Later that night,
"Are you sure-"
"Tiger, I'm fine-"
"That's exactly what someone who isn't fine would say," Ricky said, going back and forth with Raven while handling the landline set up in his booth or makeshift office, depending on the beholder.
Surrounded by an endless sea of papers, Ricky sat with one hand holding the landline and the other scribbling on a form needed to balance the new shipment of supplies for the clubs.
Raven chuckled on the other end, trying to put up a strong front, but the hand clutching the phone trembled slightly.
Just then, Raven felt a gentle tug on her expensive dress, one of the ones Ricky kept buying for her, as her eyes dropped to the beautiful blonde curls and innocent blue eyes staring up at her with a sad expression.
"Why are you so sad?" Danielle asked, sniffing as her mutant ability allowed her to feel Raven's emotions.
Danielle had grown very close to Raven since she arrived at the manor, and even closer when she touched her, feeling a warmth and sincerity whenever she looked at her and her dad.
"Raven, baby, c'mon." Ricky stopped writing, his focus shifting entirely as he had clearly heard the words of his eldest daughter and knew full well what her ability meant.
But his words were met with nothing but silence, making Ricky close his eyes as he searched for the right words, something to show her just how much she meant to him in this turbulent time.
"I love you." Ricky suddenly said, catching Raven a little off guard at the abrupt switch in the conversation.
"I love you too." Raven smiled, feeling a little better as she saw Danielle start to cry and bury her face within the helm of her dress.
"Alexander, it's not a good time, stop." Ricky immediately interrupted the moment as Alexander began scratching his palm at his side.
BAM
Raven flinched on the other end of the phone, a sound almost like a gunshot ringing out before she started laughing at the absurdity of her new life.
"AYE, NOT IN THE F*CKING RESTURANT YOU MULE!" Ricky yelled, reprimanding this prideful warhorse that somehow fit in Italiano's.
"Thank you, Tiger," Raven said with a warm smile, grateful that Ricky could cheer her up, even if it was unintentional.
"No problem baby, the only thanks I need are in be-"
BAM
"THAT'S IT! DO THAT SH*T ONE MORE TIME, AND I'LL FASHION YOUR LEATHER INTO CHEAP BOOTS!" Ricky roared, his outburst even making Danielle perk up as Raven glanced at the darling little girl beside her, then pressed a kiss to her cheek, earning a delighted giggle.
"Tiger, I'm going to tuck Danielle in. I'll see you when you finish work~" Raven purred, her words dripping with a teasing undertone, making Ricky instantly put on a sleazy grin.
"Oh, you will." Ricky chuckled, completely forgetting about threatening the stubborn mule to his side before he hung up the phone.
SNORT
Bucephalus, arrogantly standing to the side, snorted and turned his head, refusing to even acknowledge Ricky as if he weren't worthy of his gaze.
"I know, Alexander," Ricky said before Alexander could even speak, his gaze fixed on the gerbil quietly staring at him from the side.
"If you know, then why must I remind you?" Alexander scowled, scrunching his brows as he tapped his paw as this was the fourth day in a row Ricky had skipped his training.
Sigh
"I just—ugh, didn't you do the same thing?" Ricky shot back in disbelief, pointing to the mountain of paperwork that represented his responsibilities.
"You were a king so-"
"Nonsense, I delegated all of these meaningless task to the officials while refining myself on the battlefield." Alexander crossed his arms, receiving a slack jaw from Ricky since this was actually the truth.
Alexander the Great, while undeniably a brilliant military strategist and conqueror, seemed far more interested in the pursuit of exploration and the thrill of conquest than in ruling the territories he claimed.
His actions,told through the tales spun threw the weaves of history, showed his priorities of a man driven by a desire to push boundaries of the empire, both literal and metaphorical, rather than a ruler's dedication to administration.
Alexander showed little aptitude or interest in governing, even in his homeland of Macedon.
When he departed for his campaign in Asia, he effectively handed off responsibility with an attitude that could be summarized as throwing the keys to the kingdom at the first person he saw then bolting.
His focus was always on the next horizon, not on consolidating or managing what he already possessed.
In Persia, his actions reflected this pattern and although he adopted aspects of Persian culture and attire, much to the frustration of his Macedonian followers, this was less about governance and more about practicality and personal preference.
By aligning himself superficially with Persian customs, he secured their resources and cooperation but left the region's political structure largely unaltered.
It could be said that he just took their money and ran as there was little evidence of an enduring administrative framework being established.
But about all, some speculate that the clearest testament to his disinterest in governance was his failure to address succession.
Alexander left no clear heir or system of succession, a glaring oversight that plunged his empire into chaos upon his death.
Rather, the keys were only left to the one dubbed 'The Strongest'.
"Alexander, what he is trying to say is that he wishes to not only bear the weight of the sword, but also the weight of the pen." Chester calmly explained at the side, taking off his laughable small reading glasses that rested on his beak as Alexnader frowned.
"Didn't you have to worry about sh*t like this?" Ricky asked, flabbergasted as he looked at Alexander, who genuinely didn't seem to understand his troubles.
"Of course not. Macedon was at its peak with me at the helm. All the greatest minds were concentrated in my capital, and consequently, they ran the administration while I expanded the empire," Alexander spoke with such clarity that even Chester was shocked, his shamelessness on full display which now had Chester slack jawed.
Delving even further, Alexander the Great was not just a product of his unparalleled military genius but also a figure of extraordinary timing, ascending to the throne during what could be considered Macedonia's golden generation.
His success was as much a result of his own brilliance as it was the environment and individuals surrounding him.
If it had to be described, the stage was perfectly set for Alexander's rise.
His father, Philip II, had already revolutionized the Macedonian military, transforming it into a powerhouse through reforms such as the introduction of the phalanx with its longer sarissas and the integration of cavalry into coordinated strategies.
Philip had also laid the groundwork for Macedonian dominance by unifying the Greek city-states under Macedonian hegemony through the League of Corinth, leaving Alexander with a cohesive and disciplined base from which to launch his conquests.
Moreover, Alexander inherited a team of exceptional generals, scholars, and advisors who epitomized this golden age.
Figures like Parmenion, an experienced general who had served under Philip and provided wisdom and stability; Hephaestion, Alexander's closest friend and confidant, whose loyalty and leadership were crucial; and Antipater, a skilled administrator who managed Macedon in Alexander's absence, were all instrumental in the success of his campaigns.
Even culturally, Macedonia was flourishing, with figures like Aristotle, Alexander's tutor, shaping his intellectual outlook.
Which could even be to blame for this attitude since Aristotle's teachings had instilled in Alexander a sense of curiosity and ambition that fueled his desire to push ever eastward and explore the unknown which had lead to the figure before them.
"There was no need for me to bear the weight of the pen, for I had my men do it for me, allowing me to wield the sword in its purest form. Now, come on, we have training to do." Alexander beckoned, while Ricky sat there, literally stunned.
In Ricky's eyes, Alexander seemed to be the perfect king, but in reality, he was simply the perfect general.
It is the reason he is referred to within these texts as the greatest general rather than king, for in most respects, Alexander never bore the weight of the crown but rather the weight of armor.
"Huh, well look at that. I guess you're human after all," Ricky said, realizing that while Alexander always came across as this larger-than-life figure, he too had his flaws.
"What does that mean?" Alexander scrunched his furry brows, sensing the challenge in Ricky's voice.
"I mean, I kind of won in this regard," Ricky laughed, realizing this crucial fact, he was technically better at something than Alexander was.
"W-What?!"
"Look, I don't have to do this sh*t, but I want to understand how it all works. You were in the same position and chose to swing your sword instead." Ricky explained, raising his smug nose in the air that made Alexander's competitive spirt rage.
"So, I win," Ricky laughed, savoring the sweet taste of victory as Alexander fumed.
"If I wanted to bear the weight of the pen, I could've bore the weight of a hundred pens-"
"But you didn't, so I win," Ricky chuckled, scribbling something down as Alexander scowled and moved toward him, only for Meyer to walk in.
"Aye, Slick. Lucky told me to drop off the briefings for the investor meeting tomorrow." Meyer walked in, placing the papers next to the stack as Ricky shot him a weird look.
"You know, the meeting where the bank decides which ventures to fund with the growing capital?" Meyer asked, noticing Ricky's confusion as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Oh f*ck," Ricky's eyes widened, suddenly remembering it as he grabbed his forehead with Meyer nodding along with his thinking process.
Everything had become so jam-packed for Ricky that he never really had a chance to focus on it; it had just floated to the back of his mind.
As it turned out, Ricky had literally studied inverse mental magic as a way to enter his mindscape and explore his past memories, for this exact reason and this exact meeting.
The entire point of the magic seemed relatively useless for anyone without a past life, but that was precisely why Ricky wanted to dive back into his mind.
His memories were so clouded with drugs, alcohol, and women that he could barely recall anything about the companies that had flourished over time.
Ford and Coca-Cola were the only ones he remembered as still being around in the '30s.
However, with everything going on, he had completely forgotten about it and the main reason he wanted to explore his mind in the first place: to pick out a bunch of companies in the future that he knew would stand the test of time.
"Listen, I get that family is putting a lot of pressure on you, but not everything has to be a home run, Slick." Meyer sighed, shaking his head at Ricky's desire to hit it out of the park while sitting down beside him in the booth.
"I get that it's been hectic lately, but don't forget, you don't have to be perfect and succeed every time. Lucky ain't like that, he doesn't care if you succeed every time but rather, learning from the failures." Meyer explained, knowing how desperate Ricky was to fill Lucky's shoes when he had his own pair on the soles of his feet.
"Just try, put in some work, and show Lucky that your choices had some thought behind them." Meyer then reached into his pocket, pulling out a slip with some light scribblings on it.
"So here, these are some of the companies I was thinking of pitching. Do some research tonight on like, two of them, then come to the meeting and pitch them as your own to Lucky, it'll be fine." Meyer patted Ricky on the shoulder, oblivious to another incident with Jake as he stood up.
"Thanks, Meyer. I appreciate the thought," Ricky smiled, and Meyer nodded before walking out as once the door closed, Ricky's head collapsed into his hand.
These shipment orders needed to be completed and sent tomorrow for his clubs: the Cotton Club, Stork Club, Velvet Veil, and the Mystique Room.
Although Jake had stopped handling club matters before Ricky came back, part of the reason for his deterioration was the formation of these two new clubs, which were opened under the Luciano influence.
The Cotton Club and Stork Club had their own reputations and didn't need further explanation.
But back then, when Ricky was pitching the ideas to Jake while they were all coked up, he actually went ahead with them.
Just as Ricky had voiced so long ago, Velvet Veil was a club similar to the Stork Club, but instead of a dining restaurant, it was a snazzy lounge for the upper class.
No food, just drinks and cigars, with some light entertainment.
The membership, however, was where the club raked in all its dough, as it only catered to the elite as it had a very strict no-discretion policy that didn't even bend to the will of the mobsters.
Though, it was having trouble gathering the elite of the elite, as most of its members were people who weren't rich enough to have their names defined by generations, but rather, by the time.
Then there was the Mystique Lounge, but unlike the Cotton Club, you had to pay an entry fee just to get in.
On top of that, it was vastly more expensive compared to the Cotton Club.
Because Ricky had allowed black people back in, instead of segregating them, many, if not most, of the white regulars started flocking to the Mystique Lounge.
They could afford the higher prices, and the atmosphere felt more exclusive, attracting a different crowd that the Cotton Club repelled.
However, managing the clubs was incredibly difficult for Ricky, who had little to no experience with it.
On top of everything, from vendors and suppliers to all the issues that came with the clubs themselves, he also had to clean vast sums of money for the family.
The pressure was mounting, and it seemed like there was no end to the demands on his time and attention.
"I have a proposal." Alexander's words rang out, puffing out his chest as Ricky parted his hands, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and exhaustion.
"I shall take on the weight of the pen and learn how to scribe like my mentor Socrates, if you promise me to carve out time for the sword. Deal?" Alexander held out his furry paw, and Ricky's eyes widened in surprise.
This wasn't some small task; filling out these papers was going to take serious time and focus.
"You'd do that for me?" Ricky asked, a little taken aback as he wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy, yet here was Alexander, going out of his way to offer this deal.
"Of course, we are comrades after all, and comrades bear each other's burdens." Alexander smiled, seeing Ricky's astonishment before grabbing his furry hand in a firm shake.
"Thanks, Alexander. I swear to God, you're the f*cking best." Ricky stood up, completely putting his trust in Alexander, before grabbing his coat.
Ricky's first priority was his education as he had to track down his tutor, determined to graduate before the school year ended.
With that in mind, he'd use whatever remaining time he had during the night to sift through his memories and if that failed, go with the companies Meyer had suggested, hoping to get a solid grasp on them before the meeting.
Ricky, lost in his thoughts, walked straight into the portal without a second thought. Alexander smirked, watching him disappear, then glanced down at the paper Ricky had been working on.
As his eyes scanned the page, his confident smile faltered, freezing at the troubling details that lay ahead.
SUPPLY REQUISITION FORM
Section 1: Requestor Information
Name: ______________________________
Department: _________________________
Employee ID: ________________________
Contact Information: ___________________
Section 2: Supply Details
Item No.: ___________________
Item Description: ___________________
Quantity: ___________________
Unit Price: ___________________
Total Cost: ___________________
Urgency Level (Low/Medium/High): ___________________
Item No.: ___________________
Item Description: ___________________
Quantity: ___________________
Unit Price: ___________________
Total Cost: ___________________
Urgency Level (Low/Medium/High): ___________________
Item No.: ___________________
Item Description: ___________________
Quantity: ___________________
Unit Price: ___________________
Total Cost: ___________________
Urgency Level (Low/Medium/High): _____________
Total Estimated Cost: _______________
Section 3: Justification for Request
Purpose for supplies: ____________________
How will these items be used? ___________________
Section 4: Approval Workflow
Requestor's Signature: ____________________
Manager's Approval (Signature): _________________
Budget Approval (Signature): ____________________
Procurement Approval (Signature): ____________________
Section 5: Delivery Information
Preferred Delivery Location: ____________________
Delivery Deadline: _________________
This was only the most basic form for the supply requisition, but it left Alexander completely frozen because of one reason.
"I have not the slightest clue what I'm looking at," Alexander admitted, his voice laced with both confusion and frustration as he stared at the sheet.
Chester, standing nearby, couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of the usually composed Alexander so flustered at the sight of paperwork.
"Do you want me to do it-"
"No, I shall take on this beast and slay it with the ink at my side," Alexander declared, squinting at the mighty foe that was paperwork, his resolve hardening as he prepared to battle it with all the determination of a warrior.
"But, some assistance on this matter would be appreciated." Alexander shamelessly coughed, side-eyeing Chest who chuckled lightly.
"Alright, let's start with item numbers-"
Meanwhile at a familiar house,
Knock
Knock
"Henry, honey, can you get the door?" Jenifer asked, glancing over at the neatly arranged table she had set, her hands still lingering over the delicate placement of the plates.
Jennifer, unlike Ricky's other baby mamas, wasn't drifting from place to place or staying off the radar.
Instead, she had firmly settled down in her native borough of Long Island, creating a stable life for herself and their child.
She was bold enough to once march up to Lucky's front doorstep, pregnant and determined, demanding child support.
Most of Ricky's flings had been fleeting one-night stands before he became a household name, his face plastered all over the papers, which led to the scattered migration of his baby mamas.
But Jennifer knew exactly who Ricky was from the start and it was through that bold audacity, standing firm in her own identity, that she earned Lucky's quiet respect, a rare feat in his world.
Even with Ricky back in the picture, Jennifer had made no effort to contact him as she didn't want that life for Henry.
She knew exactly who Ricky was and what his family represented, having grown up under the shadow of tales about Profaci and the life that came with it.
Jennifer was resolute in her decision to shield her bright and beautiful boy from the taint of mobster dealings.
She refused to let Henry become a pawn in a world fueled by violence and corruption, wanting him to grow up healthy and happy, without a predetermined destination set out for him.
But staying away didn't guarantee Ricky wouldn't reach out.
Henry opened the door, holding his book in one hand and turning the knob with the other, revealing Ricky standing there with a toothy grin and a bouquet of roses in hand.
Instead of the usual back-and-forth about who Ricky was, Henry looked at his father with a calm demeanor, knowing full well who Ricky was since Jennifer had never hidden where half of his genes came from.
"Mother, father has come-"
Crash
A plate clattered to the floor, its shards scattering across the corner as Jennifer peeked over, catching sight of Ricky with his signature sleazy smile.
"Honey, go back to your reading time," Jennifer said softly, walking over to plant a kiss on Henry's forehead.
He gazed up at his long lost father, then down at his book with a plot he had yet to uncover, before promptly choosing the tales of text rather than the sweet reunion with Ricky.
"Oof." Ricky narrated this act, watching Henry walk over to the side and sit on his reading chair.
"So is he like in timeout or-"
"Actually, Henry loves reading but does it so much I worry for him, which is why I limit it so it doesn't take away from his life," Jennifer explained, taking the roses and walking back to the dining room table as Ricky followed closely behind, shamelessly staring at her ass.
"Well, that's good I guess." Ricky shrugged, not really into reading himself but happy that at least his kid enjoyed something.
"Ricky, if you're here for a late-night booty call, then I'll have to decline your request." Jennifer bent over, only for Ricky to gently take her hand, picking up the shards in her place with a smile.
"That's not why I'm here but I'd be down to accommodate you-"
"I'll manage," Jennifer said, turning away, leaving Ricky to help as he carefully picked up the pieces of the plate.
"But before you speak, let me tell you that Henry is off-limits," Jennifer said, walking back to the kitchen and opening the cupboard while Ricky frowned immediately, his gaze fixed on her ass still but not with a sleazy smile, but a large frown.
"Are you telling me I can't see my kid?" Ricky scrunched his brows, crossing his arms as Jenifer turned around and lightly shook her head.
""No, I'm telling you that you can't make him a mobster," Jennifer revealed, her tone firm as Ricky's expression shifted to one of understanding.
"Well, what if he wants to follow in his old man's footsteps-"
"I don't!" Henry called from the living room, interrupting them as he overheard their conversation, earning a frown from Ricky before he sighed, rubbing his temple.
"Listen, all I want is for Henry to be happy, and if books get him off, then he can go nuts." Ricky's words made Jennifer sigh, shaking her head before rising off the plate and walking toward the table.
"So after everything that has transpired within the city, you really aren't here for that?" Jennifer asked, raising an eyebrow at his words as Ricky held up his hands.
"Listen, you're his mom, I'm not trying to overstep, and if you think that's best for him, then I ain't gonna go around you," Ricky gestured with his hands, his voice calm but firm while Jennifer closed her eyes, letting out a sigh.
"Scout's honor, I ain't trying to recruit him or nothin' like that," Ricky spoke, his tone sincere as he met Jennifer's gaze as she nodded, her expression softening a little.
"Fine." Jenifer, finally accepting his presence, didn't go unnoticed by Henry who looked up from his book and actually acknowledged Ricky's existence.
"Father," Henry greeted, his tone as if he had just stepped into the bounds of the house, and Ricky chuckled at the formality.
"Son." Ricky tipped his nonexistent hat to him, his eyes trailing down to what he thought was a picture book, only to see Catcher in the Rye.
"Why isn't he reading a picture book or something?" Ricky quietly asked, watching Henry flip the page with a focused expression.
"He doesn't like those, and I don't prefer this term, but he can be described as a genius," Jenifer promptly explained, her face growing solemn at the mere mention of the word.
Jennifer recognized early on, as Henry's mother, that he possessed qualities far beyond those of other children his age, qualities often associated with geniuses.
His comprehension of material across a wide range of subjects was extraordinary, and by the time he was two, there had already been multiple attempts by others to push him into accelerated learning programs and a vast range of studies.
But Jennifer stood firm.
Now that Henry had just turned four, Jennifer's conviction was stronger than ever as she understood, as a teacher, how critical a childhood was for a child's development.
She had witnessed too many so-called prodigies crushed, not by their talents, but by the relentless weight of expectations imposed by their parents and society.
The horrible truth about raising a genius wasn't what it took to recognize one, it was the cost of cultivating one.
Jennifer had seen children pushed to the brink of emotional and mental collapse, their joy in life stripped away in pursuit of greatness.
She refused to let Henry become another cautionary tale and instead, she was determined to give him a childhood filled with curiosity, freedom, and the space to grow at his own pace, without the suffocating burden of premature achievement.
Ding
"My casserole is done, hold on." Jennifer's head jerked back toward the kitchen as she walked away, leaving Ricky to briefly check her out before nodding to himself.
'She's still got it.'
After being left alone, Ricky glanced around and suddenly noticed portraits hanging on the walls.
They weren't just of Jennifer and Henry, but there, among them, was one of him.
It took him by surprise to see the framed newspaper clippings as he carefully pulled one of the portraits with his sleazy smile from the wall, revealing it to be the iconic photo of himself after his victory from the trial in Texas.
Then, to the side, Ricky noticed a photo binder with the label 'Henry's Father' written on the side.
"I never hid who his father was from him, since that would be cruel," Jenifer answered, as if reading Ricky's thoughts as she walked over and placed the casserole in the center of the table.
"Thank you," Ricky said, surprised since he had expected Jennifer to hide his existence, but instead, she made Henry painfully aware of it, dedicating entire evenings to scrapbooking his newspaper clippings.
"Are you staying for dinner?" Jennifer asked, placing a hand on her hip and tilting her head with a stern expression while Ricky looked down at his stomach, then back at her, before shrugging.
"I mean, if you don't mind."
Jennifer nodded, exiting briefly before returning with a plate, setting it down in front of Ricky who was now sitting, placing the utensils with a calculated ease.
"Henry, dinner," Jennifer called, as Henry closed his book, placing it neatly to the side before walking over.
Then as if it was practiced beforehand, Jennifer and Henry both sat at their respective heads of the table.
As Jennifer went to prepare the alignment of her utensils, Henry unfolded his napkin and gently placed it in his lap.
All the while, Ricky stood awkwardly, his hand reaching for the casserole before retracting it, unsure of where to place himself in the moment.
"Can I?" Ricky had to ask, thinking that he also needed to fold or align something since at Lucky's house, he usually just dug in when he sat down.
"Yes, but pass the mashed potatoes." Jennifer assured him, reaching out as Ricky handed her the mashed potatoes, but not before scooping a generous portion for himself first.
The clinking of silverware resonated in the quiet room, the silence thick between them since instead of small talk, the pair of mother and son had grown accustomed to the stillness while eating.
Ricky couldn't help but break it with a cough, taking a sip of water to clear his throat.
"So, Jenifer, you still teaching?" Ricky asked, his voice cutting through the quiet as Jenifer carefully sliced into the casserole.
"If you must know, I actually quit." Jenifer easily revealed, having given her notice years ago.
"After Henry, I took a step away from teaching. With the money from Lucky, I was able to take the time to raise him from infancy before moving on to the next step," Jenifer explained, her eyes briefly meeting Ricky's before she continued with her meal.
"While I was nursing Henry those months, I had a lot of time to really think about my role in the education system as a whole. I realized I could do more within the administration side of things," Jenifer continued, her tone thoughtful as she spoke, unveiling the hidden passion that had been dug up through her maternity leave.
"Right now, I work within the district, but I think my path will eventually lead to the position of superintendent," Jenifer said with a confident smile, as if the ambition was already a part of her.
"Wow, superintendent," Ricky said, his expression one of genuine surprise as he didn't really know what the role entailed, but the title sounded important and impressive so he really went for it.
However instead of continuing the conversation, the silence once again settled at the table as Ricky looked around at the two eating with a sophisticated ease.
"Aren't you going to ask about me?" Ricky chuckled, a teasing grin spreading across his face and Jenifer, without missing a beat, pointed her fork toward him with a raised eyebrow.
"Our mother-son scrapbooking time has fiercely covered your extensive history and don't give me that look, it's a good bonding time," Jenifer said, sternly swatting that budding joke that was about to come out of Ricky's pursed lips.
"Something you might not have been privy to," Jenifer said with a playful jab, but it made Ricky scoff with a fake smile, trying to brush it off.
"Yeah, well, I didn't scrapbook with my mother growing up," Ricky said, acting as if it didn't bother him, but the thought of his own mother brought a scowl to his face, one that didn't escape the notice of either Henry or Jenifer.
"I-I didn't know-"
"It's fine," Ricky muttered, rubbing his forehead, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of his mother.
"Father, why are you here?" Henry asked, cutting straight to the point as Ricky rubbed the back of his neck, slightly taken aback by his son's directness.
"Honestly, cause I don't have anyone else to go to."
Out of all the classes Ricky took, the only one he actually put effort into was Jenifer's.
He earned a C+, a grade he felt decent about, considering the fact that his only motivation for studying was to get closer to her and her pants.
High school hadn't been a priority for Ricky as he dropped out early, opting instead for the life of a black knight.
But now, however, he faced a new challenge: in order to enter the officer program, he'd need a GED.
"Ricky." Jenifer's gaze sharpened, her expression revealing her clear distrust.
She couldn't help but wonder if he was just trying to find a way back into her good graces or worse, into her pants.
"What? I'm serious, I need help-"
"It seems very out of character." Henry, who had been educated on his father from his mothers observations, revealed as Jenifer also nodded along.
"Very, you never showed interest in-"
"Oh mother, didn't he say he would join the army?" Henry suddenly remembered, having cut out the article about the subject himself and calling forward a recollection in Jenifer.
"Ah, so that didn't mean you would join the enlisted but a-"
"Officer program, yeah, I made a deal with that old fogey." Ricky muttered, referring to the president of the United States in such a way as Jenifer lightly rested her knife.
"Hmmmmmmm." Jenifer hummed, her expression mulling over his words as she picked up her knife.
She continued eating the casserole she had slaved over, making it clear that Ricky's words weren't enough to earn her full attention just yet.
"Oh come on, I'm serious-"
"Father, you must understand, mother is very busy with work right now." Henry interrupted, trying to explain his mother's sudden silence.
"Then just throw my name around, and you'll get what you want." Ricky leaned on his hand, his tone casual, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as he pulled out a card, flashing it with a confident smirk.
"If someone gives you sh*t, show them this card and they'll back off." Ricky gestured, placing the infamous card that was making its rounds across the gossip corner of New York.
"Hmmmmmmm." Jenifer hummed even deeper, her fingers brushing over the card as she knew all too well how hard it was to climb the ladder built by men, for men.
Jenifer wasn't the type of person to take free things handed out to her, in fact, she shared this shamelessness with Ricky.
She was smart enough to understand the setbacks caused by her gender, knowing that nothing was ever truly free, and that favors often came with strings attached.
This card, this proclaimed golden ticket in the gossip circles, was the very thing that made her lean in even deeper, as the string it carried subtly linked itself to Ricky.
However, no words were spoken after that loud hum. Instead, Jennifer sat in silence, her mind racing while her stern expression deepened, her eyebrows furrowing into a scrunch.
Ricky simply watched her, his gaze unwavering, until her thoughtful expression led her to the door once she'd finished.
After dinner, Ricky leaned against the doorway with a toothy smile, as Jennifer finally fazed up and gently patted his chest.
"Every Tuesday, five p.m. sharp," Jennifer gave him the time, her tone steady but firm as she offered to help him, but Ricky grabbed her hand, rubbing it gently with a sleazy smile.
"Are you sure you don't want to talk about this a little more in-depth through the night?" Ricky leaned in, a playful smirk on his face.
Jennifer laughed softly, brushing her fingers across his chin before kissing him on the cheek.
"No." Jennifer replied firmly, taking a step back and slamming the door in his face while Ricky stood still for a moment, blinking in surprise, then nodded.
"Figured it wouldn't be that easy. Worth a shot, though." Ricky shrugged, backing up a few steps before rubbing the back of his neck, a slight grin tugging at his lips as he turned to leave.
Walking back to his car, Ricky drove silently, humming a tune here and there, his mind elsewhere, until he arrived at the mansion.
He parked with the engine still purring before heading inside, receiving a greeting from Raven who kissed his cheek while Danielle hugged his leg.
Spending some quality time with his loved ones, Ricky found a rare sense of peace in the simplicity of his life before eventually retreating to his study.
Once inside, he moved to his desk, where papers were spread out, notes on the mental landscape he'd studied back when he was in Agatha's coven.
Mental magic, in its simplest form, involves projecting your consciousness outward to create a link with others, allowing for communication or influence.
This typically requires focusing on the target, forming a tether of energy that connects both minds.
It's a bit like sending out a mental signal, allowing you to speak or feel someone else's thoughts and emotions through the link.
However, what Ricky was studying was a far more complex and inward form of mental magic, one that required projecting not his consciousness outward, but rather pulling his essence deep into his own mindscape.
He actually got the idea from the cave of regrets and sort of piggy backed this experience into this technique that involved diving into the depths of his own subconscious, using his magic to create a connection between his physical self and the vast, layered realm inside his mind.
In essence, Ricky wasn't just thinking; he was merging his awareness with the very structure of his mind.
But the problem was that he didn't know how to navigate through his own mind, the complex mental landscape that was a series of memories, emotions, and fragmented thoughts.
If one had to describe walking into a mindscape, much less your own, then it would be as if walking through a vast maze.
Each layer of his mind held different aspects of his psyche: suppressed memories, unprocessed emotions, desires, fears, and his inner conflicts.
The mind operates less like a linear timeline and more like a vast, disjointed collection of fragments.
Memories, emotions, and experiences don't always line up in a clear, ordered way; instead, they exist in an interconnected web, with certain emotions or experiences linked to others in ways that don't always make sense.
The mind often prioritizes or dismisses certain memories based on emotional significance, personal value, or the sheer randomness of the way connections form.
This is why some moments in life can feel so vividly detailed, even if they happened years ago, while other events may be entirely forgotten or only remembered as hazy, fragmented snippets.
A scent, a sound, or even a place can trigger a memory, pulling together moments from the past that have long since been buried under the weight of more recent experiences.
This lack of order meant that he couldn't always control what he encountered as he could seek one memory, but his subconscious might send him down an entirely different path which had left him to being stalled since he really didn't want to go down a random rabbit hole and waste so much time
SIGH
"F*ck it," Ricky muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible in the quiet room as his fingers dug into his scalp, pressing against his temple as if he could force himself into focus.
"Come on." Ricky muttered again, focusing his mind with all his willpower and drawing in magic from his core, down into his nexus pathways, visualizing it as a glowing force that can intertwine with his neurons.
Then, after finding the flow within himself, Ricky suddenly channeled that flow directly into his brain, more or less seeing it as liquid magic flowing through his body and into his brain.
There weren't any runes or spells involved but rather a mass infusion of mana that enhanced his brain's activity, heightening his cognitive abilities and unlocking deeper parts of his consciousness.
By infusing his brain with mana, the magic works like a form of augmentation.
Mana can be considered a universal energy in many systems that can be used for a wide variety of purposes with mana often described as a life force or energy that flows through everything.
So when Ricky directed this energy into his mind, it's like giving his brain this surge of power, allowing it to process information faster, access deeper memories, and work more efficiently.
It's why it doesn't really rely on structured spells but rather a more raw and potent use of magical energy to increase his cognitive function.
In essence, the mana is a catalyst for his brain, unlocking hidden parts of his consciousness.
But if one needed it to be placed into further perspective, think of it like someone using caffeine to temporarily enhance their mental clarity and help them focus, but in this case, the magic does it much more powerfully and with less predictable results.
Ricky frowned, feeling the magic settle into his own mind as it felt like his head was underwater while his entire body was scorching hot.
But after getting to this point, Ricky had to start to disconnect his awareness from his physical body.
Trying his hardest to imagine himself but completely separate from his flesh, a fluid, ethereal presence that can move beyond the limits of his body.
This took way longer than simply injecting mana into his brain before he finally let go of his physical form, his awareness begins to shift into the mental plane.
After hours had passed, Ricky finally opened his eyes as his entire field of vision was consumed by a vast expanse of white, however, as his gaze shifted forward, a frown crept across his face.
"Oh great, it's you." Ricky opened his eyes and groaned at the sight of a familiar face, except this time, instead of a bartender, he appeared as a mobster.
"It is me, your subconscious." Ricky's subconscious smiled at him, slicking its hair back and showing off its new mobster attire.
"I thought that sh*t only applied to that freaky-ass cave," Ricky muttered, walking through the expanse of whiteness toward a door at the far end as his subconscious followed him, matching his stride and signaling he would join him on this journey.
"Well, yes, but those were manifestations of your regrets. I'm simply what you call your subconscious, that little voice in your head that always lingers at the very edge of your thoughts." His subconscious continued, almost lecturing him, as Ricky shot him a side-eye.
"Then if I want you to leave, will you?" Ricky asked, reaching for the door as his subconscious nodded.
"Of course, but do I bother you to the point where you'd need to shut me out?" His subconscious genuinely inquired, and Ricky thought about it for a moment before shrugging.
"Whatever, just don't get in the way of me getting rich off my past knowledge." Ricky muttered, his hand gripping the door handle as he pushed it open, revealing his first-ever core memory.
"Great~" Ricky sighed, stepping into the familiar living room of his childhood home, the room now frozen in time, just as he remembered it from his younger years.
The faded wallpaper, the worn-out furniture, it was all there, exactly how it used to be, exactly how his childhood suburban home was to him.
There, in the center of the living room, sat his eight-year-old self, happily playing with a toy car.
There was no perversion, no corruption, no foul words, just an innocent kid sitting on the rug, enjoying life in its purest, unblemished form.
Ricky zoned out as he stared at his younger self, still so pure, untouched by the wickedness of the world.
The innocence in the child's eyes only made him feel a pang of something he couldn't quite name.
But before he could linger too long in the moment, a distinct whistling sound cut through the stillness of the room with a haunting, beautiful hum.
But when it echoed in his ears, instead of a familiar warm smile, his expression turned into a deep, ugly frown.
"What is that enchanting sound-" His subconsciousness wondered with awe, his eyes glittering with curiosity before Ricky crudely interrupted him.
"F*cking Barry Manilow," Ricky muttered hatefully, the name rolling off his tongue like a bitter poison, as he turned his head in disgust.
There was only one person Ricky knew who played and sang Barry Manilow, the one person who had been obsessed with this damn song, someone he thought he had forgotten.
Ricky's Mother, Bella Freeman.
Author's Note: I posted this also on my patreon but I was struggling with how I wanted to word the whole mental mindscape stuff. If it didn't make sense or was confusing, I'd like to hear your thoughts but anyway. Enjoy the chapter.