LaughingFiend
patreon
Chapter 135: Mr. President
🕑 Added 2025-01-04 01:01:44 +0000 UTC“Holy sh*t, your whiskey’s way better than my pop’s,” Ricky exclaimed, recoiling slightly from the burn of the drink.
Ricky inspected the bottle for a moment before shamelessly swiping it right under the president’s nose as they drove in slow, deliberate circles around the block.
Franklin D. Roosevelt wasn’t just any figure, not just any politician, and certainly not just any president.
He was a steadfast and resolute leader, fully aware that the upcoming years would define America forever.
This awareness drove his relentless involvement in every sphere imaginable, understanding that the nation needed firm guidance.
To put it simply, he was a control freak, determined to steer the country in the right direction, his direction.
But to reach that point, to wield such immense power, it was nearly impossible for anyone, let alone someone like him, to loosen their grip on the reins which was why his gaze had turned to the man before him.
In stark contrast, Ricky exuded a carefree demeanor, living fully in the moment and planning only as far ahead as the next month.
Franklin didn’t respect him for that, not in the slightest and yet, he could no longer dismiss him, either as Ricky had proven that he could play at Franklin’s level, and win.
“You’re such a crude, vulgar person,” Franklin said bluntly, his tone laced with unfiltered disdain as he made no effort to conceal his animosity, laying his thoughts bare from the start.
“Coming here-”
“And what? Wiping my ass with your goodwill?” Ricky interrupted with a crude laugh, his words dripping with such a vulgar spite.
“Walking into your house, your domain, with my shoes off and planting my crusty toes everywhere, kicking them up and wiggling them around,” Ricky said with a sly grin, leaning in closer as Franklin’s expression grew stern, sensing that Ricky’s words were building toward something far more pointed.
“It doesn’t feel so good when someone comes into your house and fcks up your sht, doesn’t it?” Ricky asked, a wide grin spreading across his face before Franklin’s expression darkened as he slowly nodded, the meaning behind Ricky’s words sinking in.
“Listen Teddy-”
“Wrong Roosevelt-”
“Whatever, listen.” Ricky interrupted the president, shaking his hand at him before leaning back with his whisky in hand.
“You know that deep, aching pit of hatred you probably have for me after everything I did.” Ricky gestured to him, pointing glass towards him before raising it up to take a sip.
“I want you to remember that feeling, this feeling, and hold onto it the next time you come to my house and try to f*ck up my sh*t like you were doing,” Ricky said with a laugh, his tone dripping with mockery as he watched as the president’s face grew even darker, the weight of the thinly veiled threat sinking in.
“I’m not the type of person to let things go,” Ricky said, his voice low and deliberate, placing the glass to the side as the ice cubs swirled.
“I’m the type of person who blows it out of proportion, and I’ll go above and beyond to drag you down to my level.” Ricky’s words caused Franklin’s mind to flash to Dewey, the prosecutor whose fall from grace had been so sharp and unforgiving.
He remembered how Dewey had once been a good-hearted man, only to become something darker, something unrecognizable.
“Because if I’m gonna lose, gonna suffer, then you can bet your ass that you’re gonna suffer with me,” Ricky finished, his eyes locking with Franklin’s as he made it clear that if he went down, he wouldn’t go alone.
He’d burn everything down if he had to, and he would never let Franklin walk away, unscathed, into the sunset, while Ricky would be the one to pay the price.
“What is this all really about, Ricky?” Franklin calmly asked Ricky, gaining the young man’s attention as he set down his drink.
“I think we both know you don’t care about America, mutants, or anything that isn’t your family,” Franklin said, his tone smooth as he watched Ricky trace his finger along the glass.
Ricky's smile brightened, knowing that he hit the nail on the head as the words made the conversation flow much more easily, revealing the truth behind Ricky’s motivations and skipping past all the bullsh*t.
“Because I’m not going away, Mr. President, I’m just getting started.” Ricky said, his gaze unwavering as he met Franklin’s eyes as his words were sharp, making it clear that this was only the beginning.
“I’m gonna become a powerful man, and I think it’s time you get on board, rather than constantly trying to block my way,” Ricky said, sighing as he leaned back while Franklin’s face remained unreadable.
“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Ricky continued, his voice dripping with a sleazy confidence.
“You can’t honestly believe I don’t know you’re behind Joe, pulling the little strings like some sort of puppet master.” Ricky dangled his fingertips in front of the president, a clear gesture showing that he had known for quite some time.
“Just like you, I know what’s going on in my city, and much like you, I don’t like the stink wafting in,” Ricky joked, gesturing toward Franklin, pretending to wave his hand over to him as if cutting the cheese.
“Then I’m sure you’re well aware that I’m faced with the question of why you went in front of the American people and told them that you not only wanted to be a pillar of mutantkind, start a foundation, and join my army,” Franklin said, his gaze steady and piercing but no matter how intense it was, the weight of his words simply bounced off Ricky.
“Can I be honest with you, Franky?” Ricky leaned back, his tone casual but laced with defiance, clearly stepping over the line of respect as if testing the waters.
“Please.” Franklin’s eyebrow twitched as he took a deep breath, gesturing toward Ricky, giving him permission to speak freely.
“Because a war is coming.”
“A war that both you and I know will suck you in, no matter how hard you try to keep your feet out of its murky waters.” Ricky’s words hung in the air, leaving Franklin completely silent, as if he recognized the truth in them, or at least found them convincing.
“Has the Vatican informed you of the severity in Europe?” Franklin asked, his gaze fixed on the tinted windows, as though he were asking without truly expecting an answer and Ricky, on the other hand, spread his arms out, as if to demonstrate his own understanding of the situation.
“I am the Black Knight, after all,” Ricky said, his words hanging in the air without a direct confirmation, yet acknowledging that they both knew there was some truth to it.
Immediately, Franklin’s gaze snapped to Ricky as the CIA had gathered extensive intel on the Black Knight and the immense power he wielded.
More importantly, there was the undeniable fact that Ricky was the one responsible for slaying Dracula, an act that had marked him not only as a threat, but as a worldwide one.
“What do you want?” Franklin seemingly asked without not entirely agreeing.
“I want to be an officer in the military, and I want to earn that position not through four years of boarding school, but through quick and direct commander training,” Ricky said, pointing at Franklin as the president remained silent as Ricky continued, undeterred by the lack of response.
“Before you say anything, really take into account that by putting myself in the military, I’m almost on your side in a way that you’ll really want me as a friend,” Ricky said, his eyes dark, showing that he wasn’t about to relent.
In all honesty, it might seem like a bad idea to let Ricky into the military, but for Franklin, it was almost beneficial.
From his observations, people like Ricky were impossible to control; spontaneous individuals acted on impulse, and impulses could shift in an instant.
But once he entered the military, it would be just a little easier to manage.
The entire military was under Franklin's control, and he'd much rather keep Ricky under his watchful eyes than let him loose, gallivanting across Europe on some crusade.
Franklin remained quiet for a long time, pondering the reality of the situation, before resigning himself to the idea of having Ricky within his reach, rather than allowing him to slip away.
“Why should I not only let you into my academy, my army, my government, and my United States?” Franklin asked, his tone calculating, as he leaned forward, eager to hear Ricky's answer while the latter merely smiled in response, unfazed by the question.
“Because let’s be real, you need me,” Ricky laughed, pointing to himself with a smirk as Franklin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but remained silent, waiting for Ricky to elaborate.
In all honesty, Franklin didn’t need Ricky, but no one ever truly needs anything.
It’s the illusion that’s given to you, the fear that haunts you, that makes you compelled to go the extra mile.
That’s why Ricky, with Shadow Broker slowly appearing by his side, who had always been lurking in the background, waiting for the right moment, finally made his move.
“This war, what you’re about to go up against, the powers that lie beneath, is something you could never imagine.” Ricky first appealed to that fear, sinking his words deep into it, embedding the train of thought into its murky waters, knowing it would fester there.
“The people, the beings, pulling the strings of the Reich are something you've only scratched the surface of.” Ricky then started to engrain a sense of belief, subtly guiding the narrative in a direction that would make Franklin question everything he thought he knew.
“For those people and the strengths you can’t even fathom, you’ll need someone like me, someone who can go toe to toe on those front lines. But most of all, you’re going to need my power.” Ricky finally revealed his hand, positioning himself as essential, inflating his value beyond what it truly was, making it clear he believed his presence was the key to Franklin's success.
“We both know you're gonna just stall, until you’re sure you have a chance, but let’s be real, I bet that think tank of a government is trying to find any way they can to rival whatever Germany has.” Ricky smirked, knowing that his words hit closer to the truth than Franklin would like to admit.
“If you’re going to need as much firepower as you can get, why not accept mutants? Why not roll the dice on me?” Ricky's tone was laced with a challenge, his eyes locking onto Franklin's as if daring him to refuse.
Franklin’s silence spoke volumes, his mind clearly turning over the implications of what Ricky had just said.
He was well aware of the Nazi powers looming in the shadows of Hitler, the unseen hands that had their fingers in the Reich’s operation.
He knew, in a way, that Ricky was right, mutants could be the edge he needed, a resource too powerful to ignore.
But what’s worse, if a war broke out, could Franklin afford to not keep an eye on Ricky?
“Fine,” Franklin said, his voice steady but firm, knowing this wasn’t the first or last time he’d made a deal with a devil.
“You will be admitted into the officer program when you submit an application, after you get a high school diploma that is.” Franklin spoke of the bare minimum, his words making Ricky’s eyebrow twitch.
“So, I guess you can say we’re partners now,” Ricky laughed, nudging the president lightly as Franklin scowled, clearly unamused by the casual tone, but there was no denying the weight of the agreement hanging in the air.
“Now that you had one of my men locked up and the key thrown away, I guess I’ll have to use what I can,” Franklin said, his gaze steady, resolute almost before getting to the main point.
“But there is one more thing.” Franklin looked at Ricky, who was already waiting for this moment, knowing something else was coming.
“What are you going to do about the scene in New York?”
“I’m sure you’re clever enough to know that all the families are on edge and teetering on the brink of a full-on war with one another, what is it you really want, Ricky Luciano.” Franklin asked, leaning in towards Ricky who smiled warmly, as if already knowing where this conversation was headed.
“Isn’t it obvious? I want you and the government to turn a blind eye to me completely eviscerating the families, as a gesture of goodwill,” Ricky laughed, his words bloodthirsty as Franklin had a deadpan expression.
“In return, the family will look not only favorable towards you, but your next campaign.” Ricky offered, Franklin pondering once more before looking out the window.
“If you think I am ignorant to the deal Lucky has with the High Table, then don’t count me as a fool yet, but either way, I have no choice but to accept,” Franklin said, his words leaving Ricky shocked as he raised an eyebrow.
“What deal?” Ricky suddenly asked, unable to hold himself back as Franklin side-eyed him with a raised eyebrow.
“He never told you?” Franklin grinned slightly, showing some surprise while waving his hand in the air along with his next words.
“Well, I guess that should be resolved between Father and Son.”
“Now, please get out of my car.” Franklin had the car stopped, gesturing towards the door as Ricky looked a little annoyed.
“I’m taking the whiskey and this really nice glass, 'cause I like the way the ice clinks into it.” Ricky noted to Franklin before shutting the door behind him, leaving the president staring straight ahead.
Sigh
“I actually really liked that glass.”
Walking back to the crummy motel, the one without any reporters lingering around, Ricky spotted Jake sitting at a table, a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he flipped through a law book.
Clink
Ricky sat the whiskey down in front of Jake, the bottle clinking softly against the table as Jake flinched, his eyes flickering from the glass to Ricky’s face, not even noticing that he had walked in before the interruption.
“Whatcha ya got there?” Ricky asked, sipping the whiskey lightly as Jake let out a sheepish laugh.
“It’s nothing, it f*cking stupid-”
“Law 101, huh?” Ricky tilted the book upward, raising an eyebrow as Jake rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I know pulling my life together and I do want to be part of the family, but after seeing Marshall I just kinda got-”
“Hey, listen, Jake.” Ricky held up his hand, stopping his friend as he looked toward him, a serious expression crossing his face.
“Whatever you do, be it in or outside the family, I’m gonna support you.”
“Not as someone from the Luciano family, but as a friend.” Ricky said, his tone low and earnest as he leaned in, locking eyes with Jake.
“For once Jake dont’ think about me, your brother, or the family.” Ricky shrugged, tipping the glass to him before downing the rest.
“Be selfish, think about yourself, and when you’re ready to talk about the future, you come find me. The door’s always open,” Ricky said, standing up and preparing to leave.
Jake, slowly lowering his head while watching as Ricky walked away, the weight of the words settling in.
“Thanks, Slick.” Jake bit his lip, his eyes watering, the words barely escaping his throat. Ricky paused on the stairs, turning just enough to glance back at him.
Sniff
“Thanks for not just throwing me away,” Jake said, wiping his eyes, his voice thick with emotion. He knew how much of a burden he'd been.
Ricky paused at the bottom of the stairs, then turned back toward him, raising the bottle with a smirk.
“What are friends for?”
Three hours later,
“Do you have any fours?”
“OH COME ON!” Ricky slammed down his cards, frustration evident in his voice. The rest of the group let out an exasperated sigh, clearly used to his outbursts.
Asterion, ever so slightly, took the four from Chester, who was looking at his hand in disbelief.
They were all huddled around the table: Ricky, Asterion, Chester, Alexander, Marshall, Jake, and even Garfield.
It was a cutthroat game of Go-Fish, but instead of money, they were betting peanuts.
Still, the stakes were high, pride was on the line, and nobody wanted to lose, especially to Asterion.
Asterion, for reasons no one could explain, was absolutely lethal at this game as it was as if he had some sixth sense, knowing exactly which cards everyone had, even without seeing them.
His calm and cheerful demeanor only added to the mystery, making him all the more infuriating to play against.
“I’ll never win at this game, never,” Alexander groaned, dropping to his knees in dramatic defeat. Chester, ever the sympathetic soul, patted him on the back with a chuckle.
“True-” Garfield rubbed salt in the wound as Chester flashed him a stink eye.
“IS WHAT ALL THOSE WHO RALLIED AGAINST MY DEFEAT WANT ME TO SAY FOR I, ALEXANDER THE GREAT, WILL NEVER YIELD IN THE FACE OF DEFEAT, NEVER!” Alexander roared out, declaring his will to the heavens with a gerbil cry of defiance.
"Alright, count me out for this game," Ricky muttered, standing up as he watched with slight envy as Asterion casually pulled the pile of peanuts closer to him, a gentle smile spreading across his face at the delight of playing with friends.
Walking out of the room and towards the terrace, Ricky was struck by the scene before him, one that painters would dream of when seeking their muse.
Raven stood bathed in moonlight, her gaze lost in the distant scenery, her silhouette glowing softly against the night sky.
Ricky moved silently behind her, his hands slipping around her waist, pulling her closer as the night air seemed to hum with the quiet intimacy of the moment.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look in the moonlight?” Ricky whispered in her ear, his voice low and steady, sending a shiver down her spine as he leaned down, his lips grazing her shoulder in a soft kiss.
“Not yet~” Raven purred, her voice dripping with a playful edge, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she turned towards him.
Her back pressed against the cool surface of the terrace, her eyes locking with him as the scenery hung behind her like a well drawn landscape, pulling the image together in its perfect form.
“Well, you look beautiful in the moonlight,” Ricky whispered, his lips brushing her cheek before he rested his head gently on her shoulder.
Raven glanced down at him, her gaze softening as she allowed the moment to settle between them.
“You did a good thing, you know that?” Raven whispered, pulling him into a tight hug and gently patting his head as they swayed softly, the quiet of the night surrounding them.
“I don’t know if you did it for me, for yourself, or for mutants, but you did good.” Raven kissed his cheek softly, her words lingering in the air as she pulled back just enough to look at him.
“So are you going to finally give me the chance I’ve been asking for?” Ricky chuckled, lifting his head up to gently place his forehead on hers.
“Can I ask the question?”
“Of course we can have sex here-”
“Not that.” Raven scoffed, watching Ricky laugh without a care in the world as the sight made her slightly memorized.
“Why should I give you a chance?” Ravne asked with a playful smile as it was Ricky’s turn to scoff.
“Oh come on-”
“Just humor me, please?” Raven pouted, her fingers gently brushing his cheek as she looked at him with a playful yet expectant gaze, hoping for a sincere response.
“Other than the fact that you’re madly in love with me?” Ricky asked with a slight laugh.
“Other than that,” Raven rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth hinted at a smile.
Ricky looked at her gently, then kissed her cheek once more, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away.
“Because Destiny can’t give you the loving family I can,” Ricky murmured, resting his hand on her stomach as they began to sway back and forth.
“I’m serious about you, Raven,” Ricky said, his voice low and earnest.
“I don’t know what it is about you, but what I feel is real.” Ricky paused, trying to find the right words, but there was a rawness in his honesty, an unspoken truth that hung in the air between them.
“I just want to f*cking cherish you.” Ricky said the first thing that popped into his mind, but Raven didn’t laugh and instead smiled warmly.
“Even in the briefest moments, I could not stop thinking about everything you were and the second I do, I see that I just can’t let you slip through my fingers again.”
“I’m not asking you to sacrifice yourself for me, but to let me show you that you belong with me.” Ricky was almost surprised with himself at these words since he couldn’t help but fall in love with her.
Everything about her drove him crazy, the way she talked, laughed, playfully nudged him away, and all of it boiled into this moment as Raven gently caressed his cheek.
"Okay, but don't think I'm just going to give you my heart all at once, Tiger," Raven teased, pulling him closer and kissing his lips.
His hands trailed down her back, the moonlight casting a soft glow over them as they stood in that quiet, intimate moment.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
They sat in each other's company, gazing at the horizon as the world around them seemed to pause.
The silence between them stretched for what felt like an eternity, each lost in their own thoughts, until finally, Ricky broke the stillness.
“Hey Raven, what do you know about the High Table?” Ricky asked, the words slipping out before he had a chance to really think about it.
He remembered how she had stepped foot into the Continental so long ago, and the curiosity lingered in his mind.
The question was so simple on the surface, yet it carried so much weight, and it took Raven a moment to process it.
“What did you do?” Raven asked, squinting her eyes before thinking Ricky got caught up in something.
“Wha-nothing, I’m just wondering since my pops made some sort of deal with them-”
“What?!” Raven shot out of his grasp, her eyes widening in shock as she pulled away from him, her expression quickly darkening into a frown.
“I know it's a big deal, come on, my hands are feeling empty-” Ricky reached out, annoyed that he couldn’t grope Raven all he wanted.
“Ricky, I don’t know anything about the High Table,” Raven said, her voice steady but firm. Ricky looked at her as if she was mistaken.
“But you’ve-”
“I know what you’re going to say, but if you call me old, I’m going to scratch your face,” Raven hissed, her fingers curling slightly as she shot him a playful glare.
“Alright but how, you’ve-”
“I’ve only met one High Table member, which is Selene,” Raven said, holding up her finger as she recalled her brief stint in the Hellfire Club, where she crossed paths with Selene.
"But she’s been in that position since the Roman Empire, and I only knew this because she told me," Raven continued, her voice tinged with caution.
"The members of the High Table are not just dangerous, they’re untouchable. These are people who rule entire continents underbelly’s, who can shift the balance of power with the flick of a finger, all while running the underworld with a vicious intensity. The kind of people you don’t want to get caught in their sights who have been setting the rules since before there were any.” Raven spoke, rubbing her own shoulder since the high table always made her uneasy.
"If Lucky, an unpowered man, was able to make a deal with them, then it had to be enough to catch their interest, which is something people have literally killed themselves for," Raven said, her voice laced with concern as she walked over to Ricky, settling herself onto his lap.
"I know you want to celebrate after what you did, but promise me you'll be careful." She caressed his cheek gently, her yellow eyes searching for any sign of understanding.
“Of course, who else is more careful than me?” Ricky showed a sleazy smile, not giving a direct answer while looking in a certain direction.
1 hour later,
Meanwhile at the local holding center,
Now, defeated and left disheveled and broken within the confines of his cell, Dewey had a hollow look on his face as he had essentially lost everything.
From his career all the way down to the love of his life, everything had shattered around him. Each piece of his once-ordered world lay in ruins, and in this moment, he felt utterly hollow.
His hands, once steady and sure, now trembled as they rested against the cold, unforgiving walls of the cell.
There was no escape from this darkness, no way to undo the choices that had led him here.
All that remained was the painful silence that echoed within him, a reminder of everything he had destroyed and everything he would never get back, until even that was broken.
Click
Click
Click
The sound of heels clicking in the distance resounded, growing louder with each step. Dewey slowly looked up, his hollow gaze meeting Ricky's pleasant smile.
They didn’t say anything and didn’t have to, they already knew why he was here as Ricky opened the cell door without a sound, closing it gently behind him as he stepped inside.
Without saying a word, he walked over and sat on the other side of the wall, the distance between them marked only by the silence that filled the room while the broken man stood on the other side of him.
“You’re a monster.” Dewey’s voice cracked, the words escaping him like a dam breaking, as he looked at Ricky with raw anguish.
His eyes were empty, but the pain was still there, lingering in the depths all while Ricky just sat there, watching him with the same patient expression, as if expecting this.
“You’re going to burn this country to the ground and become the heart of its suffering,” Dewey spat, his hollow eyes igniting with the last ember of hate he had left, all of it focused on the man sitting across from him.
“I don’t know how you did it or why, but I know one thing-..............y-you were just lucky!” Dewey yelled at Ricky, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and frustration, the anger barely contained beneath the surface.
Even now, even after everything, it was as if Dewey couldn’t accept the weight of his failure which made Ricky let out a small laugh, turning away as if his words were nothing more than a joke.
“It was like everything was a line of dominoes, one thing falling after another, all perfectly lined up for you. And everyone credits you for it, but I know better. I know you didn’t have the skill, the intelligence, or the guts to pull this off. It was all just luck, nothing more." Dewey could only hang onto his own delusion, knowing his words were false and yet, he continued.
“Someone is backing you like me, someone is helping you and-”
“You want to know why they call my pops 'Lucky'? The real reason, not the bullsh*t excuse he gives?” Ricky suddenly asked, cutting off Dewey’s hateful breaths with the sharpness of his words.
“It’s because whenever the odds were stacked against him, no matter what was in front of him, he won anyway.” Ricky leaned his head back against the wall, resting his arms on his knees while his gaze stayed fixed on the broken man before him.
“He’d always tell me there’s no such thing as luck, and so I never understood why they called him lucky, but I think I do now.” Ricky chuckled, making a playing card appear before Dewey's eyes, spinning it through his fingers effortlessly.
“You got lucky-”
“You see, that’s it.” Ricky continued, his smile widening while the realization hit him at that moment.
“Guys like you always think that other people get lucky.” Ricky tilted his head, showcasing his pearly whites with his cheeky smile on the side.
“And just like my pops,” Ricky let his words drip, making each one cut deeper. He raised his gaze, locking eyes with Dewey.
“I don’t get lucky, I make my own luck.” Ricky laughed, the sound sharp and almost freeing, as the realization hit him fully, understanding now what his pops meant when he said there’s no such thing as luck that you don’t make yourself.
“Everything that happened to you didn’t happen by some anomaly, it happened because it was meant to happen.” Ricky leaned forward, his eyes narrowing into crescent moons, his pupils betraying the shock of revealing to Dewey that he was the root cause of it all.
“Don’t you get it, Dewey? You didn’t survive the blast. That front you had? It’s evaporated. Now, just like I told you three years ago, I’m just gonna scurry out of the rubble.” Ricky laughed maniacally, his promise coming full circle as Dewey trembled violently.
“Just like the cockroach you are,” Dewey hissed, watching him rise slowly, adjusting his suit, and bending down to his level.
“And this cockroach also makes good on his promises.” Ricky said, his voice low and cold as he grabbed Dewey’s throat, squeezing tightly while lifting him off the ground.
“You’re right, Dewey,” Ricky whispered into his ear, his grip tightening on Dewey's throat.
“I’m the reason everything that happened to you, from your job and into France’s, went down the way it did because of me.” Ricky's words forced Dewey’s eyes to widen in shock, and tears welled up as the weight of Ricky’s words sunk in.
“But don’t you worry, I’ll take care of her and if you’re wondering, she will be fuFILLED.” Ricky laughed after highlighting the last part of his words, Dewey’s heart shattering even further as Ricky brought out some rope.
Tying the rope above, he hoisted Dewey up, looping it around his neck before letting it go, the weight of it tightening instantly as the man succumbed to gravity.
"Kuerk!" Dewey let out a strangled grunt, desperately clawing at the rope as he hung above Ricky.
At first, he struggled, but gradually his body went limp, his face turning purple from the strain until he finally succumbed, his body becoming lifeless as the last image of Ricky's sleazy smile encapsulated his being before his eyes slowly shut for good.
“Goodbye Dewey.”
The cold, dark void clung to Dewey’s mind, his soul drifting away, until a bright light appeared in its wake.
It felt as though the light was calling to him, urging him to move forward as a warm pulse echoed around him.
Everything was over now, he could finally rest, leave his worldly troubles behind, and find the peace he had longed for.
“OH COME ON DEWEY, WHO SAID IT ENDS HERE!”
Then, within that void, dark green chains slowly coiled around his soul, their weight heavy and unrelenting.
Symbols began to materialize in the space around him, glowing with an eerie light, their meanings cryptic yet binding.
‘N-No, NO PLEASE!’ Dewey’s soul cried out, screeching up towards the light only for the chains to yank him back down.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I JUST F*CKING SAID I’D BE THE ONE TO TAKE YOUR LIFE, I DIDN’T MEAN YOU COULD JUST DIE!”
The words echoed all around the void, their resonance deep and suffocating, dragging Dewey’s soul down deeper and deeper.
It was as though all the drifting, all the fleeting moments of peace he had hoped for, had been in vain.
The chains tightened, and the symbols pulsed with a cold, merciless energy, pulling him further away from the light he had once felt drawn to.
“WHAT’S THE POINT OF A FCKING EXAMPLE IF NO ONE GETS TO SEE IT FIRSTHAND, OH NO DEWEY, I’M GONNA FCKING OWN YOU!”
The intensity of Ricky's words cut through the void like a blade, a sharp declaration that reverberated through Dewey's fading consciousness.
The darkness around him seemed to throb with the weight of Ricky's fury, as if the very air was heavy with his wrath.
The chains constricted further, each symbol etched into Dewey's soul, marking him as Ricky’s possession until they had finished.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Dewey’s scream tore through the air, a raw, gut-wrenching wail as his grotesque form twisted and contorted in the pit beneath him.
The relentless rain hammered down, soaking his twisted body, mixing with the mud as it clung to him.
Above, Ricky stood, a maddened grin stretched across his face, his hand gripping the shovel while personally taking Dewey out from the hole he’d been buried in.
The rain intensified, but Ricky’s smile only grew, savoring every moment as Dewey wailed in his new body.
When Dewey was eventually pulled from the pit, lifeless and unmoving, the authorities declared it a suicide, processing his body with a detached coldness.
They found no sign of foul play, and Dewey’s death was chalked up to his own despair.
His body was handed over to the only family he had left, Frances, who, with grim determination, gave him an impromptu funeral.
But as the mourners dispersed, Ricky emerged from the shadows, his grin never faltering.
The torment Dewey had endured was far from over and in a twisted revelation, Ricky made it clear that death was only the beginning of his suffering.
"W-What did you do to me?" Dewey trembled uncontrollably, his voice cracking with panic as he stared at his hands, the flesh rotting away in grotesque patches.
His heart wasn’t even pounding and yet the surge of terror washed over him as he looked up at Ricky, whose smile was unsettlingly warm, as if nothing was amiss.
“When I said take your life, I meant it in the literal sense.” Ricky's words were almost cheerful, chuckling while reaching down.
"But don’t worry, Dewey, we’re gonna have so much fun." Ricky said as his hand reached down, casting a shadow over the grotesque form of Dewey, who shook his head madly.
“No, NOOOOOOOOOOOOO-”
DING
(Legendary Servant) Dewey The Tortured Wraithbound: The Tortured Wraithbound, known as Dewey, is a grotesque, decaying zombie, distinguished by the eerie glow of its hollow eyes, an unsettling sign of the soul trapped within, eternally suffering. Its withered, blackened flesh is stretched taut over brittle bones, as if the weight of the tormented soul forces its body into unnatural contortions. The most tragic aspect of Dewey's existence is that while it is cognizant of its actions, it is powerless to control its own body. Its every movement is dictated by the summoner’s will, a slave to the user’s commands. The soul within endlessly cries for release, yet it remains bound, trapped in an agonizing limbo until the user’s will is either exhausted or it is freed.
Abilities:
Eternal Agony (Passive):
The Wraithbound's presence induces overwhelming sorrow and dread, causing enemies nearby to experience brief hallucinations and weakened resolve.
Soulcry (Active):
The Wraithbound releases a torment-filled wail that disorients enemies, causing confusion or paralysis. Its strength grows the longer it's bound to the mortal realm.
Author's note: I’d love some feedback on whether you think I went too far with Dewey. The whole point was to make him an example, along with the families in the future, but I turned him into an undead because of Ricky’s psychology. Him having this need to always go further and I really feel like Ricky wouldn’t stop at this point cause he already crossed the line in earlier chapters. Does this seem out of character, or am I just second-guessing myself?
Comments
Sebastian
Yes teddy 🧸 👏 🙌 it's doesn't matter if it's the wrong one lol
Rolando Mejia
I loved how you made Dewey’s torment last even after his death, I liked how you described him chaining his soul it really gave great detail to what you were writing. Thanks for the chapter
Ludovicus
It was good! So keep on writing.
Unknown
Jeez i got a little confused at first but a love the ending for dewey. i honestly thought he was gonna do something like that but i just don’t get what he would gain from it but this is pretty cool
NallukTV
Esta perfecto autor, siga cocinando 😃
Drake
nah this is much better, i mean he made randoms that crossed him into zombies all the time, why not make the more PERSONAL enemies that he's annihilated in body and mind into undeads too?
