Marvel: Impregnation System

Chapter 173 - 166: Reunion Tour Finale

"Hi, Ruth." Ricky said, his sleazy smile unchanged from the one she remembered all those years ago as he walked up and took a seat across from her at the table.

"Shall we start off with some slight small talk or?" Ruth asked, resting her hat at the side as the breeze dangled her soft brown hair with the wind.

"Let's just skip to the juicy stuff," Ricky chuckled, surprised she hadn't lunged across the table to demand he pay for all the misery he'd caused her.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I knew that you would eventually come and find me, I simply didn't think it would be so soon," Ruth admitted honestly, tucking a stray, dangling strand of hair behind her ear.

"And if I'm being honest, I thought you would, you now, try to throw that book at me or something." Ricky laughed, ponting at the book that read 'The Maltese Falcon' and thinking she would pick it up, then hurl it at his face.

"And here I thought you'd bring a bottle of rum to celebrate our reunion." Ruth opened her eyes, soft, yet sharp, as if honed by her own struggles.

"Hahahahahaha!" They both sort of laughed at these statements, Ricky's more exaggerated while Ruth covered her mouth, laughing in a more refined, lady-like way.

"This is just so f*cking weird," Ricky chuckled, covering his face since at first, he expected it to be some sort of act, but every word she uttered held no hint of a lie.

"It is indeed, very weird." Ruth chucked as well, smiling as she looked down at her hands resting atop her book.

"Then, Logan-"

"Yeah, he's mine," Ricky finally admitted, unveiling the very truth that had shattered and plagued her diamond-spoon life and yet, instead of hatred, Ruth felt only relief.

"Are you mad?" Ricky asked, awkwardly chuckling as he rubbed the back of his neck, bracing himself to face the music but instead of tearing into him with hatred, Ruth simply shook her head.

"I think back then, I would've screamed and shouted, hurling everything I could at you until you got on your hands and knees to apologize. But I'm-" Ruth's soft tone wavered as she lifted her gaze, revealing just how tired, how weathered her eyes had become.

"I'm grateful." Ruth's words surprised not only Ricky but herself, as this truth had long been tucked away beneath the new life she had built.

"I had everything as Ruth Steffield, truly everything I could've ever dreamed of." Ruth stated, her fingers tracing the cover of the book with a small smile.

"But I think that's why I became so hollow, so shallow, because depth only grows from the things we lack when growing up," Ruth said sincerely, sharing the wisdom shaped by her own experiences.

"I had all the love, all the money, and all the reputation to make things go my way," Ruth said, chuckling at how naive and spoiled she was back then.

"My father saw record-breaking profits, my grandfather was John D. Rockefeller, and they loved me more than anything," Ruth reminisced, her mind drifting back to the moment she first met Ricky, when she felt untouchable, like the world belonged to her.

"I had everything, except something real. And I think reality has a way of catching up to all of us, no matter how much money you throw at it." Ruth met his gaze, no longer the sheltered girl he once knew.

"That moment for me was when my family found out I was pregnant, and you managed to escape the label of being the father." Ruth chuckled at the irony, finding the whole situation almost amusing.

"I went from being the shining star of my family to its darkest stain." Ruth continued, her words making Ricky more and more slouched with every syllable uttered.

"They ripped everything from me, everything."

"I was cast out, shamed, and detested, before they banished me here, forced to face the reality that I had nothing, and for once I finally had to look at myself. To see who Ruth truly was." Ruth smiled warmly, the breeze brushing against this heartfelt woman, not a spoiled girl, that stood before him.

"That I was nothing," Ruth admitted, the weight of her words settling between them.

She had come to understand that, when stripped of everything; her wealth, her status, the love and adoration she once took for granted, she was left with nothing.

Because who she was had always been built on those material things, and without them, she felt as though she ceased to exist.

"Oh come on Ruth, you-"

"You do not have to flatter me, Ricky, I understand." Ruth said, interrupting Ricky and shaking her delicate head.

"I had no redeeming qualities. Everything I was, everything I had, came from the names and riches attached to me. But take that away, leave just Ruth, and tell me, who was I?" Ruth genuinely gestured to Ricky, asking him outright who she was to him.

Ricky opened his mouth, but all that came to mind was the spoiled girl who threw a fit whenever the world didn't bend to her will.

"I don't know?" Ricky said, unable to really figure out who the Ruth he knew was without the title of granddaughter of the richest man in America.

"Me neither." Ruth laughed heartily, honestly confiding in Ricky since she didn't know what to do with herself, much less the child growing inside her stomach, when she arrived here.

"At first I hated you, I cursed you before and after bed, meals, and anything I did." Ruth went through the steps, listing these things off as if it were trivial.

"Then I started to hate the child growing inside me, hating how because of this child I had everything I had taken from me." Ruth continued to list off the steps, waving her hand as to speed up the entire thing.

"But after he was born, and I held my precious Logan in my arms, I just-" Ruth said, holding her heart and looking at Logan off to the side, chasing his golden retriever.

"I made something." Ruth revealed, smiling ear to ear with a warmth becoming of a mother, not the woman Ricky thought he knew.

"For the first time in my life, I wasn't handed anything and no one did it for me. I really made something, something so beautiful, all on my own and I just fell in love with that feeling." Ruth tapped her heart, looking back towards Ricky.

"I think people only grow when they're forced to. Sure, there are exceptions, some grow on their own, but I truly believe we only change when we're put in environments that leave us no choice." Ruth revealed her belief to Ricky, narrating her own growth through this reasoning.

Ruth's growth had not been some sort of revelation or conscious decision but a necessity, a shift forced upon her by the circumstances she could neither control nor escape.

In the world she once knew, change had been unnecessary.

Every misstep was smoothed over, every mistake erased before it could leave a stain as her name carried weight, her wealth built walls so high that she never had to see beyond them and didn't care to.

She had been untouchable, coddled by a life that demanded nothing of her but to exist as she was.

But when that life was stripped away, when the safety net vanished and she was left with nothing but herself, reality settled in.

The world set it.

The person she had been, the spoiled, entitled girl who had never known hardship, could not survive in this new world.

Without the name, the money, the influence, she had been reduced to something hollow, a figure defined only by what she had lost.

The walls of her gilded cage had become the boundaries of her exile, and within them, she had no choice but to confront what remained of her.

There was no luxury in self-pity, no power in longing for what was gone as the world around her did not bend to her will anymore, and so she had to bend to it.

Growth was not a path she had chosen; it was the only path left.

It was not an awakening of will, not some noble pursuit of self-improvement, it was survival.

Some people could change on their own, but most only did when forced, when their environment left them no choice.

She had been one of those people, reshaped not by desire but by necessity and in the end, she had become something new, not because she wanted to, but because she had to.

But she was better for it.

"Growing up, I was stunted by the coddling, the riches, and my personality soured because of not only my surroundings, but I let it." Ruth slowly downcasted her eyes, bearing her entire heart to Ricky who just listened to it all.

"Then, when my darling Logan was born, I struggled, his cries, the endless feedings, the exhaustion that settled deep in my bones. It wore me down, tested every part of me. But every time I soothed him in my arms, a quiet sense of achievement bloomed inside me. I had done that. I had fed him, bathed him, clothed him. For once, I wasn't just existing for myself, I was contributing to something greater. I was looking after my son." Ruth smiled warmly, her loving expression immediately making Ricky hard for some reason as he looked down then back up.

"Well, I'm kind of sorry for knocking you up and then dipping," Ricky finally apologized, but his words weren't meant to be half-hearted, it's just he didn't want to downplay her growth, but Ruth understood his intentions and simply nodded.

"And I'm sorry for trying to make you marry me, for wanting to turn you into a little doll I could parade around," Ruth confessed, smiling at that sense of closure washing over them before Ricky leaned onto the table, taking in her words.

"So, what's in store for the new and improved Ruth now?" Ricky asked, grinning from ear to ear, feeling as if he were talking to someone entirely new.

"I'm thinking of maybe writing my own book, one that draws parallels from my own life." Ruth gently said, finding a second love through the words written on the page.

At first, reading was merely a way to pass the time, an escape from the endless monotony of the secluded mansion.

But as the days stretched into weeks, she found herself drawn deeper into the pages, no longer reading just to fill the silence but to experience something beyond her own reality.

The way words painted vivid pictures, how each carefully crafted sentence formed entire worlds, fascinated her.

Every stroke of the writer's pen created a new canvas, endless in possibility, making her heart swell with the wonder of what could be.

"What about you, what's the next Chapter for Ricky Luciano?" Ruth asked, turning her curiosity towards RIcky who leaned back in his chair.

"This guy, Merlyn, is f*cking with me so I have to go and kick his ass." Ricky shrugged, nonchalantly mentioning it to Ruth who chuckled.

"How exciting."

"If you think that's exciting then-"

For a while, they drifted through memories of years past, reminiscing about trivial things.

The conversation flowed, carrying them through fragments of a life that now seemed distant, almost unreal.

But beneath the idle chatter, there was this purpose lurking in the pauses between words.

And finally, after letting the past linger in the air just long enough, Ricky exhaled and got to the point.

"So Ruth, do you really want to spend the rest of your life here?" Ricky asked, spreading out his hands to the lush greenery around her.

"I mean, I get it's all nice, but is this all you want?" Ricky asked, watching Ruth slowly close her eyes then open them.

"No, I'm unfortunately not that pure of heart," Ruth admitted, her voice carrying a weight that made Ricky lean in, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"Oh yeah?"

"You might have seen it as nothing since I brushed it off, but when my family learned I was pregnant and I couldn't name the father, they threw me to the wolves." Ruth's voice was steady, but beneath it lurked something raw, something old and festering, waiting to be acknowledged.

"They shamed me, ridiculed me, tore me down from my pedestal. Maybe if they had stopped there, I could've let it go. But they humiliated me." Ruth's fingers traced the rim of her book, eyes unfocused, lost in the echoes of a past she had no choice but to endure.

"They paraded me around at gatherings, not to support me, not to help me, but to make an example of me. They wanted everyone to see my disgrace, to watch me squirm under their scrutiny. I stood there, forced to face strangers, to endure laughter, whispers, mockery for something that was never mine to bear. The shame belonged to them, but I was the one who carried it." Ruth voiced everything, all the pain she had felt from that time and Ricky didn't speak, he just listened.

"And when my scandal was no longer useful, when my existence no longer served their purpose, they discarded me. They sent me here. A prison made of luxury, a cage wrapped in silk." Ruth's voice dropped as she exhaled, her eyes finally finding Ricky's, and in them there was no hesitation, no doubt.

"I want them to feel what I felt, to know that same humiliation, that same pain." Ruth's voice broke, downcasting her gaze once more before continuing.

"And I would ask for you help if-"

"Alright." Ricky shrugged, watching Ruth flinch as she turned her gaze upwards.

"But you didn't-"

"You want revenge, and I think that's a fair trade off after taking care of Logan for five years, the least I can do is this." Ricky nonchalantly said, thinking it wouldn't be that hard to take on her father after he gets back from this whole Camelot thing.

"And besides, I'm not against being used by a beautiful women like yourself." Ricky chuckled, raising his sleazy smile to sparkle against the faint ray of sunlight that shimmered into the leaves.

Pfft

"Hahahahahahahaha!" Ruth suddenly let out a beautiful hum of laughter, feeling this pressing against her chest loosen as she wiped her eyes that had become teary.

"Oh, Ricky, I'm glad some things never change," Ruth said, a faint sense of relief settling over her.

For all the ways she had transformed, there was something oddly comforting in knowing that not everything from her past had been erased.

"Yeah, well, if you ever want to get out of bumf*ck Iowa then I'll always find a place for you in New York." Ricky said, standing up as Ruth went to stand up as well before he shamelessly held open his arms.

Ruth just laughed, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around Ricky as his hands trailed down her back, the warmth of his touch grounding her in the moment.

As he inhaled, a faint scent of strawberries clung to her, subtle yet intoxicating.

"Man, you smell good." Ricky chuckled, holding her a little tighter.

Ruth closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the embrace, her head resting against his chest.

His scent, something deep and familiar, wrapped around her like a forgotten memory, stirring emotions she had long buried.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in her ears, lulling her into a trance, its cadence almost like the ticking of a clock, each beat pulling her further into the past.

"Mommy?"

Suddenly, their spell was broken and what had felt like mere seconds had stretched into nearly fifteen minutes, unnoticed by either of them, until a small voice disrupted the moment.

Logan stood a few steps away, his head tilted in curiosity, his young eyes flickering between the two of them as Ricky and Ruth instinctively pulled apart.

"O-Oh, hey, my baby boy!" Ruth's face flushed red as she laughed through her embarrassment, quickly walking up to Logan and scooping him into her arms.

Logan wore a curious yet neutral expression, his gaze steady and brooding as he observed the man occupying his mother's attention.

"Who is this mommy?" Logan asked, pointing towards the man who was holding his mother just mere seconds ago.

"This is the man I always tell you stories about, your father, Ricky Luciao." Ruth gestured, watching Logan slowly turn his head towards Ricky waving at him.

"Hey kiddo-"

"Can we have dinner now, I'm hungry." Logan turned his head back, tugging at Ruth's dress as she chuckled slightly.

"It is getting late, but if you want to come and-"

"Mommy, I'm hungry~" Logan whined, interrupting her before she could extend an invitation towards Ricky.

"Raincheck." Ricky winked at Ruth, his smile lingering as he watched her as she hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding, then turned around, adjusting Logan in her arms as she carried him back toward the house.

It was then that Logan's head, which had been resting on Ruth's shoulder, slowly lifted.

His gaze locked onto Ricky's, unblinking, steady.

For a child so young, there was an eerie lack of fear in his expression, only a quiet, almost instinctual protectiveness.

He squinted, the slightest furrow forming between his brows, as if warning Ricky not to come any closer, not to take what was his.

"Look at this little sh*tter." Ricky chuckled, lifting his chin slightly, meeting Logan's gaze head-on, unwilling to yield.

The challenge in Ricky's eyes only made Logan's expression waver as his tiny face scrunched, his confidence cracking just a little, but he didn't look away.

Instead, he clung tighter to his mother, his grip possessive, his brows knitting as if trying to hold his ground despite the unfamiliar feeling creeping in.

'See you soon.' Ricky mouthed, his expression deliberately amused, provoking the little boy just enough to gauge a reaction.

Logan's response was immediate, a subtle, knowing squint, his small lips pressing into a thin line.

There was no childish pout, no whine of disapproval, just a quiet defiance that made Ricky break into a laugh.

'We'll see.'

Despite his age and innocence, there was something sharp in the way he watched Ricky, an intelligence that hinted he understood more than he let on as he opened his system panel.

[Name: Logon Roy

Mother: Ruth Steffield

Grade: B+

Template: Logon Roy

Template Description: Logan Roy

Logan Roy is a central character in the television series Succession. He is the formidable and ruthless patriarch of the Roy family, which owns and controls one of the world's largest media conglomerates, Waystar Royco. Logan is a self-made billionaire known for his cutthroat business tactics and relentless pursuit of power and control. He is cunning, manipulative, and unyielding in his ambitions, often pitting his own children against each other in a ruthless game of succession. Despite his commanding presence and formidable reputation, Logan's personal life and vulnerabilities are also explored throughout the series, revealing a complex and morally ambiguous character.

Description: Following the tumultuous situation with Ruth, she was sent away to a secluded mansion in Iowa to raise her son, Logan, effectively exiling her from the family. Her relatives, unaware of the father's identity, were determined to keep the family's reputation intact, refusing to allow a "bastard" to carry their name. As a result, Logan was given the surname Roy, a stark reminder of his mother's estrangement.

Innate Abilities:

Business Acumen: Logan possesses an innate understanding of markets, media, and corporate strategy, allowing him to make shrewd business decisions and navigate complex financial landscapes.

Charisma and Influence: He exudes a powerful charisma that enables him to sway others to his way of thinking and manipulate situations to his advantage.

Strategic Thinking: Logan has a natural gift for strategic planning and long-term thinking, enabling him to anticipate competitors' moves and position Waystar Royco for success.

Negotiation Skills: His innate ability to negotiate and broker deals ensures that he secures favorable terms and advantageous partnerships for his company.

Crisis Management: Logan thrives under pressure and has an instinctive ability to handle crises, making tough decisions swiftly and decisively to protect his interests.

Innate Skills:

Leadership: He possesses strong leadership skills, commanding respect and loyalty from his employees and family members alike.

Media Manipulation: Logan is adept at manipulating media narratives and public perception to benefit Waystar Royco and shield it from negative publicity.

Financial Analysis: He has a deep understanding of financial analysis and risk assessment, allowing him to evaluate investments and opportunities with precision.

Political Savvy: Logan navigates the complex intersection of business and politics with finesse, leveraging relationships and political influence to advance his agenda.

Adaptability: Despite his rigid demeanor, Logan is adaptable and can pivot his strategies in response to changing circumstances and market conditions.]

Right before Ruth was about to enter the house, she waved back at Ricky before entering her luxurious cage.

Turning back, Ricky strode leisurely toward Bumpy, who stood patiently by the car, a cigarette dangling between his fingers.

The ember flared as he took a slow drag, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the sky that was slowly closing in on the night as his gaze flicked to Ricky.

"What's up with you?" Bumpy asked, watching as Ricky approached, moving with a slow, contemplative stride before leaning against the car beside him.

Wordlessly, Bumpy held out his pack of cigarettes as Ricky took one, holding it out as Bumpy lit it for him, then took a long drag, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before exhaling.

"You ever known someone in your life, someone you would swear you knew inside and out, then years later, you see them again, and they're just so f*cking different?" Ricky muttered, still processing his conversation with Ruth.

"Like, so different that it just freaks you the f*ck out?" Ricky rubbed his forehead, shaking his head at the completely different person Ruth seemed.

Some part of Ricky couldn't shake the feeling that it was all some elaborate scheme but even then, talking to her again, it had been an experience, one that stuck with him in a way he hadn't expected.

And strangely enough, Bumpy seemed to understand that feeling all too well.

"Don't even get me started," Bumpy muttered, side-eyeing Ricky before taking another drag from his cigarette, literally looking at that exact person.

Ricky exhaled, slicking his hair back and closing his eyes for a moment, lost in thought.

"Alas, I am out of cachoo's." Alexander popped his tiny head out of Ricky's shirt pocket, looking as mournful as ever.

Although Alexander valued and understood Ricky's need for space, respecting his moments of solitude when he needed to confront himself, he couldn't simply stand by and do nothing.

He had a curious nature, after all, and needed to keep busy in his own way.

So, as he waited for Ricky to work through whatever was on his mind, Alexander started bringing snacks, little treats like nuts and seeds, and hiding them in Ricky's pockets.

It wasn't a grand gesture, but it was something to occupy himself.

It also explained why Ricky's maids and dry cleaner were constantly baffled by the remnants of these snacks stashed away in the pockets of his suits.

And it was never just a little, sometimes, it added up to entire bags' worth of trail mix with lingering traces of scattered sunflower seeds, tucked into places they'd never expect to find them.

Sigh

"I keep forgetting you eat acorns in my pockets," Ricky chuckled, flicking the ashes from his cigarette as Alexander scurried up onto his shoulders.

"Acorns are disgusting, first off," Alexander scoffed, his voice laced with disdain.

"And this is how I fill my time while you indulge in your warm, sweet moments. But even so, I'd rather starve than eat those vile things," Alexander clarified, shaking his fur as if the mere thought of their taste repulsed him.

Ricky let out a low laugh, clearly amused by Alexander's dramatic tone, as he shifted the cigarette between his fingers.

"You ready?" Ricky asked, glancing back at Bumpy as he flicked the cigarette into the nearby mud.

"Just waiting on you," Bumpy nodded, giving him a small shrug before making his way to the driver's side. Ricky followed suit, flicking his own cigarette into the mud before getting in beside him.

The familiar hum of the car engine rumbled to life, and for a moment, there was nothing but the quiet anticipation of what was next.

"Next stop-oh, Chicago." Ricky said, seeing that familiar city and looking over at Bumpy gripping the wheel tightly.

"C-Can we not-"

"Bumpy."

"It's just that I don't wanna scratch or dirty my car-"

"Bumpy."

"Slick come on-"

"Bumpy." Ricky reiterated his name, placing his hand on his shoulder and the other hand extended in front of them, prompting a portal to swirl in front of the car.

"Just drive."

Bumpy heaved out a sigh, pressing the pedal down slowly as the car crawled forward and entrenching itself into the portal.

On a quiet highway on the outskirts of Chicago, a family car rolled along, the hum of the engine and the soft swish of the tires against the road the only sounds.

Inside, a young boy sat in the backseat, his eyes focused on the ice cream cone in his hand as he licked it absentmindedly, lost in the moment, until something made him stop mid-lick.

His eyes widened in disbelief, his tongue freezing against the cold sweetness.

A vibrant, swirling green portal had suddenly opened before them as his gaze shot through the windshield just as a car appeared out of nowhere, landing smoothly on the side of the road.

The boy's ice cream dropped from the cone, hitting the seat with a soft splat as he stared, mouth agape.

The car, Bumpy's car, drifted slowly out from the portal as Bumpy's eyes scanned the road as he let out a long, tired sigh, thankful that they had made it out safely.

"So, what's the backstory?" Ricky asked, tapping the side window while Bumpy scrunched his brows, making a mental note of the smudges he'd have to wipe off later.

"Everlean Carter and Mayola Davis both moved-"

"Give me the short and sweet version, like you're explaining it to a, I don't know, a third grader." Ricky interrupted Bumpy, deciding to forgo the whole seven paragraph back and forth explanation, opting for the summarized summary.

"You knocked them up, they both hitched a ride to stay with family here, both remarried, and both living in Chicago with their new families." Bumpy scoffed, though still gave Ricky that desired summarized version that he so wanted.

"Or should I say, used to live here, if you're about to step in and ruin it," Bumpy said, shifting his gaze forward while Ricky's remained on him.

"What?" Bumpy asked, seeing Ricky's gaze still lingering on him as he asked as if he hadn't said anything wrong.

"Why're you making me out to be some kind of tornado?" Ricky laughed, eyeing Bumpy, who only shrugged at the comparison.

"Full offense, Slick, but you've got a habit of blowing into people's lives, tearing things up, just so you can settle in all nice and comfortable," Bumpy joked, his tone carrying a hint of passive aggression since Ricky didn't argue as he knew there was some truth to that.

"And don't even get me started on how you can't keep it in your pants-"

"Alright, alright, I'm an asshole, I get it," Ricky chuckled, rubbing his chin as he watched Bumpy steer off the highway and onto the streets.

"But isn't that better than being a deadbeat? Like, at least I'm f*cking trying." Ricky said, turning to Bumpy, who simply glanced left before steering in that exact direction.

"More like trying to make it all about you," Bumpy whispered, though Ricky caught every syllable, his frown deepening.

"Aye, if you got something to say, then instead of being a passive-aggressive Nancy, just tell me straight up like any other guy-"

"You're being f*cking selfish." Bumpy laughed, not holding back as he fired his honest opinion right at him.

"How am I being selfish? I'm literally ponying up and taking some responsibility-"

"That's not the point, Slick." Bumpy slowed the car to a stop, turning to look at him.

"Look, I'll be real with you, some of these women you f*cked over need help, and those bastards need a father figure," Bumpy started, watching as Ricky nodded, leading him along through hsi logic that he personally came up with.

"But here's a little newsflash, not everyone was just waiting for you to come back, Slick. Some of these women moved on." Bumpy spoke plainly, his eyes locked onto Ricky, the same vain and selfish man he always knew as he assumed some things never changed.

"They built new lives, found new love, and after I looked into it, your bastards already have real father figures who give them all their time," Bumpy said, pointing at Ricky, fully aware that his time was spread thin as it was.

"In my opinion, I think you're just jealous that people can move on without you," Bumpy said, turning forward, fully expecting Ricky to swing on him, but he didn't.

Ricky was an asshole, always had been and probably always would be since if Bumpy had just come up to him and spouted all this out of nowhere, he would've caught a punch for it.

But Ricky had asked for his opinion.

Unlike before, unlike the way Bumpy remembered him, always shrugging off advice or anyone's take on a situation, Ricky just stared ahead.

The reason for his complete and utter silence?

As much as he wanted to argue that kids needed their real biological fathers, the truth was, he never knew his.

Not in this life, at least, he had no idea who the man was that knocked up his mother before she gave him away for adoption.

The entirety of Ricky's silence lay with one man, Lucky, the man who had been more of a father to him than anyone ever had been, in both lives.

And it was because of that, because of him, that Ricky couldn't find the words to fire back at Bumpy like he usually did.

"Go f*ck yourself."

So, unable to find the right words, Ricky just cussed Bumpy out, shoving the frustration aside.

Without another glance, he stepped out of the car and made his way to the modest one-story house on the outskirts of Chicago, slamming the door behind him.

As he reached the sidewalk, a familiar face came into view, Everlean Carter.

The woman who had completely gobbled up his cum, stirring it both within her mouth and loins, which brewed the features that made her into a complete MILF before him now.

Maturity settled on her features, refining her in a way that softened yet deepened her allure.

There was a slight droop to her frame, the kind that made you want to cradle her, to trace your fingers along the seams of her body, feeling the history written into her skin.

"Nice~" Ricky nodded, watching with a sleazy smile before it sort of morphed into a warm one as a light skinned kid suddenly ran into her arms.

[Name: Richie Carter

Mother: Everlean Carter

Grade: C

Template: N/A

Description: After discovering she was pregnant, Everlean made the difficult decision to move back to Atlanta to be closer to her family. Initially, the transition was challenging, filled with uncertainty and a mix of emotions. However, she gradually carved out a joyful life for herself and her son, Richie. Surrounded by the support of her loved ones, Everlean embraced motherhood and focused on creating a nurturing environment for Richie, balancing her aspirations with the warmth and love of family life.

Abilities: N/A

Skills: N/A]

His sleazy smile softened into something warmer as his gaze settled on his strong kid—the boy standing there with a quiet confidence.

Ricky's eyes caught the green sparkle in his son's own, a shimmer he knew all too well as it was his, his blood, his mark, staring right back at him.

However, just before he could completely wreak havoc on the loving home she had built for herself, before he could turn everything she knew upside down, a man, worn from a long day's work, took notice of him.

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?" the man asked, offering a slight bow after noticing Ricky's expensive suit before turning to face him.

"Only if you live there?" Ricky pointed, his words laced with something unreadable as the man chuckled, nodding his head vividly.

"I do, sir. Name's Charles Carter, pleasure to meet you." Charles stretched out his hand, and Ricky eyed him with a raised brow before finally clasping it in a firm shake.

"Ricky," Ricky stated plainly, sizing up the man who had evidently been raising his son for the past four years but instead of revealing himself outright, he decided to pry a little first.

"So, is that your family there?" Ricky asked with a smile, keeping his tone light.

Charles, still nodding, turned with him toward the window and inside, Everlean knelt on the floor, laughing as she played with Richie and his toys.

"That's my darling wife and my loving son," Charles said with a proud expression, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

Ricky's smile twitched as Charles' outline almost overlapped with one of Lucky's rare smiles, just for a second.

In his mind, he could almost feel Lucky's presence, like a shadow tracing his figure, a silent reminder of what it truly meant to be a father.

"How long have you been married?" Ricky asked, his tone teetering on the edge of something sharper, almost grilling.

From the car, Bumpy widened his eyes, gripping the wheel as he stayed silent, watching with a deeply disappointed stare as he was certain Ricky was about to tear the man apart, physically and emotionally.

"3 years-"

"Only three? That boy looks to be four or five." Ricky interrupted, his words laced with quiet provocation, fishing for a reaction he expected to get.

But Charles only chuckled, nodding his head along as if there were no lies in what Ricky, this stranger outside his house, had said.

"He's not my son by blood, but he's-.....it's hard to explain." Charles laughed, shaking his head before looking at Ricky.

"But he's my son."

Ricky went to say something, something that would've escalated the situation, but slowly stopped as his mouth opened, then closed, the words dying on his tongue.

For the first time in a long while, he found himself at a loss, standing face-to-face with a truth he wasn't sure how to challenge.

"I know what you're thinking. I get the stares and all, but golly, when I first saw Everlean walk into my church, I fell in love." Charles closed his eyes, still remembering that scene and how his heart seemingly stood still.

"At first, I barely noticed my boy, Richie is his name, at all. And though it seemed selfish, I was really only interested in his mother," Charles admitted, almost ashamed to confess it. But he was a righteous man, one who understood when he was wrong.

"But we're just two peas in a pod, Everlean and I. Though, I forgot to really understand that some pods have three peas." Charles admitted, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

"Richie didn't take to me at first, just like I didn't take to him. But the more time I spent with the boy, the more he stopped being just a boy to me, he became my son." Charles said, his voice steady, filled with quiet conviction.

"The stares were consuming at first, but as the years went by, I stopped noticing them. Because Everlean is my wife, and Richie there is my son." Charles continued, glancing toward the window where his family laughed together.

"There doesn't need to be more said to express how much they mean to me, because I'd die for them, just like any father and husband would." Charles finished, looking Ricky straight in the eye, unwavering in his devotion.

"Oh, I'm a priest, by the way. Not some creep who just lurks in churches and all," Charles joked, rubbing his pencil-thin mustache.

Ricky let out a laugh, though something about it felt genuine rather than forced, looking at this man who really reminded him a lot like Lucky.

"But if there's something I can do to help you out, Ricky, just ask?" Charles got to the point, unsure why this stranger was at his house but deciding to feel him out.

After seeing that Ricky didn't look all that threatening, he extended an olive branch, his expression open and sincere.

"Well, I'm-"

Just as Ricky was about to utterly destroy this man's life, a faint memory surfaced in his mind as the figure of Trevor emerged within his psyche, an unwelcome ghost from the past.

The image was hazy at first, but the weight of it pressed against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

BURP

"What's your problem? Still sore about the whole pilot thing?" Ricky slurred, swaying drunkenly as he leaned against the porch railing, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Trevor.

"Honey, the kids are-"

"Take them out the back, now." Trevor cut in, his voice firm but calm as he didn't turn to face her, but the tension in his shoulders made it clear.

She hesitated for only a second before her gaze landed on Ricky, disheveled, reeking of booze, barely standing upright.

Without another word, she guided the children back inside, disappearing down the hall.

"Are those the little rugrats of yours, bring em out here so they can meet their good old grandpa-"

"Get off my porch, Ricky." Trevor demanded, pointing behind him but Ricky sort of made himself comfortable instead.

"You didn't answer my question," Ricky slurred, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.

"You still pissed about the whole pilot thing?" Ricky asked again, laughing at Trevor who grabbed his face, sliding it down before his eyes became dangerous.

"Maybe my anger has something to do with you suddenly showing up, passing out on my porch, and looking like some sort of bum In front of my family." Trevor's jaw tightened as he stepped forward, his voice low and firm.

"I-"

"Ugh, can't you just f*cking understand that I was helping you? I was trying to push you toward your dream-"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU DID!" Trevor roared, his voice so sharp it sent birds scattering.

"You-"

SIGH

"You do what you always do, Ricky. You make it about yourself." Trevor laughed, waving his hand in the air as if swiping away all the anger he previously had, replacing it with disdain.

"That's your problem, you can't handle the fact that people move on, that they recover from the disease that is you." Trevor scoffed, crossing his arms and turning his accusatory gaze down.

"You say you were being a good dad, how you were helping me, but not once. Once. Did you ever give me even a sliver of your time." Trevor said, holding up a single finger to Ricky and waving it around for him to see.

"Not once did you see the hours, the sweat, the blood and tears I poured into becoming a pilot." Trevor revealed the real reason he was upset, why it was he could never look at Ricky the same after that day.

"You just showed up, swooped in, and did what you thought was best." Trevor said, drawing this line in between them that separated him from what being a good dad was all about.

"Being a father isn't about shortcuts, Ricky. It's about giving your kid a life where they can grow and all you ever do is rip things apart, then put a bow on top of it as if that makes it better." Trevor explained, sighing that he had to actually spell it out for this trainwreck who would properly forget it tomorrow.

"You didn't care about me, you did it for yourself, to make yourself feel good." Trevor said, turning away from Ricky.

"But you also missed another important fact, that being a father isn't about being the good guy, it isn't about making yourself feel good, it's about selflessly putting your kids first and that's something you just can't do." Trevor shrugged, coming to terms with the person Ricky was and walking back into the house to call the police.

"So go to your back alley dumpster or your home, just not here. Just leave like you always do Ricky-"

"Ricky, you okay?" Charles gave him a gentle shake, his concern evident as Ricky seemed lost in a trance.

"Uh, yeah," Ricky muttered, snapping back to reality as he forced a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Just had a y'know, one of those coming-of-age moments." Ricky said, thinking how convenient that entire memory was for this exact moment.

"I asked what I could do to help you and you sort of froze, are you okay-"

"I just-" Ricky started, but when he glanced over at the window, seeing Richie's bright, carefree smile, he faltered and then turned his gaze down at his dress shoes.

"I was looking for my father. Got word he lived here," Ricky lied, his words landing like a gut punch, catching Charles completely off guard.

"O-Oh." Charles hesitated, his expression shifting as if he could feel the weight of Ricky's supposed grief.

"I'm sorry, Ricky, but before me, my parents lived here too and I don't think we're brothers." Charles let out a small chuckle, trying to lighten the moment which seemed to work as Ricky let out a short laugh of his own, ducking his head, the tension easing just a little.

"I guess so." Ricky chuckled, looking up at the sky as for once in his life, he wasn't being completely selfish.

Although he was greedy, lustful, and everything in between, he didn't want to be that way for his kids, he wanted to be a hypocrite for them this time around.

Ricky had screwed up his children in past lives, and deep down, this felt like his way of making amends for all the damage he'd left behind.

That's why he wanted to be there for them this time, to be what a real father was.

But when he looked at Charles, he realized Richie already had one, he had his Lucky.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to be in your child's life.

That bond, that blood connection, ties you together in a way nothing else can.

But sometimes, being a father is more complicated than that, it's not just about claiming your child.

It's about sacrifice, it's about knowing when to step in and when to step back.

A father isn't just the man who shares his blood, it's the man who's there in the quiet moments, the one who slaps dirt on scraped knees and stands in the crowd at school recitals.

It's the man who carries the weight of responsibility without expecting gratitude.

At that moment, Ricky realized that he always expected his kids' gratitude, as if they owed him for being alive.

Ricky had spent his life taking and or grabbing at things like power, pleasure, control, but never really once stopped to consider what he'd left behind in his wake.

He had this nagging feeling that the ones he hurt needed him to help pick up the pieces, but in reality, they were more than capable of putting themselves back together.

That realization resounded in his mind when standing here, looking at Charles, he saw something he never thought he would, envy.

Charles wasn't the biological father, but he was the one who had stayed, he was the one who had chosen Richie, day after day, without hesitation.

Just like Lucky had for him.

And that was the thing about being a father, it wasn't about just being present when it suited you, when it was convenient.

It was about showing up, no matter what, even when it hurt, even when it meant swallowing your pride and stepping aside for the sake of your child's happiness.

Ricky could try to force his way in, demand his place, throw his weight around, but what would that do except tear apart the home Richie already had?

Wouldn't that just make him the same selfish bastard of a father he'd always been before?

I think it was at that moment that Ricky had this sort of revelation that maybe being a father wasn't about proving something all the time, maybe it was about knowing when to let go.

"Would you like to come in and have dinner-" Charles offered, feeling guilty for the poor guy who was left out in the cold but Ricky only chuckled.

"Nah, I'm good." Ricky chuckled, until it sort of turned into this laugh as he slowly turned away.

"Good luck, Charles." Ricky nodded to the man, smiling as Charles was at a loss but slowly nodded with a smile of his own.

"You too, Ricky." Charles waved, sending him off while walking towards his house that held his loving family.

Slicking his hair back, Ricky let out a laugh, realizing how ridiculous it all was, the savior complex he'd built in his mind, convincing himself that all the women in his life needed him, only for it to come crashing down in one swift moment of clarity.

"What are you doing?" Bumpy asked, stepping out of the car as he watched Ricky slowly walk away from the house.

The question wasn't meant to help Ricky, it was a test, a way for Bumpy to prove to himself that Ricky was still the same arrogant, selfish bastard who had to make everything about himself.

But instead of failing the test with sh*tty, flying colors, Ricky was just walking away from it.

"I'm walking back to the f*cking car, what does it look like I'm doing?" Ricky scoffed, shooting Bumpy a glare.

"Slick, the kid's right there, go on, tell him who his dad is!" Bumpy's voice had an edge, almost like a dare, daring Ricky to prove he was still the same selfish bastard who couldn't help but make everything about himself.

Ricky turned, his eyes landing on the scene inside as Charles had just stepped into the house, greeted instantly by Everlean and Richie.

The boy ran to him without hesitation, clinging to his leg as Everlean smiled, wrapping her arms around Charles like he was the center of their world.

Then, for a brief second, Charles looked up and through the window, his eyes met Ricky's.

There was no hostility, no fear, just understanding, a subtle gesture that all men gave to one another as he nodded his head.

Ricky stopped at the car door, laughing before nodding back to him as he opened the car door without any regrets.

"The kid's already got a dad." Ricky smiled, sliding into the passenger seat while looking on ahead.

Bumpy stood there, at a complete loss for words as his mouth opened, then closed, his usual sharp tongue failing him as he watched Ricky settle into the passenger seat like it was just another day.

With a breathless shake of his head, Bumpy finally climbed into the driver's seat as he stared at Ricky for a moment, searching his face for any sign of regret, hesitation, or something.

But Ricky just leaned back, exhaling like the weight of something heavy had finally been lifted.

"I think you have made the correct judgment, Ricky," Alexander said, poking his head out from Ricky's shirt pocket, his expression laced with approval.

"It takes a strong man to carry the weight of the world, but an even stronger one to know when to let it go." Alexander said, his words forming into a life lesson.

Some might see it as weakness, might talk down to Ricky for walking away, but in Alexander's eyes, this was something else, this was growth, and this was moving forward.

Wordlessly, throughout the next couple of houses, Ricky encountered that same familiar scene, over and over again, like some cruel yet oddly comforting joke the universe was playing on him.

He lingered just long enough to see what he needed to see, to see if they were all alright and that his bastards had something whole, something stable, something that didn't need him to swoop in.

At Mayola's home, his young, light-skinned daughter, Serena, had already nestled into the life of another man, one built like a pillar of strength.

The guy had three kids of his own, yet he still had room in his arms for one more.

Ricky watched as she clung to the man's side, her tiny hands gripping onto his shirt with the kind of trust she had never been able to offer him.

The man ruffled her hair absentmindedly while listening to Mayola complain, wiping the ends of Serna's mouth that had a hint of ketchup before turning his gaze back to his wife, a simple but telling gesture of love that was second nature to him.

So, just like before, he turned and walked back to the car, his silence heavier than any words he could have spoken.

[Name: Serena Davis

Mother: Mayola Davis

Grade: C+

Template: N/A

Description: Mayola has no idea that you're the father of her daughter, Serena. Just three weeks after your encounter, she met another man and, believing him to be the child's father, quickly settled into a new relationship. Unbeknownst to her, the truth about Serena's parentage remains hidden in the shadows of their lives.

Abilities:N/A

Skills: N/A]

Then, Ricky was off to the next household, to see his other daughter, Jeanette, the baby girl of the woman he'd knocked up in a bathroom stall and who had later put her up for adoption.

But unlike the others, she hadn't just found a place to belong; she had been placed into a world far beyond anything the others had.

Her adoptive parents were affluent, the kind of people who had everything except the one thing they wanted most, a child.

And so, they had taken in Jeanette and given her a life draped in privilege and security.

Their home was pristine, the kind of place where even the wind seemed to move with quiet sophistication.

A lush wreath hung on the grand double doors, a picture-perfect welcome to a picture-perfect life.

Ricky stood at a distance, watching as Jeanette twirled in the yard, her parents looked on with adoration, the mother crouching to fix a stray curl while the father lifted her effortlessly into his arms, spinning her around until her laughter rang through the air.

Ricky, being ever so narcissistic, had always thought he was the missing piece in his bastard's lives, that his absence had left some unbearable void.

But standing there, watching Jeanette and the rest of them being loved in a way he never could have provided, he realized the truth.

They weren't missing anything at all.

And so, like before, Ricky turned away, walking back to the car without a word.

[Name: Jennett Lou]

Mother: Mary Lou

Grade:

Template: N/A

Description: The events that transpired in the bathroom stall nine months prior left Mary Lou with a baby girl, whom she named Jennett. Overwhelmed by the burden of motherhood and the challenges that lay ahead, Mary Lou made the heart-wrenching decision to give Jennett up for adoption. She placed her daughter in an orphanage, believing it was the best option for both of them. Fortunately, Jennett was quickly adopted by a loving couple who had always dreamed of having children but never had the chance to start a family of their own. They welcomed her with open arms, showering her with affection and creating a nurturing environment where she could thrive.

Abilities: N/A

Skills: N/A]

The connections were there, undeniable, woven into the very fabric of his being as he felt it in his chest, that tether to his kids, that quiet pull of blood and lineage.

But after seeing their smiles, after watching them thrive in homes filled with warmth and love, he understood something he hadn't before in his past life.

They just didn't need him.

Not in the way he had convinced himself they did, not in the way that would justify barging into their lives and disrupting the stability they had found without him.

Sure, Ricky wouldn't give a single f*ck if it was some random person he was taking something from, but these were his kids, his bastards, his blood.

So, he kept walking and with every step, he let go a little more.

Eventually, he arrived at a telephone booth, the glass fogged from the evening chill as he sighed, pressing his forehead against the cool surface for a moment before straightening up.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled slip of paper, the number Bumpy had given him.

The line clicked, followed by a brief moment of static before a crisp, professional voice filtered through.

"Hello, how may I direct your call?" The operator's tone was polite, efficient, just another routine inquiry in their long shift of connecting voices across the city.

"Yeah could you put me through to-"

Ricky had to jump through hurdle after hurdle to get his call connected all the way to California.

Since he hadn't been there yet, it was faster to just call rather than fly on Chastiefol, especially with the sun already beginning to set.

He tapped his fingers against the metal frame of the telephone booth, listening to the clicks and distant echoes as the operator patched him through.

"Hello, who is this?" A woman, familiar in tone, asked, having received an unknown caller from her private line that Bumpy somehow got.

"Man Katharine, you sound as sexy as ever." Ricky chuckled through the phone, leaning back and leaning on the telephone booth as the other end went dead silent.

"Did you?" Katharine asked, leaving the question up in the air and yet, Ricky understood it perfectly.

"Yeah, I know." Ricky confirmed all Katharine doubts, looking up at the ceiling for her to find the words to respond.

"Oh." Katharine could only respond with this one word, reeling in from the shock of getting a random call from her child's estranged father.

"Are you going to-"

"If you're about to ask me if I'm gonna take Johnny away, the answer is no." Ricky crossed his arms, hearing the visible relief on the other end of the line.

In this time period, if he wanted to claim his son, the courts would almost certainly rule in his favor.

A father's rights, especially a biological one, carried more weight than that of a mother, especially an unmarried one, could do little to fight against it.

"I just called cause, you know, I want to know about him." Ricky sighed, really stumped at finding the right touchy feely words to get across to Katharine.

"I get with the whole mobster thing you might be against it, but I-"

"Ricky, honey, I think he'd like that, so you don't have to explain." Katharine chuckled, cutting Ricky off before he could ramble any further.

"Oh, good, 'cause I had no idea what the hell to really say. I'm just winging it right now." Ricky exhaled, relieved since he really didn't want to have the whole back and forth.

"When you're ready, I'd like for you to come meet him," Katharine said, her tone steady and understanding as she knew Ricky was still young, and knew how confusing and overwhelming this all must be for him.

"Ha, thanks~" Ricky laughed, hearing her soft chuckle on the other end.

They kept talking for a while, their conversation flowing naturally, neither in a rush to end it.

Eventually, Ricky assured her that once things settled down, he'd come visit and with that, he hung up the phone, exhaling as he leaned against the booth, letting the weight of the moment settle in.

Bumpy had been silent the entire time, not saying a word as he chauffeured Ricky from one stop to the next.

Ever since watching Ricky walk away from Richie, he hadn't so much as muttered a comment or cracked a joke.

He just drove, occasionally glancing at Ricky through the rearview mirror, as if trying to figure out what was going through his head.

There was only one more stop, the one that led back to the woman who had started everything.

This was the first woman Bumpy had tracked down, not hidden away under some rock but in plain sight.

She worked as a nurse at a private elementary school, the same one Danielle attended for preschool and would continue through until middle school.

Tonight, she had stayed late, filling out supply request forms, a tedious but necessary part of her job.

After finally finishing the unpaid overtime, she let out a sigh of relief, packed up her things, and stepped outside but the moment she did, she froze.

Her bag slipped from her grasp, her expression locked in disbelief as standing in the middle of the walkway, waiting for her, was none other than Ricky.

"Hey Dolly, mind if we chat?"

5 minutes later,

Seated on a nearby public bench, both of them smoked in silence as Dolly, taking slow drags to regain her composure, sat next to Ricky who simply waited, his gaze steady, unreadable.

"I-I'm not planning anything or trying to kidnap her, I just-" Dolly stammered, hastily adjusting her now-black hair, the dye job a clear attempt at reinvention.

Sniff

"I just wanted to see her grow up." Dolly sniffled, her eyes watering thinking that Ricky was here to take her away.

"I see her here, you know, that new woman." Dolly hiccuped, rubbing her eyes as she let the words pour out like tears, referring to Raven.

Sniff

Hic

"How she calls her mommy~" Dolly whined, finally breaking down as the weight of it all crashed over her, at the realization that Raven had stepped into the role of Danielle's mother, her role that she was too much of a coward to fill.

Ricky sat in silence, letting her cry, the glow of their cigarettes the only light between them as he didn't offer empty words or meaningless comfort, just his presence, steady and unmoving, as Dolly let it all out.

"A-Are you here to take me away?" Dolly sniffled, her masquerade bleeding down her cheeks and looking at Ricky who took another drag of his cigarette.

"No, I'm here to ask why the f*ck you aren't in my baby girl's life," Ricky finally said, his voice edged with both frustration and confusion as he stared at Dolly.

Out of everyone, she was the last person he expected to walk away as it took a different kind of strength to cut yourself off completely, and to him, Dolly had always seemed too soft for that.

Dolly turned away, rubbing her cheeks as she cast her gaze downward, the weight of everything pressing heavy on her mind.

"When you left New York, Dewey came to see me."

Flashback

Knock

Knock

Knock

Three knocks echoed against the white door before it creaked open, revealing Dolly, not heavily pregnant anymore, as she had already given Danielle to Lucky by this point.

"H-Hello?" Dolly asked, gripping the door at the sight of the unexpected visitor, her eyes scanning his face but finding no recognition.

"Are you Dolly?" Dewey asked, glancing down at his notepad to confirm the address while she hesitantly nodded.

"Yes, how can I help you?" Dolly asked, instinctively putting her guard up, her posture stiffening as Dewey let out a nervous chuckle, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

"Oh no, I'm a friend of Albert's," Dewey reassured her, reaching into his suit pocket as he pulled out a photograph and held it up for her to see.

Dolly's gaze lowered to the picture, a snapshot of Albert and Dewey at the latter's law school graduation as Albert stood beside him, smiling, having come to support his friend on his big day.

Gasp

"O-Oh my apologies, I didn't know-"

"No, it's quite alright, you don't have to apologize." Dewey waved his hand, dispelling any of her guilt while reaching towards his side.

"I just came here because of a message Albert wanted me to give you." Dewey said, lifting his briefcase, a case that held everything he had built against the Luciano family.

Though he had lost and was now set to return to Washington D.C., he couldn't resist the urge to rub salt in the wound, especially after discovering the connection between Dolly and Ricky.

"I see, then, please come in."

FLASHBACK END

"He told me everything, about you, about Albert, and about my Sammy." Dolly's voice carried the weight of bitter revelation as she turned her gaze toward Ricky, her expression twisted with betrayal.

"Did you kill them? Did you kill them and just use me to get back at them?" Dolly asked, her eyes welling with tears, because that's exactly how it felt after Dewey had laid it all out for her.

Sammy's death wasn't just a tragedy like the hospital report claimed, he had been shot and Albert hadn't taken his own life, Ricky had killed him.

And after knowing all of that, after everything, thinking Ricky had just used her, lied to her, and slept with her, all while she carried the sorrow of thinking she was the one using him.

The entire time, he had known, he had known perfectly well that he was the one who had ruined her life and yet, she was the one who carried this guilt for sleeping with him, thinking she was the one to blame for her misery.

Sniff

"Did you think that playing with my heart, my emotions, and my body was fun?" Dolly cried, her voice trembling as she looked at Ricky who remained silent, unmoving, as she poured out her pain.

Ricky was at a loss since hadn't expected Dewey to actually track down Dolly and tell her everything as that wasn't what the system had indicated.

But the system only provided a generalization when the children were born and what abilities they had as it didn't update or follow their lives in real time.

At least, not yet.

"I gave away my baby girl out of guilt for wronging you, but this whole time, I was the one who was wronged, Ricky. I was the one being used~" Dolly sniffled, trying to force out the words between hiccupped sobs.

"A-And I wanted her back, I went to get her back, but I-...I couldn't~" Dolly's face collapsed into her hands, her sobs muffled against her palms.

The memory crashed over her, drowning her in regret after seeing the scene when she resolved to take back Danielle.

It was at his mansion that Lucky, the man she had given her daughter to, was holding Danielle with such careful devotion, showering her with all the privileges Dolly never could.

Lucky didn't just tuck Danielle away in some room and call it a day but instead he surrounded her with round-the-clock care, remodeled his entire house to baby-proof every inch of it, and made sure she never lacked a single thing.

And right now, while Dolly stood at the side drowning in her regrets, Lucky was throwing Danielle a grand first birthday party, right in the midst of the very men who ran the streets, the mobsters who, for all their sins of killing her Sammy and Albert, were now her family.

It broke her, it just shattered every justification she had clung to.

She had convinced herself that her baby could never be happy in the arms of murderers, of killers, that she was the hero, the one rescuing Danielle from a life of blood and crime.

She told herself she was wronged, that they had tricked her into giving her baby away and that coming back was the right thing to do.

But seeing Danielle in Lucky's arms, safe, loved, and thriving, it shattered every lie she had clung to.

It didn't make her feel righteous, it didn't make her feel like a savior, it only made her realize how much she had lost, and how much she could never give.

Ricky just listened, silent and unmoving because weirdly enough, after today, he understood.

He didn't come back the same way Dolly did, but he let go all the same.

Although they were different, the gut-wrenching feeling of knowing you had to walk away from something you loved, was the exact same.

That kind of hurt didn't just fade, it settled into your bones until it became a part of you and made you realize what it truly meant to care for her child.

Even when Dolly felt helpless, even when she resolved to let Danielle be raised by the Luciano family, she still wanted to see her.

It's why she changed her name and disguised herself as they were only small glimpses, little interactions, a passing glance in the halls, a moment stolen from the cafeteria, but seeing Danielle happy and growing up was enough for her.

But it all crumpled away when she saw Ricky standing in front of her.

"F*ck~" Ricky sighed, leaning his head back since he really didn't know what to do in this situation and sort of cursed at how he himself wound up here.

"God f*cking dammit." Ricky cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose at this whole situation.

Dolly simply sniffled, waiting to be pulled away, but Ricky just sat there, muttering curses under his breath until he finally turned to her.

Dolly gripped the ends of her dress, her hands trembling as Ricky laid everything bare.

"I did use you. I did kill Albert. And Sammy died because of my pops," Ricky admitted, the weight of his words sinking between them like an anchor as her breath hitched, eyes glistening with unfallen tears.

"I did treat you like something more than just passing relief and I completely betrayed your kindness toward me. I'm sorry for that." Ricky continued, his voice steady but heavy as Dolly's lips parted slightly, but no words came.

"But I ain't sorry for what happened to Albert and Sammy." Ricky held up his hand, his expression hardening as that ruthless side of him surfaced, the part of him that was almost completely indifferent to those outside his circle.

"But they-"

"First of all, Sammy wasn't some noble soul, he was a dirty cop taking money from my pops," Ricky stated plainly, revealing the truth to Dolly who utterly flinched down to her very core.

"No, he wouldn't-" Dolly started, shaking her head, but Ricky cut her off.

"He did and then he decided to backstab my pops by taking money from the Five Points Gang. Almost killed him when he shot him up a couple of times, which, funny enough, is how I met Lucky in the first place." Ricky said, rubbing his mouth and looking off to the side while Dolly's grip on her dress tightened.

Her world was shifting under her feet, everything she thought she knew crumbling piece by piece by Ricky's brutal honesty, trying to tell herself it was more lies and yet, couldn't bring herself to tune him out.

"And Albert? Me and Lucky warned that guy countless times to just let Sammy's death go, 'cause in our world, you don't just let a guy who tried to kill you walk away. It don't work like that," Ricky revealed, shaking his head since people who tried to kill you once always tried again, Albert had been no exception.

"Albert pushed and pushed until he hit a breaking point. I won't apologize for those two." Ricky's voice was firm, unwavering as Dolly's lips trembled, but she said nothing throughout it all.

But then, after a brief pause, he exhaled sharply, once again looking at her trembling figure while placing a dangling curl around her shoulder.

"But I'm sorry to you."

That was the only apology she was going to get and deep down, she knew it was the only one that mattered.

"You were so good to me, you didn't just brush off what you did, you genuinely felt guilty for what you thought you'd done to me." Ricky admitted, his voice was low, heavy with something he rarely let slip through.

"And I'm sorry I ruined that part of you, stole that innocence from you and made you feel this heartache that no mother should have to feel." Ricky sighed, the weight of it settling in his chest.

He knew, knew deep down, that Danielle would have benefited from Dolly's love, from the warmth only a mother could give.

But of course, it was his fault as his actions and negligence to the situation had set all of this in motion.

"I can't go back and change the past, but I can at least try to fix it now, if you'd let me." Ricky said, placing his hand over his heart since he really wanted Dolly in Danielle's life and was willing to lower himself if it meant she would get her back.

Dolly was silent for a long time, truly thinking about it, letting the weight of everything settle and then, finally, she turned to Ricky, her hurt expression unwavering.

"I-I don't think I can ever trust your words again." Dolly admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

And in that moment, Ricky knew that some things, no matter how much you apologized for them or tried to fix them, could never be undone.

"I made a decision to give Danielle up, because part of me was scared she'd never have the life I dreamed for her," Dolly admitted, her voice wavering while her heart twisted at her next words.

"But on that same note a part of me is relieved."

Sniff

"Because every time I look at her, I see your eyes staring back at me. I see the reminder of everything I've lost, everything you took from me. And she doesn't deserve that, she doesn't deserve to bear my pain or grief, she only deserves to be loved." Dolly wiped at her eyes, her breath shaky as she stood up, forcing herself to walk away, even as her heart ached with every step.

"Goodbye, Ricky."

Ricky sat there, watching as Dolly walked away, her steps unsteady but her resolve firm and even though he had hoped she would, she didn't look back.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his jaw as the weight of her words settled in as there was no coming back from this, no way to undo what had been done.

Dolly had made peace with her decision, but it wasn't just about Danielle.

It was about him.

She could never look at their daughter without seeing his sins, his betrayals, the pain he had inflicted upon her and Danielle didn't deserve to carry that burden.

Ricky let out a bitter chuckle, running a hand through his hair at the fact that he had lost her.

Not just in the way men lost women, but in a way far deeper, far more permanent one, and he deserved it.

The sun dwindled from the sky, casting long shadows over the quiet street, but Ricky remained on the bench, watching the last slivers of light fade beyond the horizon.

Before long, Bumpy made his way over, settling beside him without a word as he held out his box, just two cigarettes left.

Ricky took one, lighting it with steady hands, the flame flickering briefly before he inhaled deep.

The smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled, staring ahead, lost in everything that had just unraveled.

"Why couldn't you be the same asshole I once knew, huh?" Bumpy asked, finally breaking that long silence between them.

"Why couldn't you just be the same guy I could blame everything on and know that I was justified in feeling that way 'cause you just sucked?" Bumpy voiced his frustration, looking at Ricky who just laughed the entire time he vented.

"It was just so much easier that way, easier when you just f*cking sucked." Bumpy relented, holding his face while slumping on the bench.

"I hear that," Ricky sighed, because Bumpy was right since shrugging everything off and never giving a damn about anything that wasn't his next high had always been the easy way out.

"Alright, fine, I'll ask the question. 'What the f*ck happened when you left?'" Bumpy joked, turning toward Ricky who let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as he took another drag from his cigarette.

"You sure? It's kind of a boring and lackluster story-"

"Sh*t, man, I ain't got nothing better to do than listen." Bumpy held up his hand, a quiet resignation in his voice as he had nothing left except his car to his name, no home, no family, and no one waiting for him.

"Alright, well, it starts off with me wallowing on this boat-"

Ricky then proceeded to tell Bumpy everything, how he'd been exiled from New York, his arrival at the Vatican, the fight with Dracula, getting his ass handed to him by Dracula, training until he could finally kill the bastard, coming back for the trial, and now, returning to patch things up.

By the time he finished, his cigarette had burned to the filter, and Bumpy just sat there, staring at him like he had grown a second head.

"You telling me you fought Dracula, from the book?" Bumpy finally said, his face dead serious.

"Yeah."

"And he whooped your ass?"

"Yeah."

"But then you trained, went back, and killed him?"

"That's what I just said."

"Then you came back and did that entire trial thing for petty revenge?"

"Yup."

"Man, you ever stop and listen to the sh*t that comes outta your mouth?" Bumpy let out a long breath, shaking his head.

Snort

Ricky snorted, hitting his knee as he laughed along with Bumpy, who had that carefree attitude, just rolling with the absurdity of it all.

They ragged on each other, trading jabs, the weight of everything momentarily lifting.

"Man, you out here fighting f*cking Dracula, and I'm just trying to keep gas in my car," Bumpy chuckled, shaking his head rubbing the back of his head.

"Hey, don't sell yourself short. That's a real battle nowadays," Ricky smirked, taking another drag from his almost entirely used cigarette.

"You're telling me, two days ago, I went to fill up and the guy tells me twenty two cents a gallon, unbelievable" Bumpy scoffed, unable to believe how high gas prices were right now as Ricky nodded.

"Well, let me know when you take on Frankenstein next." Bumpy sighed, his words coming off as a joke but this time, Ricky didn't take it like that.

"Guess you'll have to stick around and see." Ricky just laughed, exhaling smoke into the night air as Bumpy looked up at him.

"What are you-"

"Come work for me, Bumpy." Ricky flicked his cigarette to the side, finally cutting to the real reason he'd spent the whole night riding around with him.

Bumpy's brain short-circuited for a second as he just stared at Ricky like he'd misheard him, until it fully registered, and only one reaction came to mind.

SNORT

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Bumpy snorted out, heaving out a humongous stream of laughter while kicking his legs in the air as if it wasn't the funniest thing he's heard in his lifetime.

"I-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Ricky just waved a hand, waiting it out as Bumpy doubled over, damn near crying with laughter and eventually, he wiped at his eyes, catching his breath.

"Slick, don't get me wrong, it's crazy seeing how far you've come and hearing how you got here is actually impressive." Bumpy shook his head, still grinning while giving credit where it was due.

"But I still f*cking hate you."

Just because Bumpy could see how much Ricky had changed didn't mean his opinion of him had suddenly flipped.

Change didn't erase the past, and for all the ways Ricky had grown, to Bumpy, he was still a piece of sh*t.

Slapping the label of 'good father' on himself didn't undo the fact that he was a mobster, a killer, and worst of all, Ricky f*cking Luciano.

A man who had taken, ruined, and burned bridges without looking back.

A man who had left a trail of bodies, broken trust, and forced people like Bumpy to pick up the pieces of the mess he made.

So yeah, Ricky had been through some sh*t that is just undeniable.

He'd fought monsters, both real and metaphorical, but that didn't mean he suddenly got to be the hero.

It didn't mean Bumpy had to act like everything was fine now, because it wasn't.

"I hate you. I genuinely hate you, and the only reason I did this was for my own satisfaction, to see that you couldn't change, only to be f*cked over by you once again." Bumpy revealed, his voice raw, uncaring that Ricky could kill him with the flick of a finger.

"I don't think, and I'm being dead serious when I say this, that I've ever hated someone more than I hate you right now." Bumpy actually chuckled at this, his eyes filled with nothing but hate when they stared at the man before him.

And it wasn't just because of who Ricky had been, but because of who he was now.

Because Ricky had the nerve to change, to evolve, to become something more than the reckless bastard Bumpy had spent years cursing.

Because despite all the blood, the destruction, the people left in his wake, Ricky got to sit here, alive, happy even.

And he didn't deserve it, not in Bumpy's eyes.

"Eh." Ricky shrugged, waving his clear hate off as if he had expected this but that offer didn't just magically disappear because he loathed him.

"Eh? That's all you have to say, eh?" Bumpy laughed, literally telling the most powerful man in New York that he hated him only to hear that lackluster response.

"You think I didn't know that? I hate you too." Ricky laughed right in Bumpy's face, his words striking harder than any punch as Bumpy flinched, but only just barely.

"God, I hated how much of a f*cking boy scout you were to Madame. Always looking down at me just for existing. I hated how capable you were but how you acted like some damn pet for Madame while still having all the respect to be something more. You were something I wasn't and yet, I just didn't want to be you. Weird f*cking feeling if you ask me." Ricky's laugh faded into something colder, sharper as he raised his gaze.

"And just like you, I f*cking hate that, man. I loathed you for being so damn capable, and now I hate you for wasting away just because Madame broke your heart." Ricky's gaze, once edged with respect, was now tainted with disappointment, almost rotting away.

Bumpy stiffened, his jaw tightening, but Ricky saw it, how his words hit their mark, how Bumpy seemed to shrink under the weight of them.

No sovereign aura, no mutant powers, just the bare, ugly truth.

"What the f*ck happened to you? What happened to the Bumpy Johnson I once knew? 'Cause this guy sure as hell ain't it." Ricky asked, gesturing towards the man seated next to him as his voice lowered, but his words carried even heavier.

"If I grew, then you've f*cking shrunk." Ricky realized, looking at this shriveled hollow shell of that man he once hated.

"I'm not even mad anymore. Everything you're saying doesn't mean sh*t because the guy standing in front of me ain't the same one I used to feel threatened by. The one I always had to retaliate against." Ricky shook his head, exhaling sharply as to why he didn't punch him in the face earlier.

"It's sad, man. Making fun of you isn't even fun anymore, it's just f*cking sad, and it pisses me off that I don't enjoy it anymore." Ricky laughed, shaking his head as the anger from it all seethed inward.

"F*ck!" Ricky shot up from the bench, running a hand through his hair as frustration boiled over.

Bumpy sat there, feeling like some kid getting lectured, the roles they once played now reversed in the worst way.

"I had this whole plan for Harlem when I came back and I thought I'd have to fight you for it too. I thought I'd get to see how much you'd really grown." Ricky let out a bitter laugh, holding his head since he had built Bumpy into this obstacle that would've tripped him up.

"I expected you to be the goddamn Godfather of Harlem and instead, all I got was some heartbroken sob story." Ricky's voice dropped lower, spreading out his arms since to him, Bumpy was supposed to be the king of Harlem, not some wallowing sad sack.

"Can you even defend yourself right now? Can you even tell me I'm wrong?" Ricky asked, frustrated at the continued silence only for his eyes to widen.

"Jesus, you can't." Ricky scoffed, watching Bumpy duck his head, unable to meet his eyes.

"I loved her-"

"Oh my God, just shut the f*ck up!" Ricky yelled, cutting Bumpy off before he could even get the words out.

Bumpy gritted his teeth, fists clenching, but Ricky wasn't done, deciding that someone, even if it was him, had to wake this guy in front of him up.

"She doesn't love you, she'll never love you, and I know that for a fact." Ricky spread his arms, watching Bumpy's gaze snap up to him.

"Because I f*cked her," Ricky revealed, dousing Bumpy in cold reality as his breath hitched, his face twitched, but Ricky caught it, pressing into that sore spot.

"N-No she wouldn't, she-"

"She's having my bastard." Ricky let the words hang, his smirk cruel and sharp.

"Told me a couple days ago. Surprise~." Ricky said, tearing down that image that Bumpy had so carefully built up for her.

"But Madame St. Clair isn't one of those women. She isn't one of those floozies you knocked up. She's-" Bumpy shook his head, a hollow chuckle leaving his lips.

"She's not the untouchable goddess you think she is." Ricky leaned in, his voice revealing the truth of Madame St. Clair's entire existence.

"She's not some saint you put on a pedestal. She's just like every other woman, just a different flavor." Ricky emphasized that last part, really digging into his sore sport as Bumpy's jaw locked, but Ricky didn't let up.

"That's the problem with guys like you, guys who idolize love." Ricky took a step closer, watching Bumpy like a lion sizing up wounded prey.

"You build it up into this sacred, perfect thing, this dream. But you never imagine yourself actually having it until it's too late." Ricky spread his hands, as if painting some dazzling illusion in the air, only to let it slip through his fingers.

"And guess what? It's too late." Ricky shrugged, bearing the entirety of the truth towards Bumpy/

"You smothered her right into my sleezy arms, congrats." Ricky sneered, watching as Bumpy's glare slowly lifted to meet him.

"If you're hear to hire me, why are saying all of this-"

Slap

"BECAUSE YOU'RE F*CKING PATHETIC!" Ricky roared, his palm cracking against Bumpy's face with a sharp slap.

Bumpy flinched, but Ricky wasn't trying to hurt him, he was trying to wake him the f*ck up.

Out of all the people Ricky hated, out of all the people he didn't like, Bumpy was one of the few he actually respected.

Bumpy came from nothing, just like him.

The difference was that Ricky had Lucky and Bumpy had no one but his own damn imagination.

It took Ricky a while, but over time, he'd come to respect the man as although he never liked him, you didn't have to like someone to respect them.

And that's what pissed Ricky off the most as this whole thing with Madame St. Clair, it made Ricky sick to his stomach because he saw too much of himself in Bumpy.

Wasting potential.

Letting something so stupid hold him back.

Ricky had clawed his way out of that pit.

But Bumpy?

Bumpy was still drowning in it.

"YOU'RE BECOMING ME, DON'T YOU GET IT?! YOU'RE DROWNING YOURSELF IN YOUR OWN F*CKING MISERY BECAUSE YOU CAN'T REALIZE THAT IT'S OVER!" Ricky barked, watching Bumpy's face twist before he lunged.

"SHUT UP!" Bumpy roared, unable to handle anymore of Ricky's words and charging at him.

But Ricky didn't move, didn't flinch, and just gestured him forward.

Bumpy swung, wild, reckless, sloppy and Ricky could have easily dodged.

Could've made him miss and look stupid, but he didn't.

BAM

The punch connected, knuckles crashing against Ricky's jaw like a thunderclap but he didn't even stumble, however, Bumpy did.

"F*CK!" Bumpy yelped, staggering backward, cradling his fist like he'd just punched a brick wall.

"F*CK YOU, SLICK!" Bumpy spat, chest rising and falling like he wanted to go again.

But it was then that it all hit him, the pain, the emotions, the clarity, and all of this made his breath shudder, his lips twitched, his shoulders sagged.

Sniff

"Dammit, f*ck you."

The rage in his voice thinned, cracking at the edges, drowning under the weight of something heavier.

Something that wasn't anger, something closer to grief, and that something finally woke him up from this wallowing spell he was under.

"Madame's never gonna love you, and all you'll ever be is her errand boy." Ricky's words cut through the air like a blade, giving him the straight up truth and nothing less.

"She orders you around like some damn dog, and you just let her." Ricky gestured, looking at the sniveling man beneath his gaze.

"But I'm not just offering you a spot as my little servant. I'm offering you Harlem, Bumpy." Ricky said, getting to the point as his words made Bumpy completely freeze.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'? You think the Luciano family can properly manage Harlem and its community?" Ricky scoffed, genuinely posing the question that left Bumpy silent, because they both knew the answer.

"I love my family, but they can't even look at a guy from Cabrini without sneering. They only see their own and it's why they can't run a bunch of blacks, they'll see them as nothing more than dogs." Ricky let that sit for a second before driving the knife in deeper.

"Just like Madame sees you." Ricky finally drew parallels, getting to where he was going with it all and watching Bumpy's jaw clenched.

"I need someone who understands Harlem. Someone the people respect, not fear. Someone who's hungry to prove himself." Ricky took a step closer, voice low and sharp while bending down.

"I thought you were that guy and turns out, you're not. But you can be." Ricky reached into his suit pocket and flicked a business card at the grass below Bumpy's wallowing.

"Call me when you're ready to be Bumpy Johnson, not whatever the hell this is." Ricky waved his hand at him and with that, he turned, stepping toward a green portal he conjured open.

But before stepping into it, he glanced back at Bumpy, who still had his hand pressed against the ground.

With a quiet shake of his head, Ricky turned away, leaving Bumpy alone with his thoughts, able to mutter only one thing.

"F*ck you Slick, f*ck you."

Author's Note: Saw your comments, laughed at all my spelling mistakes, fix it later.