Ficool

Chapter 238 - Chapter 225: Sacrificial Lamb

Later that night,

"Gentlemen, the time is now." 

The words echoed from a second-generation shanty, who glanced around the room filled with his brethren. 

But instead of the smiles he expected to see, he was met with nervous stares and bowed heads.

"Paddy, t-this-" an Irishman stammered, nearly choking on his own words at the thought of what he was suggesting.

"This is our destiny!" Paddy finished, his eyes bright with excitement as he pumped his fist, as if his single-minded resolve could erase their hesitation.

Patrick "Paddy" O'Rourke was a man who rose to prominence on the ruins of others. 

The Irish Massacre and the fall of Owney Madden had left the Irish community across the greater Tri-State area utterly crippled, yet not all consequences were negative. 

Men like Paddy were the ones to profit from the Luciano family's ruthless eradication of the Irish mob.

Every downfall, every life lost, every shattered business was a stepping stone for him. 

And now, standing at the precipice of opportunity, Paddy wanted nothing more than to seize it, as if all that suffering had happened for this singular, decisive moment.

"Paddy, h-he's a monster." Another Irishman stammered, barely able to force Ricky's name past his lips.

"We can't stand against someone like that-"

"To stand against Ricky Luciano is to stand on the right side of history," Paddy declared, gesturing with passion, though his cold eyes lingered hatefully on the hesitation etched into their faces.

"And this is how we finally carve our names into its annals," Paddy laughed, tossing a piece of paper onto the table as two dozen men crowded around, their eyes fixed on it.

"A-A piece of paper-"

"No, you idiot! Look at what's written on it!" Paddy snapped, shaking his head as the Irishman lowered his gaze in embarrassment.

"A shipment?" Another asked, leaning forward as his eyes scanned the paper that seemed to detail an incoming delivery.

"Where did you get this-"

"It doesn't matter. What really matters is what that shipment is." Paddy waved his hand dismissively at the how, forcing their attention onto the why.

"A gold mine, gentlemen," Paddy revealed, chuckling at their blank faces, as though savoring the way his words deliberately sank into their expressions.

"Narcotics, but more specifically, opium." 

"The Luciano family is gonna sell opium?" An Irishman in the back asked, his voice trembling as his eyes widened in shock.

The weight of their shock carried a meaning far deeper than it would in the future, shaped entirely by the gravity of their era.

By the 1930s, heroin already carried a very dark reputation in the United States and much of the Western world. 

By 1936, it was deeply feared both by authorities and the public, though its actual street presence was smaller than it would become in later decades. 

What made it especially frightening in that era was the sense that it was still a new and unknown poison.

Heroin had only been banned outright in 1924, meaning that the addicts who appeared on city streets in the thirties were the first true generation to come of age under its shadow. 

Unlike alcohol or even morphine, which society had long experience with, heroin had no familiar social setting, no respectable medical defense left.

And that unfamiliarity only magnified the fear.

"He can't, he-" 

"He already has." Paddy said with a smile, realizing he had found the spark to sway their ashen faces.

"We must stop him, we must defend our community!" Paddy cried passionately, lunging at the opportunity to bend their fear toward his own desire.

"Don't you see? This is our chance to finally prove to the streets, to the city, and to the world that we are not forgotten!" Paddy exclaimed, his eyes alight with the dream of seeing himself at the head of the Irish community in place of Fogwell.

"The Luciano family doesn't plan to just sell it to those dirty negroes, but to us, to our friends, our family." Paddy's words cut into the room, stirring their fear and leaving them cornered, almost forced to take a side.

"Gentlemen, we don't have a choice anymore, our lives mean nothing if our culture is reduced to hollow shells from that poison." Paddy declared, lying through his teeth as he riled them up as heroes, when in truth their actions would ultimately ruin and turn them into mere cannon fodder.

"We must act, WE MUST ACT!" Paddy roared, his voice rising higher and higher until he was screaming at the top of his lungs.

"TONIGHT, WE CHANGE THE WAY THIS CITY LOOKS AT OUR COMMUNITY—FOREVER!"

The Irishmen erupted into cheers, lured by the promise of glory, blind to the truth of what their people truly longed for. 

Their shouts rattled the walls, their fists beat against the table, their voices rose as if sheer volume could drown out the doubts gnawing inside them. 

They were drunk on visions of honor and revenge, swept into a frenzy that painted them as saviors when, in truth, they were little more than pawns of Paddy's ambition.

Yet beyond that room, steeped in the shadows of their own making, a light endured.

In this light lived the Irish who had borne years of oppression and brutality under the Luciano family, who wanted no part in another war that would bleed them dry.

They longed only for one thing: Peace.

"The time is now."

The words, almost mirroring Paddy's, echoed from the light of the Irish community as Fogwell looked out at not just two dozen men, but hundreds.

Cramped into the Roman Catholic church, he faced his people, his community, with an uncertainty of how they would take the news. 

In truth, he had expected nervous expressions, bowed heads, the weight of years under violence, and the humiliation of once again bending to a family that had only brought them pain.

He had expected shame.

Yet all he saw were smiles.

"A-Are you serious?" a polished Irishman asked, his accent nearly that of a native New Yorker, a smile spreading across his face as if he couldn't help himself.

"Yes, I've received word from a trusted source that Ricky Luciano has extended his hand to finally end this feud." Fogwell gulped, once again bracing for angry shouts, but all he saw was relief.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The man laughed, clapping his hands together, and soon the entire church erupted into what could only be described as a joyous celebration.

The reality was simple. 

None of these blue-collar workers wanted to fight someone like Ricky Luciano; in fact, only the utterly insane or hopelessly incompetent would even think of going head-to-head with him in their minds.

Though the Shantys and the Lace-Curtains held their own prejudices, they began embracing one another as the seemingly forced hatred between them came to an end as the idea of peace washed over them.

In recent years, the Luciano family had grown increasingly brutal toward their community, punishing not just the troublemakers but all the hardworking Irishmen whose lives had been disrupted by those bad eggs among them.

"Mrs. Donnelly, what does this mean?" A gorgeous redheaded girl asked, tugging at the old woman's sleeve as she quickly turned toward her.

"It means our struggles are over, Eileen!" Mrs. Donnelly exclaimed, pulling her into a tight embrace. 

Eileen looked shocked for a moment, then quickly returned the hug, happy for the old woman who had been nothing but kind to her.

"What struggles?" another striking redhead asked, turning toward the old woman, who glanced at the small group of beautiful women sitting curiously in the row.

"I almost forgot!" Mrs. Donnelly laughed, jumping with sheer excitement.

"I know you've only recently come here from Ireland, but the Luciano family has been a shadow over our community for years," Mrs. Donnelly continued, quickly trying to familiarize the young women with why everyone was cheering.

However, as she spoke, these women, seemingly kissed by nature itself, listened patiently, their calm smiles never fading under the described horrors of the Luciano family. 

But the more Mrs. Donnelly spoke of Ricky Luciano, the wider their smiles grew, until Eileen's green eyes darted to them, and they all nodded in quiet agreement.

"Mrs. Donnelly, who is going to deliver this good news-"

"Quiet, everyone! Quiet!" Fogwell shouted, raising his hands to calm the budding excitement.

"I know this is cause for celebration, but nothing is confirmed yet-"

"Are you kidding me? This is our chance, Mr. Fogwell!" A Shanty yelled, his Irish accent thick as he tossed his hat into the air.

"Mr. Fogwell, we're starved for work, but with the factory bringing in men by the dozens, we'll finally be able to get in!" Another Shanty laughed, tears streaming down his face at the thought that his family might finally have a decent meal if he could secure a job at the Lucky Corporation.

Finding work had long been a struggle for Irish-Americans, especially since the only companies hiring on a large scale seemed to deliberately exclude them. 

This was the silent punishment of the Luciano family: a system that, though almost unbelievable, often left African Americans treated better than them in New York.

SIGH

Fogwell could only heave a sigh, unable to smile like the others, for he knew the cruelty of the Luciano family better than any of them could ever imagine.

"Then I will be taking a handful of people with me to the Luciano family tomorrow, to represent all of us-"

"I'd like to throw my hat in!" a man exclaimed, lunging at the opportunity and actually tossing his hat toward Fogwell.

"Why would Ricky Luciano wanna talk to someone as smug as-"

"At least I won't be dirty-"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY YOU F*CKING CURTAIN-" 

"YOU AND ALL YOUR GREENHORNS ARE DIRTY-"

"ENOUGH!" Fogwell roared, his anger boiling over and immediately silencing their internal hate.

Though technically a Lace-Curtain, he had long despised how they treated their fellow Irishmen.

"There will be none of that in the house of our Lord! Do you all understand?" Fogwell warned, swiping his finger across them as if to drive the point home.

"Yes, Mr. Fogwell." The two men bowed, lowering their heads in respect towards the last pillar of their community.

"Now, along with Father O'Maley, I will be taking-"

But before Fogwell could finish, the church erupted into a heated debate, drowning out his words. 

Everyone wanted the chance to stand before Ricky Luciano, eager to reap the greatest benefits by being the first one to duck their heads.

Meanwhile, in a warehouse, the very place where everything was about to change suddenly had four words, seemingly repeated countless times, rang out once more.

"Don't f*ck this up." 

The words came from none other than Lil Tony's right hand, Sal, who fixed his gaze on the five standing rigidly before him, while the made men of the family inspected the truck to make sure everything was in order.

 As they closed the rear doors, one of the men accidentally left a strap dangling, but he merely shrugged since it was still sealed shut, after all.

"Seriously, Slick is just giving you guys this on a silver platter." Sal muttered, scanning the paper only to confirm that there wasn't a single catch 22 on this assignment.

"And Benny." Sal added, slowly lowering the paper to lock eyes with the blond-haired, blue-eyed kid staring at him with a deadpan expression.

"Congrats, I heard Slick's gonna make you." Sal laughed, patting his shoulder as the made men hollered from the side.

"Benny with a Y!" One called out, the others laughing at the nickname, but all aware it was a mark of respect, given by none other than Ricky himself.

"Thank you," Benny said simply, bowing his head in respect as Sal ruffled his hair.

"Don't forget about us when you reach the top, alright?" Sal joked, patting his cheek, bringing his head back up, and giving him a wink.

"I won't." Benny vowed, already burning the sight of the men before him into his memory.

"Oh yeah, what's my name-" one of the men at the side joked, trying to bust his balls, only to be interrupted.

"Jimbo," Benny said flatly, turning toward the man, who immediately flinched as the other made men cackled.

"W-What-WE'VE NEVER EVEN MET!" Jimbo yelled, almost confused at how Benny even knew his name.

Instead of answering, Benny slowly turned back to Sal, who was completely hysterical, clutching his stomach.

"All right, we'll get out of your hair," Sal chuckled, wiping at the tears threatening to fall from his eyes as he gestured toward his guys at the side.

"Good luck, if you even need it!" Sal called, waving at Benny while exiting the warehouse. 

To them, and to the rest of the family, it seemed almost a waste to assign someone as capable as him to such an easy job.

But it was an order from the boss so they didn't even question it.

"Aye, don't f*ck this up!" Jimbo warned, trying to intimidate Benny, only for another made man to shove him forward.

"If the kid can remember your f*cking name, then he can watch a truck-"

"What's that supposed to me-"

"He's saying you ain't someone to remember in the first place!" Another mobster laughed, yanking his pants down as Jimbo immediately grabbed them and gave chase.

After that, the made men slowly exited the warehouse, and once the doors finally closed behind them, three of the rogues let out the breaths they'd been holding.

"How the f*ck are you so calm?" David shouted, actually cursing as he paced across the floor, hands on his face to shield the fear coursing through it.

"That was Salvatore 'Sal' Romano!" Paolo yelled, unable to contain his excitement and terror at the same time.

"I don't understand." Benny said flatly, staring blankly at Paolo as Jeremiah stepped to his side.

"Me neither, guy looked like a fat gym teacher-"

"If Vito or Johnny are bloodhounds, Sal's the guy who disposes of their kills." Louis said, his face nearly pale, knowing all too well what that man's position meant.

Salvatore 'Sa' Romano wasn't a name that ever appeared in the papers, nor was it the public's business to know he existed. 

His presence was a shadow, a ghost within the Luciano family, known only to those who had reason to fear him.

His sole purpose was to make bodies disappear.

And he was so ruthlessly efficient that even Lil Tony himself didn't know where they were buried.

Rumor even had it that the reason the general public never panicked at the complete annihilation of rival mob families was precisely because of Sal; he evidently made the dead vanish without a trace, leaving nothing but whispers and unanswered questions in his wake.

"Oh," Jeremiah said, rubbing the back of his neck as he could never imagine doing such a job.

Yet he couldn't help but respect the sheer will it took to make a corpse disappear, over and over again.

"Well, do you guys want to play some cards while we wait?" Paolo asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a deck.

"I don't wanna play poker, Benny's a cheat." Jeremiah scowled, side-eyeing Benny, who simply stood in place, surveying the warehouse.

"What kinda guy bluffs on a 2 and a 7-"

"A psycho," David muttered, crossing his arms, a look of sadness etched onto his face at all the money he'd lost to him.

"I didn't think all of you would fold," Benny said, nodding to himself as he stared into the distance before returning his gaze to Louis.

"We'll play twenty one, the five of us-"

"Six." Benny interrupted, holding up six fingers instead of the five they were all expecting.

"Huh?" Louis asked, his brow furrowed in confusion as Benny pointed to the side.

"Marco followed us here and has been hiding over there this whole time-"

"WHAT!" Paolo screamed, following the direction of Benny's finger toward the operations floor, shielded from the warehouse storage area by a wall.

"Uh, surprise?" Marco chuckled nervously, slowly dipping his head out of the nearby door he was peaking through this entire time.

SIGH

"Why didn't you say anything?" Louis asked genuinely, facepalming as he directed the question at Benny of all people.

"I thought you all knew he was here-"

"WHY WOULD WE KNOW THAT!" David screamed, panicking. Ricky had clearly told him Marco wasn't supposed to be here.

"He was tailing us all the way from the docks," Benny said, casually walking over to grab a table for the card game, as if nothing were wrong.

"Here's the thing-"

"No." Paolo said, chuckling at Marco as if his presence alone was enough to laugh at.

"But-"

"NO!" Paolo screamed, completely torn between joining David's panicking or unleashing his rage on Marco.

"Slick's gonna kick our asses if he finds out you're here-"

"He won't, I swear." Marco quickly interrupted, stopping the thought in its tracks as if he actually believed the words alone would actually calm them down.

"Oh, you swear." Paolo said sarcastically, turning to the others, who immediately joined in.

"Guys, did you hear that? He swears!" Paolo exclaimed dramatically, gesturing toward Marco, who immediately frowned at his tone.

"Wow, can't argue with that." Jeremiah said, laughing at the absurdity of Marco even being here.

"For a second there, I thought all of this was gonna go completely wrong. Glad Marco swears," David said nervously, barely joining in on the fun as he slowly took a seat, burying his head in his hands.

"Me too, since Johnny won't totally smack us in the face." Louis said, faking a sigh of relief as he rubbed the back of his head.

"I'm serious-"

"Guys, he's serious!" 

This continued for around five minutes, Marco simply standing there with his arms crossed as the four of them repeatedly badgered him with one sarcastic comment after another.

Until finally, Benny finished setting up the table and chairs.

"Does anyone know how to bridge?" Benny asked, turning to the others, who were still laughing hysterically in Marco's face.

"I know how to bridge-"

"Guys, he knows how to bridge-"

"I GET IT!" Marco screamed, watching Paolo roll on the ground, clutching his stomach since his anger and fear immediately melted away into mocking laughter.

"All I'm asking is to just tag along. I swear I won't get in your way," Marco said, turning his gaze to each of them before finally landing on Benny.

"Shuffle the deck," Benny said, sitting down in the chair at the center and staring ahead at the empty dealer's seat.

"Benny, please-"

"Do any of you know how to bridge?" Benny asked again, turning to them as they all immediately went silent.

"Then shuffle the cards, Marco."

"I swear you won't regret it-"

"Shuffle the cards." 

2 hours later,

BAM

"This is bullsh*t!" Paolo yelled, slamming his hand on the table and pointing an accusatory finger at Benny.

Benny, whose pile of peanuts stretched far above the others, casually slid a few more into it, drawing incredulous stares from the rest of the table.

"You've gotta be cheating! There ain't no way!" Paolo exclaimed, gripping his hair and glaring at the pile before him.

"I'm happy it ain't my money, but now I'm sad 'cause I'm hungry," David muttered under his breath, staring sadly at Benny's pile of peanuts before glancing down at his own empty side of the table.

Suddenly, Benny dropped a handful of peanuts into his lap as David's eyes lit up, and like the sucker he was, he immediately pushed them all forward.

"Alright, I swear I'm gonna win this time-"

"You said that last time." Jeremiah sighed, his gaze slowly trailing over to his small size bunch of peanuts.

"Seriously, Benny, are you cheating?" Louis asked, frowning at the three peanuts in front of him.

"I thought counting cards wasn't cheating-"

BAM

"IT'S TOTALLY CHEATING!" Paolo screamed, slamming his hands that were once gripping his hair, onto the table.

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW HE WAS DOING SOMETHING, AND I WANT A REFUND OF MY PEANUTS-"

"How are you even counting the cards? I literally learned seven riffle shuffles just to stop Slick from cheating," Marco frowned, staring at Benny as if he were a monster. It should have been impossible to count cards.

"Let's just play something else-"

"Wait," Jeremiah suddenly said, standing up as an alarm bell went off in his head.

Click

Benny yanked his gun free from his waist, the hammer of the revolver snapping back with a sharp click as he turned toward the direction Jeremiah was staring.

"What-" David quickly asked, jerking his back side to side while pulling out his own gun.

"Something's tripped my alarm spell," Jeremiah said, squinting, his features tightening as he focused on the spell's activation.

"It's probably a cat-"

"Only a large animal the size of a human could trigger it," Jeremiah explained calmly, his grimoires slowly floating around him.

"What if it was a horse-"

"Marco, stay here and guard the truck," Benny said, standing and walking forward alongside Jeremiah before glancing back.

"David watch the left windows, Paolo check the right windows-" Benny started giving out orders, moving with purpose as he led them across the warehouse toward the front area.

The space was divided into two sections: the storage area behind them and the operations floor ahead, separated by a sturdy divider they now crossed through. 

As they stepped onto the operations floor, Jeremiah began casting detection spells toward the front entrance, his grimoires hovering and spinning, glowing faintly with his mana.

Meanwhile, Benny directed Louis to keep an eye on the entrance, scanning for any unexpected movement. 

However, as Jeremiah neared the closer entrance, his squinted eyes slowly widened at the realization of what had triggered the alarm.

"Sh*t-"

BOOOOM

An explosion tore through the entrance, the force hurling Jeremiah backward. 

His spells shattered under the blast, and his body skidded violently across air within the operations floor, the impact rattling the air and sending debris flying behind him.

BAM

"ARGH!" Jeremiah grunted in pain, crashing into Benny, who dove to minimize the impact.

Together, they tumbled backward, sliding across the floor with the force of the blast.

"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK-" David screamed toward Marco in the back, trying desperately to alert him, but his warning would come with dire consequences.

BANG

BANG

BANG

In the next instant, bullets shredded the air, cutting through David's words as Tommy guns unleashed a hail of fire across the area.

SPLAT

"Huh?" David's words caught in his throat as he exhaled sharply, his gaze dropping to see his wife beater suddenly drenched in scarlet.

"DAVID!" Paolo screamed, watching him stumble backward and crash hard onto the pavement, clutching his side.

"LOUIS-" Benny yelled, bloodshot eyes locked on a figure already darting forward.

"I GOT IT!" Louis shouted, sprinting in front of David and planting himself as bullets tore into him.

DINK

DINK

Gritting his teeth, Louis held his ground, bullets raining into his body and dropping onto the floor while Paolo ducked under the hail of gunfire, sprinting toward David, who was coughing up blood.

"Benny, it's f*cking bad!" Paolo screamed, tears streaming as he dragged the bleeding David toward him.

"Bring him to Jeremiah!" Benny yelled, ducking behind a crate shredded by bullets, his eyes scanning the chaos as if waiting for something.

Louis stepped in front of Paolo, guiding David to the side as his hot blood smeared across the concrete.

"Can you cast?" Benny asked, turning to Jeremiah, who held his left arm, half-burned, but slowly nodded, grim determination in his eyes.

"Yeah-"

"Heal him and attack when I give the signal." Benny ordered, turning his head toward Paolo as he lunged with David toward the nearby crates.

COUGH

David hacked violently, blood spraying across Paolo, who froze as the warm crimson splattered onto his pale face.

SLAP

Without wasting a second, Benny slapped Paolo across the face.

"Don't." Benny's eyes locked onto Paolo's, watching the boy's PTSD resurface before he shoved it back down.

"W-What lunatic would attack us?" Louis stammered, pulling out his pistol and trying to peek, only to duck as a roaring wave of bullets slammed into the spot where he had just been.

"The Irish." Benny guessed, sneering at the only people he had ever known to dare go against the Luciano family.

"What-"

Before Louis could ask how Benny had reached such a conclusion, a faint clicking echoed through the warehouse. 

And with that single sound, Benny's body shot upright.

"Jeremaih!" 

"Fire lance!" Jeremiah didn't hesitate, pouring mana into his red grimoire, the one not occupied with healing David, to unleash the spell.

BOOM

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" 

Screams erupted as the fire lance slammed into the entrance, killing two men instantly as the blast caused an array of thick, choking smoke billowing through the entrance of the warehouse.

The Irishmen scrambled through the haze, coughing and disoriented, their panic growing with every step.

Then, through the swirling gray, a figure emerged: Benny.

No hesitation. 

Not even a single cough. 

Only Benny, stepping through the smoke, his gun raised, the muzzle aimed at the first Irishman foolish enough to even glimpse at his reveal.

"HE'S-"

BANG

A single echo of gunpowder ripped through the air as the bullet struck the first shadowy Irishman in Benny's line of sight. 

The haze from the fire lance blurred the figure, leaving Benny uncertain if the shot had truly landed.

But doubt alone didn't slow him. 

Without hesitation, he had already cocked back the hammer from his revolver.

"AHHHHHHHH-"

Then fired again.

BANG

The figure dropped, and Benny's eyes locked forward with brutal clarity. 

As the smoke slowly dissipated, it revealed the Irishmen he had so accurately predicted, caught mid-reload, their vulnerability laid bare. 

They were exposed. 

Completely, exposed.

BANG

BANG

BANG

BANG

Benny fired four times in rapid succession, unleashing every bullet his revolver could hold. 

With it, three men crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Each shell casing falling from his gun marked another step forward, undeterred even by the empty clicks of his revolver as he continued his slow pace.

The Irishmen scrambled to reload their Tommy guns, panic rippling through every movement, when one cursed under his breath.

"F*ck this!" A man shouted, tossing his Tommy gun aside and drawing a pistol from his coat.

BANG

However, when the Irishman pulled the trigger, the bullet screamed toward Benny's head, and still, his blue eyes remained unblinking.

DINK

Because Louis had already reached him, palm outstretched, perfectly intercepting the shot and shielding Benny.

"ARE YOU MAD-" Louis screamed, stepping fully in front of him to act as a human shield, only for Benny to snatch his pistol from his hand.

BANG

Louis winced as the shot tore through the air, his ears ringing while Benny flipped the gun over his shoulder, firing with precision as if using Louis as cover.

SPLAT*

The bullet slammed into the man's throat, the force driving him backward as he crumpled to the ground, clutching his neck in shock while backing up into the alleyway all the Irishmen were stationed in.

"I got David, go!" Jeremiah yelled, his face paling under the strain of pouring so much mana into David's bleeding body.

"But-"

"GO!"

"F*ck!" Paolo muttered, yanking out his pistol as he scrambled to stand behind the crates.

BANG

BANG

Two shots rang out to the side, covering Benny's blind spot as the psychopathic blond-haired kid continued advancing toward the Irishmen.

"SOMEONE SHOOT THAT KID-"

BANG

SPLAT

Brain matter sprayed as the Irishman's head was pierced and Benny stepped closer, his calm, deliberate pace unbroken, as the man's lifeless body slumped against the wall of the alleyway.

"Drop your weapons or I'll continue." Benny loud enough for the people outside to hear, unfettered in his movements as if only stopping after they confirmed it.

"ARE YOU INSA-"

BANG

BANG

Benny didn't let the man finish. 

One bullet tore into his chest, sending him stumbling back against the alleyway wall alongside his buddy, a final shot smearing his brain across the surface like grotesque graffiti.

As Benny systematically dismantled the clumsily formed group of reckless Irishmen, chaos unfolded around him with terrifying precision.

In the back, Marco kept watch, his breath loud enough to cut through the relentless roar of bullets.

Huff

Huff

His chest heaved, exhaustion pressing down on him, ears ringing under the storm of gunfire.

Though it had been mentioned briefly before, during the exchange between Alina and Ricky, Marco had another reason for isolating himself in his room for so long. 

To put it bluntly, Paolo wasn't the only one haunted by that long, terrible night.

Marco could barely sleep.

He could barely eat.

He could barely think about anything else except the memory that clawed at him relentlessly.

He felt so small.

He felt so helpless.

But most of all, he felt so powerless.

The entire reason he had wanted to join the Luciano family was to reclaim some fragment of the power that had always seemed just out of reach in his own life.

To reclaim that power which had slipped away that night, and had never returned.

Yet Ricky had been right.

He wasn't ready.

Sniff

Tears welled in Marco's eyes as he lowered his hands from his ears, rubbing at them as if he could erase the fear and exhaustion etched into his very nerves.

And then he heard it, the most dreadful sound.

Crack

Marco froze, even amidst the gunfire, his eyes locking onto a man who had accidentally stepped on a shard of glass.

"Hello, laddy-"

"S-S-Stop!" Marco stammered, reaching for his side and drawing his gun, managing to beat Paddy to the draw.

"D-DON'T!" Marco yelled, eyes wide as he watched Paddy's hand inch toward his coat pocket, but the man froze at the muzzle pointed right at his forehead.

"Alright, alright~" Paddy said slowly, raising his hands with a forced grin, his gaze fixed on the teenager.

Clink

Clink

Clink

The bullets inside the revolver rattled violently as Marco's hands shook, his breathing growing more rapid with each passing second as Paddy slowly lifted his eyes to meet him with a knowing glance.

"You're not going to shoot me." Paddy said softly, almost assuring Marco he couldn't, and wouldn't, pull the trigger.

"STOP-"

"It's okay, you're not going to shoot me." Paddy said with a calm smile, resuming his steps and slowly making his way toward the truck.

"I'M WARNING YOU!" Marco screamed, the gun rattling violently in his palm as Paddy seemed to stretch farther and farther away with every heartbeat.

"Laddy, it's alright," Paddy chuckled, lowering his hands and striding confidently toward the truck, completely unfazed even as the muzzle followed his every move.

"Please!" Marco begged, tears welling in his eyes as his fingers trembled over the trigger, unable to summon the strength to fire.

"You had me scared there for a second," Paddy said, exhaling slowly as he opened the truck door as he turned back to Marco with a grin.

"Good thing you're not a killer." Paddy laughed, winking at the teenager before climbing into the car.

Even as the headlights flicked on, forcing him to flinch and jerk his shaking gun toward the driver's seat, his fingers refused to pull the trigger.

He froze.

'PULL THE TRIGGER, PULL IT!' Marco screamed in his head, seemingly trying to force down this trigger that felt so impossibly heavy.

But even as the car began to move, he remained rooted in place, frozen.

Finally, his knees gave out, and he sank to the ground, staring at his own trembling hand, which refused to pull the trigger, as tears streamed down his cheeks.

BAM

The truck slammed into the door, sending it flying in pieces as it roared backward, Paddy laughing hysterically, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOAH!" Paddy excitedly screamed, stomping the brakes and yanking the wheel hard to the side as the tires screeched across the pavement.

"BOYS, I GOT IT, I-"

But as Paddy drove the truck along the alleyway entrance, all he could see was Benny standing over the last of his men, crawling desperately across the ground while reaching out towards him.

BANG

Everything seemed to freeze in that instant. 

Benny and Paddy's eyes locked in a tense, silent standoff as the alleyway collapsed around them, leaving nothing but the space between.

It was as if neither had expected this outcome, as if the world itself had paused to witness the moment.

Then, everything resumed.

Paddy slowly turned his face forward, expression blank, while the roar of the truck's engine tore through the alleyway behind him.

Benny's face remained completely deadpan, his hollow eyes fixed on the spot where the truck had disappeared, leaving only the echo of screeching tires and a lingering haze of adrenaline in its wake.

"Was that the truck-BENNY!" Louis' words were cut off as he saw Benny suddenly bolt out of the alleyway, moving with a speed and purpose that made his heart skip.

"LOUIS, I-I DON'T HAVE A SPELL THAT CAN HEAL THIS WOUND!" Jeremiah screamed from behind, desperate for any direction about what to do. 

Louis' head spun in between the two options, eyes locking on Benny's back as he bolted out of the alleyway alone.

"BENNY'S F*CKING BENNY! HE'LL BE FINE!" Paolo yelled, yanking Louis back as they scrambled into the warehouse. 

Inside, David's pale, bloodied body was clutched tightly by Jeremiah, his hands trembling under the strain of keeping him alive. 

Blood coated the young warlock, his magic the only thing keeping David's heart beating against the tide of his hemorrhage.

"W-We need a car, he needs a hospital." Louis said quickly, clutching his head as the weight of the situation hit him. 

Then, a sudden realization struck.

"MARCO!" Louis screamed, spinning toward the others, whose eyes went wide at the implication of the truck being driven off.

"Oh sh*t." Paolo whispered, paling as he followed Louis toward the back, already bracing for the worst.

"Oh sh*t, oh sh*t-" Paolo muttered, watching Louis slam his body against the door as if any hesitation would waste a single second.

But instead of the bleeding figure they expected, imagining him barely clinging to life like David, they found Marco, crying, clutching the gun like it was a pacifier.

"Marco?" Louis blurted, sprinting to his side and checking his body, only to realize there wasn't a single wound.

"Are you-"

BAM

Louis' worried expression twisted as Paolo lunged, slamming a fist into Marco's cheek without a single ounce of hesitation in his swing.

"ARE YOU SH*TTING ME!" Paolo screeched, eyes bloodshot, grabbing the crying Marco by the collar and shaking him violently.

"YOU F*CKING COWARD, YOU F*CKING COWARD-"

"PAOLO-"

BAM

BAM

Paolo didn't even listen to Marco, slamming his fist repeatedly into the sobbing boy's face, as if he couldn't miss this chance only for Louis to immediately tackle him to the ground.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU-"

"David's f*cking dying!" Louis roared, slamming Paolo's head into the concrete as the boy started to cry too, though not from fear.

But from pure rage.

"HE-"

"I know, but if we don't get David to the hospital, he's going to die." Louis said hurriedly, trying to reason with Paolo, who was still venting his rage on the concrete with trembling fists.

HUFF

Huff

At Louis' words, Paolo's ragged breaths gradually steadied as he closed his eyes and slowly opened them again. 

"Okay." Paolo seethed, forcing all his strength and will away from the thought of hurting Marco before Louis finally let him go.

Immediately, however, Paolo stormed over to Marco, but instead of throwing a punch as Louis had expected, he wrenched the pistol from his hands.

"You didn't even fire a shot." Paolo laughed, his tone hollow as he flipped the revolver, confirming all six bullets were neatly in place.

Click

"You're a disgrace to the family," Paolo spat, his raised gaze watching Marco curl into a ball, shivering violently.

Without wasting another second on him, Paolo bolted back toward the operations floor, leaving Louis staring after him.

"Marco, you gotta get up-"

"LEAVE HIM, WE GOTTA GO!" Paolo yelled angrily, swiping his hands through the air and forcing Louis to make a choice.

"Paolo-"

"NOW!" Paolo barked, pressing the gun into the ground as if compelling Louis to pick a side.

"F*ck." Louis muttered, tearing his gaze away from Marco and running to make sure David didn't end up like the other runners, lifeless in the dirt.

All while Marco lay curled in his ball, holding himself while continuously muttering two words over and over again.

"Do something, do something-"

However, while the others were still trapped inside the warehouse, Benny had already made it onto the street.

A horn blared, as two headlights cut through the dawn, bearing down on him with a merciless glare that matched its driver.

"Aye, kid, get out of the-"

"Get out of the car, or I'll shoot you in the face," Benny said, pointing the empty gun at the driver's side, completely bluffing.

The man froze, eyes widening as he recognized Benny's features, and slowly raised his hands at the implication of what he represented.

"You're that kid, right?" The man asked, slowly easing himself out of the car as Benny shoved him aside.

"I-I don't want no trouble-"

"You won't get any," Benny cut him off, pulling back the clutch before slamming his foot onto the pedal.

VROOOOOOOM

The engine roared, as if alive with purpose, propelling the car forward down the road with every cylinder screaming for release.

Benny gripped the wheel like a man possessed, leaning into each turn with the reckless tenacity of his fighting style, tires screeching and hugging the asphalt as he weaved through traffic and dodged streetlights. 

His knuckles were white, sweat running down his temple, but nothing could stop his blue eyes darting around. 

But within those blue clouds was not a shred of fear, not a hint of hesitation, and not even a single whisper of reason behind the eyes that guided them.

The world blurred past in streaks of neon through the sky-streaked dawn, the road shrinking into a tunnel of pure adrenaline.

Until, finally, the truck appeared in view. 

Paddy, who had been staring blankly ahead after realizing all his friends and subordinates were dead, suddenly became aware of a tail as Benny closed in fast.

"You're kidding?" Paddy muttered, adjusting the mirror to catch Benny's vicious glare reflected back at him, flinching under the intensity.

Benny slammed the pedal forward, the engine screaming in response. 

He rolled down the window, swung himself onto the doorframe, and leaned out, one hand still gripping the wheel while the other braced against the car for balance. 

The tires screeched as Paddy stomped on the brakes, fully willing to crush Benny's car.

But Benny didn't hesitate. 

He leapt toward the truck, his body twisting unnaturally in the air, and just barely caught a convenient dangling strap from the back.

BAM

Benny's body slammed against the side of the truck, his teeth gnashing against the pain, but he gritted through it and grabbed the dangling strap with his free hand, slowly pulling himself towards the doors.

"How!?" Paddy yelled, twisting his head out the window to see Benny clinging on like a man possessed.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Paddy noticed there was no traffic on the bridge ahead and without a second thought, he ducked half his body out the window with his own pistol raised.

BANG

However, the bullet slammed into the truck, missing Benny completely as the oncoming wind threw off Paddy's aim.

Benny didn't even flinch, hauling himself toward the back of the truck and the goods inside, even as Paddy lined up his next shot.

"This is for my boys."

BANG

SPLAT

A bullet ripped through Benny's shoulder, his right arm instantly going limp as his body jerked backward awkwardly.

Time seemed to stretch, the world slowing around him as the truck grew smaller and smaller, disappearing into the distance, while gravity relentlessly yanked him downward, even as he reached out desperately toward it.

BAM

His body slammed into the water below, sending bubbles swirling around his unfocused gaze.

However, even submerged, his blue eyes seemed to trace the truck's descent, locked on it with unrelenting focus.

Minutes dragged by in the cold, murky depths beneath the bridge, until suddenly, a hand shot through the water.

GASP

Benny gasped, lungs clawing for air, and clawed his way out of the river, hands sinking into the muddy bank to pull himself free from the water's hold.

Blood seeped into the wet earth as he pulled himself to his feet, cradling his wounded shoulder and limping forward.

His ankle throbbed and swelled from the awkward impact with the water, but he ignored the pain, pushing onward. 

With grim determination, he stumbled into the nearby trees, disappearing from sight just as the truck roared off into the distance.

Next day,

BLERGH

BLERGH

BLERGH

Ricky vomited the goo; however, unlike the first time, his eyes were violently clear, as if he had already grown accustomed to it. 

So much so that instead of vomiting onto the floor, he directed it straight into the bucket.

Vitality: 74→76 (Middle realm of Superhuman.)

Though he had spent more time this session than the last, this result was expected.

Ricky slowly began to realize that he was acclimating to this level, and the diminishing returns were starting to show.

Huff

"We gotta push further." Ricky said, huffing out the obvious, and Alexander nodded in acknowledgment.

"We'll take a break and continue once the dawn has faded into the evening afternoon." Alexander instructed, watching Ricky slump nearby as he set the bucket as far away as possible.

"Do I really have to throw this sh*t up everytime-"

"Yes." Alexander said, slowly raising his gaze to Ricky with a clarity that seemed to pierce straight into the future.

"There could come a time when you are strangled by water, and you must familiarize yourself with such situations." Alexander said, smiling faintly as he reminisced on all the times he had come close to drowning.

"I know, but like, c'mon." Ricky sighed, scowling at the bucket nearby, still writhing with his vomited goo.

"Wasn't it you who said they wanted to be immune to everything?" Barko asked, finally calming down from his earlier anxiety as a hint of humor crept into his tone.

"Oh, f*ck you." Ricky scoffed, though a smile tugged at his lips as he watched Barko use his own words against him.

"You were just waiting to say I told you so-"

BAM

Before he could finish, the doors slammed open, and Lil Tony appeared in the doorway as Ricky turned back, his smile instantly frozen.

"Boss." Lil Tony gulped, lowering his gaze as Ricky's smile slowly vanished at the only reason he should be here.

"Don't you f*cking say it-"

"W-We gotta problem." 

Then, as if to broadcast Ricky's current state to the entire city, the laboratory, usually calm and peaceful amidst the morning light.

Suddenly became a beacon of rage.

THOOOOOOOM

A massive green pillar shot into the sky, towering over the rising sun and bathing the city in an eerie, almost unnatural green glow. 

The light stretched across rooftops and streets, painting everything in a shade that seemed to suffocate the morning itself.

People who had slowly emerged from their homes froze, eyes wide in horror, hearts hammering as dread settled over them like a living thing. 

Every member of the family who recognized that color felt a chill run down their spines as they all sprang to action.

"My god~" Fogwell whispered, his gaze following the others in the church, all of whom had been arguing over who would go see Ricky.

Suddenly, a deathly silence fell. 

The stained glass windows shattered, raining colored shards down, and only one hue reflected on their terrified faces.

Green.

It washed over everything, tinting the city in the unmistakable glow of Ricky's wrath. 

Lil Tony crumpled to his knees, trembling, as Ricky loomed over him, his wrathful gaze seething with an intensity that seemed to thirst only for blood.

"Start from the beginning." 

15 minutes later,

Meanwhile at Roosevelt hospital,

Beep

Beep

The heart rate monitor's steady rhythm filled the room as all the kids from the warehouse, minus Benny, sat around David, who was hooked up to a breathing apparatus.

BAM

The door slammed open with Ricky storming in, his entire inner circle following closely behind, filling the room.

"Slick, c'mon-" Shades started, panic etched across his face as he hurried to catch up.

"Everyone get the f*ck out!" Ricky roared, gesturing toward the door as the kids didn't need to be told twice.

They all bolted for the exit under the piercing glow of his eyes.

Thud

However, before Marco could scramble after them, he was suddenly hurled backward, his small body sliding across the polished floor before his back struck the wall with a light thud.

"I-"

"SHUT UP!" Ricky roared, his eyes blazing as he forced every ounce of his willpower to keep from unleashing it on Maroc in that instant.

"I told you! I TOLD YOU NOT TO GET INVOLVED!" Ricky bellowed, his words rising like the ocean tides while watching Marco's head bow in shame.

"I TOLD YOU TO REPORT TO F*CKING JOHNNY, AND NOT ONLY DID YOU GO AGAINST MY F*CKING ORDERS, BETRAYED YOUR HEADS' ORDER!" Ricky roared, his grief pouring out as his eyes glowed brighter and more unrelenting with every syllable.

"BUT YOU LET THE GUY TAKE MY F*CKING DRUGS!" Ricky screamed, his fury revealing its true source: not the disobedience, but the failure of his actions.

"I'm sorry~" Marco whimpered, pressing his hands to his face as tears poured down, the weight of disappointing the one person he had only ever wanted to make proud crushing him.

"You're sorry?" Ricky asked, his voice catching, freezing in place as if struggling to process what he had just heard.

"YOU'RE SORRY?!" Ricky roared, stepping forward and raising his hand, his shadow stretching over the trembling teenager as it loomed like a storm.

HUFF

However, instead of unleashing his fury, Ricky let out a heavy breath, pressing the hand he had raised against his face. 

Turning his entire body away from Marco, he walked to the side of the room, using that same hand to cover his anger and slicked it through his hair.

"Get him out of my sight." Ricky said, struggling to restrain himself as he pressed his forehead against the wall.

"C'mon, kid." Johnny hurriedly said, rushing to Marco's side and yanking his crying form into his embrace before quickly running out of the room with him.

BAM

"ARGH!" Ricky angrily grunted, slamming his fist into the wall, which crumbled under the force.

"Get me Fogwell." Ricky ordered immediately, spinning back toward Shades, who flinched under the intensity of his gaze.

"Slick, you can't-"

"What?" Ricky asked, a slight laugh in his tone, turning to Shades, who braced for the worst.

"We don't know-"

"If I wanted him dead, why the F*CK WOULD I BE HERE?!" Ricky's words escalated into a roar, and in that moment, Shades finally understood.

"I'll get'em, give me five." Shades said, immediately bolting out of the room to fetch him.

"Get the family ready, arm'em to the teeth." Ricky waved his hands at Bug Eyes, Mouth, and the twins, watching them nod their heads and walk out of the room.

"Boss-"

"Find me Benny." Ricky didn't ask, he demanded and pointed sharply at Lil Tony, who gulped and nodded. 

Then, once everyone had left, Ricky slowly lowered his head, gripping the edges of David's bed as if to steady himself.

Louis, Jeremiah, and especially Paolo pressed close to the window, watching silently as Ricky approached David's unconscious form.

Placing his hand gently over the wound, Ricky channeled his psychic healing, accelerating the recovery. 

To their shocked eyes, they watched as David's rigid, stiff body gradually began to loosen under the flow of Ricky's mental energy.

Turning back to the door, the three of them immediately ducked as his gaze shifted toward them.

But when they all looked up, expecting him to unleash his wrath, Ricky did nothing of the sort.

Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling lightly, and walked past them, leaving behind a single sentence that filled them all with a profound sense of relief.

"He's gonna live." 

5 minutes later,

Within Roosevelt Hospital, or any hospital for that matter, chapels were a common fixture, quiet sanctuaries tucked amid the sterile corridors, meant to soothe the anxious hearts of those fretting over the fates of their loved ones.

BAM

The doors to one such chapel were kicked open, echoing through the otherwise still space.

Shades shoved Fogwell inside, then immediately seized the handles, yanking the doors back shut with a force that made the hinges groan. 

BAM

Two swift, brutal sounds echoed as the doors were violently opened and shut as Fogwell lifted his gaze to a long figure seated in the second row, Ricky.

But Ricky didn't even glance back; he sat calmly, eyes fixed ahead on Jesus Christ nailed to the cross.

"Y'know, religion is a big part of our culture," Ricky said suddenly, Fogwell's shaky eyes flicked toward his back, hands tightly clenched over the first row as if in prayer.

"So much so that my pops slaved himself for years to make it seem as if my gifts were recognized by God Himself." Ricky narrated, his eyes never leaving the man who had been tortured to such a degree, yet still smiled through it all.

"And you've heard the stories about me going to the Vatican." Ricky chuckled, opting not to explain himself to Fogwell in full while keeping the conversation flowing.

"But I don't believe God-" 

"Slick-"

"Shut your f*cking mouth,. Ricky said, side-eyeing Fogwell, his eyes glowing green as he exerted his will, forcing the old man to crumble back onto his knees.

Then, as silence fell over the chapel, Ricky slowly turned forward again, resuming his gaze on the cross.

"I'm supposed to be a man of God, an honorary cardinal, but honestly, I think it's all one big joke," Ricky muttered, his almost contemplative over the topic that has been debated so heavily over the centuries.

"I mean, priests and preachers endlessly rave about how God loves us, yet allows such cruelty to exist." Ricky added, a hint of bitterness threading through his words.

"Maybe that's why Italians are so obsessed with Jesus," Ricky chuckled, his tone hollow as he realized the truth in that thought right then and there.

"But unlike my belief in God, I do believe in sin."

"And unlike Jesus, I'm not too keen on forgiveness." Ricky said, slowly turning to see Fogwell's head bowed to the floor, silent and subdued.

"W-W-We didn't know, I-I-I swear we didn't-"

"Fogwell." Ricky's words stopped abruptly at the sound of the old man's name.

"I don't care." Ricky laughed, spreading his arms as his dress shoes clicked closer to the bowed figure.

"I extend my hand to you f*cking ants, like God's grace, giving you the chance to start anew, like Noah and his ark. And what did people do after?" Ricky asked, tilting his head toward the man, demanding only a single, truthful answer.

"W-We sinned," Fogwell guessed, closing his eyes as if to repent before the man perfectly aligned with the cross behind him.

"That's right. And do you know what God did when the world spat in his face again?" Ricky asked, his tone sharp, cutting through the chapel's silence.

"He flooded it, drowned them all." Fogwell said, assuming Ricky was referring to the first arc as the man before him chuckled.

"Mercy doesn't mean a thing if you piss on it." Ricky muttered, opening his hand before Fogwell as if contemplating ending it all then and there.

"But you're wrong." Ricky said suddenly, retracting his hand from Fogwell's bowed head and sliding it back into his pocket for the moment.

"In Genesis, Noah's descendants eventually fell into sin again, but God did not flood the world a second time," Ricky recalled, drawing from all those long Sunday sermons spent with Lucky.

"In fact, the guy actually promised to never do it again hence my pops favorite f*cking thing in that stupid book, the rainbow covenant." Ricky laughed, actually having a use for all those hours wasted in church.

"But what did God do about all the sinning?" Ricky asked, slowly backing away from Fogwell's bowed form.

"I mean, how do you stop your creations from doing the one thing they just can't help themselves from doing?" Ricky wondered aloud, walking toward the end of the chapel before stopping in front of the cross.

"He sent his own son to die for their sins." Ricky revealed, turning his gaze back to the cross that had Jesus Christ nailed onto it.

"But I ain't God, nor would I ever let one of my boys die for nothing as stupid as that," Ricky scoffed, the bitter taste of disbelief lingering as he pondered how God could let his son suffer to such an extent.

"But do not get it twisted, someone will have to die for the sins of your community." Ricky said, side-eyeing Fogwell, who slowly lifted his head under the gaze of a man known for showing no mercy.

"Twenty four hours, you get exactly one day." 

"Then, for every single second beyond that where I don't get my drugs, an Irishman is gonna die, for your sins." Ricky said, turning back and revealing the grand, twisted purpose that had taken root in the faith woven through his culture.

"Slick, please~" Fogwell cried, slamming his head against the floor as if degrading himself could save even a single soul.

"If the man, the one who made off with my drugs, isn't delivered to me in this chapel, then I'll leave it." Ricky laughed, gesturing to himself as the embodiment of the worst possible scenario, making Fogwell visibly flinch.

"And even Jesus won't be able to forgive the things I'm gonna do to everyone you care about," Ricky said, his voice carrying a vow, each word weighted with the unflinching promise that he would make them a reality if pushed to that extreme.

"Then, when I've killed the last Irishman in this city, only then will I take your pathetic f*cking life," Ricky said, slowly pushing Fogwell's body backward and out of the chapel as the old man clawed desperately at the rug.

"W-Wait, Slick, please-"

"Twenty four hours, Fogwell, it's all you get before I flood this city in your people's blood and show you the despair Noah felt when he realized he was all alone."

BAM

With those parting words, Fogwell's body was hurled through the double doors, tumbling like a ragdoll before slamming violently into the wall.

His body slumped awkwardly against the wall, blood trickling from his head as he looked up to see Ricky staring down at him, eyes glowing green, before crushing his hands together right in front of his face.

BAM

The double doors slammed shut, marking the start of the countdown. 

Fogwell pressed a hand to his head in despair, glancing to the side, fully aware of the timer ticking against him.

"S-Shades~" Fogwell stammered, crawling toward Shades, who couldn't even bear to meet his gaze.

Though it wasn't widely known, Shades and Fogwell shared a long history.

So much so that Shades had received his nickname from the very boxing coach himself.

"Please, I got no idea what happened, I-"

"I'm sorry~" Shades choked, unable to meet his friend's gaze, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling.

Yet through his shades, Fogwell could see the tears clouding his eyes, the pain etched deep within every wrinkled feature this old man had.

"But this was all I could do," Shades whispered, lifting his shades to rub his eyes before turning his back to the man.

As Shades walked away, Fogwell's pale, haunted expression seemed to linger, stretching not only through the sterile halls of the hospital but reaching back to the church from which he had been dragged from.

Inside, the Irish congregation that had once followed him so eagerly now sat deathly silent.

Clutching their prayer beads, they whispered fervent appeals to the Lord above. 

Women and children wept openly, their sobs echoing off the cold stone walls, while the men held tightly to the ones they loved, a desperate shield against the dread pressing down on them.

Every face was etched with fear, every head bowed in silent terror at what was to come.

Except for a small handful of women, whose eyes dared to remain unflinching, watching the scene unfold with a courage born from a purpose that wasn't related to this culture in the slightest.

"Mr. Fogwell." A woman's measured voice rang out as she slowly stood, and Fogwell immediately recognized the Irish immigrant who had joined their community just weeks ago.

"I would like to volunteer to speak with Ricky Luciano." Eileen said, smiling warmly, carrying herself with such innocent passion that it nearly blinded those nearby.

"N-No, E-Eilleen-" Mrs. Donnelly cried, reaching out to pull her back, only for her husband to hold her firmly.

"Shhhhh~" Mr. Donnelly cooed, keeping his wife close as she desperately tried to reach toward the young girl, convinced that Eileen didn't fully understand the gravity of what she was doing.

"That isn't necessary-"

"Well, hold on." An Irishman interrupted, rising to his feet and turning toward the others.

"That doesn't seem like a bad idea, considering how many mistresses the man has." He said boldly, shrugging as if his suggestion were far less outlandish than it might appear.

"I would like to join my sister." Another redheaded beauty said, smiling warmly as she stood beside her sibling. 

One by one, the others followed suit, until suddenly, eight redheaded women stood before them, each willing to speak on their community's behalf.

"I know you girls only recently settled here, but the message Slick sent is already clear." Fogwell quickly tried to stop them, waving his hand as if dismissing an absurd notion.

"We're willing to give our bodies over to him." Eileen smiled, fully aware of the weight of her words as she watched as Fogwell immediately pale.

"W-W-What-"

"This is perfect!" the Irishman yelled, celebrating what he believed would solve their predicament, only to enrage Fogwell in response.

BAM

"ARE YOU MAD? WE ARE NOT SENDING THESE GIRLS TO HIM LIKE SACRIFICIAL LAMBS!" Fogwell screamed, slamming his hands onto the podium with a fury that burned through his very eyes.

"WE DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO WAS MAD ENOUGH TO STEAL FROM SLICK! THIS WILL BUY US TIME TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED AND THEN CATCH THE GUY WHO DID THIS!" The man bellowed back, slamming his hands together to drive the point home.

"I mean, you've all heard of his tendencies, he has a woman for every community, even that negress-"

"I'm warning you, Brendan, not another word-"

"I call for a vote," Breden immediately said, raising his hand and turning his back to Fogwell to address the greater good of the group.

"All in favor of letting these young girls occupy Slick while we track down the bastard who wronged us?" Breden asked, raising his hand again and gesturing to the other Irish members of the community.

Then, to the horror of Fogwell, he watched as everyone slowly raised their hands in agreement.

"Mr. Fogwell, it's alright." Eileen smiled, fully at ease with the decision, her willingness clear as she tucked her hair behind her shoulder, revealing a glimpse of her ample cleavage.

"We're happy to do this for the greater good," she said deliberately, her gaze fixed on Fogwell, watching his reaction closely.

"One."

He couldn't believe the word had left his lips. 

It was almost instinct as Fogwell pressed a hand to his forehead in immediate regret, his mind spinning at the realization of what he had just uttered.

All while the girls exchanged glances, a mixture of determination and amusement flickering across their faces.

"But-"

"I refuse to send all you girls, I f*cking refuse." Fogwell vowed, his nails digging into the podium wood with a frenzy that mirrored the bloodshot fury in his eyes.

"But-"

"One. And if anyone says otherwise, I'll show everyone here why even Owney Madden never dared cross me." Fogwell's gaze cut cold through the crowd, daring a single soul to challenge him.

"Fine." Breden scoffed, crossing his arms, speaking as if on behalf of the others huddled within the church.

The redheaded sisters whispered among themselves, huddled closely, until they reached a silent agreement.

"I'll go." Eileen said, smiling warmly, her gaze fixed on Fogwell, who ducked his head, unable to meet her eyes after realizing the weight of what he was asking.

"Please look after my sister while I'm gone," Eileen said, her expression bright and cheerful, though it cast an immediate shadow of shame over the onlookers. 

Even Breden, the one who was completely for this decision, couldn't bring himself to meet her piercing green eyes.

Then, with an almost unnatural elegance, Eileen began to glide slowly down the row, every step deliberate, commanding attention without a word.

Eileen walked steadily toward the double doors, exiting the church with not a single soul daring to stop her.

"For the life of the flesh is in the blood," Fogwell whispered to himself, his hand trembling as it grasped the cross necklace hanging around his neck.

All the while, Eileen walked steadily toward Roosevelt Hospital in the distance.

"And I have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your souls."

She moved through the hospital halls with a purpose so precise, so unwavering, that even the faithful would struggle to comprehend it. 

Until finally, she arrived at the chapel doors that concealed her true destination all along.

"For it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul."

Author's Note: Not really relgious but I feel like I nailed the tone of it, it's what took me so long cause although I write about it. I don't know sh*t about christainity. Also sorry bout the delay, school got me f8cked up.

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