"How ya doing, Wonder Boy?"
Throughout his time in New York, Ricky had met and reunited with so many old and new faces, but through all of it, there was still one particular man that always eluded his sight.
And now, standing before him, was none other than Steve Rogers, his childhood friend
"...."
However, unlike how things had been with Bucky, there was no easy return to familiarity as Steve's initial shock gradually melted into a deep, disappointed frown.
"Oh c'mon, don't look at me like that." Ricky said with a light chuckle, stepping forward with a grin, arms spread wide toward the man he still considered a friend.
"Steve, c'mon." Ricky laughed, stepping up to the short, sickly thin man who, despite his frail frame, didn't yield an inch.
"What's your problem-"
"My problem?" Steve cut in sharply, sidestepping any chance of a handshake or hug, and definitely anything that might close the space between them.
"Yeah-"
"You're really asking me what my problem is-"
"Yeah, I am." Ricky said, looking down at Steve who stared right back up at him, unmoving and holding his ground.
"Where should I start, huh?" Steve asked, a dry laugh of disbelief escaping his face as he looked to the side.
"Wherever you want-" Ricky said, his smile twitching as a hint of irritation crept into his voice.
"I'm just on the fence about whether I should start with having to constantly look over my shoulder or the fact that my boss, Mr. Dandy, is being harassed by your family!" Steve shouted, standing up to the biggest bully in the entire city.
"Woah, woah, woah." Ricky said quickly, holding up his hands to halt the fury blazing out of the little man before him.
"What do you mean, looking over your shoulder? Who's coming after you-"
"It's not just me, Ricky, it's the whole damn city!" Steve cut him off, his voice rising as he stared up at the man towering over him.
"How many times have the good people of New York had to duck and cover because of one of your fights, huh?" Steve asked earnestly, watching as Ricky let out a chuckle, immediately turning it into a joke.
"At least four-"
"Ricky-"
"It's was just a joke-"
"It's not funny-"
"Steve, listen, I'll put in a word and-"
"This isn't about me, Ricky!" Steve snapped, pressing a hand over his heart with a passion seeping into his tone.
"You're right, it's about you and that stupid need to-"
"Do the right thing?" Steve scoffed, his voice dripping with disbelief as Ricky's smile slowly faded into a flat, unreadable look.
"Nah, to get yourself into trouble." Ricky said, giving him a light poke that sent Steve stumbling back a couple of steps.
"You're still the same." Ricky chuckled, prodding his thin chest again, deliberately provoking him.
SLAP
"Don't." Steve said, swatting Ricky's finger aside, slowly balling his tiny hand into a fist.
"Or what?" Ricky teased, spreading his arms toward the man whose entire frame was swallowed by his shadow.
"Ricky-" Lady Roma said, walking over to Ricky's side and pulling at his hand.
"You know how I feel about bullies, Ricky." Steve said, puffing out his chest and rising onto his tiptoes, trying to meet him eye to eye but failing.
"And I know what happens every time you get into a fight with one." Ricky said, giving him another shove that sent Steve stumbling back.
"I'm serious-"
"Ooooh, he's serious~" Ricky mocked, grinning as Steve regained his balance.
"Ricky, let's just go." Lady Roma said, feeling bad for the small man in front of him as she pushed his arm into her bosom.
"Please~" Lady Roma whispered, her eyes lifting to meet Ricky's as he smiled slowly, then shrugged.
"Fine." Ricky sighed, sliding his arm around her waist while Lady Roma rolled her eyes but didn't resist, just wanting to leave before the man got hurt.
Steve Rodgers, unrecognizable before his super serum, frowned deeply at the woman who had seen dozens of his own variations.
"Well, although your kind of a jackass, if you ever need-"
"I don't want it." Steve said quietly, immediately rejecting the so‑called golden ticket everyone in the city had come to know.
"Are you serious?" Ricky asked, waving the card that could literally get him anything he wanted.
"I'd rather die than take your blood-soaked hand," Steve said, conviction lacing every syllable of his tone.
Sigh
"Still the same old Steve." Ricky reiterated, shaking his head as he slowly turned and walked down the street.
"I never changed in the ways that count-"
"And that's why you lose-"
"Better than someone else having to pay a price every time you win!" Steve called out after Ricky, the man slowly coming to a stop as he turned back around.
"You think you're better than me?" Ricky asked, stepping forward, though Steve didn't flinch.
"No." Steve said simply, needing nothing except the resolve thumping in his heart.
"Just trying to be better." Steve added, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
"Ha~" Ricky laughed, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and disbelief as Lady Roma tugged at his arm, trying to pull him forward.
"Well, if you ever get tired of getting your ass kicked-" Ricky started, cutting himself off as he turned his back on one of his last childhood friends.
"You know where to find me."
Two paths diverged at that moment.
Ricky walked down his path of glory, the crowd parting for him as whispers followed in his wake as admiration, fear, envy, all blended into one.
Meanwhile, the tide of faces slowly turned away from Steve.
Yet even as the city seemed to turn away from him, he held his head high, his resolve unshaken, and though tested, his sense of justice remained intact.
But even as Steve walked the path of conviction, it was hard not to focus on the man of the hour.
"So, where are you going to go to make that 'splash'?" Lady Roma asked, actually playful in her wording which surprised Ricky.
"In my book, the best way to get someone's attention is to make 'em laugh," Ricky said, letting a grin lift his mood as he gestured to the side.
"And all great jokes start at a bar." Ricky added, stopping in front of a random place and reaching for the door.
"After you," Ricky said, gesturing toward the rustic bar named 'Bar None'.
RIP
Lady Roma shook her head, but instead of rolling her eyes, she found herself strangely compelled to join in on the joke.
Almost as if urged by a figure lurking in the shadows, a broker of sorts.
"Alright so, a mobster and a sorceress walk into a bar-" Lady Roma said, trying to lighten the mood with a playful remark.
"And they kiss." Ricky laughed, seizing the moment to get the single reaction he had been desperate to see.
Lady Roma to laugh.
"I'm serious-" Lady Roma unconsciously chuckled, nudging Ricky at the doorway.
"Me too, pucker up." Ricky laughed, laughing even harder as he wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her toward the bar, drawing wide-eyed stares from everyone witnessing the city's most notorious man in action.
"No, no, listen." Lady Roma, still smiling, continued the joke.
"The bartender looks up and says-"
Her words cut off as she suddenly found herself standing in front of the bartender, unwittingly becoming part of the act as he blinked.
"Uh, what'll it be?" The bartender asked, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly confused by the sudden, unexpected scene.
"That's the spirit."
Lady Roma suddenly delivered the punchline as the bar, already silent, grew even quieter, as if crickets had taken up residence.
Snort
"That's stupid~" Ricky laughed, the sound breaking the tension.
Ricky actually got it, the second anyone played along, she'd turned it into a self-aware joke about her being a sorceress.
Though only those with the given context, Ricky, could ever hope to understand as the bartender awkwardly coughed at the side.
"Um, sir-"
"Just call me Slick and I'll have a pint of whatever this bar's famous for." Ricky interrupted, slapping his order along with the hundred onto the counter as the bartender widened his eyes.
"Me too." Lady Roma chirped in, slightly embarrassed at only one person laughing at her mild joke.
Cough
"So, how are you today-"
"Don't do that." Ricky chuckled, shaking his head at her sudden attempt.
"What am I doing?" Lady Roma asked, genuinely confused since she had only been trying to be polite.
"You're trying to force a conversation, just let it flow." Ricky chuckled, gesturing his hand in a lazy wave, as if to demonstrate the word itself.
"Let it flow?" Lady Roma reiterated, her expression morphing into a weird mix of confusion and mock curiosity.
"Oh yeah~" Ricky said, grinning as he slowly pulled out a random whistle from his pocket and blew into it for dramatic effect.
IP WHISTLE NOISE
"Why do you always say that and where did you get a whistle?" Lady Roma asked, baffled both by his choice of words and the whistle he seemed to conjure from thin air.
"There you go, you're getting it." Ricky chuckled, blowing the whistle again in a playful catcall that made a few of the guys behind him burst out laughing.
IP WHISTLE NOISE
"So, you just bring that everywhere you go?" Lady Roma asked, leaning her head on her hand, eyeing him skeptically.
"Never leave the house without my tease and please whsitle~" Ricky said, grinning from ear to ear as he twirled the little item between his fingers.
"Tease and please whistle." Lady Roma once again reiterated, her lips curling into a faint smirk.
"You call your whistle, the-" Lady Roma leaned in, unable to stop herself from playing right into Ricky's hand.
"Sorry to interrupt, but here's your mugs." The bartender said, placing both mugs on the counter.
Throughout the time he was getting Ricky's and Lady Roma's beers ready, the bartender never once looked at the register.
Instead, he slid the unbroken hundred-dollar bill back toward Ricky, who didn't flinch at the interruption, but raised an eyebrow at the gesture.
"What gives? Take the money-" Ricky said, trying to slide the bill back across the counter, only for the bartender to shake his head vehemently.
"Never." The bartender muttered, almost recoiling at the mere sight of the cash.
SIGH
"Don't tell me this is about justice or some crap like that," Ricky said heavily, his mood souring as the bartender's expression turned to confusion.
"Huh?" The bartender said, tilting his head at Ricky's clear misinterpretation of his actions.
"No, Slick, you saved my brother's life." The bartender hurriedly explained, his tone steady but sincere.
"Huh?"
This time it was Ricky's turn to look confused as he glanced sideways at Lady Roma, who seemed just as surprised by the revelation.
"When the market went to sh*t, all those big businesses that preached about loyalty immediately turned their backs on my brother, on all of us." The bartender said, gesturing toward the others, who raised their beers in agreement.
"He bounced around, taking any job he could, any penny he could find and then, all of a sudden, your factory opened." The bartender paused for a moment, his voice softening as he looked towards the notorious mob boss.
"He was one of the first to get in, and it's cause of you that he didn't lose his house, his family, but most of all, my nieces and nephews didn't lose their father." The bartender said, his voice tightening near the end as his eyes glinted with a quiet gratitude.
"So as long as I own this bar, hell, so long as I breathe, you ain't ever gonna pay a single dime here." The bartender revealed himself as the owner with a respectful nod toward Ricky.
Since, although the man before Ricky didn't entirely agree with him, he respected him.
"Yeah, Slick-"
"My cousin works over at your factory-"
"Hell, I work at your factory-"
Suddenly, the bar stirred to life.
All the blue-collared men chimed in while laughing, clapping, or just calling out to Ricky like he was one of their own.
Because, in truth, he was.
If they didn't already work for him, then their brothers, cousins, or their friends probably did.
It was almost surreal, this quiet realization that at this very moment, Ricky Luciano employed more blue-collar workers across the state of New York than anyone else.
More than the construction magnates, more than the factory owners, even more than the politicians who pretended to care about them.
These were men who didn't necessarily agree with his talk of mutants or the strange new world he seemed to embrace, but they respected him.
Because when their factories shut down, it was Ricky who opened his own.
When the banks turned their backs, it was Ricky who kept the lights on.
The roof over their heads, the beer in their hands, they all came, one way or another, from him.
That was the side of Ricky that often got buried beneath the headlines and whispered stories.
The side that didn't hoard everything for himself, the side that actually gave.
And in this moment, it shone brighter than any threat or legend attached to his name.
RIP
The sound cut through the noise, the laughter, the applause, and the glasses clinking, all folding into one hum of recognition that swelled through the bar.
Lady Roma stood there, her posture stiff, her expression unreadable, until Shadow Broker's power flickered in her mind.
The echo of thought and emotion around her bloomed, and she felt it as a new light seemed to swell around Ricky at this moment.
The pride.
The loyalty.
The sheer gravitational pull of this man.
Her eyes widened slightly as realization set in since the man she'd once looked down on wasn't just feared.
He was revered.
And for the first time, she understood why.
But while Lady Roma's heart was softening at this instance, Ricky found himself realizing something entirely different.
For the first time, he understood what Alexander had meant.
'True kings do not seek riches, they chase greatness. And in greatness, wealth follows.'
Money could pull people together, it could buy loyalty, rent affection, and make a crowd cheer your name, but it could never bind them.
Loyalty, however, was a currency rarer than gold, harder to earn and impossible to counterfeit.
And standing there, surrounded by men who raised their glasses not out of fear or obligation, but out of genuine gratitude, Ricky felt something stir deep inside him.
It wasn't pride but something darker, more consuming.
The realization that true loyalty was addictive.
The more he tasted it, the more he wanted it and with every cheer echoing around him, that hunger inside him only grew louder.
"Then I guess let's all get f*cking blasted!" Ricky yelled, holding up his beer towards everyone as they suddenly cheered.
Meanwhile at the Lucky Cooperation factory,
Click
Click
Click
The faint click of a pen echoed through the office as Chester, dutifully scribbling figures onto yet another stack of important documents, resigned himself to another sleepless night at the factory.
The office had been purposefully situated with a clear view of the factory floor below.
Through the wide glass pane, he could see the thousands of workers straining under the harsh lights.
Their backs bent, hands moving in mechanical rhythm as they fought to make up for the delays in production.
Knock
Knock
"Martha, we've been over this, use the intercom. I don't do in-person communication-"
"Are you sure?"
Chester's ears rang with a familiar voice, one not known throughout the factory he had grown so accustomed to.
Slowly, he set his pen down and lifted his gaze.
Because standing before him was none other than Agatha, smiling down at him with that same ambitious glint in her eyes that he remembered all too well.
"Agatha, what a pleasant surprise." Chester said, his tone calm yet guarded as he adjusted Ricky's translation ring on his claw, still borrowing it for an upcoming intercom meeting.
"I assume this isn't just a cordial visit?" Chester asked, raising an eyebrow as Agatha's gaze drifted toward the talking crow.
"No, I'm here for my interview," Agatha said, slowly walking toward the chair across from Chester, her heels clicking softly on the floor as the crow lifted his head to follow her movements.
"For Samuel Frost's position?" Chester immediately guessed, his eyes narrowing slightly, having scoured every detail of the company's openings.
"No, for yours." Agatha replied, crossing her legs with deliberate poise as she situated herself in the chair before him.
"But don't get confused, I'm not here to replace you." Agatha added, her voice steady, yet carrying a weight of confidence that made him pause.
"I'm here today because I believe that you're the only one fit for the CFO position," Agatha said, leaning back slightly, her ambitious gaze fixed on him with unwavering certainty.
"So, have I intrigued you yet?" Agathta asked, tilting her head at Chester who slowly loosened his tense figure and hopped onto his own chair.
"You have, continue." Chester said, his voice calm buttinged with a spark of curiosity.
"Throughout my stay in New York, including when I was the head of the coven and when I was not, there has only been one organization that has been close to me," Agatha continued, her tone measured, each word deliberate.
"The Luciano family-"
"The Lucky Corporation." Agatha corrected smoothly, setting the tone for her upcoming words.
"Before the coven was absorbed into the family, they used to work hand in hand with not only construction, but day-to-day operations." Agatha said, her voice steady as she measured each word, her gaze locked on Chester.
"However, now that-"
"You don't have to speak on the matter Agatha-"
"Now that my coven betrayed the family, it was nuffield to its very bones." Agatha said, finally admitting to herself that the coven, as she knew it, was gone.
"But in essence, witches and warlocks are still here," Agatha chuckled, waving her hand lightly and deliberately leaving her words open to misinterpretation, a sly glint in her eyes.
"Yes, absorbed into the Luciano family-" Chester smirked, leaning back slightly as he decided to play along, anticipating that she would interrupt him.
"Only the combat operations were absorbed." Agatha corrected smoothly, her eyes narrowing just enough to assert control over the conversation.
"You see, Ricky gave my coven a choice: either stay, join the family, or go," Agatha quickly explained, waving her hand as if it were tedious to even say.
"No one left, but not everyone joined the family." Agatha chuckled, her finger nial tracing hte amr of her chair.
"Now, are you interested?" Agatha asked, slowly turning her gaze back to Chester, her expression poised yet probing as the crow cordially nodded at her.
"Yes, very."
"The factory was only able to be built so effectively through Chores and the alchemy guild cooperation," Chester explained, his gaze sweeping over the towering pile of documents at his side, a faint crease forming in his brow at his upcoming work.
"But with the traitors, Chores now incapacitated, and the alchemy guild of your coven-"
"They will come under me." Agatha finally said, leaning forward as Chester raised his gaze.
"And in turn, I will come under you." Agatha said, gesturing warmly, as if offering Chester the sense of relief he had been quietly craving.
"Ha~" Chester laughed, leaning back slightly as he let the weight of the moment settle in, taking a moment to truly absorb the atmosphere.
"It's a very interesting proposal, actually, more attractive than I care to admit." Chester revealed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his wings
"Excellent-"
"It's just not in your nature."
The atmosphere, one Agatha had been meticulously crafting, seemed to crumble under the weight of Chester's words.
With that single statement, he tore through the careful tension she had built, leaving the room charged and uneasy, as if her intentions had been exposed before they could take root.
"Agatha, I know what kind of person you are." Chester continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her, measuring her intentions.
"I've had to work hand in hand with not only your coven, but you too." Chester said, leaning forward just enough to assert his point.
Chester wasn't a fool.
Although it wasn't exactly known, both of them shared a brief but storied past.
One entirely marked by subtle negotiations, careful concessions, and an unspoken understanding forged over countless delicate exchanges between the coven and the Lucky cooperation.
"Have you ever heard the saying, 'someone who has led for far too long has forgotten how to follow'?" Chester asked, his eyes fixed on the woman who had sat on a throne long enough to forget what it was like to stand among the people.
"As you know, I didn't become the CLO to merely stop here forever, I have ambition too-"
"And as I've said, I will support you-"
"Ah, I see." Chester sighed, shaking his head, his eyes shining with a clarity that made Agatha flinch ever so slightly.
"This is about your squabble with Raven." Chester chuckled, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips as he finally understood the maneuver she was attempting.
"Then I will have to decline-" Chester
"That's not what I'm asking, wait!" Agatha interjected, hopping off her seat and hurriedly stopping that train of thought from forming.
"Chester, please." Agatha continued, her tone softening just enough to carry both urgency and a hint of persuasion.
SIGH
"Fine, but I cannot and will not help you get back at or hurt any of Ricky's women," Chester said firmly, planting himself as a steadfast ally only to Ricky's side, his wings subtly tensing as he reinforced his stance.
"I understand." Agatha replied, her voice calm, accepting the boundary he drew.
"But I'm here today because I have nothing." Agatah continued, vulnerability seeping through her words and bubbling into her expression.
"For so long I thought my way of giving back to my children was through my coven, but now-"
"I need to give them something. I need to give something to myself." Agatha added, her gaze dropping briefly before lifting with resolve.
"I don't want to be CEO, but I do want board seats."
At her request, Chester thought about it for a long time, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the weight of her request, the implications, and the careful balance of power that would be inflicted onto the family because of this one thing.
"Go on."
"Four, to be exact." Agatha said boldly, holding up her fingers to emphasize the fact.
"Four?" Chester echoed, slowly shifting his gaze toward the slight curve of her stomach that she was unconsciously rubbing, a faint furrow forming in his brow.
"Four," Agatha confirmed, nodding once while puffing out her chest.
"The board seats at the Lucky Corporation are me, Chores, Ricky, Lucky, and Meyer," Chester explained, leaning back slightly in his chair.
"Frank, rest his soul, was the sixth and Samuel, well, was the final of the seven." Chester added, his tone carrying a note of solemn acknowledgment.
"Small companies like ours usually have seven board seats, mid-range companies have seven to eleven, and large companies, which we are not, have around fifteen." Chester continued, his gaze narrowing as he assessed her.
"Why would I create more board seats-"
"Because I will make your deadline," Agatha said, placing her hands firmly at the edge of his desk and leaning down to meet his gaze.
"I don't know what you're talking about-" Chester began, his brow furrowing slightly at what she was implying.
"I already know that you're behind on production and even construction of the latter half of the factory." Agatha interrupted, subtly showing her insight within the matter.
"I still have power, sway, over all those coven members who decided to reside in Staten Island," Agatha continued, her gaze locking with a conviction she had thought she had lost.
"I will bring them over, under me, if you bring me under you." Agatha finally said
"Why don't you got to Ricky-"
"Because he would've sent me here regardless," Agatha cut in sharply, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, aware of the truth in her own words.
That was actually true.
It was a well known fact that Ricky had purposely avoided holding any managerial stake in the company; he had never wanted to shoulder the day-to-day burdens of leadership.
He craved the image, the prestige, being the face of the company, while leaving the grind, the sleepless nights and endless calculations, to others like Chester.
"Very well," Chester said, finally agreeing, causing Agatha to flinch at his words for a brief moment before her composed, warm smile returned.
"Excellent-" Agatha began, a flicker of excitement in her eyes.
"But you can only have one board seat, which was Samuel Frost's-"
"Chester-"
"It's not a discussion, Agatha." Chester revealed, his gaze unwavering, leaving no room for argument.
"Board seats don't work like that, and even if they did, I wouldn't just conjure up three more to give you sway over a company you just joined." Chester continued, shaking his head at the witch's naïveté.
"But Frank-"
"Frank's board seat resided in his equity within the Lucky Corp that Ricky gifted to him," Chester cut in sharply, his patience thinning.
"That equity, at his passing, was turned over to Mrs. Costello, who has taken Frank's place as the sixth seated member." Chester explained, his tone steady but final, as if reciting law.
"And even then, after she has passed, it will go to Junior if he so chooses." Chester sighed, rubbing his tired eyes before returning his gaze towards Agatha.
"And you won't be the CLO since you haven't the faintest idea of corporate law, I assume?" Chester asked, his dull gaze seeing straight through Agatha's poised confidence.
Cough
"Well, I could learn-"
"You'll be hired as the COO, Chief Operating Officer, and you will oversee the company's day-to-day operations, focusing on efficiency and executing the business strategy set by me, the interim CEO." Chester interrupted, waving his wing with that same detached authority.
"You'll get your board seat, one, and you'll get the power to not only employ your former devoted coven members, but the power you so desperately covet." Chester said, holding up a single finger for emphasis, as if every word had already been decided long before she walked through his door.
"I-"
"And you won't be paid a single cent until the company turns a profit." Chester listed the very last condition as Agatha could only sigh.
SIGH
"I accept."
"Good, you can start by getting all those-"
SNAP
The snap of Agatha's fingers echoed as a purple portal spiraled open across the factory floor, stunning the workers below.
Surprise rippled through the space as the glow washed over the machinery, and from within, familiar faces began to emerge.
"I already prepared them." Agatha smiled warmly, her tone carrying both pride and serenity as she watched Chester lean forward to peer down at the scene.
Below, warlocks and blue-collar workers exchanged surprised laughter and handshakes, reuniting with the same ease and rhythm they once shared.
Magic and metal, spellcraft and sweat, blending together once again under the same roof as Chester smiled at it all.
"Agatha, I think we will get along just fine."
Meanwhile at the bar,
"CHUG!"
"CHUG!"
"CHUG!"
The small, locally owned joint roared with life as the night deepened, packed with passerbyers eager to drown the day's weight in cheap liquor and fleeting laughter.
The entire place was filled to the brim, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder as heat and noise spilled into the street.
Outside, a small crowd had gathered in front of Bar None, curious onlookers craning their necks to see what was unfolding inside.
Together, they formed a living wall, a barrier between the restless city and whatever spectacle had taken hold within those dimly lit walls.
"Aye, what's going on here?" A random man asked, his voice carrying over the buzz of the crowd as he stopped mid-stride.
He had just been out for a late-night walk, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, when he stumbled upon the commotion.
"Y'know Ricky Luciano?" The stranger beside him replied, barely sparing him a glance as he kept his eyes glued to the bar's window.
"Who the f*ck doesn't?" the first man shot back, a scoff escaping him.
He had literally never seen or talked this guy before, yet for some reason, they spoke as if they had known each other for years.
"Well, the guy is chuggin' real f*ckin' barrels of beer!" the second man said, his tone rising with excitement, gesturing toward the window where the crowd inside erupted in cheers.
"You're kidding-"
"Look!" The other laughed, elbowing him sharply before pointing through the smudged glass.
There, before everyone's eyes, was Ricky Luciano himself with his shirt half unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, standing atop the counter with a barrel hoisted over his head.
He tilted it back, chugging straight from the tap like a man possessed, beer splashing down his chin and collar as the bar thundered for more.
"The guy's already on his third-"
Bam
"Aye, watch where you're goin'!" the man barked, stumbling back as his drink nearly sloshed over his hand.
A young man, barely out of his teens by the look of him, didn't even register his surroundings as he barreled through the crowd.
"Howard, HOWARD!"
The shout cut through the noise of the bar, drawing brief glances before fading back into the haze of laughter and clinking glasses.
However, that rude man pushing his way through the late-night bar crowd wasn't just another overeager kid.
He was being trailed by none other than Henry Ford II, the heir to an empire and a close confidant of Ricky Luciano himself.
Originally, Henry had planned to introduce this promising young member of Yale's Skull and Bones club to the most notorious man in New York.
That was, at least, until Ricky's press conference changed everything.
"Dammit!" Henry yelled, his hand just missing the back of Howard's neatly pressed collar as the young man charged ahead, eyes locked onto Ricky with a fire burning in his gaze.
"WOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ricky bellowed, slamming down his fourth emptied barrel of beer to the uproar of the crowd.
BURP
"You still sure about not lettin' me pay?" Ricky asked, grinning wide as he spread his arms, the crowd around him chanting his name and calling for more.
Sigh
"I'm sorry, Slick, but no dice." The bar owner sighed, wiping his hands on a rag as his pockets practically screamed in protest.
Still, he couldn't bring himself to care since nothing was worth more than seeing that spark of life in his brother's smile.
"THEN LET'S BRING OUT THE FIFTH!" Ricky cheered, thrusting his fist into the air as Lady Roma chuckled quietly at the side.
However, beneath that composed smile, she was struggling to even lift the barrel meant for him.
Her hand trembled slightly, the weight biting at her arms, but she hid it well, masking the strain by tightening her grip around her still-unflinched mug of beer.
In her mind, it wasn't just about keeping up appearances, it was about pride.
She had to show Ricky she was still capable, still strong, even if deep down she wasn't sure he noticed.
Or worse, that he did notice and simply didn't care.
She steadied herself, exhaling as she began to hover the barrel toward him.
Ricky, patient and grinning, waited with open arms for the fifth barrel of beer, until the crowd suddenly shifted.
The cheers broke as the same young man Henry had been chasing, Howard, burst through the front line of the onlookers, scattering bodies as he forced his way toward the center of the room.
Bam
Without any warning, the barrel hit the floor with a heavy thud that silenced half the room.
Foam splashed at Howard's shoes, but he didn't care as his eyes were locked on Ricky, burning with something fierce and unresolved.
"What's your deal?" Ricky asked, eyeing the buzzkill before him as Howard let out a dry, humorless chuckle.
"My deal? My deal!" Howard repeated incredulously, his voice cracking with disbelief, as if Ricky had just insulted him without realizing it.
"Uh, yeah." Ricky replied, glancing around with a raised brow, clearly expecting someone to explain the situation.
But the crowd was just as baffled, their earlier cheers now replaced by an uneasy murmur that filled the bar like static.
Ricky honestly wasn't threatened or even a little angry as his buzz had dulled every nerve into calm curiosity.
He just sort of stared at the fuming stranger, brow slightly furrowed, lips parted in quiet confusion.
And then, from the edge of the crowd, a familiar figure cut through it all.
As Ricky realized he was about to be reunited with not just one old friend, but two.
"Henry?" Ricky said, the name slipping out before his mind could catch up.
"Hey, Ricky." Henry replied, his tone awkward, almost sheepish.
"What are you doing here-"
"It's a long story, funny story, but-"
"You stole my schtick!" Howard suddenly shouted, pointing a finger at Ricky, his voice loud enough to turn a few heads.
"Uh, I've stolen a lot of things from even more people I've never known, you gotta be more specific," Ricky joked, earning a ripple of chuckles from the crowd.
"Womanzing innovator, the philander inventor, playboy visionary-"
Then, as if on cue, Howard produced a stack of newspapers, seemingly pulling them out of thin air. Receipts, evidence, whatever you wanted to call them.
Ricky had never paid attention to the press; most of what he saw was either slander or meaningless fluff.
But what Ricky hadn't even realized was how much hype surrounded him in the business world, how much people were watching to see if he would rise to the top or crash spectacularly.
And yet, no matter who they were, be it rival entrepreneurs, eager investors, or casual onlookers.
No one could stop talking about the Luciano Expo, a forthcoming event that promised to leave an indelible mark on households everywhere.
"But your expo, my expo, was an idea that-"
"That you didn't capitalize on?" Ricky finished for him, reaching casually for a nearby mug of beer, tilting it slightly as if the conversation barely mattered.
Surprisingly, he found himself oddly amused by the scene unfolding before him.
Rather than letting irritation take over, he decided to play along, letting the tension hang for a moment like a mischievous spark rather than responding with a fist.
"That I hadn't yet put into practice," Howard admitted, teeth gritted, his frustration clear even as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure.
"Howard, come on-" Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to prevent his friend from making a scene he'd regret.
"No, he's the Thomas Edison to my Nikola Tesla!" Howard shot back incredulously, eyes wide as if the sheer audacity of the moment had robbed him of reason.
"That's-........ actually a good way to put it." Ricky muttered, nodding along, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
"See, I knew it-"
"But people have thought of sh*t way before it was invented, always have and always will," Ricky interrupted, shrugging casually, the corners of his mouth still hinting at amusement as he took a long swig from his mug.
"I mean, you're gonna sit there and tell me that four hundred years ago someone didn't think up the telephone?" Ricky asked genuinely, waving a hand toward Howard and effortlessly defusing the young man's rising anger.
"Well-"
"It's the people who make those ideas great, the ones who put them into practice, those are the ones who are remembered," Ricky said, leaning back against the bar, chuckling as he downed the rest of the mug.
"People are going to remember Nikola Tesla," Howard scoffed, squinting at him as if daring Ricky to disagree.
"Yeah, but only 'cause they learned about Edison first," Ricky replied, patting Howard's shoulder with a cheeky grin.
"That's-"
"Enough, Stark." Henry cut in sharply, grabbing Howard by the arm and pulling him back, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief as he turned to Ricky.
"This-"
SIGH
"This wasn't how I wanted you two to meet." Henry admitted dejectedly, letting his head droop slightly as the chaotic introduction lingered in the air.
"I'm real sorry about this-"
"Oh, c'mon, don't say that!" Ricky laughed, looping an arm around Henry's shoulders and giving his chest a friendly pat.
"I get it, I mean, sometimes fans can get a little rowdy," Ricky joked, watching Henry chuckle while Howard scowled, clearly unimpressed.
"Rowdy?" Howard muttered oddly, jerking his head toward Ricky with a scowl.
"But the important thing is that you're here to make my headlines look even flashier," Ricky continued, completely ignoring Howard as he gestured Henry toward some beer at the side.
"I'm talking to you there, the photographer in the crowd!" Ricky laughed, his expression bright and joyful, though his eyes glowed a deep, almost mischievous green.
His gaze, seemingly piercing through the crowd, landed on the scrawny photographer who had thought he'd been low-key snapping pictures, only to be rudely awakened.
"M-Mr. Luciano, I swear-"
"Oh, shut the f*ck up and take the picture!" Ricky laughed, his actions playful but his tone sharp enough to make the man visibly flinch.
Gulp
"Uh, say cheese?" the cameraman asked awkwardly, gulping as his shaky hands lifted the camera, struggling to steady it on the lively scene before him.
"Cheese!" Ricky yelled, yanking Lady Roma waist-first and pulling her in as she tried to inch away.
"Ricky!" Lady Roma laughed, her cackle rising just as the camera flashed, capturing the chaotic, joyous moment perfectly.
It was a small gesture, yet enough to make the photographer blush, while the others stared, dumbfounded, at Lady Roma and her gorgeous physique.
"And by the way, the difference between us is pretty obvious." Ricky continued, a sly grin tugging at his lips while turning over to Howard.
"Except, setting aside the fact that I'm just way better than you, I walked into this bar with a busty beauty."
"While your pencil-moustache ass walked in here with a dude and I mean, the joke writes itself at this point." Ricky said, grinning ear to ear as the realization hit him all at once.
'Woah, I think I'm starting to feel something.' Ricky wondered, his joking mood now tinged with the creeping buzz from barrel four, edging toward barrel five.
"Speaking of beauty, it's a crime that I haven't introduced myself yet," Howard said, boldly stepping forward, moving past Ricky, and positioning himself squarely in front of Lady Roma.
"Howard, Howard Stark."