Marvel: Impregnation System

"So your plan, the one that is to sire your victory, is to eliminate external threats within the compound and then lure them all into one final, decisive gathering?" Alexander summarized with a raised brow, his tone hovering between skepticism and intrigue. 

The gerbil paced slowly on his dashboard, contemplating Ricky's words and weighing the implications.

"So uh, how is it-" Ricky genuinely asked, really taking the time to think it out and waited for Alexander to judge since this was his first time infiltrating enemy lines. 

But before he could finish, the gerbil raised a paw, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"3/10."

"Wha-so low?!" Ricky asked, almost complaining since it seemed pretty sound from his point of view only for the gerbil to sigh.

This exercise was, in a way, a vital part of Ricky's training, something that couldn't be taught in words but had to be grasped through experience. 

The premise was simple yet demanding: Ricky would be presented in his everyday life that required a strategy or plan. 

Alexander, rather than offering guidance, would silently observe from the sidelines, assessing Ricky's approach.

Ricky would then lay out his entire plan in detail and once he finished, Alexander would deliver his critique; blunt, precise, and often cutting. 

However, the real challenge lay in what came next: Ricky was forbidden from altering his plan. 

Instead, he had to adapt on the fly, working around the flaws Alexander highlighted.

The reasoning was clear as in the future, Ricky wouldn't always have the luxury of Alexander's advice. 

He needed to learn not just how to devise a strategy but how to stand by it and make it work, even under scrutiny or with glaring imperfections.

"It is because you always expect your strength to bridge the gaps unaccounted for." Alexander explained, making Ricky frown as he turned into a gas station to fill up.

"But you said that strength bridges of the gaps of weakness-"

"In another!" Alexander interrupted, stern in his correction as he crawled closer to him.

"Now listen, Socrates said 'Strength is the bridge that spans the chasms of another's weakness' you misinterpreted it wrong." Alexander sighed heavily, watching Ricky scratch his chin at his words.

"The quote means that strength; whether physical, emotional, intellectual, or moral, can compensate for or support the weaknesses in others. It suggests a symbiotic relationship where the strengths of one individual can help uplift, protect, or complete another who may lack in certain areas." Alexander explained with one paw, seemingly showing him why this representation isn't right before telling him.

"But you are alone in this effort, there is no one for you to bridge the gaps and thus, the responsibility of your weaknesses is on yourself." Alexander explained further, holding up his other paw.

"When alone, our greatest enemy is not those before us but ourselves." Alexander's words were concise, gripping his paw tightly before gazing at Ricky.

"Complacency, is the mighty's greatest weakness." Alexander's voice grew compassionate, turning towards the windshield and looking out towards the horizon.

"It has been easy for you, almost fulfilling up and til now."Alexander puffed out his chest, having carefully watched Ricky since he returned.

"You have grown in strength and wit, to a degree that dwarfs those that you once considered enemies." Alexander slowed down at the end, until he turned back to Ricky pulling into the gas station.

"And I can see how satisfying it can be to lose yourself in that strength while crushing all those who once opposed you." Alexander appealed to Ricky, knowing how vital it was for him to confront his past demons.

"But you mustn't lose yourself to this feeling, but instead, turn it into valuable practice, experience, that will allow you to continue to hone yourself so that you can be prepared for the enemies to come." Alexander finally revealed, crawling up to Ricky's shoulder as he went to pay for gas.

"Ten on pump two." Ricky put down two dollars, the man about to give him his change only for him to hold up his hand, signaling him to keep the change.

Sigh

"Yeah, I get that I've been a little caught up in just absolutely destroying those around me, but can you blame me?" Ricky sighed, slicking his hand through his black hair while walking back to his car.

"I understand," Alexander said with a measured tone. 

"But it wouldn't have hurt to ask for a layout of the compound, details on the guards in attendance, or anything that might expose potential flaws in a plan. Any and all information is valuable at everytime." Alexander's words carried the weight of experience as he understood Ricky's eagerness, having once walked a similar path. 

When Alexander first left the palace to study under Socrates at Karma Taj and learn the art of leadership, he had to confront his own impatience.

Back then, he believed his natural talent made him invincible, that no one could rival him. 

But his journey taught him otherwise. 

It wasn't that he was unmatched, it was simply that he had yet to encounter anyone stronger. 

And the possibility of their existence meant he could never afford to let his guard down.

Patience had become one of his greatest lessons, shaping him into the general who conquered those who stood before him. 

Now, as he looked at Ricky, he saw a reflection of his younger self, a raw talent in need of refinement.

"The horrid process of growing stronger is that it doesn't come all at once, it takes time." Alexander relented, feeling how arduous it was to gain strength.

"But what defines your strength later is how you define that time now." Alexander gave more words of wisdom, Ricky listening before getting into the car.

"And what's more, have you thought about the repercussions of this plan?" Alexander wondered, his eyes expecting the words that were starting to flow out of Ricky.

"Well, yeah. I want to isolate the Commission, tear them down in one decisive blow so that when I'm done, there's nothing left. Not even scraps on the outskirts." Ricky said, his voice steady but laced with resolve. 

His eyes were fixed on the horizon, envisioning the day he'd return to New York and take everything for himself.

"But I don't want anyone outside my control picking up the pieces." Ricky explained, walking Alexander through the steps. 

"The only one outside New York who poses a threat is Frank Nitti." Ricky didn't think highly of him in the first place but was determined to kill two birds with one stone, ensuring no loose ends remained.

"Once I've taken everything they have to offer, I'll expand outward. But for now, my focus is on completely claiming New York. Chicago can wait." Ricky was decisive, showing that their was thought put into it rather than pure ambition and revenge.

Alexander listened intently, rubbing his stubbled chin as he processed Ricky's plan, his expression unreadable.

"But you do know where this 'Frank Nitti' is currently residing, correct." Alexander wondered, seeing Ricky reach into his coat pocket and pull out a napkin with an address on it.

"Yeah, got it from a piss-stained weasel before I turned him into mush." Ricky revealed, his tone devoid of remorse. 

Alexander's eyes flicked to the edges of the napkin Ricky held, faint streaks of Rico's blood still visible.

As Ricky began piecing together the next steps of his plan, Alexander deduced the gaps. 

It was clear Ricky hadn't pried any further information from Rico; the address was all he had thought to obtain which resulted from the earlier lecture.

Rico's desperate pleas had echoed in the room once the mind control had worn off, leaving him to face the crushing weight of his impending demise. 

But Ricky hadn't wavered since mercy wasn't part of the deal, only the promise of a swift and painless death.

In one decisive motion, Ricky summoned a pillar of psionic energy, its shimmering mass crashing down onto Rico's body with a sickening finality. 

What remained was nothing more than paste and from there, he had arrived at this point, his sights now set firmly on the road ahead.

"What about the repercussions, what if they-"

"They won't, not after tonight." Ricky tapped the steering wheel, his gaze turning to the gerbil who was unconvinced.

"And why is that?"

"Because tonight, I'll make an example of Frank, something so decisive it'll force the families to step back and reevaluate everything." Ricky declared, his voice steady with determination that seemed to almost hesitate at what he was about to do.

"And if that isn't enough?" Alexander prone, looking at Ricky who adjusted his mirror while looking at his forced smile.

"Then the second act of my trial should make them piss their pants." 

Meanwhile at the Nitti Family residence,

"Boss, it's a letter." A man approached Frank Nitti, who was focused on his work on the outskirts of Chicago as he gestured toward the letter, holding it up in front of him.

"Leave it here," Nitti gestured, his attention still fixed on the massive pile of paperwork in front of him. 

The mobster nodded, placing the letter at the foot of Nitti's desk before turning and walking away.

After Al Capone was convicted of tax evasion in 1931 and sentenced to 11 years in prison, Frank Nitti, known as 'The Enforcer' was tapped to take control of Capone's operations. 

Nitti had been Capone's right-hand man, managing much of the day-to-day enforcement and logistics of the Chicago Outfit. 

However, while Nitti became the figurehead, other influential leaders in the Outfit, such as Paul 'The Waiter' Ricca, Tony Accardo, and Jake "Greasy Thumb" Guzik, remained key figures behind the scenes.

Capone's imprisonment left a leadership vacuum, and the Chicago Outfit needed a strong successor to keep its diverse criminal enterprises intact. 

The Outfit's major sources of income came from bootlegging, labor racketeering, extortion, gambling, and prostitution. 

Nitti, with his calm demeanor and sharp strategic mind, was often seen as a stabilizing figure within the organization, but that was where his strengths ended. 

The problem with Nitti was simple: he was a damn good mobster, but that didn't necessarily make him a great boss. 

He never took major risks.

To put it bluntly, Nitti never made a move unless he could visibly see or guarantee a return. 

On paper, that sounded practical, even wise, but to truly ascend, to take the next step towards being a leader, you had to embrace risk, something Nitti was never comfortable with. 

His reluctance to step beyond calculated moves kept him from truly seizing power.

Which is why despite his title as boss, his role was more to serve as a public face for the syndicate, with more critical decisions made by the 'board of directors' that included Ricca, Accardo, and Guzik.

However, everything changed after Ricky was banished as his departure left a lasting impact, one that altered the course of history. 

Nitti, once secure in his position, now feared that something could happen to him, that he might lose control.

This fear, that aching feeling that he could be ousted and lose everything around him drove Nitti to make a drastic move, one that put him out of his comfort zone for the first time. 

Two years after Ricky had left, Nitti ordered the hit on his board of directors, wiping them out and consolidating all power under his sole command. 

It was a move that eliminated any potential threats to his rule, but it also revealed the depth of his insecurity.

Even though it wasn't what he intended, Ricky had unknowingly revived Nitti from his stagnation. 

It was something neither he nor any of the other mob bosses could have anticipated. 

Ricky's actions had set off a chain reaction, one that slowly pushed Nitti into the man he was always meant to become.

Nitti, who had once been content in his controlled, cautious approach, was now beginning to evolve. 

He was shedding his old skin, slowly growing into the ruthless and ambitious figure that he should have been from the very beginning.

It was why instead of looking east to quench his growing hunger for power, Nitti's eyes turned west, toward Hollywood. 

He recognized the untapped potential there, a rich territory ripe for extortion. 

With the Chicago Outfit in tow, Nitti expanded their operations into Hollywood, eager to capitalize on the city's wealth and influence. 

It was the beginning of a new era, one where Nitti sought not only control over his own territory but a foothold in the glamorous world of film and entertainment.

The Outfit, through their control of labor unions like the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees (IATSE), would threaten strikes or work stoppages in major studios unless they were paid large sums of money. 

This extortion racket became a significant revenue source in the 1930s and cemented the Chicago Outfit's national influence.

But this new ambition within Nitti was growing increasingly greedy as he didn't just want to extort the studios; he wanted to fully devour the movie industry as a whole. 

The allure of Hollywood wasn't just its wealth, it was its influence, its power over culture and society. 

Nitti saw it as an opportunity to expand his empire, to control not just the money, but the very narrative that shaped the world. 

The more he dug into the industry, the more he wanted, and what began as a strategic move soon spiraled into a dangerous obsession, all because of Ricky.

Sigh

Nitti sighed, his gaze locked on the black letter, unmistakably from the Commission as his fingers hovered over the pile of papers for a moment before he reluctantly set them aside and reached for the letter.

"I swear, that mutant is gonna be the death of me."

Meanwhile, outside the house, a pair of patrolling men moved carefully around the compound, their steps measured and deliberate. 

As they surveyed the area, their attention occasionally drifted toward the tension building inside. 

However, on the outside, the atmosphere was thick with hostility as the two men engaged in a heated argument, their voices rising in frustration.

The sound of their clash contrasted sharply with the quiet vigilance of the guards outside, unaware of the storm brewing just a few feet away.

"You're kidding, Tony. You've gotta be kidding?" the guy asked, disbelief clear in his voice as Tony simply nodded, a wry smile crossing his face as he shook his head in response.

"No Vinny, listen, listen, the tits are the cradle of f*cking life-"

"But ass!" Vinny countered, his frustration boiling over.

"No, but listen, the shape of a good ass is something special, but a pair of perfect, round knockers is something that-Vinny? Vinny?" Tony walked forward, trying to put his thoughts into words, but as he turned to the side, his words trailed off. 

Vinny was gone, vanished without a trace as Tony stood there for a moment, bewildered, his mind catching up with the sudden silence.

"Oh don't do that, I swear to god if you scare me then I'll-" Tony laughed out, already knowing Vinny's personality before his words were brutally interrupted.

SPLAT

"Kurek~" Tony let out a pained screech, his blood splatting as a sword was thrusted into his throat before Ricky appeared from the shadows.

CRACK

Dislocating his spine, Tony collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud, his body crumpling in pain and shock.

Grabbing his collar, he threw Tony into a portal where Vinny's limp and lifeless body was already laying around the ritual circle.

"Told you I could blend into the shadows," Ricky said with a smirk, looking down at Alexander. 

Alexander, arms crossed, shot him a frustrated glance, clearly annoyed that he'd bet all his sunflower seeds on a different outcome.

"Best two out of three says you can't kill everyone here without being spotted before you get to the boss, and no mutant powers." Alexander said, his tone laced with confidence, eyes sharp as he doubled the bet. 

Ricky rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the challenge hanging in the air and after a moment of consideration, he simply shrugged, stepping back into the dim shadows, ready to prove his point once again.ws.

"You're on."

In the courtyard, two men walked past each other, exchanging a brief nod of acknowledgment. 

The air between them was casual, yet beneath the surface, both remained ever watchful. 

Once they had each taken a few steps beyond the other, Chastefold suddenly rocketed out from the side, moving with a speed and precision that caught them off guard. 

SPLAT

The spear shot through the walking man, its impact brutal and precise, driving into him like a kabob into the gate.

"Huh?" The man let out, surprised that his buddy had suddenly disappeared as Ricky had appeared behind him.

SPLAT

THUMP

Slicing the man clean in two with the ebony blade, Ricky tossed the remains into the portal with a swift, calculated motion. 

The body vanished into the swirling darkness, as if it had never been before Chastefold slammed into Ricky's other palm.

'Must you use me for such weaklings?' The Ebony Blade sighed in his head, feeling almost insulted that Ricky would use him on normal humans.

'Would you like me to just use Chastiefol then?' Ricky asked the sentient blade, waving Chastiefol next to it with a smug smile.

'.....'

'That's what I thought-'

Just then, someone walked over the ledge, peering down as a faint noise caught their attention. 

They looked around, scanning the area, but all they saw was the snow scattered across the ground. 

With a shrug, they dismissed it, assuming it was nothing but the moment they turned away, Ricky, pressed flat against the wall, sprang into action. 

He leapt effortlessly toward the ledge, his movements swift and silent, like a shadow in the night.

YAWN

The man, his back still turned to the ledge, let out a humongous yawn, stretching his arms above his head as he cracked his back with a groan. 

The cold had seeped into his bones after standing in the frigid air for nearly two hours, and he was growing impatient. 

His eyes half-lidded, he was oblivious to the danger closing in, focused more on the discomfort of the chill than the unease that lingered in the air.

CRACK

Grabbing the man by his yawning mouth, Ricky twisted sharply, snapping his neck with a sickening crack. 

Without hesitation, he threw the lifeless body behind him and off the ledge, into a portal, watching it vanish. 

In one fluid motion, he scaled the roof and once atop, he surveyed the residence, noting two teams patrolling the grounds below. 

Ricky dropped Chastefold, watching it hover steadily, its presence now an extension of his own as it scanned the surroundings as every detail was accounted for, and Ricky was ready to move, his focus unbroken.

Walking around to the other ledges, Ricky nodded to himself, eyes scanning the perimeter with precise calculation. 

Satisfied with his positioning, he summoned a gate with a flick of his wrist. It materialized before a lone patrolling man, who froze in confusion as the swirling portal opened before him. 

The man barely had time to react before Ricky emerged from the shadows, moving with a quiet, predatory grace.

SPLAT

Ricky swiftly pierced the man's head, the force of the strike sending him crashing through the portal, his body vanishing into the abyss beyond and without pause, he commanded another portal to open next to the other patrolling men. 

One by one, he repeated the motion, each strike a blur, each man sent through the portal without so much as a sound. 

It was methodical, terrifyingly efficient as the patrolling teams fell one after another, their bodies disappearing into the magical gates, as Ricky moved with a chilling calmness, ensuring no one was left standing.

It was a brutal display of precision and power and in less than twenty seconds, twelve men had fallen, each death silent, their lives snuffed out without a single sound. 

Ricky stood amidst the carnage, his eyes cold and unfeeling as he scanned the area as his gaze shifted to the last team of two, still patrolling.

Without hesitation, he walked to the edge of the house, his steps deliberate. He waited, watching them get closer, their attention elsewhere.

SPLAT

SPLAT

The ebony blade tore through the top of one man's head, its sharp edge skewering downward, ending his life instantly as the force was swift and unforgiving, leaving no room for struggle. 

At the same time, Chastefold darted toward the other man, its tip piercing his skull with a sickening pop, like a balloon bursting under pressure. 

The man crumpled to the ground, his body lifeless before it even hit the earth but the worst part about this scene wasn't that it was over in an instant, but that it was merely two more bodies added to the pile.

HUFF

HUFF

"F*cking hell."

Ricky kicked the bodies into the portal, watching them vanish into the green gate with a practiced motion. 

Ricky's breath came in heavy pants, his magic reserves were running low as he had only half of his usual mana left, the gates draining a significant amount with each use. 

Ricky had never used the gates in this way before as they were meant for transportation, a quick means of moving from one place to another, not as a weapon in battle. 

Now, experiencing firsthand the consequences of overextending their use, he realized just how draining they could be.

A spell cannot be defined in its basic sense because a practitioner has the ability to alter the spell itself, infusing it with different variations of magic to enhance its destructive power or tailor it to a specific purpose. 

While the foundational structure of a spell might remain the same, the caster can adjust its potency, speed, range, or even the elemental components that fuel it.

But for a practical sense and to put it in perspective, taking the minimum amount of a normal spell like a fireball would typically cost around 1 unit of magic power within his stat of 125.

As one's proficiency with magic grows, so does the efficiency of using it, which for Ricky meant each spell now cost around .5 units. 

But the gates, however, demanded far more from him than a standard spell and on top of that he never mastered that particular spell.

As each use of the portal drained significant amounts of energy, leaving him with barely half his mana after just a few attacks with only his grimoire to lessen the burden.

A grimoire, the book of spells that witches and warlocks used, was meant to act as a conduit, helping to channel their magic more effectively. 

While it was a useful tool, it isn't necessarily better than casting a spell purely from memory and experience. 

With practice, a fireball, for instance, could cost as little as .7 units with a grimoire and although it is better than 1 units required, it cannot compare to the mastery of .5 and that .2 can make all the difference in a life or death battle.

For Ricky, using the Necronium to create a portal drained approximately 6.3 magical units each time and after summoning it ten times, the strain had become noticeable.

Meanwhile, Alexander wore a smug smile, certain that eventually Ricky would be worn out. 

However, through the reflection of the window he was quietly approaching, Ricky saw that expression. 

A surge of determination flared within him, a need to rub this victory in Alexander's face, fueling his resolve even further.

Slowly, Ricky crept toward the window, peering in and inside, three guards were gathered, casually eating sandwiches.

Thinking quickly, Ricky cautiously made his way into the house, staying hidden in the shadows. 

As he crept closer, the muffled sounds of the guards' conversation began to drift into earshot, their voices gradually becoming clearer.

"So I was like, 'Who the f*ck you think you are?' and he's all like, 'I am.' So then I kicked his ass," one of the guards laughed, taking a bite of his sandwich.

The other chuckled along, the conversation lighthearted and oblivious to the danger closing in.

Ricky, silently gripping Chastefold, studying their positions as the two of them were lined up just right for a collateral.

Bringing Chastefold back like a javelin, Ricky hurled it with all his might as the laughing men didn't even have time to register what was happening before their heads were impaled, their bodies flung into a gate that opened with a flicker.

"So then I-" 

SPLAT

Some blood splattered onto the counter as Ricky stepped into view as he reached for a rag, wiping the blood off the surface. 

His eyes then drifted to the spot where the two men had been moments before, now vacant, the portal slowly closing behind them.

Reaching towards the side, he grabbed one of the uneaten sandwiches and resumed the two deadman's break before becoming surprised, looking at the meal in his hand.

'It's good.' Ricky said in his head, looking at the last of the men loaming around the second floor, only three remaining.

'Well, let's get this over with.'

Knock

Knock

"Boss, it's urgent!" One of the grunts' voices sounded from the other side of the door, laced with immense worry as Nitti looked up from the letter.

"Come in, Tony, what is it?" Nitti asked, his voice steady, barely lifting from the papers on his desk. 

He didn't even look up immediately, only acknowledging Tony's presence with a wave to enter.

But before Tony could step through, the door suddenly creaked open, and instead of Tony, Ricky walked in, his presence commanding the room immediately. 

Nitti's eyes snapped up, surprised, his mind quickly shifting gears as he processed the unexpected arrival.

"An old friend came to say hi," Ricky chuckled, stepping fully into the office, his imposing black knight form filling the doorway. 

Nitti immediately flinched, standing up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as his eyes darted to Ricky.

"What the-GUYS!" Nitti's shock quickly morphed into a frantic scream, his voice echoing off the walls. 

Ricky, unfazed, swiftly sealed the office room, boxing it in with a flick of his wrist. 

The sound of Nitti's outburst was cut off, smothered by the magical barrier, leaving only the muffled chaos inside.

He didn't have to go this far since all of Nitti's guards were dead, but Alexander was right and he should get into the habit of it now rather than later.

"Don't bother, I already killed them and scored two bags of Alexander the Great sunflower seeds." Ricky strolled forward confidently, closing the distance to Nitti's desk, much to Alexander's dismay.

"Alexander the what-" Nitti's confusion was palpable, but Ricky swiftly reached out, cutting off his words with a sharp gesture.

BAM

Crack

Ricky slammed Nitti's face into the hardwood desk with a sickening thud, blood spurting from his nostrils and splattering across the papers scattered on the surface. 

Nitti stumbled back, his head spinning, and slumped into the chair, disoriented and gasping for air. 

"My f*cking nose!" Nitti yelped, his voice strained and nasally from the brutal impact.

"Does it hurt?" Ricky asked, almost too casually, as he plopped down in the chair opposite Nitti, his expression oddly serene.

"Yes, it f*cking hurts!" Nitti shouted, rocking back and forth in his chair, one hand clutching his broken nose.

"Oh good, for a second there I thought you were a masochist or something crazy like that, cause I wouldn't enjoy hurting you if you actually liked the pain." Ricky wiped the nonexistent sweat off his forehead, looking at him with a smile.

"Wha-masochist, what the hell are you talking about-"

CRUNCH

"MOTHER OF PEARLS, F*CK!" Nitti screeched out as Ricky slammed a blunt object from his own desk onto his outstretched hand, crushing it into mush. 

His hand went limp, flattened against the desk under the weight of Ricky's strength pressing down onto him.

"I mean, I just don't get it. You did something so stupid, but you don't like pain? Baffling, almost," Ricky sighed, shaking his head since either Nitti was a masochist, just waiting for him to kick his ass, or he was a complete idiot.

"Woah, wait, Slick. If this is about the Commission, let me tell you, I never wanted that to happen," Nitti immediately pleaded his case, wincing at the pain and Ricky just slumped further into his chair, his expression flat and uninterested.

"Uh-huh." Ricky rolled his eyes, knowing it was a lie, but busy scanning the nearby bookshelves.

"I never wanted to kick you from your home and in fact, I quite like mutants-"

"Hey, could you put your hand here?" Ricky suddenly interrupted, asking Nitti. 

Nitti raised a brow at the Bible, thinking maybe Ricky wanted him to swear on it or something like that, but he hesitated.

"But y-you-" Nitti looked at his already flaccid hand, limply hanging on his wrist as Ricky raised his gaze.

"Hand on the bible, Nitti."

"O-Oka-"

BAM

CRACK

Immediately, Ricky slammed the thicker book down onto Nitti's hand, causing all the bones within his other hand to shatter into pieces. 

Nitti screamed, his body jerking as the pain shot through him, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!?" Nitti screeched at the top of his lungs, his uvula flailing about in desperate agony within his mouth. 

Ricky grabbed his collar, pulling him close, his cold eyes locked onto Nitti's frantic expression.

"Do you expect me to really believe that bullsh*t? Did you actually think I came all the way here, and killed all your guys to here some f*cking excuse?!" Ricky asked, his voice laced with incredulity, a mocking laugh escaping his lips as he shook his head as he couldn't believe how much of an idiot Nitti was for thinking he'd fall for it.

"And they called me an idiot." Ricky pushed him back, Nitti falling into his leather chair while trying to grab both his hands while reeling in from the pain.

"Please, please Slick, I got a family!" Nitti begged, scrambling off the chair in desperation as Ricky slowly stood up, his eyes never leaving him.

"No way, me too," Ricky replied in a lighthearted way, but his voice was cold as he remembered the names uttered to him under Profaci breath, the same names that were used to threaten him those three years go.

"They're Alina, Maria, Lucky, Frank, Jake, Henry, Madame St. Clair, Chores, and Barko." Ricky turned slowly toward Nitti, his gaze sharp and unblinking as Nitti froze, every muscle in his body locking up as he realized the weight of Ricky's words.

"God, I still remember the helpless feeling back then," Ricky muttered with a laugh, shaking his head as he poured himself a generous glass of Nitti's scotch, the amber liquid catching the light.

"What about you, Frank? How are you feeling right now?" Ricky asked, his tone deceptively casual as he took a slow sip, the taste of the alcohol lingering in his mouth. 

He leaned back, watching Nitti with an unsettling calmness, shaking his head as if contemplating something deeper.

"Please, I know I wronged you, but leave them out of this," Nitti begged, his voice trembling as he waved helplessly toward the door. 

He could feel the weight of Ricky's gaze, his anger, but his thoughts were fixed on his wife and kids, sleeping in the other room. 

"Please, leave my family out of this," Nitti pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. 

His life hung in the balance, but it wasn't the fear of death that rattled him, it was the thought of what Ricky might do to the ones he loved. 

It was why his forehead pressed against the cold floorboards, a desperate plea for mercy that seemed to echo in the silence of the room.

Now, the decision lay solely in Ricky's hands. 

Alexander remained eerily quiet, as if he knew this moment would be the turning point, the moment that would forever define the man Ricky was about to become.

For all that Ricky had done, for the choices he had made, his actions had indirectly reflected change in a way that could benefit others.

Although it was for his inherently selfish gain, his actions had often crossed the line between right and wrong if put in the perspective of one who looked at it.

But there was a line, a single, invisible boundary that, once crossed, left no chance for redemption. 

This was that moment. 

The man who stood before him, groveling and pleading for mercy, was nothing more than a reflection of the life Ricky had lived, one filled with choices that could either save or destroy.

Frank Nitti was going to die, that was an inevitability and Ricky had already accepted that fact deep within him. 

The man had crossed too many lines, gone towards something he shouldn't have, and in Ricky's eyes, he had sealed his own fate. 

But as he sat there, before Nitti's groveling, something tugged at him, this flicker of hesitation.

The innocents, the ones sleeping peacefully in the other room, the ones that forced his eyes to briefly flickered towards the door, knowing that beyond it, a family slept, unaware of the horrors unfolding just feet away. 

They had done nothing wrong, they didn't deserve to pay for their husbands sin, their fathers sins. 

This was a part of Ricky that could change, a part that could be surrounded by the boundaries of morality, no matter how horrid the path he walked would become.

But at the same time, an example had to be set. 

People would talk, they would look back on this moment, and remember how Ricky dealt with those who crossed his line. 

If he showed weakness, hesitation, or mercy now, he would be seen as someone to challenge, someone whose lines weren't so firm. 

He couldn't afford that. 

Not if he was ever going to be more than just a figurehead in this brutal world, not if he was going to be the leader of the Luciano family. 

His enemies actions had to have consequences, and those consequences would ripple outward, carving the future of his brutality.

It was cruel, sickening almost, but for all that Ricky was, he was a hypocrite.

This sentiment repeated, almost endlessly, but it was for that reason, for that single word, that seemed to sink deeper into Ricky's chest the longer he stood there, looking down at Nitti, the man whose life he was about to snuff out. 

Ricky had made it clear that no one, no one, was beyond his reach but this moment, the moment he had to decide whether or not to spare the family, made him realize something that he couldn't escape: the truth about himself.

The statement always reverberated in his mind because it was a truth so simple, yet so damning. 

Someone who crossed the line had to be a hypocrite, you couldn't claim to be someone who valued things, who valued people, and then turn around and destroy the things that others held dear. 

It was hypocrisy in its purest form. 

You couldn't stand there, acting like you were doing it all for something greater, and then turn around and crush someone's world with no remorse.

Some people would deny this fact. 

They would tell themselves their actions were justified, that they were protecting what mattered most to them or seeking revenge for wrongs done. 

And maybe, for a time, Ricky had told himself those same things. 

But he knew deep down that wasn't the full story as he couldn't lie to himself, he knew who he was, even if he didn't always like it.

He was selfish, greedy; it was all about what he wanted, what he could take, and what he could control. 

He didn't care about morality or righteousness. 

No, Ricky was a man driven by his own desires and the lines he crossed, the people he hurt, it wasn't about justice or anything noble. 

It was about his own twisted need to assert control, to live his desires, to conquer and possess whatever he could.

He didn't pretend to be a hero, or someone who was doing good for the world.

He was just someone who wanted power, and was willing to do anything to get it.

The hypocrisy stung, but it wasn't enough to stop him because in the end, Ricky didn't care about the contradictions within him. 

They were just a part of the price he paid to get what he wanted, to have control, to destroy when necessary, and even if it meant sacrificing his own humanity in the process.

He would do it.

And so, as he stood there, watching Nitti writhe on the floor beneath his gaze.

Ricky made his choice, accepting the cruel reality of who he was and would always be in the future, a hypocrite.

"No."

It was just one word, one syllable, but it wasn't the word itself but the action that followed. 

Ricky's foot slowly, deliberately, crossed over that line. 

It wasn't a dramatic gesture, no great display of defiance or rage, it was merely a quiet shift, a simple, irreversible step that didn't show anything but defined everything.

Because people believe that a villain or monster is just created, but that's wrong, it's formed, through a gradual process. 

It isn't some one-time event that changes a person, it isn't a singular act of violence or betrayal that turns them into something else. 

No, the transformation is slow, subtle, and almost imperceptible. 

It's the accumulation of choices, the small compromises that add up, each one chipping away at the person you once were, until you're left with something unrecognizable, an abomination.

Greed, lust, pride, wrath, envy, gluttony, and sloth; they are all the sins of man. 

But they are just sins. 

They don't define the demons that wield them, they simply fuel them. 

They feed the darkness, each one adding another layer, another crack in the foundation of what was once a person's soul. 

It's a corrosion that happens over time, a slow rot that spreads through every thought, every action.

A person doesn't wake up one day and choose to be a monster, a villain, even a bad person. 

They become one through every lie, every betrayal, every selfish desire, and all of it adds weight, it builds pressure, until one day, the person who could have been something else is gone. 

What's left is a reflection of every bad choice, every moment of weakness, every sin they allowed to fester.

Because at the end of the day it's just a feeling, until it's an action, before it's everything you are - LaughingFiend

"Your family's dying tonight Nitti, an example has to be set, you're just the schmuck everyone's gonna whisper about when they think of going after what I love, what's mine." Ricky wiped his mouth, looking down at the grown man tearing up and bowing before his very feet.

"Please-KUERK!" Nitti's voice was cut off, his plea for mercy transforming into a strangled gasp as Ricky's grip tightened around his neck. 

The sound of Nitti's windpipe constricting was a sickening echo in the otherwise silent room. 

Ricky's eyes were cold, unblinking, as he effortlessly lifted the man with one hand, his strength leaving Nitti dangling helplessly, feet kicking at the floor in a futile attempt to regain control.

"The commission made it personal when they used the people close to me to drive me out," Ricky muttered, his grip tightening as he dragged Nitti's struggling body closer. 

"So now, I have to send a message, I have to go further." Ricky's face was a mask of cold resolve, but beneath the surface, there was something more. 

The raw emotion was undeniable; hatred, pure and unfiltered, bubbling up inside him like a volcano waiting to erupt as the rage he had held back for so long had finally reached its breaking point.

"I have to show everyone that if you threaten the people close to me, threaten my family, that I won't only come after you." Ricky's cold, merciless, but etching into the very foundation of his being into one of his most vital principles in the future.

"But everything you love."

BOOOM

The Nitti residence erupted in flames, a violent burst of orange and red consuming the building as the heat radiated out in every direction. 

The windows shattered in a chorus of glass, and the structure groaned under the pressure of the inferno. 

Inside, the flames spread with terrifying speed, licking at the walls, devouring everything in its path.

Ricky stood inside, his hands raised slightly, and with a flick of his wrist, the air around the house twisted, warping into an impenetrable box of magic around the two. 

The flames intensified as the oxygen within the confined space grew scarce, turning the smoke thick and suffocating, swirling with desperation. 

The fire fed off the confines, greedily consuming the house, pushing the heat higher, the smoke darker.

"They're going to burn alive, Nitti, and you're going to watch," Ricky said coldly, his voice almost like a death sentence itself. 

He gripped Nitti by the collar, dragging him out of the study, his hand tight around the struggling man's throat and brought him to a single wooden door.

"FRANKY, FRANKY, THERE'S SOMETHING BLOCKING THE DOOR!" Nitti's wife cried out, her voice full of panic and desperation. 

The muffled sounds of her screams reached Nitti's ears, but it did nothing to alleviate the suffocating weight of the situation.

Nitti's body trembled violently, his face contorted in pain as he struggled against Ricky's iron grip.

"It didn't have to be like this, Frank. It could've been different," Ricky said quietly, his voice carrying a note of something almost like regret as he stood beside the wreckage. 

His hand hovered over the door frames where his constructs were forming, reinforcing the barrier to keep Nitti's kids from escaping the building. 

A flicker of something, a small, fleeting hesitation, passed through Ricky's eyes as he thought of his own children, but it quickly faded.

"I know you knew who was in that house, and you f*cking sent your men there anyway." Ricky's voice was icy, his words sharp and deliberate as he made Nitti watch, his hands forcing Nitti's head to face the destruction. 

Nitti tried to look away, his eyes squeezing shut, but the screams of his family, the desperate, terrified cries that filled his ears, seared through the walls of his denial.

Nitti's body trembled, his chest heaving as he fought against the overwhelming guilt and horror coursing through him. 

He wanted to shield his eyes, block out the sounds, but Ricky's grip held him firmly, forcing him to witness every agonizing moment.

"P-Please~" Nitti gasped, his voice cracked and desperate, as tears streamed down his face. 

His body shook violently in Ricky's grasp, the sound of his family's screams echoing in his ears. 

The weight of the moment was too much, and his heart seemed to shatter with each passing second.

Ricky's grip tightened, forcing Nitti to stay still and watch, his eyes open, no matter how hard he tried to look away. 

The smoke and fire filled the air, the scene in front of him unbearable as his family, his wife, and children, all of them were suffering, and Nitti could do nothing.

"You did this, it's all your fault." Ricky whispered those haunting words into Nitti's ears, watching him completely crumble under them.

Ricky's gaze never faltered as he watched the destruction unfold before him. 

Each crackle of the fire, every scream that echoed from the mansion, only served to fuel the cold, ruthless part of him that had been growing within for years.

The world was harsh, unforgiving. 

If Ricky wanted to achieve everything he'd set his sights on, if he wanted to secure his place above the chaos, he knew he had to harden himself. 

The line between mercy and ruthlessness blurred in moments like these. 

Power didn't come with kindness, it came with fear, and fear was what would keep people from daring to cross him again.

But being feared, being unrelenting wasn't even enough, and it was why Ricky had to be brutal.

So as the flames finally died down, the only sound remaining was the hissing of the embers, slowly fading into nothingness even the screams, the agony, the terror, all of it was gone. 

Nothing remained except the smolder ashes of everything Nitti had built for himself, gone under Ricky's wraith.

The only thing that remained present was Nitti's office, shielded by Ricky's barrier. 

Turning away from the smoking wreckage, he walked back toward the office, where Nitti remained, broken and sobbing. 

Ricky threw him away by the collar and tossed him to the side, as though he were little more than an insignificant ragdoll.

COUGH

COUGH

Nitti's pitiful sobs barely registered in Ricky's mind as he sifted through the safe, his focus entirely on the task at hand. 

The ebony blade gleamed under the dim lighting of the study as it sliced through the thick metal like it was paper, revealing the hidden wealth within.

Ricky's fingers moved swiftly over the deeds, the stacks of cash, the bars of gold, and the ledgers that told the story of Nitti's empire. 

Now for his reward, for the lengths he went through and the lines he crossed, came the reward of it all.

One by one, he shoved the papers, the valuables, and the books of accounts into his storage space with cold precision. 

Each piece was another part of the puzzle, another asset added to his growing collection. 

The tangible wealth didn't matter as much as what came with it;the connections, the influence, the ability to reshape everything around him.

As he worked, there was no satisfaction, no relief since it wasn't about pleasure, it was about domination, securing a future where Ricky was the one who dictated the terms.

"Y-You're a monster." Nitti heaved out, his tone sobbing as Ricky could only laugh at the irony.

"Aren't we all-"

"NO!" Nitti yelled, interrupting RIcky who turned back to him after stealing all hsi precious pieces of information.

Sniff

"I would've never done that, killed a family-"

"Unless you were pushed too." Ricky interrupted Nitti, taking a step forward as his eyes filled with only perseverance.

"Unless you were kicked out of your home and sent away from everything you cared about and sure, it might be considered running away, but that pain of the unknown, the pain of knowing that the people you care about most are just out there and you can't do anything about it, it would drive you f*cking insane!" Ricky yelled at Nitti, his anger flushing out through each word while standing before him and bending down to meet his eyes.

"I'll give you your credit Frank along with everyone in the commission, since I left here a broken shell of a boy. Someone who only knew how to run and hide, to drink away the pain, and just rot." Ricky hatefully muttered, slurring out what he really thought of his own actions back then, reflecting on the pitiful man he was in the past.

"But I'm not that boy anymore, I'm not running away from people who don't even stand in the same league as me, and I'm for damn sure not going to let anyone get away with wronging the people close to me, even if i have to be a hypocrite to do it." Ricky's eyes were cold as he held up his sword, looking down at him.

"So when you came after Alina and my boy Moxie, you sealed your fate, you died the second I heard about it-"

"IT WAS PROFACI!" Nitti screeched, his sobs following out as Ricky's movements twitched in the air, halting at the arc of his swing.

"Wha-"

"JOE ASKED PROFACI, HE KNEW THAT YOU WOULD DO SOMETHING, BUT PROFACI PASSED IT OFF TO ME FOR A FAVOR, A COMPLETE AND UNWAVERING FAVOR!" Nitti wallowed, bitterness lacing his words as he couldn't shake the feeling that no favor could ever justify what had happened to him. 

Ricky gripped the handle of his sword, the sting of betrayal coursing through him for the first time.

For all the violence, the bloodshed, the wars fought over power, Ricky had never thought much about loyalty, at least not in a way that mattered since he never had those types of people around him or at least never had the privilege of a knife stabbing into his back. 

But he could feel the sting in his chest as Nitti's words resonated. 

Profaci, the man who'd been an ally, a mentor, an uncle, even a shadow in the background, had known even had a hand in it. 

He had known what was coming and had passed it off like it was just another favor to be fulfilled.

Ricky's pulse quickened, his breath became heavy, and his eyes blackened at the thought as Nitti looked up at him in his vulnerable state, thinking that he could reach out.

"What we did to you was wrong Slick, I know, but this-...this is too far." Nitti looked up at Ricky, seeing someone unrecognizable from the kid he had met in that meeting almost four years ago for the first time.

Ricky paused, his sword hovering in the air at the top of his arc, the weight of it in his hand pressing down like a judgment to be passed. 

The words that came from Nitti's mouth seemed to hang in the air between them, each syllable a drop of poison meant to make him question everything he'd become. 

But it was just too late, he already crossed the line, and the feeling that followed was less a release and more a pull into a void that swallowed everything else. 

His eyes narrowed as he looked at Nitti, a man who had once been an ally, a player in the same game. 

Now, Nitti was nothing more than another casualty, another step along the road Ricky had chosen to walk.

"Well, I'm prepared to go further."

SPLAT

The sound of Nitti's scream echoed for only a moment before it was silenced by the swift and brutal end Ricky had delivered. 

The blade pierced through the air and found its mark as Nitti's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat as his life force began to drain away. 

His body trembled, the once-powerful figure crumpling to the ground like a broken ragdoll, his heart pierced through by the cold steel of Ricky's sword.

But Ricky didn't stop there, he watched for a moment longer, making sure that Nitti's life had truly slipped away.

Instead of tossing Nitti's body aside like a mere pawn in a game that had outlived its usefulness, Ricky turned and opened his storage space as he wasn't done with him yet, he had other plans for the mob bosses.

Then, when he arrived out of the portal outside the residence and in the local forest, the place where the bodies of Nitti's men stacked high, he took a seat on the rock.

"So this is why you truly brought me here." Alexander finally peeked out of his shirt pocket, looking up at Ricky who ducked his head.

"Do you think any less of me because of what I've done?" Ricky asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet of the forest, the chirps of crickets filling the stillness.

Alexander knew that this wasn't something a mere quote from Socrates could solve, but instead, it had to come from the heart.

"Do you ever wonder, why is it that I rejected the ancient one's hand, months ago?" Alexander inquired, referring to the previous conversation.

"No, not really." Ricky shook his head, never really giving it much thought as Alexander slowly crawled out of his shirt pocket before sitting down on his shoulder.

"Because she cannot understand, they never do." Alexander's words spoke with such deep meaning but left so much to be unsaid.

"The beings, the gods that sit in their ivy castles, atop their golden thrones, looking down below." Alexander voiced his bitterness, towards beings that had such unrivaled power from the start.

"They watch, as if it were a show; the cruelty of man unfolding, the bloodshed, the horror, and witness it all take place under their gaze, as if we are nothing more than ants atop a meaningless anthill, insignificant in their eternal gaze." Alexander spoke, his words sounding out the memories buried deep within his own mind of the horrors faced that are seen as mere insignificant squabbles to gods.

"They cannot understand the heart wrenching pain of holding an innocent, a child, in your arms as you have to assure them that their is indeed an afterlife and their life wasn't in vain, all the while their blood stains your attire and fills the sea of reckoning that is your ambition." Alexander's voice grew more impactful with even more memories forcefully dug up, having to witness it all once more.

"To them it's nothing, a mere speck, thinking they understand but never having to rise above the weakness of man." Alexander gripped his tiny paw, shaking it at the gravity of his words.

"How could anyone who is born with such unparalleled strength, a strength that cannot even be defined with mere words alone." Alexander closed his eyes, the clouds parting under the full moon as even now, his own words couldn't describe what it is he understood.

"Such beings, such powerful gods cannot understand killing a man with sheer grit, with the last of your minuscule strength as your muscles burn from the fatigue that they have never felt." Alexander's voice rose, even higher, towering over the arrogance that was the gods that resided in the clouds above, parting for the full moon that was his defiance.

"They will NEVER understand the feeling of blood spilling from an innocent, an enemy, and all those that lay in between." Alexander's defiant voice boomed, turning towards Ricky who was caught up in it.

"But you must understand this, Ricky." Alexander's eyes locked onto him for in that moment he wasn't a gerbil, but Alexander The Great.

"In this sea of blood, filled with your enemies, your innocent victims, and all those in between that soaks your mind in deep crimson, know this vital fact." Alexander's voice was not a threat, but a warning for what was to come.

"You must never become comfortable."

"You must never lose yourself within that sea of blood and even when I say this, you will reach that moment regardless." Alexander was warning him not to avoid it, but not to embrace that feeling when it came.

"Overwhelmed in its warmth, you will find yourself at a moment where you start to sink." Alexander held out his paw, this foreboding moment seeking to etch itself into Ricky's mind.

"For if you are content with the warmth of the blood around you." Alexander hung his words, leading Ricky on before his eyes spoke of a daring truth while reaching his paw up into the air at that full moon.

"You will never find the strength to rise above it." Alexander then clenched his paw at the moon, but when he brought it down towards him, there was nothing.

"To rise above the sea of blood and reach the stars." Alexander closed his eyes, his words forming as if he couldn't ever go the distance.

"Do not be like my Ricky, do not drown."

Alexander was quiet after that, having never shared why or how he died but part of it had to do with his thirst, his bloodlust.

Alexander's speeches always left people in silence, but it was because this was something that he could never rise above that made it all the more impactful for Ricky.

As Ricky sat there, staring at the pile of corpses before him, it wasn't just that he had crossed a line, he had sealed his fate. 

In that moment, amidst everything, he made a silent vow to Alexander. 

He would rise above it all, above the sea of blood, and reach for the stars. 

And when he did, he would reach down, pull Alexander up alongside him, and show him the world in all its glory, no longer just something to hear of, but something to witness firsthand.

But that journey would start with two words.

"Get up."

DING

(Common Servant) 22 x Zombie Soldier: Basic rank and file of the Zombie army, performing standard combat roles and carrying out the general will of their superiors.

"Dig yourselves into the ground and guard against intruders," Ricky commanded, his voice low and firm. 

As he spoke, a gate opened to the surrounding areas of Alina's house, through which he had already dispatched twenty crawlers to patrol the grounds. 

The creatures moved swiftly, burying themselves into the earth, camouflaging and preparing to strike at any who dared approach.

Everyone was accounted for under his growing undead army, each of them strategically placed and awaiting his next command. 

Except Maria since she was already under the protection of Profaci, safe for the time being.

But through it all, Ricky stood still in the forest for a while, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

"Can I ask for some advice?" Ricky closed the portal, finally speaking to Alexander who was quiet for a long time.

"Of course."

"How did you manage being at the center of your army and get their respect?" Ricky asked genuinely, his curiosity piqued. 

Alexander the Great, who had been quietly contemplating the question, let a thoughtful smile form on his lips. 

His eyes, sharp with the wisdom of countless battles, flickered with a distant memory as he took a moment before replying, his voice calm but filled with conviction.

"Respect isn't something you demand, Ricky." Alexander began, his tone carrying the weight of his experience. 

"You earn it. I fought alongside my men, shared their struggles, their victories, and even their defeats. They saw me bleed, they saw me endure." Alexander's gaze met Ricky's, the intensity in his expression unmistakable.

"But most of all, it was I that led the way, that created the path." Alexander gestured, moving his paw forward towards just a forest to an outsider, but to Ricky, he saw it.

"I was the first to suffer, the first to feel pain, the first to strike the enemy, and first to claim victory." Alexander showed him the path, what was needed and helped guide him, but it was Ricky who needed to take the steps.

"It wasn't sudden, it took time but soon, they followed me." Alexander smiled, remembering the warm memories of his comrades who followed alongside him into battle.

"But do not forget for a second that they won't turn on you, for they might be in the pack, but they devour you if you give them a chance." Alexander said, his tone taking on a darker edge, remembering all those who betrayed and the fates that awaited for it.

"Do you understand?" Alexander asked, turning towards Ricky who opened a gate and took a step forward onto this path.

"Kind of?" Ricky genuinely nodded, trying to understand but being inexperienced in the area, yet grasping it to a certain extent. 

"But I know war is coming, Alexander. New York's underbelly is going to be flipped on its head, and I'm going to stand in the center of it." Ricky chuckled, looking at Alexander with a smile while walking into the portal.

"You must know they will-"

"It won't matter because I got this." Ricky held up a black envelope, Alexander looking at it before looking back at him.

"The commission is going to meet in a month, probably to stand against me and I'm going to win this case by then." Ricky looked at the envelope, smiling as he pocketed it in his jacket while completely submerging himself into the gate.

"Wouldn't have it been wiser to keep him alive, to use Chester-"

"Probably, but I don't want to be on the defensive, rather, I want them to fortify themselves within their territory, I want to be on the offensive." Ricky chuckled, arriving on top of the statue of liberty and looking down at the city that would be his soon.

"I want them to prepare, be paranoid almost, knowing that at any time I can strike and evaporate their entire operation." Ricky maniacal smile formed, showing that Dewey wasn't the only one that was going to suffer to such agonizing degree, but all the mob bosses who were in his way.

"Then once I have free reign to do as I please, I'll take it over in one fell swoop." Ricky told Alexander, swiping his hand across the city.

"A very curious plan, however, aren't you worried for outside help against Joe-"

"That's why I went after the government first. If I went for Joe, the government would have made any excuse to attack me regardless, which is why I started the case first, to take them out before I go for the real pie, my real reward." Ricky's eyes illuminated the city, spreading out his arms towards the place that would soon collapse under his will.

"Well, it is a curious way of going about it, but seeing as you've put a lot of thought into it, I'll concede my thoughts for another day," Alexander said, crossing his paws as Ricky raised an eyebrow in slight surprise.

Usually, Alexander would relentlessly tear down his ideas and plans, but this time, he actually stopped himself.

"Does Alexander the Great actually think a little highly of my plan?" Ricky suddenly realized, looking down at the gerbil, who scoffed in response.

"Your plan is still full of a holes, showing it was formed an amaetur-"

"Yeah, but it shows initiative, something you always encouraged," Ricky interrupted, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as Alexander frowned but merely turned to the side, his posture stiffening slightly.

"Hahahahahahahaha!" Ricky laughed out, watching Alexander eat his own words as the taste formed a scowl on the Gerbil face.

"Maybe they should call me, Ricky The Great." Ricky exclaimed, sitting down and enjoying the view for now as Alexander joined him.

"Do not go overboard, there is still much to come." Alexander patted his cheek, reminding him as Ricky chuckled with a slight shrug.

"Well, when it comes, I'll be sure to kick its ass thoroughly."