3 days later,
"Are you ready?" Alexander asked, his tone sharp but laced with curiosity as his eyes flicked toward Barko.
The dog hadn't blinked in minutes, staring blankly at the string of readings that printed endlessly from the machine at these results.
DING
Vitality: 76→80 (High realm of Superhuman.)
Over these three days, the results didn't compare to when he had first entered that tank.
The jumps in his vitality were smaller now, but that didn't matter.
This was more about refinement, about grinding every edge of himself sharper so that there wasn't anything to dull him.
It was why at the bottom, Ricky stood motionless, the goo drowning him entirely, his body suspended in its suffocating embrace.
However, his chest didn't heave dramatically, his muscles didn't strain like he was having a seizure.
He let the suffocating pressure swallow him whole.
But with the jump in vitality came the unnatural improvements to his body, which had been slowly learning to live in this kind of condition.
Although he still couldn't breathe in the submerged liquid, his lungs no longer thrashed against him in panic.
The instinctive fight for air, that primal urge to claw his way upward, had dulled into nothing.
It made his thoughts grow more pronounced, allowing for deeper contemplation.
He was ready.
Then, at that realization, a sudden hiss split the silence as he raised himself toward the top of the tank.
The goo poured away in heavy streams, peeling back from his skin like a second body reluctant to let him go.
Ricky swung himself out, landing hard on the floor with his feet rather than his entire body.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he reached for the towel, dragging the rough fabric across his shoulders.
"Yeah, Alexander, I'm ready," Ricky said, pulling the rag down, his smile fading into something harder as Alexander checked the clock.
"Barko-" Ricky called, turning to the ever-dutiful mutant, who was busy fiddling with some instrument at the side.
"I need time to adjust from these readings since what I have at my disposal won't push you any further-" Barko interrupted, not looking up and assuming it was about the experiments.
"Are you coming to the funeral?" Ricky cut in, finishing his own sentence instead.
Barko froze, the papers slipping slightly in his paws as he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Ricky's eyes.
"Oh-yes, I'll be there." Barko said quickly, forcing a smile as the weight of his interruption sank in, embarrassment tightening his voice.
"Good." Ricky chuckled, cleaning himself off before reaching for his clothes.
"Tell Chores he's invited too," Ricky added, his tone carrying a trace of amusement, knowing Barko would be stopping by the hospital first.
Barko chuckled softly at that, the sound easing the air between them as he allowed himself a gentle smile at Ricky's back.
"I will."
Ricky lingered by the door, pulling on his shorts and slipping into a wife beater as he waited for Alexander to scurry onto his shoulder.
"Ricky-"
"Let's table everything for now," Ricky interrupted, intent on giving his thoughts to Frank and nothing else.
At that, Alexander's mouth closed slowly, the words dying on his tongue, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Very well." Alexander said respectfully, understanding the significance of this day as Ricky turned and made his way out of the lab.
With a wave of his hand, a portal shimmered into being, and Ricky stepped through, emerging inside Rotolo's suit shop.
The air wasn't the same as it had always been.
It wasn't casual, and wasn't filled with the easy whims of Ricky dropping in to borrow an emergency suit.
It carried this hush, muted heaviness as though mourning itself lingered in the fabric-lined walls.
Everything seemed just a little softer, a tad bit gentler, and wrapped in this quiet melancholy that left little choice but to wear a faint, nostalgic smile.
"Slick!" Rotolo suddenly called, striding over to Ricky, who wore that faint, nostalgic smile he always reserved for the people he trusted most.
Like for this man he'd found all the way in Sicily.
"We've prepared what you asked for and-"
"Aye, Rotolo," Ricky interrupted, the words catching slightly in his throat as he realized how little he'd ever said to show his gratitude for all the suits Rotolo had made for him over the years.
"Thanks for, y'know-" Ricky started, suddenly feeling sentimental, realizing that appreciating someone like this didn't come easy to him.
"I know," Rotolo said with a smile, stepping closer to pat Ricky gently on the cheek.
He understood the significance of today and knew he would be one of the lucky few allowed to attend.
"You were a good boy when I first saw you, but you've become an even better man." Rotolo chuckled, wiping at the corner of his eyes before patting Ricky firmly on the shoulders.
Although Rototo couldn't give much to help Ricky on this saddened day, he could at least give him his gratitude.
"I still remember that day, when you stumbled across me in Sicily and every day since, I've thanked God that you brought me back home."
Rotolo walked to the back, moving with careful purpose to retrieve the specially prepared suits, leaving Ricky to sit alone, hands interlocked, staring at his own fingers.
The hardest part about funerals isn't when they begin; it's the wait.
That small, suspended time in between leaves you reeling with everything that led up to it.
In that stillness, Ricky filled that time with memories of Frank.
Reminiscing about everything the man had been in this second life of his, and just how much he had shaped him.
Ricky relived those moments in his head until Rotolo returned, carrying two suits; one for him, and one for Alexander.
"What do you think?" Ricky asked, suppressing a laugh that wasn't mocking, but the sheer absurdity of the scene still pressed at the corners of his mind.
"I think I understand why you enjoy wearing these suits," Alexander muttered, admiring himself in the mirror as Rotolo had tailored a perfect suit for his gerbil form.
Although Ricky had come for his funeral suit, one had been made for Alexander in the process.
In fact, it had been the gerbil himself who commissioned Rotolo, insisting that it be a proper tribute to Ricky's godfather.
A suit wasn't merely formal wear in this era.
It was considered bad taste to step out in what was essentially an undershirt and work pants unless you were actually laboring in them.
Even then, most people wore a button-up shirt, no tie, and dressier trousers rather than jeans.
Alexander respected that.
He respected that Frank had lived his life in a suit, and to him, it only made sense that he would see him off in one.
10 minutes later,
"Alright, let's go," Ricky said, letting out a deep breath after finally sliding into the last piece of his three-piece, custom-tailored suit.
This was only a stop on their journey through the day.
With a practiced motion, he opened another portal and stepped through, emerging at the Luciano family manor.
Although today was for mourning, it was also a day for unity.
That was clear the moment Ricky peeked through the double doors, opening them just enough to see everyone bearing the Luciano surname moving through the house.
"Do you have any fours?" Gus asked, smiling up at his older brother Augustine, who carefully studied each of his cards.
"No, go fish." Augustine replied, smiling warmly as Gus let out a small sigh but still drew a card from the deck.
"Bob, do you have any jacks?" Henry asked, glancing over at the silent child, who squinted at his hand before nodding in response.
"Danielle, do you have any kings?" Henry continued, placing both of his jacks in front of him and turning to his sister with a gentle smile.
"Go fish," Danielle chuckled, watching Henry lower his head dejectedly while she swayed her blond hair happily in place.
Thrawn slept peacefully in Danielle's lap, clutching his stuffed animal tightly even amidst the game.
It wasn't particularly chaotic in this corner of the group; these children made up the more reserved section of the Luciano family.
Although they had their moments, most often reserved themselves, finding more enjoyment in the subtleties of fun rather than the explosive antics the rest of the family was known for.
"And Augustine, can I have your five?" Danielle asked excitedly, watching as everyone let out small sighs of defeat.
At her request, Augustine handed her the card, and just like that, her victory was sealed.
"One more, Danielle, please." Gus asked promptly, adjusting himself amidst his defeat and requesting just one more game to prove himself.
Instead of refusing, Danielle laughed happily, immediately dealing out her cards along with the others, while Augustine stuck out his tongue in concentration since he was the only one among them who could actually shuffle.
The five of them played quietly on the near side, a small island of calm in the manor, while the center of the house was entirely dominated by the loudest Lucianos.
"AND THEN I CAST EXPLOSION!" Sarah roared, swinging her hands dramatically toward the boy in front of her.
"Nuh-uh, I blocked it!" Carmine laughed, pointing to his shield which they had all agreed could block such attacks.
"SO I-"
"TACKLE!" Zatanna shouted, lunging at Sarah and sending her tumbling as they rolled across the ground, giggling incessantly.
BAM
BAM
At the side, Johnny and Moxie were locked in a heated duel with their wooden swords, neither willing to give an inch.
The playfulness of their swings dulled as their eagerness to win sharpened with every clash of wood.
"Logan, do you wanna play with us-" Carmine asked, glancing toward the frowning child crossing his arms.
"No," Logan muttered, scrunching his face and tucking himself into the farthest corner he could find.
"But-"
"No." Logan repeated firmly, squinting and rejecting Carmine's outstretched hand, scoffing at his brother's attempt.
"Fine." Carmine frowned, pivoting away from Logan and running back to join Sarah and Zatanna's playful chaos.
BAM
"WHERE ARE MY RUGRATS!" Ricky exclaimed, kicking open the door and throwing his arms wide toward his entire family.
"DADDDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYY!" Sarah roared, shoving Zatanna aside and charging like a tiny whirlwind.
"There she is!" Ricky laughed, catching Sarah as she slammed into his chest, with Zatanna close behind.
"Play with us!" Zatanna shouted, tugging at Ricky's collar, while Sarah's green eyes landed on Alexander, who flinched at the sudden attention.
"PLAY WITH USSSSSSSSSSS!" Sarah shouted dramatically, reaching for Alexander, who ducked inside Ricky's suit.
"I will, but after I find Lucky-"
"I hit you! That means you're dead and can't leave," Carmine interjected, tapping his shield against Ricky's back.
"Ha~" Ricky sighed, rolling to the side, only to frown as his eyes landed on Moxie and Johnny's ongoing duel.
However, if one looked closely, there was no playfulness left in their swings; both had reached the point where neither wanted to lose, and each was willing to do anything to win.
"Carmine, go break up your brothers' fight, it's getting outta hand," Ricky muttered, flicking his head toward him as he immediately straightened up, ready to intervene.
"GOT IT!" Carmine exclaimed, forgetting everything else as he rushed toward the scuffle to help his father.
"Please, please, please, please, please-" Zatanna's words whispered in Ricky's ears as he turned to see the little girl repeating her plea incessantly, while Sarah shook herself back and forth beside her.
"PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE-" Sarah then yelled dramatically, making her demand impossible to ignore.
"Alright, alright, but lemme me find Lucky first-"
"OUTSIDE!" Sarah shouted, tugging Ricky's hand as she led him toward the backyard.
"He's talking with our mommies." Zatanna added, joining in and grabbing one of Ricky's hands so they could pull him along together.
SIGH
Ricky sighed heavily, but he didn't stop the girls from dragging him across the floor, their determined little hands tugging him toward the outside.
"Aye, Augustine, you good?" Ricky asked quickly, swept up in the current of his daughters while checking in with his son.
"Yep!" Augustine smiled, giving a thumbs-up, and Ricky nodded toward his other sons.
"Be good to your sister-"
"We know!" Gus and Henry said in unison, while Bob simply nodded to the side.
But as they were being led away, Alexander's eyes caught sight of the game, and that burning desire to claim victory outweighed whatever Ricky had planned with Lucky.
"I'm afraid this is where we part," Alexander announced, popping out of Ricky's suit and bolting toward the game of Go Fish.
"And let Alexander play with you!" Ricky yelled, being pulled down the hall as the kids immediately began dealing a hand for the gerbil, who scurried over without hesitation.
"Okay!" they all chorused, their voices ringing as Ricky turned his gaze toward the backyard.
However, unlike the warm chaos inside where the children played happily, a tense atmosphere had begun to settle over the mothers.
"So, Ruth, how are things?" Jenifer asked, offering a polite smile as she took her seat at the large table.
Although the relationships between the mothers were vastly different from the carefree bonds their children shared, they all silently came to an unspoken agreement: leave the kids out of it.
It started small, with the warning from Ricky to Raven, who in turn let it ripple outward, reaching everyone within Ricky's gravitational pull.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the understanding spread.
Simply put, the women didn't have to like each other.
They didn't have to pretend, smile, or be friendly.
But they could never let their own grievances seed resentment in the children.
Hatred might linger between adults, but it would never touch the next generation.
That unspoken rule had quietly formed within Ricky's harem at his intervention.
"Good." Ruth smiled, offering a cordial nod, careful to navigate the awkward tension between them since they had once been student and teacher.
But now, their sons are brothers.
"I love your dress." Alina added quickly, smiling, her own awkwardness nudging at the edges of the tense mood.
"Thank you, it's an old one, but I think it's right for the occasion." Ruth said, smiling at Alina, who happily returned the gesture.
However, even as this forced conversation continued, the eyes of every one of Ricky's women subtly drifted, settling more or less on three figures: Morgana, Agatha, and, of course, Raven.
"Speaking of dresses, your dress, Morgana, is just so lovely," Raven said with a smile, holding back a chuckle as she watched the woman lift her glass of water.
"Yes, well, your dress is something to behold as well." Morgana muttered, her eyes tracking Raven, who laughed while turning away, poised to unleash her wickedness along with her smile.
But the moment her lips moved, they faltered, dimming under Irene's worried gaze.
"Yes, Raven, it certainly is something to stare at." Agatha said calmly, resting her head on her hand as her gaze lingered on Raven's black dress with blue outlines.
The atmosphere sank once more into tense silence, the three women seemingly holding any trace of joyous laughter hostage as their grudges tightly coiled beneath polite exteriors.
Amid the awkwardness, Ruth occasionally stole glances at Maria, who did everything possible to avoid meeting her eyes.
Finally, summoning every ounce of courage, Ruth spoke the words she regretted most from her past.
"Um, Maria?" Ruth whispered quietly, guilt etched across her face as she finally found the courage to speak to the girl a few seats away.
"Could we talk-"
"U-uh, Azalea, hi!" Maria panicked, turning to the first woman beside her and forcing a conversation to escape the awkwardness.
Gulp
Azalea flinched, caught off guard and nearly choking on her drink as she quickly covered her mouth, swallowing hard at someone she had never actually talked to until now.
"Hi?" Azalea said awkwardly, forcing a smile at the randomness of the exchange.
"We should set up a playdate with our boys and, um, we should-" Maria continued, trying desperately to start a conversation, doing everything she could to avoid confronting Ruth directly.
The woman, however, didn't interrupt or push her presence toward Maria.
Ruth only dipped her head, glancing at her black shoes, a guilty smile forming as if she knew this was the least she deserved.
"It's really good to see you again, Ruth." Jenifer said, slowly taking her hand, her touch quietly conveying how proud she was of the woman Ruth was becoming.
"And Logan, he is just so big for his age!" Alina said, forcing excitement as she gently shook Ruth, who laughed at the mention of her son.
"I'm very thankful that he has everything he needs to grow." Ruth said warmly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
The two immediately took on the role of big sisters toward the awkward Ruth, familiarizing themselves with someone who had no real standing within this circle of Ricky's women.
"You're Francis Stroke, right?" Stephanie asked suddenly, turning toward the very pregnant woman at the side, who flinched at the attention.
"Y-yes?" Francis stammered, surprised since she had never been addressed by her artist name before, and a faint blush crept across her cheeks.
"I've heard of your paintings, the ones of you know who." Stephanie said, whispering the last part, causing Francis to blush even deeper.
"Yes?" Francis almost whispered, completely red as a tomato, as Stephanie glanced around before leaning in closer.
"I'd like to buy one," Stephanie chuckled, watching the blush of embarrassment on Francis's face bloom into excited surprise as her eyes widened.
"Really?!?!" Francis whispered excitedly, lowering her head in sync with Stephanie, who winked at her.
"Here, my card," Stephanie chuckled, handing Francis a card, which the artist took quickly and reverently, thrilled at the prospect of her first customer.
Even as these side conversations lingered, the main players, the three most powerful women in Ricky's harem, continued their subtle clashes.
"But my, Raven, you haven't aged a day," Morgana's voice cut through the pleasant chatter, her gaze fixed on Raven, who remained calm under the scrutiny.
"You're something to behold as well." Raven couldn't help herself, the words trialing out of her mouth as Morgana laughed.
"I forgot, you've only seen my in my vessels-"
"Is that what you call them?" Raven chuckled, watching Morgana immediately furrow her brows at the clear jab, her gaze slowly rising as if to meet the woman head on.
"I see you're still on your high horse about Crimea-"
"Well, history remembers Florence Nightingale, not Grand Duchess Elena Pavlovna." Raven laughed heartily, their long-standing rivalry laid bare as Morgana balled her fists in silent frustration.
"They would've wrote songs about me if you-"
"Hadn't won?"
A lot of wars against Britain largely, in part, had Morgan on the opposing side.
Although she lost most of them, the Crimean War was hers to win.
Until Raven intervened.
At the height of the conflict, Morgana had taken possession of Grand Duchess Elena Pavlovna's body, using it as a vessel to extend her influence.
Through Elena, she subtly manipulated court politics, military decisions, and alliances, bringing Russia to the brink of victory.
Her sway had stretched so far that even the common folk spoke of her deeds in reverent whispers, crowning her and her two associates as the Sisters of Mercy.
For once, Russia had a woman whose resolve rivaled the empire itself.
The war was tilting, ever so slightly, into her grip, the Sevastopol siege dragging longer than it should have, the morale of British forces thinning with every frostbitten night.
And then Raven slipped behind the lines.
In essence, that entire conflict had been swayed with one whisper in the right ear, one poisoned promise left to rot in a commander's mind.
Where Morgan had been building momentum, Raven just utterly dismantled it, unraveling her plans before they could bear fruit.
That was the cruelty of it.
Morgan had nearly rewritten the course of a war, yet history would never credit her for it.
The record books would reduce her to another failed resistance against British might, never knowing how close she came.
Never knowing it wasn't Britain that beat her, but Raven.
"Raven involving herself in other people's matters? Really?" Agatha whispered, faking a gasp as Raven side-eyed her before returning her gaze to Morgana.
"That wasn't my fault, how was I supposed to know that Prince Menshikov-"
BAM
"YOU DRESSED YOURSELF AS MY VESSEL AND SWAYED HIM INTO THAT HUMILIATING DEFEAT AT SEVASTOPOL!" Morgana screamed, her voice slicing through the room, shattering the thin veil of conversation that was just starting to form.
HUFF
"I apologize," Morgana let out a breath, regaining herself as her gaze swept over the other women, who all nodded subtly, as if to forgive her.
"Morgana, if Russia had won, Prince Menshikov would've committed genocide against the mutants." Raven said, frowning, her eyes narrowing at Morgana, who only scoffed in response.
"He would've used that momentum to use the banner of God and crucify my people-"
"You don't know that-"
"Then you don't know that my actions cost you the war," Raven shot back, shrugging as if it weren't her problem anymore, twisting her own logic against her.
"Raven, must we bring up old wounds?" Agatha asked deliberately, shifting the weight of blame entirely onto Raven, who only let out an amused laugh.
"Fine, my apologies-" Raven said, voice hollow, every word stripped of sincerity, as Morgana squinted but slowly sank back into her seat.
"Ladies~"
Before the conversation could continue, Ricky appeared, every ounce of his usual sleaziness on full display with his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He just waltzed in like he owned the entire conversation, the kind of entrance that usually drew laughter, sighs, or playful groans.
But today, the reaction was different.
Instead of warm greetings or teasing remarks, he was met with a wall of disdainful expressions.
"Oh look, it's that man." Raven muttered, turning her head to the others while slowly crossing her arms.
"Yes, it is." Agatha scoffed, lowering her gaze toward the glass as she frowned at Ricky.
"Why am I getting the feeling that I've done something?" Ricky asked, sensing their disdain but unable to place its source.
"Maybe it has to do with a party along your block?" Morgana seemingly asked, raising an eyebrow at Ricky, as if silently noting her own unwanted involvement.
"Involving the entire Luciano family?" Stephanie muttered, having been dragged into it alongside Francis, who let out a reluctant sigh.
"One that's supposed to have at least 1,500 people attending?" Jennifer scoffed, while Alina ducked her head slightly, still burdened by the endless search for enough cups.
"And all last minute." Ruth whispered, aware of how upset Logan had been realizing he'd have to stay the entire time.
"So, nothing unusual in your mind." They all said in unison, crossing their arms slowly as Ricky rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
"Oh yeah, I remember now."
Although it had only been briefly mentioned, once it was out in the open, and with Ricky training relentlessly over the past three days, everything crystallized into this reaction before him.
His women, all of them, had somehow roped themselves into the whirlwind of preparations that had been draining them for the past seventy-two hours.
Every detail had been planned with painstaking precision: seating arrangements meticulously mapped, permits secured through every possible bribe, logistics coordinated to accommodate not just the core Luciano family but the extended network of grunts, associates, and runners who were part of their world.
All of it, of course, was so that the family and their children could enjoy themselves.
So that the children could laugh, play, and forget the weight of the world for a little while.
While they, the mothers, bore the invisible strain.
Managing the exhaustion of motherhood in this tangled, sprawling Luciano family that only they could ever understand and actually unify to scorn the man behind it all.
"PLAY WITH US!" Sarah whined, tugging at Ricky's hand as she tried to pull him back toward the manor, making her move after seeing her grandpa wasn't here.
"Honey-" Irene started, attempting to intervene, but Sarah shook her head furiously.
"WE'RE OUTSIDE!" Sarah insisted, pointing to the clear blue sky above, her declaration finally leaving Irene speechless.
"MOMMY, MAKE HIM PLAY, MAKE HIM PLAY!" Zatanna screamed, bouncing with excitement as she joined her sister in pleading with their mother.
"I can't even make him save my coven." Agatha muttered under her breath, quiet enough that Zatanna couldn't hear, but loud enough for Ricky to catch every word.
SIGH
"Can we just shelve this and have you all be upset with me after today?" Ricky asked, realizing that words alone wouldn't fix it, but hoping to at least postpone the confrontation.
The women exchanged glances, reading each other's expressions, before finally reaching a quiet understanding.
"Fine." They said in unison, knowing the significance of this day for him and loving him enough to set aside their grievances, if only for a little while.
"Okay, so, has anyone seen Lucky?" Ricky asked, glancing around the backyard, knowing they couldn't even go to the funeral without the family patriarch.
"No." Stephanie muttered bitterly, setting her glass down, while Raven tilted her head with a confused expression.
"I thought he went to some monastery upstate?"
Meanwhile St. Joseph's Abbey's Monsitary,
Knock
Knock
"Hello?" A nun greeted, suspiciously peering through the door in surprise since visitors were rare, and none had ever appeared like Lucky had with his mobster attire.
"Ah, hello, sister." Lucky said warmly, tipping his cap respectfully before setting it aside as the nun returned his smile though was still caught off guard.
"I apologize for my surprise, it's just that we never have any visitors-"
"Oh, no, I'm actually just as surprised," Lucky said, intentionally easing the sister of the cloth before him since he hadn't come with any ulterior motive in mind.
"You are?" The nun asked with a chuckle, amused by his words as she slowly opened the door wider.
"Yeah, because I'm actually looking for someone." Lucky replied, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a document.
"Have you ever heard of a gal named Bella Freeman?" Lucky finally asked, extending the paper toward her.
The name caught her off guard, completely disarming her as she slowly took the document, Ricky's birth certificate, listing only his mother's name and nothing else.
Her fingers traced the signature carefully, following each pen stroke as if remembering when she herself wrote it.
"Oh, Bella~" The nun sighed, her head shaking gently as a wave of nostalgia and sorrow washed over her.
Sniff
"I haven't heard that name in so long~" The nun murmured, her voice trembling as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes, a heavy guilt burrowing deep into her heart when returning her gaze to him.
"But, I'm afraid she's already passed on-"
"Sister, I'm not here because of her-" Lucky paused, adorning his usually stern face with a gentle smile that felt almost out of character.
"I'm actually here cause I adopted her son."
Finally, the truth behind Lucky's downtime after handing the family over to Ricky came to light.
While everyone assumed he had been passing the time playing golf, which he had.
After Frank's death, Lucky had devoted himself to tracing Ricky's roots.
At first, the reason he had started was simple: proving Ricky's Sicilian heritage, following Bella Freeman's lineage all the way back to Sicily to satisfy the other mob families during the time of the commission.
But that wasn't enough for Lucky.
He felt a deeper need to uncover more, to explore further.
He wanted to find Ricky's parents, especially since their own son had seemingly wanted nothing to do with them.
Gasp
"You-oh heavens, come in, come in." The nun gasped, urging Lucky in as the woman of cloth almost yanked him into the monastery
"I'm Mother Mary, and I'm the head caretaker here at the monastery." Mother Mary smiled warmly, gesturing around at the simple surroundings.
"Here at St. Joseph's Abbey's Monastery-" Mother Mary began, rambling on about the long, storied history of the Christian walls that had stood for centuries.
Eventually, they made their way to the head office, a small, cluttered space overflowing with stacks of scriptures and religious texts.
But it was clear that her long-winded explanation of the storied walls was mostly a way to steady herself, buying time to summon the courage she had been gathering all this while.
"So, how is he?" Mother Mary finally asked, gripping her hands tightly and biting her lower lip, the motion deepening the gentle wrinkles that lined her face.
"He's a little rough around the edges, but the boy grew up into a fine young man, at least, in my opinion." Lucky chuckled, leaning back in his seat and setting his cane aside.
"That is just so wonderful to hear." Mother Mary breathed, a warm smile spreading across her face at his words.
Though her smile slowly faltered, her eyes drifted down to her shaky hands, fingers entwined tightly around her cross necklace.
SIgh
"Gosh, it's been so long." Mother Mary murmured, her voice trembling slightly as Lucky's sudden arrival stirred a flood of emotions she had long kept buried.
"I'm sorry for troubling you, sister-"
"You're not troubling me at all. It's just-...it's been so long since I've thought about her," Mother Mary said gently, waving off Lucky's formalities and attempting to shake off the lingering awkwardness.
"You see, Bella was raised here in the monastery," Mother Mary revealed, watching confusion crease across Lucky's face as he glanced around the stone walls.
"But I thought-"
"Bella was a special case. Back then, the Roosevelt orphanage was full, so we offered to take her in." Mother Mary said, her eyes drifted toward an old photograph on the shelf, where Bella's youthful smile seemed frozen in time.
"But we always knew she wouldn't be one of us." Mother Mary sighed, a smile forming on her face as if she finally had the courage to look towards that single photograph after all these years.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ramble-"
"No, that's actually why I'm here." Lucky chuckled, shaking his head before leaning forward to get down to the matter.
"I'm trying to find out more about her parents." Lucky gestured lightly with his hands, and Mother Mary slowly nodded.
"Well, I can certainly tell you all you'd like about Bella." Mother Mary replied with a warm chuckle at the man's eagerness.
"Please, I'd love to know anything you can tell me," Lucky said with a trace of relief, as if finding a small measure of ease in getting just a little closer to his roots.
"You see-"
Mother Mary Narration:
When Tuberculosis was hitting the world in waves, the orphanage reached out to us as a way to house some of the older children.
Of course, we did what we could, and took in as many as the monastery would allow.
Bella was one of those little girls.
But she-.....…she was also such a free spirit, you see.
Gosh, that girl could never keep still, to the point where it drove all her caretakers mad.
She'd dart through the cloister like a bird loose from its cage, laughing so bright it echoed against the stone and startled the solemn silence we tried to keep.
I ended up being the one to care for her whether it was my role or not, but I loved her.
I loved her so much that I wanted nothing more than for her to find happiness.
And all she ever wanted to do was see the world, to leave this place and flap her wings, and I wanted that for her.
More than prayers, more than discipline, and more than selfishly keeping her close.
I just wanted Bella to live the life that would always bring that bubbling laughter to the surface.
And God had blessed her with everything to do it.
She was smart, she was pretty, and she had that willingness to go out into the world.
So, when she turned seventeen, she used all of those talents to receive a full scholarship at the local university.
Gosh, I still remember standing by the gate, watching her go with her books clutched to her chest, and thinking that this was how it's supposed to be.
I was so certain that she would be the proof that not all children who come through these walls are destined to remain behind them.
Then she just disappeared.
She didn't write.
She didn't visit.
And two years later, she wound up at the monastery, pregnant.
I asked her so many questions, but she never told me anything.
She just carried this silence about where she had been that was so heavy, that it caused a rift between us that not even god could fix.
All she wanted was to give birth and leave.
And I tried so very hard to stop her, but once she made up her mind, there was no changing it.
Her eyes were set on this horizon I could not see, and no matter how much I begged, she would not be swayed from reaching it one day.
So, I agreed.
Under the condition that she deliver the baby in New York, where doctors could tend to her.
But the birth was so brutal.
For forty-eight hours she cried, begging me to make it stop, and her baby boy just tore through her.
I-
I could only hold her hand, whispering in her ear every prayer I knew, and still I could do nothing but watch her body break under the pain.
She bled out in my arms.
And as she took in her last breath, she whispered a single name: Nathaniel.
After she was buried, I tried to find out what happened to her and eventually found out that she was a part of a work study program under a man named Dr. Milbury.
However, when I went to the university, there was no professor by that name, and when the trail ended, I found myself back at the monastery.
"But this was no place to raise a little boy, so I turned him over to the orphanage with the name Ricky Freeman." Mother Mary smiled, her hands shaking lightly as she finally finished the sory.
As if there was a certain part she had left out.
"Oh, I just remembered!" Mother Mary blurted, springing to her feet so suddenly that she startled Lucky.
"Would you mind staying here for a moment?" Mother Mary asked, clearly needing to move her feet as the old man raised an eyebrow but gave a small nod.
"Of course."
5 minutes later,
"Are these-"
"These were all of Bella's things." Mother Mary smiled faintly, clutching the box for a moment before reluctantly handing it over to Lucky.
Lucky accepted it with both hands, setting it carefully on his lap before lifting the lid.
He immediately began rifling through the contents, pulling out a rosary with beads worn smooth, a bunch of faded letters folded until the paper was nearly torn, and a single green ribbon.
His entire movements were filled with haste and unease for a single reason.
After all these years, Lucky had managed to dig up nearly everything about Ricky's birth mother.
Yet when it came to his birth father, there was nothing.
"How is he-.....Bella's child?" Mother Mary finally asked, her voice trembling as she flinched at the way Lucky's rough hands toyed with Bella's favorite green ribbon, her own fingers tightening protectively around her beads.
"I-I know I have no right but-"
"He's actually a member of the Vatican."
At those few words, Mother Mary's eyes brimmed with tears in a way that seemed almost unnatural, her trembling hands rising to clasp over her mouth as if this single moment had suddenly become the greatest of her life.
"I sent him off a couple years back, and he came back wearing robes." Lucky laughed, grinning with the pride of a father, while Mother Mary kept her hands pressed to her lips.
"That is-"
SNIFF
Mother Mary sniffled, holding her face as the emotions washed over her, her eyes glistening as Lucky handed her a handkerchief.
"That is so wonderful~" Mother Mary whispered with a trembling smile, dabbing at her wrinkles with the cloth.
"You must be so proud." Mother Mary laughed softly through her tears, brushing her eyes once more as Lucky lowered his gaze to the box of Bella's belongings.
"Yeah, I am-"
"WHAT THE F*CK, POPS!"
SIGH
Lucky sighed heavily, his gentle smile slowly melting into an annoyed deadpan as he set the box aside.
"I guess you'll get to meet him in person." Lucky muttered, pushing himself up to his feet.
Mother Mary rose quickly, completely anxious yet undeniably excited, her breath catching as she eagerly watched the old mobster reach for his cane.
Her wrinkled hands twisted at her beads, torn between the nerves of revelation and the joy of finally reuniting with Bella's child.
With a lazy turn, Lucky started walking towards the exit of the monastery with Mother Mary closely following behind him.
Only to find himself walking straight into the furious glare of Ricky.
"If this is about the funeral then you know I'd never miss-"
"Bullsh*t, you know exactly why I'm here." Ricky spat, his face twisting with raw hatred, every word dripping venom at the thought of what Lucky had been doing behind his back.
Ricky had always made himself perfectly clear on this matter, again and again.
Lucky didn't answer, not right away.
Instead, his hand pressed against his tired face, those wrinkled features bearing the weight of years.
There was a reason he hadn't told Ricky, and that reason was this exact situation he found himself in right now.
Ricky had never wanted anything to do with his birth parents.
Whether it was old trauma, the bitterness of abandonment, or simply the trouble of stirring up old memories, he just refused the matter entirely.
Every time Lucky had so much as grazed the subject, Ricky's fury had erupted like a storm.
Just as it was erupting now.
"I f*cking told you I didn't care about them and I didn't want to know-"
"This was for me-"
"THEN F*CK YOU!" Ricky exploded, his rage pulsating through every syllable though Lucky only rolled his eyes at his words.
"Ease off with the language, you're in the presence of a nun-"
"F*CK HER TOO THEN-"
"SLICK!" Lucky' s words thundered, his eyes blazing with a rare fury that made the air itself feel heavier.
Immediately, Ricky froze, forgetting for a second how untouchable religion was to the old man's heart.
COUGH
"You get what I mean," Ricky muttered, gesturing toward the old woman, who nodded and gave him the benefit of the doubt.
"Say what you will about me, but have some respect for the cloth—"
"Uh, hello?" Ricky interrupted, gesturing to himself, the honorary cardinal of the Vatican.
"Oh, f*ck you," Lucky scoffed, glaring at Ricky for using his own words against him.
"Why are you doing this, I f*cking told you-"
"And I told you a lot of things, yet you didn't listen," Lucky shot back, waving Ricky's complaints away with a casual flick of his hand.
"You're Bella's son?" Mother Mary gasped, fully aware of who he was, since the name Ricky Luciano had become widely known across America.
"The only son I am is to that man right there, nobody else." Ricky spat, disdain dripping from his words at the mere mention of Bella.
"We're leaving, Frank's funeral-" Ricky scoffed, motioning toward Lucky as he tried to turn his back and walk away.
"Can you just listen to me for a second, I think I got a lead about your father-"
"F*CK!" Ricky roared, his voice booming as he spun around and stomped toward Lucky.
"You think that chumps my father, just cause he knocked up some girl-"
SLAP
Ricky didn't stop the slap, letting the motion carry along with Lucky's open palm, and using that time to slowly calm his anger down before slowly turning his gaze back to Lucky.
"Ya done?" Ricky asked, watching the bitter old man frown in confusion as the hate boiled in his green eyes.
"Where do you get all this hate from? You didn't even know the poor girl," Lucky said, his disappointment clear as he looked at Ricky's distasteful expression.
"She was Bella Freeman, right?" Ricky asked, surprising both of them as their eyes widened.
"How did you-"
"And lemme guess, she could never stay in one spot for too long?" Ricky asked, turning his gaze toward Mother Mary, who flinched at the question.
"But this is where all my anger's coming from, you ready?" Ricky continued, turning back to Lucky before zeroing in on Mother Mary.
"Did she even want me?" Ricky asked genuinely, taking slow steps toward the nun, who instinctively began to back away.
"O-O-O-Of course-"
"Nah, I bet she loathed me." Ricky laughed bitterly, his features tightening as he slowly spread his hands.
"I bet she wanted me gone, just out of her life." Ricky continued, shooing at the open air as if that were Bella's thought process toward him.
"Did it freak you out, the way she could just look at me without even the slightest trace of genuine love?" Ricky asked, watching Mother Mary become mortified at how he could've guessed something so intimate.
"Come on-"
"Slick-"
"Tell me I'm lying-"
"SLICK-"
"TELL HIM THE F*CKING TRUTH!" Ricky screamed, completely convinced that Bella was no different in this life and certain that she could never have loved anything, or anyone, beyond herself.
"S-She-" Mother Mary stammered, her gaze flicking to Lucky, who waited for her to deny it, before reluctantly settling on Ricky.
Although so much had changed in Ricky's life, the bitter truth remained: he had inherited the same mother.
"She wanted me to abort you." Mother Mary whispered, her eyes dropping to the floor in shame. Lucky's face paled, and the cane in his hand trembled as it loosened from his grip.
"I begged her not to, but she was so insistent, she said the doctor would help her, but I—"
Sniff
"Oh God, how could she even think of killing an innocent baby?" Mother Mary whispered, the guilt she had carried all these years finally surfacing, mingling with the tears streaming down her face.
"S-S-S-So, I threatened her." Mother Mary's voice trembled, each word hitting Lucky like a sharp jab as he slowly turned to Ricky, who met her confession with the same hardened frown, as if none of this was surprising.
"I-I said that I would tell someone, everyone, about what she did." Mother Mary sniffled, struggling to stop the words from spilling out, unable to lie before Bella's child.
'It's the exact same b*tch.' Ricky thought, his eyes narrowing as he fixed his gaze on the nun.
"A-And I told her that if she gave birth here, I would never tell a soul and would place the child in the orphanage." Mother Mary continued, trying to raise her gaze to meet Ricky's but feeling so ashamed and lowering every time.
"But it took everything out of her, the birth, and when it did, she begged me to kill you." Mother Mary's words continued to pierce the old mobsters heart, shredding it to pieces, and leaving Lucky utterly speechless.
Everything he had come to know about Bella; the stories, the persona, and the carefully constructed image.
It had all been a lie.
It was simply a mask she wore to manipulate everyone around her, except for the one woman who had truly raised her.
"I-I-I couldn't." Mother Mary whispered, her voice breaking while recalling that horrid memory she had tried so hard to bury.
"I let her die-"
SNIFF
"I'm so sorry~" Mother Mary sobbed, sinking to her knees before Ricky as the weight of decades-long guilt pressed down on her.
Mother Mary's hands trembled as she clasped them together and finally revealed the truth she had buried all these years not only to others, but to herself.
When Bella had gone into labor, she had panicked.
In her desperation and fear, she had begged Mother Mary to end it, convinced that the child would ruin her life.
Or worse, that the birth itself would be fatal.
But Mother Mary ignored Bella's pleas, focusing instead on delivering the baby safely.
She had no idea that, in doing so, she was the reason that this world had become plagued with the man before her.
"There, happy now?" Ricky asked, spinning back toward Lucky, his usual smugness fading as he caught the older man staring off to the side, lost in a daze.
Ricky had expected a back-and-forth, a familiar exchange of jabs and their usual banter, but Lucky's expression stopped him cold.
The old man's fingers gripped his face in horror, the weight of what he'd uncovered, or perhaps what he had just realized, making him almost want to vomit.
"Woah, pops, I-"
"I just wanted you to know more about your mother," Lucky whispered, voice low and strained, as he slowly lowered himself to retrieve his cane.
"I'm sorry."
The apology took Ricky off guard as he stood there frozen while Lucky limped away with a blank expression.
"Lucky, c'mon, it's not a big deal!" Ricky called after him, his voice carrying more urgency than comfort.
But the old man didn't turn around.
He just kept walking until he reached a weathered bench at the top of the hillside.
When Lucky sat down, he didn't look back.
He simply stared out across the valley, at nothing in particular, as though distance itself could answer for what was brewing inside him.
Thousands of dollars and hundreds of manhours had been poured into the search for Ricky's roots.
A crusade built on good intentions, on Lucky's belief that closure was the one gift he could still give the boy.
But sitting there, cane resting against the bench, he realized the cruel truth: Ricky had already found out.
Not through Lucky's effort, not through tidy revelations wrapped in family records, but in his own jagged way.
And it hit him all at once, the futility of it.
Lucky had spent years convinced that Ricky's brokenness as a child had come from ignorance, from not knowing.
He thought that if he could just dig deep enough, he could stitch back what was torn.
But the reality cut harsher since he had known.
Ricky had known, in some twisted, unspoken way.
His scars weren't born of ignorance, but of living with that truth pressed into his bones and Lucky finally realized that single thing in this moment.
Bella's ghost had never really left him, and whether or not the details of his past life even mattered, Lucky's hunch had been entirely wrong.
The old man lowered his head, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of all these years.
It wasn't failure in business or power that gnawed at him now, but failure as a guardian.
SIGH
"C'mon, pops, what are you doing?" Ricky sighed, dropping down beside him and letting his shoulder brush against Lucky's.
"..."
Lucky stayed silent, fingers absently tracing the worn handle of his cane for what felt like an eternity.
Until finally, he spoke.
"When did you find out?" Lucky genuinely asked, turning towards him as Ricky slumped against the bench.
"Long before you did." Ricky muttered, his eyes flicking to the side as he studied Lucky's face, noting the hollow expression that slowly spread across it.
"Then-"
"Yeah."
It was all they needed.
The unspoken understanding hung between them: Ricky's actions as a young boy were the result of many f*ck-ups, but at the heart of it all, the roots had led back to his mother.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Lucky asked genuinely, almost breaking at the weight of Ricky having carried this truth alone for so long.
"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey Lucky, my mother was a b*tch who wanted nothing to do with me'?" Ricky shot back, making a joke since he had long come to terms with this part of his life.
SIGH
"I just wanted to give you something I felt was missing your entire life," Lucky sighed, clutching his face with his callused hand before slowly letting it slide down.
"But I only just realized you'd been carrying it with you all along."
"I-"
"C'mon, this ain't about my mom, it ain't even about me." Ricky interrupted, cutting through the thin veil of excuses Lucky tried to drape over the moment.
"Just admit it, pops." Ricky said, patting his shoulder and giving it a firm grip.
"Ha~" Lucky's laugh was slow, drawn out, as he slumped against the bench, a faint smile tugging at his lips while his gaze drifted into the distance.
"You're right," Lucky finally said, admitting the truth to himself just as Mother Mary had only seconds before.
"This ain't about you, it's about me." Lucky admitted, the words tasting selfish but impossible to hold back.
For once, Ricky didn't joke or scoff, he just listened.
"This is about my best friend, the man I gotta lower into the grave in a couple of hours," Lucky added, his voice heavy with the weight of inevitability.
"I don't even know what I'm doing here, Slick." Lucky said, ducking his head and slumping onto the edge of the bench, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion.
"What the f*ck am I doing?" Lucky seemed to ask the world, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and despair.
"Everything around me is just crumbling, and I'm out here chasing your ghosts," Lucky muttered, the words barely above a whisper as he stared at the ground.
"Y'know, we ain't never got to golf?" Lucky suddenly said, catching Ricky off guard with the abrupt switch in topic.
"Me and Frank, I mean." Lucky revealed, turning toward Ricky with a nostalgic smile creeping across his face.
"We told each other, when we were boys, that when we made it big, we'd do rich people sh*t." Lucky added, his eyes distant as he recalled the promise they made between one another.
"That we'd go to country clubs, we'd own vineyards, and most of all, we'd just suck at golf." Lucky's voice carried a wry nostalgia, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"We never got onto that course. We were always too busy with our own things." Lucky's eyes dropped, feeling so much regret permeate in his heart at never playing just a single round with Frank.
"I stepped down in the family and he stepped up and-"
"And now he's gone." Lucky's voice wavered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes for the man who had stood by him through everything.
Sniff
"But I wouldn't change a thing." Lucky said, forcing a small smile and wiping at his eyes.
"I wouldn't change a f*cking thing, and I just find myself hating why I keep thinking that." Lucky's voice cracked, the loss truly getting to him at that single moment.
"He bled for our family, and he died bleeding out for that family," Lucky laughed bitterly, the memory of hearing Frank's last moments over the radio still vivid in his mind.
"It's gotta be the noblest thing, but at the same time, the stupidest one."
"I just regret that I can't wish he hadn't died that day." Lucky said, his eyes fixed on the ground, voice brittle with the kind of truth he never liked to admit aloud.
This was what ate at him, what gnawed through the silences when no one was watching.
Frank had saved Moxie and Alina's life.
If he hadn't thrown that car into the witch, she would have had the breath for one last curse, and at least one of them would have died screaming.
Frank knew it, saw it in the way her hands still twitched with power, and he made the choice no one else could have made in time.
He gave his life in exchange.
There was always a price.
Lucky understood that better than anyone.
And that was what sickened him most: that he hated how things turned out, yet deep down he didn't want to change a thing.
He despised the cold arithmetic of it, despised himself for recognizing it as necessary, but he couldn't lie to himself.
Frank's death bought them all a future with Moxie and his unborn grandchild in Alina.
And Lucky would carry the weight of being grateful for it until his own dying day.
"Man, is this how you feel all the time?" Lucky asked him, turning toward him as Ricky started laughing.
"All those times you spilled your guts, is this what it feels like to be a sissy?" Lucky joked, earning a burst of hysterical laughter from Ricky.
They talked after that, for a long while.
When Lucky was finally ready, they rose from the bench, arms draped around each other's shoulders, no longer hiding from what they'd been avoiding.
Slowly, they made their way back to the Luciano family manor, only to be swallowed by a swarm of Ricky's children and Lucky's grandchildren.
As the women hustled to straighten dresses and suits, Lucky paused, taking in the scene.
He looked at his family, the Lucianos.
When he had left Sicily, he had been the last Luciano standing.
Now, surrounded by laughter, chaos, and life, all he could do was smile.
"Ready, pops?" Ricky asked, patting Lucky's chest as they settled into the car.
"Are you?" Lucky countered, scoffing at Ricky while swatting his hand away as his adopted son could only laugh.
"F*cking always."
Author's Note: I think I caught a cold because one of my dumbass friends thought it'd be funny to sip on my beer and now's he's f*cking sick. Also, I think I'm gonna make a discord but I have no idea how to use it for anything other than gaming so if you know how, it'd be cool if you dropped some tips or somehwere I could go to figure it out.