LaughingFiend
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Chapter 110: The Calm Before The Storm
🕑 Added 2024-11-22 00:51:30 +0000 UTCIn the remote depths of the Colorado Rockies, a group of armed figures emerged, their gear adorned with an eclectic array of religious symbols.
They approached the outskirts of a seemingly abandoned town, their movements tense and anticipatory, prepared for spells to rain down upon them.
Yet, no attack came.
Instead, an unsettling silence blanketed the area as their eyes darted to every shadow, searching for signs of life with only the crawling stillness to meet their unsteady gazes.
It wasn’t long before the realization set in that this would be no battleground, this was a ghost town.
At the forefront of the group stood a woman wielding a sword that towered into the sky, her face concealed beneath a veil-like covering.
Her presence was commanding, yet the eerie stillness around them seemed to gnaw at the edges of her resolve.
"Sister Angela, they have fled." A man clad in a crusader’s uniform announced, his voice steady but edged with unease.
Sister Angela, standing at the head of the group, tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment, her expression hidden beneath the shadow of her face covering.
BOOM
Without warning, a typhoon of raw energy erupted from Sister Angela, engulfing her in a maelstrom of light and fury.
The ground beneath her seemed to tremble, and the air crackled with the intensity of her unleashed power.
“FIND ANY TRACE, FIND ME THOSE DIRTY WITCHES!”
Meanwhile In New York,
An emergency commission meeting had been called, the room filled with tension and restless murmurs.
Yet amidst the gravity of the gathering, one mob boss sat back, laughing heartily, as if the entire ordeal were a private joke meant for him alone.
BAM
“DAMMIT, LUCKY, THIS ISN’T A F*CKING JOKE!” Carlo bellowed, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tense air.
He slammed his hands onto the table, the sound reverberating through the room like a thunderclap, his face flushed with fury while Lucky started to laugh even harder in his face.
Over the past three years, Vinny had tragically passed away from a sudden heart attack, leaving Carlo to step into his shoes as the new head of what was now known as the Gambino family.
“I mean, come on, how can you expect me not to laugh at these ridiculous accusations?” Lucky said with a casual shrug, the strands of white hair speckled on his otherwise black hair catching the dim light as he leaned back, unfazed by the tension in the room.
“Are we really supposed to believe that Slick; your son, the same reckless fool we all know, somehow landed a cardinal position without a shred of help from you?” Joe asked, his tone dripping with mockery.
Though a smile stretched across his face, the veins bulging along his neck betrayed the simmering anger beneath.
Lucky shrugged again, his expression unreadable, as if Joe’s words were nothing more than an amusing aside.
“Beats me how the kid pulled it off, but let’s focus on what really matters,” Lucky snickered, leaning back in his chair with an air of ease.
His sharp gaze swept over the room, landing on the most ruthless figures in New York as if daring them to challenge him.
“Now that being a mutant has been christened by God, Slick’s ban-”
“Absolutely not! ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Carlo roared, his face twisted with fury as his hatred for Lucky surged to new heights the moment Ricky’s name was spoken, as if the mere mention of it was a trigger that sent him spiraling.
Carlo, once one of this timeline who was supposed to be the most influential and respected bosses in the city, had been reduced to little more than a punchline, his reputation flapping in the wind due to a butterfly, that was Ricky.
Now, he was a man who controlled the least amount of territory, still the butt of every joke in Manhattan, all because of that damn kid.
"C'mon, Lucky, we all know you helped the kid, be honest." Tommy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
But Lucky only shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned back, refusing to give Tommy, or let alone any of these bosses, the satisfaction.
“I think all of you are confused about the purpose of this meeting.” Lucky finally spoke towards the bosses instead of laughing, his voice calm yet firm as the room fell silent, every pair of eyes now fixed on him.
“I’m not asking for your permission to see my son again.” Lucky continued, his gaze sweeping over the table, the weight of his words settling in.
“I’m just telling you that he’s coming home.”
Lucky raised his eyes to meet theirs, unfazed by the dangerous glares aimed his way as the room seemed to grow colder, the tension palpable.
“Watch yourself Lucky-” Tommy warned Lucky only to receive a sneer.
“It’s funny you say that cause I have, I’ve let this constant disrespect go on and watch it happen for the last three years.” Lucky said, his tone measure, holding up his hand to each and everyone of these bosses.
“I’ve been a good scout and followed the rules I set for myself, for the commission, because I believed that respect isn’t given in this world, it’s f*cking earned. And you can’t expect respect from others if you can’t even respect the words flowing from your own mouth.” Lucky voice commanded their attention, speaking over any thoughts as his words trailed solely in this room.
“I really believed that.” Lucky emphasized, showing how much that sentiment meant for him until his hand gripped his cane, almost shaking from the rage built within his heart.
"But that respect, that respect I carried for this commission and every single one of you, is gone." Lucky continued, his voice growing colder, more detached yet it started raising.
"I look at all of you with a hollow gaze, and know that you have no right to judge me, not now, not after you called that meeting to banish my son three years ago, WITHOUT ME!" Lucky's voice grew louder with each word, each syllable booming through the room until he was shouting, his fury impossible to ignore.
“This ain’t reconciliation, this wasn’t to make peace, this was to get even.” Lucky stood up, adjusting his suit while gazing at all the bosses staring at him with deadly gazes.
“Per the commission rules, Ricky Luciano’s banishment is effectively released and to any who object, you can go f*ck yourself.” Lucky then turned his back, striding out of the room as his dress shoes clicked out into the hallway.
“You know what this means, Lucky, right?” Profaci asked, fiddling with his pinky ring as he glanced up at the departing figure.
“All too well,” Lucky replied, strolling out of the room, fully aware that all bridges of peace had now been reduced to nothing more than smoldering ashes.
The room fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence, the weight of Lucky's words hanging heavily in the air.
Every person in that room understood the gravity of the statement, Ricky was coming, whether they wanted him to or not.
No one dared speak, the tension palpable as they absorbed the reality of what was about to unfold.
“Well, if I’m being honest, Lucky’s right in saying that the kid has no reason to be banished anymore.” Stefano yawned, quite bored with this meeting as he received hateful stares from everyone.
BAM
“HE’S A FREAK-” Carla slammed his hand onto the table, interjecting into the nonchalant attitude of Stefano.
"But that’s just your opinion," Profaci said dismissively, his fingers idly twisting his pinky ring.
"Just like it’s my opinion to call a midget tall." Profaci rolled his eyes at Carlo, who glared back at him with a seething intensity, the hatred clear in his gaze.
“Listen up, fellas, Slick doesn’t violate any measure put in place anymore, so I propose his banishment be lifted on the grounds of our Lord Almighty,” Profaci said with a plain attitude, meeting the steady gazes of all the bosses in the room.
The very reason they had been able to banish Ricky in the first place was because mutants were seen as devils, and, in the name of God, they had expelled him.
But now, those same words had come back to bite them, and they found themselves trapped by the very logic they had once used to justify his exile.
"Then I guess this meeting is adjourned." Stefano said, standing up and adjusting his suit and despite his words, everyone remained seated as he turned and walked away.
The stares of the other families were palpable, intense, almost suffocating, as they slowly began to trickle out of the room one by one.
Yet, Lucky was the first to step outside the building, his presence a quiet defiance against the weight of the lingering glares.
A car was waiting for him, with Frank standing by the door, his hairline visibly receded from the strain of the years.
Frank looked up as Lucky approached, his eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and respect.
“How did it go?” Frank asked, opening the door for Lucky.
Lucky sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes as exhaustion weighed on him as two days without sleep taking its toll.
Lucky slid into the car, his body sinking into the seat, clearly worn down from the battle he’d just fought.
"New York's about to be plunged into chaos any day now," Lucky revealed, his voice low and grim.
"It's almost confirmed at this point." Lucky revealed to Frank who slid into the car on the other side and sat back, his face hardening as the weight of Lucky’s words settled between them.
"He really made a big stir," Frank laughed, and Lucky chuckled along.
"I don't think Slick's ever entered into any situation with a peaceful mindset," Lucky replied, his grin a mix of amusement and resignation.
"...." They sat in the car in silence, with Lucky already knowing what Frank was going to say next, but he waited, letting the big man start the conversation.
“D-Do you-.........................................do you think he’ll really give Eddy a-”
"I do," Lucky said with a heavy sigh, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"I think it’s gonna be the first thing he does when he comes back." Lucky paused, a flicker of doubt crossing his face.
Deep down, he hoped Ricky had grown, that he'd learned something over the past three years, but he couldn't shake the fear that it was simply the same reckless kid coming back instead of the grown man he’d dream of.
"Honestly, I thought he was all talk back then," Frank said with a warm smile, his gaze drifting to the ground.
"But now, I’m really glad he went to such lengths to give Eddy the funeral he always deserved." Frank couldn’t help but look down with a warm appreciation, feeling that his shattered existence was slowly molding together with Eddy possibly getting the send off he always deserved.
"Round up the boys and double the patrols across our territories. I don’t want them encroaching even a millimeter on what’s ours," Lucky said firmly as they pulled up as his tone was polite but resolute, and Frank gave a sharp nod, fully understanding the weight of the order.
“About Jake-”
"That’s Meyer’s and Slick’s problem. Focus on the objective," Lucky said plainly and Frank nodded in understanding as the car smoothly pulled away.
With his cane tapping rhythmically against the floor, Lucky made his way into the house, ascending the stairs with deliberate steps.
Reaching the office, he pushed open the door to reveal his desk, and perched on a stand beside it was a particular crow, its sharp eyes glinting in the dim light.
"We’re going to war. The other families aren’t relenting on his exile, but they’ll make a move soon," Lucky informed the crow, his voice calm yet weighted and the bird remained silent, its unblinking gaze fixed on him, as if absorbing every word.
From the shadows, the bird spread its wings and swooped gracefully onto the desk, revealing itself as Chester.
With an almost human precision, the crow grasped a pen in its talons, his dark eyes sharp with purpose.
Lucky stood silently, watching the scene unfold, still grappling with the surreal reality of how vital this enigmatic creature had become to their organization’s operations.
Over the past three years, Chester hadn’t simply remained idle; instead, he had taken to assisting Lucky in his various pursuits, perhaps as a means to stave off his own boredom when law curriculum couldn’t do the trick.
At first, it was difficult for Lucky to come to terms with the fact that a crow possessed such sentience, but his practical nature helped him adapt quickly.
The bird’s sharp intellect and uncanny knack for strategy soon made him an indispensable ally.
Once Lucky realized just how intellectually capable Chester truly was, their conversations began to extend beyond simple matters of strategy to more personal, even familial, topics.
Trust was a rare commodity in Lucky’s world, in any mobster’s world, and finding someone he could truly confide in was nearly impossible.
Yet, Chester had naturally grown into that role, becoming not just an advisor but a confidant, a rare source of counsel in a life filled with betrayal and secrecy.
Chester had become more than just an anomaly in Lucky's life; he had grown into someone Lucky genuinely depended on for advice in certain predicaments.
The crow’s sharp insights and calm demeanor often provided clarity where others couldn’t, solidifying his role as an unexpected yet invaluable confidant.
‘How long do you expect we have until they take the initiative, instead of just waiting for a move from our operations?’ Chester wrote in perfect English, neatly pushing the paper toward Lucky as the mobster rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his mind racing as he considered the growing tension.
“I’d say, three weeks, factoring in the stupid thing Slick’s gonna do when he comes back,” Lucky shrugged and Chester nodded, then scribbled something down on the paper with a swift motion, his pen gliding smoothly across the surface.
‘What about Dewey and his backer?’
"Dewey pulled out after that fiasco three years ago, but the government is just foaming for an excuse to interfere here." Lucky sighed, rocking his chair back and forth while Chester paused, his head tilted slightly as he pondered the situation, the weight of the moment settling in the room.
‘What if they couldn’t?’ Chester wrote, pushing the paper toward Lucky.
Lucky raised an eyebrow at this weird thing to say until he slowly started to catch on, the wheels turning in his mind before realization slowly dawned on him. A plan was beginning to form, one that could shift the balance in their favor.
“Wait Chester, when is the statute of limitations cause couldn’t that whole thing be counted as criminal?” Lucky asked Chester, knowing about his proficiency in the law as Chester pondered but shook his head, writing something down.
‘It could not be considered criminal. It would only be able to be represented as civil and that limitation is five years.’ Chester informed Lucky who gazed down at the scribbling, tapping the desk with a wide smile.
“Huh, well how bout that.”
Meanwhile on the boat,
"So you want to sue the government?" Barko asked Ricky, the question hanging in the air as they continued their casual conversation, all while playing a game of Go Fish.
"More like I'm going to try and embarrass them, force those grubby tax collectors' hands before they can stop the takeover before it even starts." Ricky replied, casually plucking a six from Alexander’s furry paws, causing Alexander’s face to flush with anger.
"Truly pitiful." Garfield lounged on the table, eyeing the scene with a shake of the head at Alexander's dreadful sense of strategy in Go Fish, silently wondering if the author would ever give him a break.
“I mean, they won't expect it. Cause what they know about me, they probably think I'm just gonna come back swinging, tearing sh*t up without a plan. Then, I'll suddenly show up on Capitol Hill, kneecap them, and beat the living crap out of them until they beg for mercy." Ricky laughed, already picturing himself standing over the sniveling politicians.
"That does make sense. If a full-blown war takes place, they’ll surely intervene. And while they might not be able to stop you, it would be hard to operate once they paint you as America’s number one enemy to the people you profit from." Chores agreed with Ricky from the side, sighing as Asterion took his Jack of Diamonds.
"Interesting, I’ve never heard of this 'New York' before. Is it a new country?" Asterion asked, looking at Ricky, who nodded in response.
"Well, not really. We're heading to America and New York’s just a city, but don't sweat it since you'll figure all of that out as time goes on." Ricky explained, giving Asterion a thumbs up.
Asterion smiled and nodded before he took three cards from three different people, leaving Alexander in shock.
"By the grace of Hestia, how could you possibly know?" Alexander asked, turning to Asterion, who paused for a moment in thought.
"Intuition?" Asterion replied with a shrug, as the gerbil pouted beside him.
"I'm bored," Garfield said, flicking his tail lazily as he stared at Ricky, then nudged him with a paw.
"Give me food." Garfield demanded, starting to annoy Ricky, who shot a glance at the cat.
"You want to go for a swim?" Ricky asked, purposely misinterpreting Garfield's words as the cat's fur bristled instantly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“N-No I-”
“Well, alright, if you say so.” Ricky grinned, grabbing Garfield, who immediately started thrashing and spasming in his grip.
“W-WAIT I-”
“Want to go for a swim? Got it.” Ricky smirked, cutting Garfield off just as he was about to stand up.
“I-I’M SORRY!” Garfield yelped out, Ricky snickering while putting Garfield in his lap, tapping his head lightly.
“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Ricky asked with a sly grin, watching Garfield seethe hatefully in his lap but not daring to show it.
“Relax, Garfield, I’ll feed you when we have lunch,” Ricky added, patting Garfield’s head. The cat looked up at his owner, then shot a glare at the reader.
“This is animal abuse.” Garfiled muttered, resting his chin on Ricky’s knee while pouting slightly and gazing at the reader.
“This is all your fault.” Garfield shifted the blame onto the reader, feeling slightly hateful and knowing that something would be thrown at him if he insulted the author.
“I have a question,” Barko raised a paw, while Alexander teetered on the verge of tears as Asterion casually took another one of his cards.
“Will the other families really just sit back and do nothing while you pursue this case?” Barko inquired. Ricky shrugged in response, and everyone sighed as Asterion claimed victory.
“Nah, I mean, I wouldn’t.” Ricky adjusted his cards, rearranging and pulling them back as Asterion quietly waited for Ricky’s turn to end.
"They'll probably start preparing or attacking, but that won’t happen for another two weeks, which gives us more than enough time to get ready." Ricky smirked in his seat, just as an elderly man entered the cabin.
“It has been prepared.” The old elder, Cedric Hawke, gestured to Ricky who suddenly shot up.
“Garfield will take my place,” Ricky said, handing his cards to his fat cat. Garfield scrunched his brows at the author’s description of him but quieted down, knowing he wasn’t in control, merely sentient.
“Sentient, my hairball,” Garfield muttered under his breath, scratching his belly in Ricky’s seat.
“Win, and I’ll give you fourth’s for dinner.” Ricky said, trying to watch the cat’s weight but willing to make the sacrifice as Garfield’s ears perked up.
“I will crush you all,” Garfield declared, his gaze locking onto each of them while sitting up straighter, his claws shot out from his paws as the aura of the Go-Fish master was unleashed.
Following Cedric, Ricky noticed the clear scowl on his face and rolled his eyes, but just as he did, Cedric turned around, catching him in the act.
“I saw that.” Cedric pointed at Ricky who sighed, pinching his nose.
“Cedric, can we just not do this-”
“I just don’t understand! How is it that Zatanna cares more for you than her Uncle Cedric?” Cedric yelled at Ricky, his voice laced with anger. Ricky, on the other hand, couldn’t stand dealing with the council.
It wasn't that he was annoyed at their usual hatred since that didn’t bother him, he was used to that, but the fact that all of them vied for Zatanna's affection constantly.
But despite all their efforts, Ricky would swoop in out of the blue and effortlessly claim all of it without even lifting a finger or going out of his way which was the real thorn in Cedric’s side.
SIGH
“You’re a f*cking child.” Ricky, surprised that he was the one saying this, pushed past Cedric who scoffed.
“Well you're a-...............................jerk!” Cedric couldn’t think of anything and yelled while Ricky gave him a middle finger when he was wasn’t looking.
"Dammit, I should’ve called him a manwhore," Cedric cursed, finally finding the words as he caught up to them after already leaving.
Pushing open the double doors, he was immediately greeted by a flurry of runes and a scattered crowd of witches and warlocks filling the room.
“Hey beautiful-”
“Not talking to you.” Agatha muttered, turning away as she held Zatanna, who reached out toward him.
“Papa, papa!” Zatanna chuckled madly, looking towards Ricky as the elder glared at him.
“Honey, we’re mad at daddy-”
“NOOOOOOOOOO, I WANT MY PAPA!” Zatanna cried, nearly breaking free from her mother's grasp as Agatha sighed, shooting a glare at Ricky as she reluctantly held her daughter out to him.
“Hey, pumpkin.” Ricky smiled as he scooped the girl into his arms and Zatanna giggled, eagerly nestling into his embrace, her small hands wrapping around him tightly.
“Is this a good place for Zatanna, I mean, it’s a necromancy ritual?” Ricky asked, glancing around as it felt strange for him to be the one raising concerns, but the unease gnawed at him.
During the ship's journey, the voyage served as little more than a cover, an excuse to perform the necromancy ritual over international waters while transporting their belongings.
Those words from Profaci three years ago always echoed in Ricky's mind, a constant reminder of his limitations.
It was a harsh truth: he couldn’t always protect the people he cared about, not when it mattered most.
Even when he was there, there were moments when he couldn’t be and that realization gnawed at him, pushing him to search for alternatives.
It was during that search for answers that he had stumbled upon Lilith, and from her, he acquired the skill.
Though it was cruel, Ricky didn’t care about any sorts of morals and even if he had to rip apart an entire country, he wouldn’t even blink.
It was why Ricky had started getting familiar with necromancy for the sole purpose of forming a secret army, one that would silently protect his loved ones who couldn’t entirely protect themselves.
“Eh.” Agatha shrugged off his concerns, cradling Johnny in her arms as he happily sucked on his binky.
“Papa, look, look!” Zatanna called, eager for Ricky's attention as she held out her hand as tiny fireworks sparked to life from her palm, and Ricky's eyes widened in surprise.
“Cool, now check this out.” Ricky said, grinning as he held out his palm for Zatanna who bounced excitedly in his arms, her eyes wide with anticipation, and suddenly, a fireball sparked to life from his hand.
The bright light illuminated the space beneath the ship, the magic's density thick and oppressive, enough to make weaker practitioners of magic feel its weight as Zatanna marveled at the display, her gaze fixed on the swirling flames.
“Woah~” Zatanna reached out eagerly, her small fingers almost brushing the fireball.
Ricky, with a playful smirk, closed his fist around the magic, snuffing it out instantly, before flicking her forehead gently.
“Ow~” Zatanna pouted, rubbing her forehead dramatically as Ricky couldn't help but laugh at her expression, and soon enough, Zatanna joined in, her giggle infectious as they both laughed together.
“Alright, so I just put my magic into it and chant an inscription, right?” Ricky asked as the magicians exchanged frowns at his simplified explanation but nodded in agreement.
“Anyone want to hold Zatanna-”
“ME!” All of the elders rushed forward, but Zatanna puffed out her cheeks, gripping Ricky’s shirt tightly.
“No, don’t wanna~” Zatanna whined, giving Ricky her best puppy eyes, but he only laughed at her attempt.
“What do you think your pops is, a chump?” Ricky teased, then handed Zatanna over to one of the elders, Seraphina Wren, before striding up to the ritual circle.
On a stone slab, slick with rotted blood, lay a fully intact skeleton, its bones bare and devoid of flesh, exhumed from the graveyard.
Ricky stretched out his hand, instantly feeling the ritual’s pull as the death magic began to seep into the ancient runes, which darkened to a pitch black hue, absorbing his mana in an unrelenting vacuum.
Ricky was unaware of how much the ritual truly required and instead of pacing himself, he abandoned caution and poured all of his magic into the ritual.
The air thickened around him, the surrounding atmosphere coiling into a suffocating black mass as the energy surged.
“Chant your words, like arise!” Cedric shouted from the side, his voice barely audible over the increasing tremors as the boat began to shake violently and Ricky shot him a weird look.
“That sounds gay-”
“GOD DAMMIT RICKY SAY SOMETHING!” Agatha lashed out from the side, holding Johnny tight as Ricky little clicked his tongue.
“Fine, I don’t know. Get the f*ck up!”Ricky yelled at the skeleton, his voice full of frustration at why he even needed to chant any words at all.
But the moment he did, the skeleton gasped, and as it did, the black mass surrounding it was drawn in, consumed by its very being.
DING
[New Section Unlocked]
[Due to this innate skill classified under Eldritch Abominations, Necromancy summoning is now registered within the system. A new 'Servants' tab has been established to organize the beings bound to the user, regardless of their rank.]
DING
(Epic Undead) Wraith Knight: Elite skeletal warriors with exceptional combat skills and often tasked with special missions or personal protection. Most often able to wield sentience with their master’s permission.
The black mass slowly seeped from its bones, coating its form like a second layer of armor as a terrifying screech echoed from its hollow frame, reverberating through the air.
"Cool~" Ricky and Zatanna said in unison, while the other witches and warlocks stood frozen, their faces pale with terror.
These particular witches and warlocks practiced the dark arts of necromancy, but never had they dared, or succeeded, in summoning such a high-ranking undead.
The sheer power radiating from the creature was enough to send a chill down even their seasoned spines.
One particular witch’s pupils contracted violently, her eyes becoming hollow gateways as she stared at the scene unfolding before her as the sight was enough to make her take another hesitant step backward.
“Master, please bestow this servant with a name.” The skeleton’s scratchy voice rang out, its towering form looming over Ricky by a solid foot.
“You can talk, that’s even cooler.” Ricky sounded out, waving his head above the black flames hovering around this Wraith Knight.
“Do you like, have any preference or should I just spitball one off the top of my head?” Ricky asked, rubbing the back of his neck since he was blanking right now.
“I merely heed your commands, master.” The undead servant bowed his head lower, showing its undying loyalty first hand.
“Uh, alright, anyone want to take a shot at this?” Ricky asked, a bit stumped, looking around. Zatanna eagerly raised her little hand, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Boney, Boney!” Zatanna shouted, her voice full of enthusiasm as Ricky pointed at her with a grin, as if she had just made the perfect guess, and nodded in approval.
“Alright, you heard my pumpkin, you're Boney now.” Ricky snapped his fingers, and Boney, ever so obedient, carved the name into its being with a fluid, eerie motion.
DING
(Epic Undead) Boney The Wraith Knight: Elite skeletal warriors with exceptional combat skills and often tasked with special missions or personal protection.
“I am grateful for such a noble name, Master. Boney shall etch that name into the minds of all those who dare stand in your way.” Boney’s words sent a chill through the room, and the onlookers grew pale as Ricky continued to absentmindedly poke at the black mass, now swirling ominously around Boney with even more fervor.
“So, how do you eat, Boney?” Ricky crouched down to face the kneeling Wraith Knight, who met his gaze with hollow eyes, flickering briefly with a spark of black fire.
“I consume the soul’s of your enemies, master.”
“Uh huh.” Ricky nodded his head, a little glad that Boney was on his side.
“Anything else?”
“To maintain my form, I consume the mana within the air. But to gain more strength for my master, I consume souls,” Boney explained, his voice carrying an eerie resonance as Ricky nodded thoughtfully, a sudden idea flashing in his mind.
“Do you, like, remember who you were?”
“I am Boney.” Boney simply stated, unable to process anything before it as he was simply Boney.
“Right, right.” Ricky nodded, standing up along with Boney who had to lower his head a little.
Ricky had already expended a third of his total mana to conjure this beast before him, and now a curious thought crossed his mind and wondered if he could summon another one like Boney.
“Hey, baby, how many more skeletons do we have left?” Ricky asked, glancing over at Agatha, who responded with nothing but a cold, silent treatment.
“Cedric, how many-OH COME ON!” Ricky turned to Cedric, who, too, was giving him the silent treatment, clearly upset for not being chosen to hold Zatanna.
SIGH
“Someone just get me the next f*cking skeleton.”
20 minutes later,
DING
(Common Servant) 40 x Skeleton Soldier: Basic rank and file of the skeletal army, performing standard combat roles and carrying out the general will of their superiors.
"Boom, got it. Your name is Chuck now." Ricky clapped his hands in the air, finally settling on a name for the particular undead before him.
(Epic Servant) Chuck The Wraith Mage: Elite skeletal mage with exceptional magical knowledge and aptitude in the dark arts.
“What up, Chuck.” Ricky waved at the other creation in his amalgamations, as Chuck, the Wraith Mage, elegantly bowed toward his master.
“Greetings, Master. I am pleased to meet you and eternally serve at your side.” Chuck calmly spoke, his tone far more dignified than Boney’s, who was silently assessing whether he could slaughter the people around him or not.
“Can any of you talk?” Ricky peeked behind Chuck, eyeing the other eerie skeletons standing motionless around him.
CHATTER
The skeletons suddenly began clacking their bony jaws together, producing a series of eerie, rattling sounds as Ricky quickly realized they couldn’t speak like Chuck or Boney.
“Ricky, that’s all the skeletons we managed to acquire from Dracula’s graveyards.” Agatha stood up, scooping Zatanna into her arms as she swayed toward the door, her movements graceful yet purposeful.
The other witches and warlocks filed out, leaving Ricky alone with his undead army and he stood there, his eyes scanning the row of skeletons, each of them staring back at him with hollow, lifeless gazes.
“Arlight, so here’s why I summoned you-”
Ricky began outlining their purpose, his voice steady and commanding as the undead stood in eerie silence, their skeletal forms frozen in attention.
They understood the weight of his words, without fulfilling the task ahead, their existence would hold no meaning.
They were bound to him, their lives, if they could be called lives, wholly dependent on his instructions.
“Any questions?” Ricky asked, glancing around as the room remained silent, every skeleton seated criss-cross apple sauced on the floor, their hollow eyes fixed on him with an almost childlike obedience.
“There are no wrong questions,” Ricky said again, scanning the room as his gaze landed on Boney, who slowly raised a skeletal hand, the black miasma swirling faintly around his form.
“Yes Boney.”
“When will we be allowed to consume the souls of your enemies, Master?” Boney asked, his skeletal hand rubbing the hollow space where a stomach would be.
“Must you pester our master with such idiocy?” Chuck scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain as his hollow gaze fixed on Boney.
“Read the context of his glorious words. Clearly, we will send all those pests to damnation once we reach the shores of this ‘New York.’” Chuck proclaimed, the other skeletons around him nodding since that did make sense.
‘Man, I totally feel like some villain in a story right now?’ Ricky thought, scratching his head since from every fairy tale he’d ever seen or read, only the bad guys were the ones commanding undead armies.
‘Eh, whatever.’ Ricky thought, shrugging it off as there was no point wasting time on such a complicated question that would inevitably lead to a shaky yes anyway.
“Listen, gang, we’re not going to kill them all just yet.” Ricky clarified, raising a hand to calm the eager undead.
“But after I get back from the trial, we might be taking out a small portion.” Ricky then added, knowing that it would appease them only for Chuck to tilt his hollow gaze toward his master, the flicker of black fire in his eyes reflecting curiosity and restrained eagerness.
“Now I’m confused.” Chuck admitted, his tone calm yet laced with subtle confusion.
“I thought our purpose was to reach the shores of this land, conquer it in your name, and consume the souls of all who dare oppose us.” Chuck glanced around at his fellow undead for affirmation, their silent, eerie stances suggesting agreement.
“That’s what I thought!” Boney gestured, the other skeleton’s clanking their jaws together as Ricky facepalmed.
SIGH
“No I-”
SIGH
“Alright everyone, listen again-”
Ricky sighed, realizing he needed to clarify things for his undead entourage. He paced in front of them, gesturing animatedly as he explained.
The group of undead nodded in unison, their dark energy simmering with anticipation at his every word.
Even Chuck gave a slight bow, seemingly satisfied with the revised plan, while Boney rubbed his bony head, still looking around.
“Ah, I understand.”
“I don’t.”
“Whatever.” Ricky said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“The main thing is to sit tight and keep yourselves busy until we hit New York. Chat, plot, do whatever you undead types do.” Ricky gave his final words and without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and headed for the exit.
Leaving the underdeck steeped in an eerie silence as the undead exchanged quiet glances, their dark energy pulsing faintly in the dim light.
“How do we ‘chat amongst ourselves’?” Boney asked, literally born for the sole purpose of consuming souls.
“I do not know as of now, but I will find out,” Chuck replied, his hollow voice carrying a strange depth.
The skeleton soldiers, meanwhile, remained perfectly still, their bony forms frozen in place as if awaiting an order that would never come.
Meanwhile In Agatha’s Room,
Compared to the others, her position as the elder of the council granted her privileges far beyond those of an ordinary witch.
With an air of authority, she casually strolled over to the bed within her own private room, her every movement embodying the weight of her rank.
Knock
Knock
“Go away, Ricky.” Agatha huffed, her voice tinged with frustration as Ricky hesitated, then slowly opened the door, peeking through with a curious glance.
“No?” Ricky asked, his voice unsure. He stood there for a moment, torn between speaking to her or letting her stew in silence.
Since he had experience with dealing with woman, he wasn’t exactly an expert on women, and frankly, who was?
Women were creatures of paradox; unbelievably complex yet so simple in their contradictions that the very attempt to define them left any man feeling helpless, unable to pinpoint where the real issue lay.
“Where is-”
“Oh, your daughter and son? Well, if you actually cared to be in their lives, you’d know they’re sleep training, which is why they’re not here.” Agatha rolled over on the bed, clearly pouting as Ricky quietly shut the door behind him.
“Is this about Lilith-”
“You mean that undead whore? No, it’s not,” Agatha interrupted Ricky, her tone sharp as he scratched his head.
Ricky found himself in a strange predicament since Agatha had always stated that she didn’t seem to care much about his whims, as long as he remained a constant in Zatanna and John’s lives.
In fact, she made it painfully clear that their connection was purely physical, with no emotional strings attached.
But time, as it often does, had a way of complicating things and what began as a simple, physical relationship slowly began to shift.
Agatha couldn’t help but find herself emotionally attached to the father of her children, despite her best efforts to keep things detached.
“Agatha, look at me.” Ricky said, hopping onto the bed and gently nudging her back but she only buried her head deeper into the pillow, ignoring him.
“No.”
Sigh
“Listen, I’m sorry-”
Sniff
“No, you’re not, you-................................you manwhore.” Agatha started to sniffle as Ricky shrugged slightly at this.
“I mean-”
Bam
“Ow!” Ricky exaggerated a pained yelp, shielding his head as Agatha began furiously whacking him with her pillow.
“YOU STUPID MANWHORE!” Agatha yelled, hitting Ricky with her pillow as he let her vent the frustration.
‘Wait, what day is it-’
GASP
“YOU DID NOT JUST LOOK OVER AT THAT CALENDAR, YOU DID NOT!” Agatha yelled at Ricky, who was immediately caught in the act.
Even though it was just a subtle movement of his head, his intentions were crystal clear.
“Okay, okay-”
BAM
Suddenly, in the spur of the moment, Agatha threw a real left hook, catching Ricky off guard as she socked him right in the jaw.
Ricky, seeing her fist swing at him, simply let it happen as he stumbled back, rubbing his jaw, while she immediately covered her mouth, her eyes wide with regret.
“Darling?!” Agatha gasped, her eyes widening in shock at her own actions.
She quickly crawled to the side of the bed, her hands hovering over Ricky, who was still holding his cheek with a slight bruise forming.
Ricky could’ve easily dodged the punch, but for some reason, he didn’t.
He figured it was only fair since after all, he was constantly out sleeping with other women, and in his mind, he deserved a little bit of the consequences.
As Agatha's fist came toward him, he just braced himself, accepting the blow without flinching.
“Wow, you really pack a punch,” Ricky joked, his voice light despite the sting in his cheek.
Agatha, her breath shaky, let out a sigh of relief as she gently rubbed his cheek, her fingers lingering with a trace of regret.
The unease in her stomach tightened, but she couldn’t quite place why; was it guilt, or something else entirely?
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me,” Agatha stammered, her hands trembling as she helped Ricky back onto the bed.
She touched his cheek, her magic flowing to heal the small mark that had already faded, leaving his skin smooth once more.
“Just talk to me.” Ricky made it simply, grabbing her hand and chaining her to this moment as she let out a long drawn out sigh.
“It doesn’t-.....................it shouldn’t bother me, but after seeing how Lilith looked at you and how you looked back I was just-”
“Jealous?” Ricky asked, seeing Agatha face contort into an ugly frown as he raised his hands to stop any punches.
“No, I’m not jealous-......................................I’m not.” Agatha was basically convincing herself at this point, her voice growing quieter with every word uttered from her sensual red lips.
“Alright, you’re not jealous,” Ricky said, choosing to agree with her for the moment and Agatha nodded, though there was still a hint of unease in her eyes.
“Now hold me while we go to sleep.” Agatha then turned over, Ricky chuckling while getting into position to spoon her from behind.
“So-”
“Don’t even try to push it, Darling,” Agatha muttered, her tone soft yet firm. Ricky nodded in response, a small smile tugging at his lips as she snuggled closer.
Ricky wrapped his arms around her, the warmth of his presence grounding her in the moment, letting that unease slip away.
Agatha smiled instinctively, the warmth and security Ricky exuded wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.
In that moment, she felt a sense of peace, as though everything, despite the chaos swirling around them, it felt as if everything would somehow work out like it always did.
But Agatha knew she was in the wrong.
Deep down, she understood that Ricky was only playing by the rules she herself had set, yet those rules were beginning to wear away at her usual confidence.
Even when she acted like a total b*tch, Ricky still held her with such sincerity, his unwavering care slowly chipping away at the walls she'd built around herself.
It was disorienting, almost maddening, to be confronted with the kindness she didn’t think she deserved.
“Good night.” Ricky, seeing her slightly tremble, kissed the back of her ear as Agatha leaned even deeper into his embrace.
“Good night Darling.”
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