Marvel: Impregnation System
Chapter 25: An Drunken Irish Fender Bender

Chapter 25: Chapter 25: An Drunken Irish Fender Bender

"I'm sorry Slick can you-"

*BANG*

"JESUS!" Oweny flinched and yelled, throwing his arms over his head as Ricky fired the pistol into the air.

Booker immediately hit the deck, seeking cover from the sudden eruption of noise and chaos.

"There are two ways you're walking out of here and it's either when you're carried out due to extreme blood loss or a new man without ownership of this fine establishment." Ricky laughed out drunkenly, gazing at the pale Owney who slowly let out a furious expression.

"Do you know who your f*cking with Slick, I'm apart of the Irish Mafia-"

"Oh who cares~" Ricky scoffed, replaceing that Oweny's reasoning didn't align with his current thought process while Oweny, feeling the tension, bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed.

"Give me the deed or I'm going to shoot you until I get it." Ricky gave him an ultimatum as Owney scoffed while crossing his arms.

"Your bluffing-"

*BANG*

"AHHHHHHH!" Owney let out a pained scream as the bullet from his own gun tore through his shoulder, blood rushing down his arm in a crimson torrent.

"YOU SHOT ME, YOU LUNATIC YOU ACTUALLY SHOT ME!" Owney roared at Ricky without a hint of fear as Ricky looked down at the shaking Booker.

"Hey Booker, where does he keep the deed cause I think only when I know, will he cave in." Ricky asked Booker who looked up only to flinch when he saw Owney's eyes.

"BOOKER, I PAY YOUR SALARY AND-"

*Click*

"How much does he pay you?" Ricky cocked the gun, pointing it at the furious Owney who froze, shutting his yapping mouth in an instant.

"5-5-5-5-50 cent's an hour sir." Booker spoke in a formal tone, bowing his head as Ricky scoffed.

"That's it?"

"Here, you work for me now." Rick rummaged through his pocket and grabbed out a crumbled hundred and threw it in front of Booker's eyes.

Booker froze at the sight of the hundred-dollar bill.

The largest bill he had ever held was a twenty which was safely tucked away in a tube sock at the back of his dresser.

However, this hundred-dollar bill lay right in front of him, tempting him with the possibility of taking it for himself.

"In his walls safe in the back." Booker's greed to support his family far outweighed his fear of Owney.

The average black resident within Harlem made around 1,300 dollars a year and this was about one tenth of his yearly salary.

"YOU SON OF A B*TCH-"

"Thank you Booker, and now please give me the deed." Ricky gestured to Oweny who bit his lip while looking at his arm then back to Ricky.

"If you think your Daddy can protect you after this stunt, then you're dead wrong." Owney let out a hiss while walking over to the safe.

Owney started opening the wall safe but when he turned around he saw Ricky on the phone, he raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, put me through to the Luciano residence." Ricky said to the operator as the phone clicked.

"How the f*ck did you get this line."

"Pops, it's me."

"Slick?"

"Do you by chance know Owney Madden?"

"The killer? Yeah I know that f*cker, he and his gang offload our bootlegging shipments sometimes."

"You're kidding."

"Yeah, but that bugger never leaves that cesspool of Harlem, much less his cotton club and don't get me started with that police station."

This whole conversation made Owney Madden's face pale since his gang was able to profit so much due to hijacking shipments from the Italian mafia.

"He even has a bounty of 50,000 bounty put up for his head-"

"Wait Slick, I was only joshing ya-"

*BANG*

*THUMP*

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Slick, what was that!?" Lucky shouted from the other side of the phone as Ricky shot Owney again before clicking his tongue.

"Dang it, I was aiming for your head." Ricky grimaced as Owney started to whine out in pain as Booker crawled away from the scene.

"You were totally bluffing Owney, what do you have to say about yourself?" Ricky mocked a crying Owney as he slid down while leaving a trail of blood on the wall.

"P-Please don't kill me-"

*BANG*

*BANG*

"Aye pops, I got him." Ricky spoke on the phone as a maddening laugh was let out by Lucky.

"Can you send a couple boys over here to help clean up?" Ricky spoke at Lucky who started hitting his desk.

"Yeah champ, I'll send some guys over there but I think I have a way to squash that pesky Irish mob once and for all."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" Ricky asked him and on the other end, Lucky's face slowly turned up a cold ruthless smile.

"Let your old pops handle this one, just sit back and relax my boy."

4 hours later,

"Owney where are you at!" A man with a thick irish accent yelled out as men gathered in the cotton club.

This was Owney Madden's partner, Bill Dwyer, and he faithfully ran the Irish mob along with Owney Madden.

"That scamp always does this." Another man walked with a drink in his hand before taking a seat at the table.

This man was Owney's and Bill's right hand man who did all the dirty work that they didn't have time for, George 'Big Frenchy' DeMange.

The Irish mob usually held meetings or met up for important discussions at the cotton club and after hearing from some of the workers here that Owney was calling a meeting, they all came.

*Sigh*

"I swear, the night life is really getting to him." Bill plopped down on a chair as the other remembers started laughing at this.

Then without any greetings, the Luciano family burst into the Cotton Club, Tommy guns in hand, catching the Irish mob completely off guard.

Not hesitating, the Luciano family's fingers clenched the triggers as the bullets screamed out from the guns, creating an ear deafening symphony of gunfire.

The once lively Cotton Club was now a gruesome one sided slaughter, its elegant decor marred by the grotesque scene unfolding within.

The Irish mobsters stood no chance against the merciless ambush, they were simply torn apart by the hail of bullets, their bodies jerking and convulsing with each impact.

Blood sprayed from their wounds, painting the walls and floors crimson. Their limbs were torn from bodies, and screams of agony filled the air, only to be drowned out by the relentless gunfire.

The air was thick with the acrid stench of gunpowder, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. The floor became slick with gore, making every step treacherous.

The once vibrant music was now drowned out by the symphony of violence, the clatter of gunfire and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground.

When the gunfire finally ceased, the only sound that remained was the soft moaning of the wounded and the harsh gasps of the dying.

The Cotton Club, once a symbol of glamor and entertainment, was now a macabre tableau of death and destruction.

This gruesome point in history would later be coined the 'Great Irish Massacre' which would be a bloody affair that would forever change the landscape of Harlem in the future.

The Luciano family's ruthless efficiency in eliminating their rivals ensured that they would dominate the criminal underworld in Harlem as Ricky had accidently secured it.

The only reason for this being his appearance wasn't notorious to be easily recognized like his other family members which allowed for the scene to unfold, if he had entered the underworld maybe even a year or two earlier then he would easily have been clean out.

However, by sheer luck mixed with his lack of notoriety, he managed to unknowingly accomplish his single goal, all in one day.

Walking out from the side, Ricky looked at the only survivor, Bill, one of the few Irish mobsters still clinging to life, looked at him with a hint of defiance.

But that hint of life was extinguished as Ricky took a swig of a nearby bottle of rum before pointing his tommy gun at him.

*BANG*

A hole appeared in Bill's head, that hatred solidifying himself on his face for eternity as he went limp against the bloody floor.

"Give up to Slick, the one who was able to wipe out those pesky Irish wannabe's!" Lucky roared, sticking up Slick's arm as the other mobsters cheered.

"You did it Slick, and in one goddamn day!" Lucky patted Ricky's back as he nodded, still completely sh*t faced.

"Now we can move all that money through the night clubs previously under the irish mob." Lucky smiled viciously.

He'd had his eyes on Harlem's nightlife for a while, but Owney, that slippery rat, always managed to hide where he felt safe.

Now, though, it was all about to fall under the Luciano family's control after some well-placed coercion and a few strategic payoffs.

"From today onward, you're gonna be in charge of these nightclubs ya here?" Lucky patted Ricky's shoulder as he nodded before holding up his bottle of booze.

"LET'S PARTY!" Ricky roared, ignoring the terrifying responsibility for another day only to see laughs resound as Lucky joined in.

"Let's clean up this mess first then party, alright?" Lucky spoke as Ricky fist pumped before taking a long swig of the bottle of rum.

"What do you need, pops?" Ricky asked only for an address to be shoved into his chest and the rum bottle taken out of his hand.

"We're gonna take Harlem in one fell swoop and that means any other operations need to burn down in the aftermath." Lucky nodded to the side, the ones not busy cleaning up the bodies hurried out.

"You're side lining me, what the f*ck?" Ricky frowned, knowing full well he was being purposely put out of the raids.

*Smack*

"Don't bad mouth me, this is important." Lucky smacked the back of his head, Ricky rubbing it with an even heavier frown.

"Round up ya boys and go take care of these operations, you're the only one I can trust with this." Lucky grabbed both his shoulders with Ricky sighed, grabbing back his bottle of rum and walking out of the club.

"Fine, but next time I'm leading the charge!" Ricky yelled, Lucky nodding with Meyer walking up to his side.

"Aye Lucky, can I talk to you for a sec?" Meyer asked, gesturing to the side before they went a little ways away.

"This is about the jewish mob, correct?" Lucky could already tell, Meyer ducking his head slightly since they both knew how important his faith is to him.

"Listen, I get you're afraid of retaliation from the jewish mob, but we'll pin the blame on the irish mob and make good with them with a hefty pay out." Lucky patted his shoulder, pulling out a cigar and lighting it.

"I don't know Lucky, the jewish mob has been acting weird lately and-" Meyer was about to ramble until he saw Lucky's deadpan expression.

"SIGH*

"No you're right, I just gotta calm down and see the bigger picture." Meyer understood immediately and Lucky laughed, putting his arm around him and leading him to the office.

"Come on, let's go cheer you up by checking Owney's books."

20 minutes later,

"This is stupid." Rocco kicked rocks while getting some gasoline, filling it up before getting another one.

"Preach." Ricky, on top of the hood, drank the rum and Jake shook his head.

"Slick Lucky's right on this one, it will look bad to the other guys if you keep getting handed every opportunity." Jake became the voice of reason but Edward stopped munching on his snacks.

"I don't know, everyone I talk to likes Slick." Edward shrugged but Rocco was the one to scoff at this one.

"They ain't gonna tell Slick's buddies they got a problem, doofus." Rocco shook his head, looking at Edward as if he was an idiot.

"All I'm saying is that we do these tedious jobs and overtime when we get handed better roles, no one will argue making our lives easier." Jake came to the conclusion, Ricky throwing the bottle into the trash.

"Whatever the case is, let's get it over with so we can get wasted and party." Ricky helped Rocco get the gasoline tankers in the trunk before getting in the passenger seat.

As the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, dusk settled over Harlem as the streets gradually emptied, the residents having heard whispers of an impending takeover.

"Hurry up." Ricky yelled as he watched the sun slowly set, its fading light casting long shadows.

Watching Rocco dousing the sides of an Irish mob operation with gasoline, the pungent scent filling the air.

Looking at the note, Ricky saw all the addresses they needed to burn into smithereens but at the very top of the list was the signal for the family to start their takeover.

This plan was designed to draw the fire department to the outskirts of town, while Lucky's bribes ensured they were kept busy containing the blazes, unable to interfere with the real operation.

"Alright do it Slick." Rocco threw the gas container at the wall, running while Ricky tucked a cloth into a bottle of vodka.

Ricky set the ragged end of the makeshift Molotov cocktail aflame and hurled it at the wall.

It exploded in an orange blaze, the flames greedily consuming every gasoline-soaked surface before spreading hungrily to the rest of its surroundings.

Flames erupted in a terrifying blaze as the four young mobsters quickly hurried back into their car.

"Holy sh*t!" Rocco said what everyone was thinking, seeing the flames tower of the warehouse.

*BOOM*

They all flinched as the warehouse roof exploded, sending a large cloud of smoke billowing into the air, mingling with the fiery blaze below.

"Where to next?" Ricky asked, everyone looking at each other then letting out maddening pyromaniacal laughs.

Upon the smoke signal, Harlem began to rage in gunfire with Irish screams dousing the ears of the fearful residents.

Those who understood what was happening watched attentively as the new invaders moved, while the unaware panicked and scrambled desperately to avoid any unjustified wrath.

Slowly, Harlem night sky was cloudy in black smoke with subtle hints of ash sprinkling down as a result of Ricky's actions until they made their way to one place.

"Whoa wait, we can't be here." Jake suddenly stopped the other three, seeing the sign of David the jewish mob painted on their buildings as a marker.

"Why not?" Rocco asked with a scoff, walking forward only for Jake to hold him back.

"Cause dipsh*t, that isn't a part of the Irish mob but the jewish one." Jake pushed him back, Rocco flinched and Ricky was also surprised.

"No, it clearly says here this is the address." Ricky looked at the sign while Jake shook his head, going over to his side.

"It can't be?" Jake grabbed the paper, Ricky looking at both Rocco and Edward who shrugged.

"Maybe we should back off-" Edward tried to be the bridge of peace but Ricky shook his head.

"We can't, my pops wouldn't make such a big mistake like this, it needs to be done." Ricky grabbed some of the gasoline and walked to the side.

"But Slick-" Rocco tried to counter only to see Ricky's cold gaze.

"It needs to be done." Ricky's face showed there wasn't any room for reason, shutting up both Edward and Rocco in a second.

Ricky started dumping the contents of the last remaining contents of gasoline onto the side of the building, the smell coursing into a nearby window which entered the nose of three guys on watch that night.

"What's that smell?" One of them looked at the other two before they looked at each other.

*PFFFT*

"Not like that you numbskulls, I mean it smells like gas." He countered but his words only made his friends laugh even harder.

"Screw you guys, I'll go check it out myself." He scoffed, pushing one of his friends who was hollering at his poor choice of words.

The young man marched to the rear side door, opening it and about to pull out a cigarette only to freeze.

Ricky, currently pouring a thing of gasoline, also froze in place as they looked at each other for a brief second.

The man immediately went to scream but Ricky dove at him, covering his mouth as muffled sounds resounded from the back.

"Aye did you hear that?" One of them said, looking at the one picking up some of his cards.

"It's probably gas." The man said in a straight face, looking at him before they snickered out laughter once more.

"Bring me some rope!" Ricky yelled in a whisper, Rocco and Edward flinching before grabbing some rope from the trunk.

"Petey?" Jake widened his eyes, letting out a fearful whisper as he watched Ricky cover his mouth while Rocco and Edward swiftly tied him up.

Putting one of the rags in Petey's mouth, Ricky stood up only to see Jake frozen in place as he sighed.

"I'm going to take care of the ones inside, you all stay here until I get back." Ricky pulled out his pistol, knowing that it would be easier for him to do it himself.

Walking inside, Ricky slowly dipped around from corner to corner, checking them though this entire operation seemed to be desolate of people.

"You f*cker!" One of the jewish mobsters yelled out with a laugh, Ricky turning his head and slowly making his way over to where it stemmed from.

"What's taking Petey so long-"

"Oh who cares, that drama queen is probably pissing and sh*tting outside for all I know." One of them interrupted as Ricky looked around the corner to see them playing cards.

Ricky wasted no time. As he clicked his gun, readying the revolver before suddenly turned the corner on the unsuspecting mobsters.

*BANG*

*BANG*

The first bullet pierced the back of the nearest mobster, causing his body to arch instinctively.

Before he could scream in pain, the second bullet tore through his head, splattering brain matter onto his friend.

"YOU BASTARD-"

*BANG*

*BANG*

*CLICK*

Two more bullets shot out before Owney's revolver signaled it had been completely emptied, the bullets tearing through the mobsters stomach and arm.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The man let out a piercing wail, stumbling to the ground as blood poured from his fresh wounds, pooling on the ground beneath him.

"Tsk, I'm such a lousy shot." Ricky sighed when looking at the gun, looking around for a knife or something similar to end this once and for all.

"YOU BASTARD, THIS IS FOR ELI!" The man, knowing he was about to die, pulled out a pistol of his own and pointed it at Ricky.

Unloading the entire clip into Ricky, the man screeched out a warcry with tears for his fallen brother only for the gun to click.

*Click*

For a brief second after the gun stopped firing, time stood still as a look of horror eclipsed his face when gazing upon the six bullets he fired stopping mid air.

"Full Counter." Ricky waved his empty pistol at the bullets, their trajectories altering with twice the explosive power, causing the man's breath to stutter in fear.

"Mommy-"

*SPLAT*

Ricky showed a look of disgust, still unable to get used to the side of a man's body seemingly popping like a flesh balloon.

Meanwhile when Ricky was killing the only two guys within the warehouse, Jake was outside facing a conundrum.

"You know this guy?" Rocco asked Jake, gazing at Petey who pleaded with him.

"Y-Yeah, we go to the same temple." Jake rubbed his forehead in distress, knowing Petey since they were boys.

"Well, we can't let him go or-"

"I know, DAMMIT I KNOW!" Jake paced back and forth, knowing that this would start a full scale war that the Luciano family didn't need right now.

Jake could understand why they were doing this, pinning the blame on the Irish mob or some other gangs but if they were told directly by one of their own, it would lead to a lot of needless trouble.

"I'll take him around back and-"

"No, I'll do it." Jake interrupted Edward who became a little surprised at this declaration.

"But Jake, this-"

"We all need to prove that we're a part of the Luciano family, I need to prove that just cause I'm a jew don't mean I can't be in the family." Jake thumped his chest, Rocco and Edward looking at each other but nodding.

"Alright." Rocco understood a little where Jake was coming from, handing the tied up Petey to him.

"Aye Jake, you can't let him go." Edward became serious at this moment, looking into Jake's eyes as the latter nodded slowly.

"I know Eddy." Jake unholstered his pistol and pulled Petey aside, tears streaming down his face as he confronted his looming fate.

Throwing him into the alleyway, Petey begged through muffled words as Jake gnawed on his lip while pointing the pistol at him.

"Any last words Petey." Jake undid his gag, hoping and praying that Petey would yell hateful words only to see him bow his head.

"D-Don't do this Jake, w-we go way back!" Petey pleaded, begging Jake not to pull the trigger as his gun violently started to shake.

"I-I-I went to your bar mitzvah for the lord's sake, PLEASE JAKE! Petey screeched out, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I-I can't Petey, I'm sorry." Jake gritted his teeth, his own eyes getting teary as the gun shook violently in his hands.

"I'm sorry."

*BANG*

*BANG*

*BANG*

The shots were heard from the alley, Jake coming out from the side and wiping his eyes though Edward still went to check.

But as he turned the corner, he saw three shots in Petey's head, forever freezing a look of horror on his face.

"Alright let's-woah, what happened here." Ricky waltzed out of the warehouse, seeing the gloomy atmosphere only to realize that the other guy was gone.

"Jake did you-"

"I don't want to talk about it right now Slick." Jake walked back towards the car, Ricky nodding and looking over to Rocco who understood.

Rocco grabbed the Molotov, lighting the ends as the orange hue slowly consumed the cloth before throwing it at the side.

The fire greedily started to spread all around the operation yet none of the boys paid it any regards.

"Here-" Ricky handed Jake a bottle of rum though he didn't have to finish his words since Jake had immediately swiped it.

*GULP*

*GULP*

*GULP*

Ricky was surprised but started laughing out, patting Jake's shoulder until he put it down and started immediately throwing it back up.

*BLERGH*

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ricky laughed, Jake falling into the car afterwards while Edward got into the driver's seat.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Ricky yelled out from the passenger side window, holding the bottle of rum in his hands amidst the chaos going on all around him.

"I'M GONNA LIVE FOREVER!"

43 hours later,

"Oh god, my head~"

Meanwhile In Downtown Manhattan,

*BAM*

"HOW IS THIS HAPPENING!" A man with a Star of David necklace dangling from his neck screeched, gripping his hair in distress.

Other gangsters, similarly adorned, gathered around with nervous expressions.

This scene of anger and unease was the result of a message received by the Jewish mafia regarding one of their operations in Harlem.

At the center of this turmoil stood Harry "Pep" Strauss, the leader of the Jewish mafia, and his underboss, Bugsy Goldstein.

"And sure Dutch's reports were correct?" One of his men carefully asked as Pep had a deadpan expression on his face while gazing at this man.

Sweat trickled from all the surrounding members as they gazed at their boss's unmoving body as his hollow eyes stared at the man.

*BANG*

*THUMP*

Then in the next second, a bullet was delicately placed between the man's eyebrows as the adult body hit the ground with a loud thud.

"EVERYONE GET OUT!" Pep roared while tossing the table situated in front of him on its legs as all members rushed out of the premises.

*HUFF*

*HUFF*

*HUFF*

"Fits of rage will only show your incompetence." Bugsy elegantly spoke as his aura was that of a nobleman while Pep's bloodshot eyes turned to him.

"YOU-"

"What." Bugsy eyes were cold as Pep took a step back since his supposed underboss stood up while his form slowly started to morph.

Every step he took, Buggsy human vestige slowly changed into that of a cold blooded monster before the former Buggsy stood in front of Pep with an entirely new appearance.

"You'd do best to understand your place in the food chain." The man's deep voice hissed as two canines showed from his mouth.

"M-My apologies, Lord Dracula." Pep got on one knee while bowing his head down in subservience as the infamous self proclaimed Dracula gazed at him with a scowl.

"Find it, and I'll give you what I promised." Dracula's words finished and as Pep looked up, his master was completely gone without a trace.

"As you wish."