky and Alexander freeze, faking a look between shock and disbelief.
"Personally, I do not think he is the man for the job," Morgan muttered, taking a small puff of smoke.
"He lacks the mind we have, the one that can see eye to eye like we do, Mr. Luciano." Morgan tapped his temple with one hand, winking at Ricky, while resting his cigar to the side.
"But if I'm being honest, I do not wish to owe the president a favor," Morgan said suddenly, leaning forward and steepling his fingers as he fixed Ricky with a piercing gaze.
"However, I will owe you one, through the invitation you've received," Morgan said, as if he were doing Ricky a personal favor, the corner of his mouth curling in mild amusement.
"Not only will you be welcomed into our prestigious council, but I will personally sponsor your entry into high society." Morgan leaned back slightly,smacking his lips together as if savoring the weight of his own words.
"It will allow easier access, rather than your Raven having to scramble desperately just to secure a mere dinner." Morgan added, his eyes glinting as he looked at Ricky.
"And-"
Then, what felt like an eternity, J.P. Morgan Jr. rambled on about all sorts of matters, spouting plans, statistics, and self-important theories.
Ricky had to hold back his laughter the entire time.
To put it simply, he couldn't fathom the sheer audacity of the man before him, nor the staggering stupidity required to walk straight into Ricky's den.
Every word J.P Morgan Jr. uttered reeked of disrespect.
Every proposal dripped like sewage, from his skill profit sniff, yet delivered with a grin that seemed utterly oblivious to the danger he was in.
And yet, Ricky didn't interrupt.
Because why would he?
The more the man flailed through his grandiose ideas, the more Ricky enjoyed the effortless power he held over him.
He could literally crush Morgan Jr. in a heartbeat, and it was clear how unaware both the man and his entourage were.
They even believed they were intimidating him, which layered onto the humor that presented itself with his next words.
"Now, what do you say?" Morgan Jr. finished, straightening with a confident smile while holding out his hand as if he had already won.
Ricky and Alexander exchanged a glance with Morgan, eyes narrowing slightly and then, slowly, they turned back to each other.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ricky erupted, laughter tearing from his chest as Alexander tumbled off his shoulder, clutching his furry stomach, and slid onto the table.
"I-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ricky tried to speak, but seeing how utterly serious Morgan had been this entire time only made it worse; he couldn't stop himself.
Bam
Losing his balance, Ricky toppled from his chair and slammed into the floor as the guards exchanged awkward, uncertain glances.
The guards exchanged awkward, uncertain glances, frozen between instinct and the realization that nothing had prepared them for this.
In truth, they had begged their boss, J.P. Morgan Jr., not to push this far, not to walk into a den like this.
They had literally warned him, pleaded with him even, but he hadn't listened.
"What is so funny?" Morgan asked, eyebrows knitting together in genuine confusion.
The tycoon scanned the room, his gaze sharp yet utterly clueless, as if some crucial detail were slipping past him
However, what Ricky had failed to grasp was that his sister's warnings about her brother weren't merely metaphorical.
They were entirely literal.
Because J.P Morgan Jr., was in fact, an idiot.
"You do realize your current situation is almost identical to a mouse staring up at an elephant, right?" Alexander managed to say, laughing so hard he could barely squeeze out the words, while Ricky writhed on the floor in uncontrollable laughter.
But neither of them had fully appreciated just how profoundly stupid the man before them truly was.
At its extreme, stupidity manifests as an almost supernatural inability to process hypothetical or false scenarios.
Even to the point where a person is literally unable to recognize even the most obvious absurdities.
"But I thought you were a gerbil?" Morgan asked, raising a single eyebrow, utterly serious as Alexander flinched at the words, his jaw nearly dropping.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Ricky continued laughing hysterically, clutching his sides, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes since at this point, he simply couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"No, it is if you walked into an arena-"
"But we are at the Stork Club?" Morgan interrupted, glancing at Alexander with a look of mild irritation, as if the gerbil sitting beside him were the one missing the point.
But the worst part about this particular strain of stupidity is what happens when you try to explain even the simplest hypothetical.
To someone incapable of grasping concepts, reasoning becomes a trap.
They simply cannot follow the premise, they cannot bend their mind around the notion that what you're saying isn't literally happening.
Instead, their confusion twists into irritation, and irritation quickly hardens into anger.
"No, it is as if you were in a fight and-"
"Why am I fighting?" Morgan asked, clearly becoming angry at the very fact he was getting into a fight without a proper reason.
"It's not that you're fighting-"
"But you said I was fighting! How am I supposed to fight someone if I don't have a reasonable cause?" Morgan's eyebrows knit together in genuine frustration, poking holes in this abrupt story he was hearing since he has never fought anyone in his life without a good reason.
"T-That-"
"That is a fair point," Alexander muttered under his breath, recognizing the absurd dilemma this man had suddenly positioned before him.
"Very well, the man has murdered your father then-"
"My father died of a stroke." Morgan replied, utterly serious, as if Alexander had suggested something entirely preposterous.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ricky nearly cried with laughter, staggering as he struggled to believe this was actually the son of the famous J.P. Morgan.
"He's a real person~" Ricky wheezed, trying to stand, only to collapse back onto the floor, gasping and clutching his sides.
"I'd hope so," Morgan said with a laugh, while his men exchanged uneasy glances.
"Are you actually an idiot?" Alexander asked, genuinely incredulous, brow furrowed as he stared at the man before him, almost feeling a pang of pity.
"No, are you?" Morgan asked, lifting his gaze to Alexander as if emphasizing his point, but the gerbil simply looked over at Ricky.
"I-I am at a loss for words, Ricky," Alexander muttered, while Morgan laughed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if claiming a small victory.
"I tend to have that effect on people," Morgan said, chuckling heartily, completely misreading Alexander's words as flattery.
"That wasn't a compliment-"
"Then why was it phrased as such?" Morgan interrupted with a wink, glancing at his men, who offered forced, practiced smiles as if resigned to this routine.
"Oh man, phew~" Ricky exhaled, wiping his forehead as he sank back into his chair.
"Y'know, when I read the letter that said you wanted to meet me at my own club, to be honest, I was just gonna shoot your men in the face to prove a point." Ricky said, shrugging as if the lives of the guards behind him didn't matter as they all flinched at his words.
"Like, I was going to go on about disrespect and stuff like that before grabbing one of your guys' guns and ending it right here." Ricky sighed, tapping the table with his fingers while pondering the thought of the man before him.
"And then?" Morgan asked, a small smile tugging at his lips, convinced this was the moment Ricky would finally agree to his proposal.
"And then I just realized how much of a f*cking idiot you are," Ricky said, spreading his arms as if unveiling one of the most closely guarded secrets of the banking industry.
"That is hardly-"
"Aye, I'm not finished talking," Ricky chuckled, holding up his hand to halt Morgan mid-sentence. Morgan nodded, seemingly content to wait his turn.
"Anyways, I'll help you," Ricky continued, tapping his fingers on the table, letting small chuckles slip between his words as he spoke.
"That is fantastic," Morgan said, smiling and nodding, clearly pleased at getting his way.
"But not because I'm grateful for your little crumbs, or even because your sister came on your behalf to ask me for a favor," Ricky continued, a faint grin tugging at his lips while staring at him.
"I'm gonna do it just 'cause you might be useful," Ricky said honestly, fully aware that having someone like this under his influence could be a definite advantage for his bank.
"Because why not, y'know?" Ricky shrugged, fully aware of the power he held and the freedom to use it however he pleased.
"I'm afraid I do not understand-"
"Oh, you really don't," Ricky laughed, leaning back in his chair as the light glinted off his golden pinky ring.
"Here's what you haven't understood from the very second you walked into my club: you're powerless." Ricky said, underestimating just how far Morgan's stupidity ran, while Morgan simultaneously underestimated the sheer force of Ricky's authority.
"And by that, I mean, I genuinely don't give a f*ck about anything you say." Ricky said, watching Morgan scrunch his brows at the unmistakable insult since even he understood this.
"You walk into my Raven's dinner, throw some money around, and you think, what, that impresses me?" Ricky asked, laughing as he regarded the man as utterly insignificant after hearing his earlier words.
"Junior, money means nothing to me."
"I throw money at sh*t on a regular, hell, I've probably spent that much just on tips at this point." Ricky shrugged, still irritated from the earlier dinner and letting a hint of that frustration bleed onto Morgan.
"You've spent five million dollars in total on tips?" Morgan asked, genuinely impressed, thinking Ricky was just being loose with money.
Ricky opened his mouth to respond, then shook his head, skipping over the absurd question and forcefully steering the conversation back on track.
"Look, here's what I'm gonna do for you, since your sister has been so good to my Raven." Ricky leaned forward, clasping his hands together, while Morgan scrunched his brows tightly, trying really hard to follow the rhythm of Ricky's words.
"I'm gonna let you be my friend," Ricky said, holding up his thumb at Morgan, who stared back, confused.
"You seem like a dumbass but you're rich, probably powerful, and having you around will probably help Lucky out."
"Are you always this mean to your friends?" Morgan asked, a little taken aback at how Ricky treated those close to him.
"Oh my god," Ricky whispered, glancing down at Alexander, who merely shrugged, as if to silently remind him of his own earlier interaction with the man.
"I'm gonna let you be my friend. You understand?" Ricky repeated, gesturing toward Morgan as his golden pinky ring caught the light, glinting in a way that immediately drew Morgan's eyes.
"Because, honestly, I really don't need you," Ricky said, his words finally sparking a flicker of anger in Morgan, who shifted his gaze away from the dazzling light of Ricky's pinky ring.
"Do you know who I am-"
"Just another guy who inherited his daddy's money. Literally, I could walk back into Raven's dinner and find twelve of you," Ricky interrupted, gesturing vaguely to the side, as if to remind Morgan that the entire dinner had been filled with first-generation nepo babies.
"The Council of Nine is not something to gloss over, Mr. Luciano," Morgan warned, convinced that the men in his council far surpassed any others.
"And what's with the Mr. Luciano sh*t? Just call me Ricky or Slick-"
"No, Mr. Luciano, I will not." Morgan huffed, clearly frustrated with the man before him, his tone bordering on childish.
"Now, I don't know what that repulsive woman said to you, but you're clearly not understanding me," Morgan said, adjusting himself as if to straighten his posture while referring to his sister.
"The council isn't just a mere boy's club but a powerful entity that caused the market crash of 29 and-"
"And you're not even recognized by the High Table, right?" Ricky interrupted, laughing as he watched Morgan stammer, words dying on his tongue.
"Maybe, like, five years ago if you came to me I would've been impressed, but I got guys in secret clubs coming to me on the regular." Ricky said honestly, briefly wondering if he would've cared back then.
"Even right now, the Hellfire Club's breathing down my neck, trying to drag me to some stupid ball." Ricky sighed, rubbing the crease of his forehead from the headache Selene had given him.
Before a sly smile crossed his face at the memory of just how perky her tits were.
"Mr. Luciano, I think you should reevaluate your surroundings-"
"Of what? These guys?" Ricky asked, nearly hysterical, gesturing broadly to the ordinary men surrounding him.
"These guys, just like those stupid artifacts you have, won't protect you." Ricky laughed, actually serious in his words but MOrgan merely shook his head.
"Are you sure?" Morgan smiled, gesturing to his men as if Ricky were the one who didn't understand.
"Junior, I could kill you with the snap of a finger," Ricky said seriously, briefly wondering if there was any point in continuing, since Morgan seemed almost incapable of grasping his words.
"And why are you telling me this?" Morgan asked, smiling, clearly trying to call Ricky's bluff.
"Becuase you obviously came here not knowing that, which leads me to believe two things." Ricky replied, holding up two fingers, finally sizing Morgan up the way he truly saw him.
"Either one, you're an idiot."
"Or two, you're kind of retarded."
"It doesn't matter which but you're one of the two, maybe even both." Ricky muttered, the last part drawing a deep frown from Morgan, who seemed unable to sit still any longer.
"I think we're done here-"
"No, we're not," Ricky interrupted, sliding his finger down, and Morgan felt his entire body slam back into his seat with his telekinesis.
Immediately, all of Morgan's men readied their weapons, but Ricky merely reached across the table and yanked away his cigar, as calm as if nothing had happened.
WHOOSH
Almost casually, Ricky sank back into his chair, as if nothing had happened.
Then, without warning, a wave of green sovereign aura erupted across the room, washing over every surface like a tidal force.
BAM
BAM
BAM
The deafening thuds reverberated through the Stork Club as Morgan's men slammed their knees into the floorboards below, one after another, like a row of falling dominoes.
Morgan's eyes widened in pure shock, the only one in the room shielded from Ricky's oppressive aura, powerless to stop the events unfolding around him.
Just as Ricky had told him.
"Is this a Cuban?" Ricky asked casually, a hint of surprise in his tone after the first puff, while Alexander nonchalantly munched on a sunflower seed he had stashed in Ricky's suit when he wasn't looking.
"W-What are you doing?!" Morgan stammered, his head snapping across the Stork Club as he watched his men struggle to keep from face-planting into the floorboards.
"It does smell a little different," Alexander mused, his tiny nostrils flaring as they picked up the distinct scent of the tobacco.
"Right?" Ricky laughed, completely ignoring Morgan, his amusement growing as he watched Alexander nod at his words.
Neither of them even paid the slightest attention to the flustered banker, leaving him feeling more powerless by the second.
"What are you doing?!" Morgan yelled, gripping the tablecloth tightly as his body trembled.
"Uh, waiting for you to pull out some stupid hidden card?" Ricky asked casually, glancing at Alexander, who nodded along.
"Yes, I, too, am waiting to see what a man of status has in store to counter Ricky here," Alexander added, settling comfortably, clearly entertained by the spectacle and the thought of Morgan surprising him with a hidden trump card.
Immediately, Morgan's eyes darted to his body as he rummaged frantically through his pockets, whispering to himself.
"Why isn't it working?!" Morgan hissed, staring at the various talismans that were supposed to protect him, their ethereal shine now dull and lifeless.
"It's cause I'm not using magic." Ricky said smoothly, leaning back in his chair, almost as if offering Morgan a hint.
"So, do all of you in the council just expect those trinkets to protect you-" Ricky asked suddenly, recalling how Rockefeller had worn the exact same wards.
"WHAT SORCERY ARE YOU USING?!" Morgan roared, unable to comprehend that Ricky was simply using his mutant power.
"Are you serious?" Ricky asked, frowning slightly, frustrated that Morgan wasn't picking up on the obvious hint.
"OF COURSE! HOW ARE YOU BYPASSING MY WARDS?!" Morgan shouted, completely distressed, unable to even leave his seat.
"See," Alexander said nonchalantly, gesturing at Morgan, as if to let Ricky witness just how dense the man truly was.
"You vulgar man, take this!" Morgan bellowed, yanking a piece of paper from his pocket.
With a dramatic flourish, he ripped it in half, and a small burst of fire erupted before Ricky.
'Full counter.' Ricky thought, swiping the nearby spoon at whatever Morgan was holding as his danger sense flared.
BAM
Immediately, the fireball Morgan had hurled toward Ricky blazed brightly for a moment before snapping back, redirected straight at its caster.
"PROTECT ME!" Morgan screamed, flailing toward his artifacts as a light blue shield materialized around him, shimmering desperately as if it could somehow undo his blunder.
BOOM
In the next instant, Morgan's shield shattered into a thousand fragments, the force of the redirected fireball hurling him backward like a ragdoll.
But before he could even hit the ground, Ricky leaned back in his chair, tongue sticking out in playful concentration, and extended his hand.
Green energy swirled faintly around his fingertips as his telekinesis effortlessly caught Morgan mid-air, suspending him like a puppet on invisible strings.
Alexander, perched nearby, simply munched on his sunflower seed, watching quietly as Morgan flailed helplessly, his panic growing with each second he heovered in the air.
BAM
"ARGH!" Morgan grimaced as his head slammed into a chair, Ricky frowning as he struggled to prevent the old man from getting seriously hurt.
"F*ck, this is hard" Ricky thought, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he fought to keep Morgan from slamming into various things.
Telekinesis, while incredibly practical, demanded far more from Ricky than he had originally assumed.
At its core, the ability was deceptively simple: objects, or in this case a human, moved in accordance with the focus and intensity of his mental energy.
The stronger his intent, the more precise the control.
But even a fraction of hesitation could send things careening wildly which was the case as Morgan slammed into another chair.
"Sh*t."
Ricky's mind had to act like both conductor and orchestra simultaneously, sending pulses of will through invisible threads to guide Morgan's weight, his movements, even the subtle tilt of his body.
"This is rather disappointing," Alexander said, casually pulling another sunflower seed from Ricky's coat pocket and popping it into his mouth.
"You're telling me this guy just barges in with a grand, kickass entrance, and then completely wastes it like this," Ricky muttered, gritting his teeth as he subtly guided Morgan back into his chair.
"You-" Morgan huffed, rubbing at his already reddening forehead as he fumbled into his suit, desperation creeping into his movements.
"You devil, take this!" Morgan bellowed, thrusting his cross forward with as much force as he could muster.
Then, to Morgan's utter shock, Ricky didn't flinch, dodge, or block.
But with a slow, almost lazy motion, he reached out and took the cross from Morgan's hands.
SNAP
In an instant, he broke it cleanly in half, before casually handing the pieces back to the stunned man.
"B-But I was told you were of the devil's spawn! That is a holy cross, blessed by a pope himself!" Morgan stammered, eyes wide as he stared at the supposed shattered relic in his trembling hands.
"How much did that set you back-"
"Two hundred thousand-"
"FOR A PIECE OF WOOD?!" Alexander practically shrieked, his tiny paws gesturing wildly as he stared at the cross.
Even he, a complete novice in spotting genuine artifacts, could tell this was nothing more than a simple piece of wood nailed together.
"This is no piece of wood! Just as this snake oil will put you in your place!" Morgan boomed, triumphantly producing a small vial and raising it to his lips with a flourish.
GULP
He downed the oil in one confident swallow, shaking his head at the taste before flashing a self-satisfied smile at Ricky.
Ricky, however, could only stare, utterly dumbfounded by the combination of Morgan's audacity and complete lack of self-awareness.
"It's exactly as the man said, I must've turned invisible!" Morgan laughed, reaching into his suit to retrieve another object, convinced that he had the upper hand.
"Don't worry Ricky, I am still here, but I must go for now-"
"How much did you pay for the snake oil?" Ricky asked, his tone dripping with incredulity as he watched Morgan beam at himself with unshakable confidence.
"Four hundred thousand, and it was worth every penny!" Morgan boasted, practically dancing in front of Ricky, convinced of his own cleverness as if Ricky couldn't see through the charade.
"Are you guys for real?" Ricky exclaimed, finally releasing a fraction of his sovereign will to let these guys speak for the buffoon in front of him.
HUFF
HUFF
HUFF
Every guard heaved violently, clutching their windpipes as Ricky's oppressive will left them struggling to breathe, their bodies trembling under the invisible weight pressing down on them.
"How much is he paying you?" Ricky asked, his grin sharp, eyes scanning the men as they exchanged uneasy glances. One of them slowly raised a trembling hand.
"I-If I tell you, will you please not do that again?" The head guard asked cautiously, rising to his feet with measured care, bowing his head as if acknowledging the invisible weight pressing down on them.
"Why not."
"Five hundred thousand a year-"
"For what?" Ricky laughed immediately, his eyes sizing them up, seeing nothing more than ordinary men with slightly buff frames.
"For a premium guard service that is incomparable to anyone else, that's what!" Morgan laughed heartily, adjusting his suit while still convinced he was completely invisible.
"That ain't premium, that's a discount wrapped in a new bow." Ricky scoffed, watching the guards duck their heads in shame.
"Mr. Luciano, he means well, he's just-" The head guard muttered, rubbing the back of his neck before letting out a weary sigh.
"An idiot?" Ricky finally chimed in, watching the guards exchange guilty glances before slowly nodding, as he turned his gaze back to Morgan.
"Oh yeah? What's next, you'll say I'm not invisible-"
"YOU'RE NOT INVISIBLE!" Alexander screamed, his anger flaring at the buffoon before them.
"That's exactly what someone would say to get me to undo my invisibility, but I am no fool." Morgan replied, his tone calm, almost teasing, as if the stupidity in front of him was amusing rather than threatening.
SIGH
All the guards, along with Ricky, let out a collective sigh as Alexander simply shook his head and padded back to his coat pocket.
"Retrieve me when this matter is settled. I cannot take this man anymore," Alexander muttered, slipping into his pocket and resuming his munching on sunflower seeds.
"Is everyone on the council like this?" Ricky asked, glancing at the guards, who all shook their heads while a few tilted them, clearly sharing other opinions.
"Well-"
"Hugh Jones is not an idiot." The head guard interjected, raising a hand to stop his fellow guard.
"Then why did he send-"
SIGH
"Lemme guess, no one at this council knows he's doing this, right?" Ricky said, eyes narrowing as he watched everyone avert their gaze.
"And can you stop? I can see you." Ricky sighed, turning his gaze to Morgan, who was awkwardly tiptoeing toward the door.
"But my invisibility should last another-"
"Can you just sit down so we can discuss this?" Ricky interrupted, pointing firmly at the chair across from him.
Morgan hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded, surrendering to the absurdity of the situation.
"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to listen. We are friends, after all," Morgan muttered, shuffling back to the chair and lowering himself into it across from Ricky.
Honestly, after experiencing this level of stupidity, Ricky was thinking differently now.
From the very beginning, he had intended to use J.P. Morgan Jr. as a cautionary tale, a living warning to the rest of the council about just how dangerous he could be when crossed.
But after witnessing just how staggering his idiocy truly was, a new plan began to form in Ricky's mind.
Instead of humiliating him or disfiguring him, he could mold this situation into something useful.
Something profitable.
And as if in response to his unspoken thought, the shadows around him seemed to shift and twist.
From the deepest corner of the room, from the very darkness cast by his own form, Shadow Broker emerged.
RIP
"Listen, like I said earlier, I'm gonna get you off the hook." Ricky simply said, briefly looking at the stolen cigar then turning his gaze back to the clearly visible Morgan.
"So, you've finally come around-"
"No talking, just respond when I ask you a question." Ricky said flatly, holding up his hand as Morgan slowly nodded.
"How much money do you have currently?" Ricky asked, lifting the cigar to his lips as his eyes glowed green with greed.
"Well, let's see," Morgan replied, fumbling into his coat pocket and pulling out his wallet, taking his question in its most literal form.
"How much money do you have currently?" Ricky asked, lifting the cigar to his lips, his eyes glinting with a predatory green.
"Which is, uh-" Morgan began, his voice faltering as he started fumbling through the math.
"Five hundred sir-" The head guard interjected from the side, knowing all too well how Morgan struggled with big numbers.
"Yes, I have five hundred dollars-"
"Sir, that's a twenty, you have four hundred and twenty dollars-"
"Yes, four hundred and twenty dollars!" Morgan laughed, beaming at Ricky, completely missing the point and forcing Ricky to realize he needed to be far more literal with his words.
"How much money does the Morgan family control?" Ricky rephrased, pinching the bridge of his nose and resting his elbow on the table.
"Why didn't you just say so?" Morgan asked, raising an eyebrow as if Ricky had been wasting his time.
"Oh my god~" Ricky muttered under his breath, exasperation flickering across his face as he quietly wondered if he had ever been that stupid himself.
"Well, the bank itself is, I'd say, oh, about two billion?"
Sniff
Ricky's nostrils, which had been more accustomed to the stench of sewer water, suddenly caught a sweet aroma.
The scent of a profitable proposition spiraling in his mind.
"What a minute," Ricky muttered to himself, eyes narrowing as realization struck as he turned back to Morgan, a sly smile spreading across his fac
"You know what, Morgan? I think we can actually make a deal." Ricky smiled, savoring the moment as Morgan's eyes widened in genuine shock, his mouth slightly agape.
"But you said-"
"No, no, no, I mean with our banks." Ricky quickly clarified, waving his hands as if trying to steer Morgan's understanding in the right direction.
"Your negro bank?" Morgan asked, tilting his head, seeking clarification as if Ricky's words had momentarily confused him.
"Yeah, I just had the most brilliant idea but-" Ricky paused deliberately, letting the thought dangle in the air, as if uncertain whether he had the nerve to fully voice it.
"But?" Morgan prompted, his tone insistent, urging Ricky to continue, clearly intrigued and unwilling to let the moment slip.
"I shouldn't say," Ricky murmured, wiping his face and raising a hand as if shielding a secret too dangerous to speak aloud.
"Yes, you can. Now, go on," Morgan said impatiently, leaning forward, eyes gleaming with the excitement of someone about to be let in on a long-guarded secret.
"Well, I was just thinking that since you cornered the market in America-"
"And Europe, South America, the railroads, the steel, the electricity." Morgan interjected, puffing up with pride as he added each industry to his list, raising his nose as if to savor the grandeur of his father's achievements rather than his own.
"Yeah, exactly."
"And my family's bank has effectively cornered the black market. Add to that a direct line to the Vatican, and suddenly the government can't exactly go snooping through our accounts." Ricky revealed, watching Morgan's eyes widen slowly, the realization dawning on him of the complicated problem he now faced with President Roosevelt.
This was exactly how President Roosevelt had found the sudden confidence to make his move within New York.
The idea that the federal government could seize, publicize, or even dissolve private financial holdings, once unthinkable, had become plausible in the wake of the Pecora Hearings.
The Senate, with Roosevelt's blessing, had dragged Wall Street titans like J.P. Morgan Jr. into humiliating public testimony with his lawyers being his only saving grace.
Morgan was grilled relentlessly about bank practices, questionable loans to politicians, and his role in the 1929 crash.
The spectacle painted him like he was the living embodiment of greed and corruption, a symbol the public could point to when blaming the collapse of their savings.
Which wasn't entirely wrong in the first place since he was literally responsible for the great depression.
However, it didn't land him in prison, but it effectively stripped him of the untouchable status his father had handed down to him.
Meanwhile, Roosevelt's New Deal lawyers were drafting plans at a feverish pace: expanding public utility ownership, regulating Wall Street, and dismantling the so-called 'money trusts' that had been the cause of all of this.
"They'd have to march into Rome and demand the Pope hand over his ledgers. You think Roosevelt's got the balls for that?" Ricky asked, watching as Morgan's eyes lit up at the audacity of the notion.
"No, he doesn't!" Morgan suddenly laughed, almost as if he were claiming the idea for himself, puffing his chest with pride.
"And what-"
"Sh*t, I lost my train of thought," Ricky interrupted, snapping his fingers and leaning back in his chair, shaking his head with mock frustration, leaving Morgan blinking in confusion at the sudden pause.
"You did?"
"Yeah I was thinking about how the president can't touch our money and they can touch yours but-"
"Ugh, I just can't put my finger on it-"
RIP
BAM
"Mr. Luciano, I have an idea!" Morgan suddenly exclaimed, sitting up straighter in his chair as Shadow Broker's subtle influence worked its magic.
The old man's excitement seemed almost disproportionate, triggered by the simple act of only ripping two pieces of paper rather than the countless it took for a regular person..
Ricky leaned back slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he marveled at the stand's work..
In reality, he didn't need Morgan to have an idea, he just wanted him to move a large portion of his family's capital into their bank.
That alone would secure leverage far beyond what any council seat or grandiose title could offer.
What Ricky hadn't fully anticipated, however, was just how dramatically Shadow Broker's subtle nudges would affect the man's pea-sized brain.
The simplest prompt, something Ricky could have dismissed as trivial, now had accidentally sparked a chain reaction of almost reckless thinking.
"We should merge our banks!"
Everyone in the room froze, the silence almost tangible, as even Shadow Broker faltered, staring down at the third sheet of paper in his hand as though it had revealed some impossible truth.
The Stand's eyes followed the sheets for a moment longer before lifting to Ricky, who regarded him with the calm certainty of someone witnessing a miracle unfold right before him.
"S-Sir!" the head guard stammered, nearly collapsing under the weight of the insane idea that had sprung from Morgan's feeble mind.
"Yes Reginald-"
"You can't merge your bank with him-"
"He totally can!" Ricky interrupted, rising to his full height as his hand shot out.
With a subtle flick of telekinesis, the head guard was lifted and slammed into the floor, the force leaving him stunned and silent.
"He's J.P. Morgan Jr., he can do whatever he wants!" Ricky laughed, clapping his hands together as if the man before him were the single greatest piece of modern entertainment.
"Great idea, just a f*cking stroke of pure genius," Ricky added, deliberately egging him on and riling him up.
"Yes, well, I have my moments," Morgan laughed heartily, reaching out to grasp Ricky's hand, causing the guards to flinch immediately.
"Mr. Morgan, the council, even the board will never agree-"
"Oh, who cares about the details?" Ricky interrupted, waving a dismissive hand as he turned back to the man who, by sheer accident and blinding naivety, had just positioned himself to become one of the greatest allies Ricky could hope for.
"The main thing is that with your capital, and my untouchable status, you'll surpass even your father," Ricky said, his words curling through the air like whispers from the devil himself.
"I will?"
"They're going to be writing books about today, the day Junior triumphed over his senior," Ricky continued, flashing a sharp, knowing smile that made Morgan's jaw almost drop.
"The day Junior triumphed over his senior, I like that." Morgan muttered, his gaze dropping to the floor as the idea took root in his mind.
"I really like that!" Morgan exclaimed, a spark of excitement lighting up his face at the thought of being recognized as greater than his father.
"Are you sure about your reservations about the council-"
"C'mon, I ain't really that guy. I mean, look at me," Ricky laughed, gesturing to himself, his mobster attire on full display.
"Yes, you do look like a thug." Morgan said sadly, shaking his head, as if it were a real shame all while Ricky just laughed harder.
"See, that's why you should take someone like John," Ricky added, his smile widening as he felt everything falling perfectly into place.
"Really, are you sure?"
"I mean, since I think the others will be intimidated if we not only merge our banks but also sit on the same council," Ricky shrugged, hinting at the plan as Morgan nodded thoughtfully.
"Ah, a conflict of interest." Morgan realized, tapping his head as if to signal they were on the same page.
"Exactly. Sure," Ricky said, nodding his head, knowing that as long as the conversation kept moving forward, that was all that truly mattered.
"Mr. Morgan, I think we should leave-"
Why?" Ricky asked, his gaze snapping to Morgan's guards, a green glow flickering in his eyes.
"You just got here, why would you want to leave?" Ricky pressed again, leaning slightly forward as Morgan nodded, stepping in.
"Yes, Reginald, let the businessmen talk about their business." Morgan scoffed, crossing his arms as the guard hesitated.
"Mr. Morgan, we've talked about this, you can't make these decisions without the council or your board-"
"But he's your boss, aren't you?" Ricky taunted, leaning close enough that Morgan could feel the words slide like a blade as he watched the older man's frown deepen while his eyes flicked to his head guard.
"You're not just gonna let your bodyguard talk to you like that, are you?" Ricky whispered, stepping behind Morgan, purposely threading tension through the air.
"No, I am not."
"You know, to celebrate our partnership, I can handle these guys for you," Ricky said, leaning over Morgan's shoulder and patting it casually.
"Well, I don't think that's necessary—"
"They're trying to stop you from being great, don't you see?" Ricky asked, his hands gripping the man's shoulders, the same ones he had tossed like a ragdoll just moments ago, as if to drive the point home.
"What am I seeing?" Morgan whispered, his voice low, as if he were watching a scene unfold that he didn't fully understand.
"These guys are purposely keeping you down, just like that f*cking loser in the Oval Office," Ricky said, laughing, almost savoring the moment.
"Yeah, they are acting like him." Morgan huffed, narrowing his eyes at the guards.
They were supposed to be on his side, yet here they were, openly disagreeing with him, their loyalty wavering in plain sight at the words of Ricky.
"Right, they're-"
CLICK
"Let go of Mr. Morgan, or else." The head guard warned, raising his rifle at Ricky, who simply smiled.
"Put your gun down this instant, Reginald!" Morgan demanded, stomping his foot to emphasize the point.
"Look at him, he's taking the president's side." Ricky whispered into Morgan's ear, a wicked smile tugging at his lips, like a corrupt advisor whispering forbidden counsel to some distant emperor.
"HOW DARE YOU TAKE THAT MAN'S SIDE OVER MINE, HOW DARE YOU!" Morgan bellowed, red-faced and trembling with fury as his own loyal men dared to defy him.
"T-That's not-"
"Look at that, he's stuttering, he's nervous, he's guilty." Ricky whispered, fanning the flames of Morgan's fury until it spiraled beyond control.
"PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS THIS INSTANT, OR I WILL HAVE MR. LUCIANO DISPOSE OF YOU!" Morgan screamed, his voice cracking as rage overtook the little reason he had.
"Please, come with us, Mr. Morgan, you're making a huge mistake," Reginald pleaded, trying desperately to get through to him, but it was clear his words were falling on deaf ears.
"Are you saying he's wrong and you're right, that the president is right?" Ricky asked, suppressing a laugh as he savored the way his words twisted the situation, making Reginald squirm under the weight of his implication.
"What? No-"
"DISPENSE OF THEM, THEY ARE TRAITORS!" Morgan roared, his voice cracking with fury as he slammed his fists on the table.
"Hey, you heard the guy." Ricky simply smiled, knowing that was all the permission he needed.
Clap
Then, with a single clap of his hands, a swirling green portal opened, and a massive figure stepped through.
"Jesus Christ~" Reginald whispered, raising his neck to take in the sheer bulk of the man whose shadow loomed over him.
"Aye, Rhino!" Ricky called, his tone casual as if summoning a servant rather than a weapon of destruction.
"Yes, boss?" Rhino responded, cracking his neck with a slow, deliberate motion, his gaze fixed on the trembling guard, who instinctively dropped his rifle without a word.
"Remeber what we talked about?"
"My initiation?
"Yeah, show us what you got."
BANG
The sound cracked through the Stork Club as a guard fired instinctively, the bullet tearing from his pistol and streaking straight toward Rhino.
DINK
But instead of finding flesh, the projectile buckled against his skin, folding in on itself like a crumpled tin can.
It tumbled slowly, almost lazily, toward the ground, its lethal momentum completely nullified by Rhino's mere skin.
The bullet rolled across the floor, spinning as if mocking its shooter, until it came to a humiliating stop at the guard's own feet.
"I-I'm sorry?" the man stammered, eyes wide, watching Rhino consider his words for a long second.
"I accept your apology."
BAM
With a single measured punch, Rhino's fist collided with the man's stomach, sending him flying backward.
He slammed into the wall, the impact pushing him into it as he sank into the drywall with only his legs sticking out in plain view.
"Isn't that Rockefeller's guard?" Morgan asked, glancing toward the crumpled figure against the wall as Ricky took the last drag from his cigar.
"Yeah, but he started working for me after the old man passed," Ricky replied casually, shrugging as if it were nothing for him to think aboutl.
"Ah, I see."
"A shame what happened to him, but death claims us all, I suppose," Morgan murmured, closing his eyes briefly as he silently mourned Rockefeller.
"Hey, you cool if I grab my pops really quick?" Ricky asked, glancing at Morgan as the guards behind Rhino widened their eyes.
"STOP-"
"Boss, do I kill them?" Rhino asked suddenly, turning to Ricky and pointing at the head guard, who immediately swallowed hard, his throat tight with fear.
"Uh, well, it's up to this guy," Ricky said, figuring it'd be wiser to let Morgan make the call while he retrieved Lucky.
"Mr. Morgan?" Rhino prompted, a flicker of recognition in his eyes as memories of their past encounters resurfaced.
"Hello Rhino, you're looking every bit the imposing figure I remember you as, and might I say, your horn is just exquisite." Morgan said, adjusting himself as he stepped forward, a strange gleam in his eyes.
"When will you sell it to me? I am willing-"
Sigh
"Mr. Morgan, it is apart of me-"
"I still don't see the issue on this matter, five hundred thousand." Morgan interrupted, pulling out his checkbook and pen with a serious expression.
"I-"
"No, wait, eight hundred thousand!" Morgan quickly amended his bid, grinning as Ricky subtly gave a thumbs-up to Rhino before slipping through a shimmering portal.
Meanwhile At Lucky's Estate,
Loud snoring filled the master bedroom, bouncing softly off the walls and plush drapes as if the room itself was used to it.
Lucky had finally dozed off, slumped over his meticulously threaded count sheets, the exhaustion of the day pressing down on him and furthering him into this deep sleep.
His face, usually tense, softened into a rare expression of peace, and for the first time in what felt like ages, the constant hum of the outside world seemed distant.
"Hey pops-"
CLICK
Without a second of hesitation, Lucky's instincts ripped him awake as his hand dove beneath his pillow, clutching the gun as he shot upright.
"I AIN'T GOING DOWN WITHOUT-"
"Slick?" Lucky muttered, rubbing his eyes as he squinted, gradually making out Ricky's figure in the dim light.
"Oh, f*ck off." Lucky sighed, sinking back into the bed and sliding the pistol beneath his pillow.
"I thought you were joking when you said you slept with a gun." Ricky asked, strolling over to the liquor cabinet at the side of the room.
"I'm not responding to your antics Slick, whatever you got-"
"I got J.P Morgan Jr. about to merge with our bank-"
"WHAT?!" Lucky shouted, snapping back upright, his eyes wide with disbelief at the man even he hadn't expected.
"The guy who is kept under lock and key, ain't no f*cking way-"
"No wonder they kept him under lock and key. Guy's an idiot," Ricky scoffed, shaking his head as he poured all of his good rum into a single glass.
"..."
Lucky frowned, holding back his words as he studied Ricky's expression, trying to discern any hint of deceit.
After all, almost no one ever met J.P. Morgan Jr., and something about Ricky's tone told him he wasn't bluffing.
"Like the idiot you were back in the day-"
"Worse, the guy's genuinely a dumbass, so much so that he actually invited me to a sit-down at my own club." Ricky laughed, the absurdity of saying it out loud making him shake his head.
"To what? Make a deal-"
"To do me a favor," Ricky shrugged, taking a slow sip from his glass and leaning back casually to the side while Lucky's face became blank.
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"So, like, on the idiot scale, he ranks above you?" Lucky asked, scratching his chin while pondering back to when he was younger.
"If I was a ten, that guy's a f*cking fifteen, at least." Ricky said, taking a sip of Lucky's good rum and nodding to himself.
"But why would the guy merge unless-oh sh*t, the president really got him by the balls." Lucky realized, chuckling at the rumor swirling through Wall Street at the moment.
"Yup."
"I thought that was a joke?" Lucky muttered, scrunching his brows, having initially shrugged it off.
"Wait, that's why he came to you-wait, wait, wait." Lucky suddenly stopped himself, pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief.
"How the hell did it end up becoming a talk about mergers?"
For the next five minutes, Ricky simply unraveled the entire story that he had just gone through minutes before.
Lucky's eyes widened with each passing detail, his jaw slowly slackening as disbelief spread across his face
By the time Ricky finished, Lucky's jaw hung slack, his disbelief etched across every line of his face as he shuffled closer to the side of the bed, trying to catch every last word with his aging ears.
"You're kidding," Lucky muttered again, completely incredulous at what he had just heard.
"Swear, this guy really is like that," Ricky shrugged, watching Lucky shake his head in disbelief, as if it were too absurd to be true.
"Alexander!" Lucky called out, glancing around the room as if expecting the gerbil to materialize from the walls.
"It is true, he is frustratingly stupid, even more so than Ricky was before he left." Alexander replied, popping out of Ricky's front coat pocket with a sigh.
"I gotta see this for myself," Lucky muttered, striding toward his closet to change into his attire, determination setting his jaw.
Meanwhile, as Lucky got dressed, the Stork Club erupted into a frenzied bidding war, with Rhino cautiously rejecting every offer thrown his way.
Which only made J.P. Morgan Jr. want it more.
"1.5, final offer-"
"For the twentieth time, Mr. Morgan, I don't want to cut off a part of my body," Rhino sighed heavily, the exhaustion from dealing with this man evident in his posture as Morgan rarely had to interact with anyone outside the council or his family.
"Surely you would change your mind at 1.6-"
"ENOUGH!" Reginald roared, yanking his gun up and pointing it directly at Rhino's eye.
"STAND DOWN RHINO OR I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL-"
"Pistols cannot pierce my skin, not even my eyes." Rhino said calmly, his gaze fixed on the gun while surveying the surrounding men.
"None of your weapons will pierce my skin."
"So, put them down, and let us fight as God intended, with our fists." Rhino added, gesturing toward the hole in the drywall where the man lay limp, a testament to his strength.
"Reggie, this guy-"
"We ain't got a choice, if the council finds out we just let this happen, we're all dead anyway," Reginald whispered, steeling his resolve along with the others who readied themselves for the mutant before them.
"OPEN FIRE!"
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
Bullets tore through the air, whistling toward Rhino in a deadly spiral of lead and gunpowder, the echoes roaring through the club like thunder.
Yet, as the guns clicked and spat their fire, each bullet that should have ripped through his flesh simply skidded off harmlessly, bouncing around the hardened mutant.
Morgan waved his hands frantically through the haze, trying to clear the view, only to see Rhino standing perfectly still, unscathed.
As his warning suddenly became a reality.
"Do you not listen?" Rhino's deep voice rumbled through the Stork Club as he stepped forward, his massive hand wrapping around Reginald's head with terrifying ease to use him as an example.
SPLAT
A sickening sound echoed in front of the men Reginald considered brothers.
The guards froze, their eyes wide in horror, as blood and brain matter splattered across themselves and the polished floors already littered with crumpled bullets.
"Now, if you don't want to die a horrible death, show me you're a man and charge at me without your useless weapons." Rhino said, casually using Reginald's bloodied shirt to wipe his massive hands as his gaze swept over the remaining guards.
Without another moment's hesitation, the guards' weapons slowly clattered to the floor, their trembling hands letting go of everything they held as fear rooted them in place.
"Oh fck, oh fck~" One guard wheezed, tossing his pistol aside and pacing frantically while clutching his head.
"Poor Reginald-" Morgan murmured, shaking his head at his fallen guard, a twinge of empathy showing despite the betrayal.
"THAT'S NOT EVEN HIS F*CKING NAME!" The guard screamed at Morgan, pulling at his hair in exasperation as the chaos around him spiraled further out of control.
"HIS NAME WAS REGGIE, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!" The guard screeched, utterly bewildered at how someone so powerful could be so clueless.
"Isn't Reggie an abbreviation for Reginald-"
"YES, IT IS, BUT AS ALL OF US HAVE CONSTANTLY TOLD YOU, IT SAYS REGGIE ON HIS F*CKING BIRTH CERTIFICATE!" The man roared, wasting his last moments of life on a useless topic as Rhino raised an eyebrow at this foolish path.
"That doesn't make any sense, why would someone name their kid an abbreviation?" Morgan laughed, shaking his head at the absurdity before him.
"And, does it really matter anymore-"
"NO SHT, HE JUST KILLED REGINALD-REGGIE-FCK!" The guard screamed, cutting himself off mid-curse as he realized he'd almost called him by the wrong name.
"Oh man, I knew I should've been a dancer~" the man wailed, pressing his hands over his eyes as if trying to shield himself from the horrifying reality before him.
"I knew it, I knew-"
BAM
Before the guard could protest further, Rhino's fist connected, sending him hurtling into the drywall where his body crumpled in a sickening thud.
BAM
Another guard tried to intervene, but Rhino, now visibly irritated by the panicked antics, dispatched him just as easily, leaving him slumped against the floor.
"Anyone else?" Rhino asked, turning back toward the huddle of guards, whose eyes nervously met one another.
CLANK
One by one, every weapon they had brandished in a desperate attempt to intimidate Ricky clattered to the floor.
Rhino's lips curled into a slow, menacing smile as the sound echoed through the room, leaving the guards frozen in silent dread.
"Now, show me your strength."
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The horde of guards screamed in unison, charging toward Rhino with wild desperation, their footsteps pounding against the floor like thunder.
Rhino planted his feet firmly, muscles coiled and eyes narrowing, every ounce of his massive frame radiating controlled power as he prepared to meet their assault head-on.
BAM
Rhino swung his massive arm with terrifying precision, the air itself seeming to shudder under the force.
The first wave of guards collided with his fist, bodies ricocheting off one another like ragdolls, some crashing into walls, others skidding across the polished floor with sickening thuds.
"AHHHHHHHHH!" A guard screamed, soaring through the air as a portal materialized at Morgan's side.
"The hell?" Lucky muttered, turning to see the man clutching his chest, struggling for breath, before his eyes shifted to the colossal figure behind the chaos.
"My god," Lucky whispered, watching Rhino lift a man effortlessly and swing him into the others like a human battering ram.
"Did he say something yet-oh, Rhino." Ricky realized he'd missed a moment, hurrying after Lucky, only to see him frozen, staring at Rhino hurling a man into the oncoming horde of guards.
"That's just Rhino. But this," Ricky said, slinging an arm around Lucky's shoulder and steering him away from the insane sight.
"This man is J.P. Morgan Jr." Rciky gestured towards Morgan, who beamed with a proud, almost oblivious smile.
"Greetings, Mr. Luciano. I am John Pierpont Morgan Junior." Morgan said, extending his hand with a polite, practiced smile.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, but you can just call me Lucky," Lucky replied, shaking his hand firmly as Morgan nodded, clearly pleased by the polite tone.
"What a fascinating name you have." Morgan exclaimed, marveling at a name he had never seen someone adorn before.
"No, it's just what people called me back in the day, my real name is Charles-"
"But you said only moments ago your name was Lucky?" Morgan asked, turning toward Ricky with a bemused smile, as if his adopted father was playing a poorly conducted trick on him.
"Are you for real?" Lucky raised an eyebrow at the heir of the Morgan dynasty, a man who was supposed to be wrapped in as much mystery as wealth.
Throughout his time in the financial world, Lucky had gradually come to a glaring realization: barely anyone had ever laid eyes on the man before them.
He was supposedly a recluse, when in reality, he had been deliberately hidden away.
And now, it was becoming increasingly clear as to why.
"Don't indulge, it's a rabbit hole." Alexander warned Lucky, shaking his head from Ricky's coat pocket.
"Much like this conversation," Morgan laughed, Ricky joining in, while Lucky's expression twisted into disbelief.
This was the richest man in America.
And he was a complete idiot.
"Now, I'm assuming you're the one in charge, since your son here brought you to me," Morgan chuckled, raising his nose into the air as Lucky just gave him a blank, dumbfounded look.
"Let's talk merger. Your Negro bank is vastly underwhelming, but Ricky tells me you have a way of making me untouchable, just like you've made your son." Morgan continued, immediately assuming Lucky was the mastermind behind it all.
All while Lucky's gaze shifted slowly to Ricky, who simply smirked.
'Really?' Lucky had to ask again, mouthing the word as Ricky casually held up his thumb.
"Yep, Lucky's exactly like you, behind the scenes while everyone does the boring stuff for them." Ricky said immediately, nodding at Morgan as if confirming a truth the older man had suspected all along.
"Ah, I see, I see," Morgan murmured, tapping his nose thoughtfully, clearly piecing together why Lucky had been brought here in the first place.
"You really want to merge?" Lucky asked, raising an eyebrow at Morgan, skepticism etched across his face as it honestly didn't seem practical to him.
"Yes, well, the president has-"
Meanwhile, as Rhino methodically tore through the remaining guards, Lucky found himself silently absorbing Morgan's long-winded rant.
It was a painstakingly detailed account of just how perilous a man could be when he failed to recognize his own stupidity.
To put it bluntly, the kingmaker family, ironically, had become a puppet of the very Council of Nine that Morgan's father had founded.
Morgan's rambling extended to the point where Lucky had been staring at him in complete silence for the past five minutes, struggling to process how someone like this could even exist in their world.
"It's like taking candy from a retarded kid." Lucky whispered to Ricky, trying to keep his voice low as he watched him stifle a laugh.
"No way, this is totally easier." Ricky whispered back, nudging Lucky's shoulder as the old mobster frowned.
"You're right, the retarded kid would probably make those retard sounds to call out for help when he's getting robbed-"
SNORT
Ricky laughed harder, Lucky shaking his head as he turned back to Morgan, who was still chattering away, completely oblivious to the one-sidedness of the conversation.
"Aye, but do you got this cause I need to get back and get my soul sucked out of me by Raven-"
"I got it, stop," Lucky rolled his eyes, watching Ricky nudge him amid another round of laughter as he stood up.
"Are you leaving?" Morgan asked, watching Ricky straighten and button his suit.
"Yeah, I've got a date I'm not missing for the world." Ricky replied, watching Morgan slowly nod in understanding.
"And besides, this is the real guy behind the scenes, he's way better than talking to me-"
"Slick-"
"In fact, don't be afraid to just call him randomly in the night-"
"SLICK!" Lucky hissed, swinging his cane at him as Ricky ducked just in time.
"What about in the early morning—"
"That too!" Ricky laughed, sprinting away from the chaos he'd just started, leaving Lucky fuming.
"You motherf*cker!" Lucky yelled, hurling his cane at Ricky, who caught it effortlessly before using it to stride over to Rhino.
"So, about my problem with Smedly Butler-"
"Slick over there will handle it, he's in that line of business, after all." Lucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to process the mess Ricky had just stirred.
"But I thought he was in our line of business-"
"No, it's a figure of-"
SIGH
"He's gonna handle it." Lucky sighed again, rubbing his distressed features as Morgan slowly nodded.
"Now where was I-oh, so, my thoughts on trains are as follow-"
Ricky smiled widely, earning a sharp glare from Lucky who turned back into Morgan's endless rambling as he glanced over at Rhino, who was wiping his massive hands clean.
"Have I proved myself?" Rhino asked, tossing the now-bloody rag aside and turning to Ricky.
"By flying f*cking colors, damn!" Ricky yelled, eyes wide as he took in Rhino effortlessly dismantling around thirty armed men without so much as a scratch or even a drop of sweat.
Suddenly, a portal shimmered open, and after a moment, Lil Tony poked his head through, his brow furrowed in confusion as he took in the chaotic scene before him.
"Boss, was I supposed to come in-"
"Yeah, get in here." Ricky said, tugging Lil Tony fully through the portal and into the chaos of the club.
"What the f*ck is that?" Lil Tony muttered, eyes locking on Rhino, who merely raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow.
"Don't worry about him. I need you to speed sh*t up on the D.C. front," Ricky said, steering Lil Tony to the side, away from the carnage.
"Anything boss, just name it."
"Okay, so, when you go to D.C-"
5 minutes later,
"Oh, and could you get some guys to clean this up?" Ricky asked, gesturing toward the thirty sprawled men as Lil Tony blinked, still trying to process what was just asked of him.
"Our way or-"
"Our way. I don't want this getting out," Ricky whispered, nodding toward Rhino, who was now leisurely drinking vodka straight from the bottle.
"Alright, boss, I'll handle it." Lil Tony swallowed hard, his voice barely steady, but he nodded in agreement.
"That's why you're my guy!" Ricky grinned, grabbing his face briefly before stepping back.
"Rhino, starting today, you work for the foundation!" Ricky called out, opening another portal. Rhino nodded firmly.
"I am at your call whenever you need me." Rhino said, taking a swig of vodka before letting his gaze linger on the bottle since it had been better than he expected.
"That's what I like to hear!" Ricky said, clapping his hands as he stepped through the portal, leaving the chaos in the hands of those under him.
"And I am taking this bottle, for my mother." Rhino said to Lil Tony, watching the younger man look around before turning his gaze back to him.
"Russia?" Lil Tony asked, catching the accent in Rhino's tone.
"Have you ever seen another man who isn't from the motherland drink vodka like this?" Rhino asked genuinely, tilting his head as Lil Tony just scoffed.
"You clearly ain't ever seen Slick drink before."
Meanwhile At Raven's House,
"Alexander-"
"I understand." Alexander popped out of Ricky's pocket and scurried off to the side.
"Aye, watch out for the birds-"
"If an empire can crumble under the weight of my words, then a bird shall cower under my gaze," Alexander replied, slowly donning his armor and diving into the nearby bushes.
"Fair enough." Ricky said, walking toward the house while rubbing his hands together.
Then, with a slow push, he opened the door to reveal a trail of rose petals scattered across the floor, winding all the way up the stairs.
"Oh yeah~"
Author's Note: Yeah, sorry about that guys I just couldn't for hte life of me write this chapter, I was just blanking so goddamnhard and I am really sorry for how long it f*cking took. Idk, sometimes I get writers block and I just cant for hte life of me get it write.