Marvel: Impregnation System

1 hour later,

"Talk about fancy." Ricky whistled, rubbing his chin as his gaze drifted at the residence before him.

Nestled in the upscale New York suburb of Tuxedo Park stood a tall and brimming mansion, a sprawling masterpiece, that stood atop a gentle hill, framed by meticulously manicured gardens that screamed old money and refined taste. 

A long cobblestone driveway, lined with ancient oaks, led up to the grand house, its facade gleaming in the afternoon sun.

The exterior was a harmonious blend of cream-colored limestone and ornate carvings, with tall, symmetrical windows that reflected the lush greenery around it. 

A pair of Corinthian columns flanked the oversized mahogany front doors, which were adorned with intricate brass knockers shaped like lions' heads.

Ricky had assumed he'd need a pass or something, as Gino had mentioned, but it was clear they were already expecting him as he just walked through the front gate.

'I wonder if he's still salty.' Ricky pondered, recognizing how vastly different this meeting was from the last.

'Eh, let's just find out.' Ricky thought, shrugging as he pushed open the gate and strolled inside.

Eyes immediately fixed on him, tracking his every step as he calmly approached the grand double doors.

Ricky didn't even need to knock as the doors parted slowly, as if at his command, revealing a butler standing poised before him.

"Master Sheffield is expecting you," the butler said with a curt bow, gesturing behind him and Ricky raised an eyebrow but stepped inside nonetheless.

"Pretty swanky. Man, I need to get my own butler one day, that's when I'll know I've made it," Ricky said aloud as the butler remained silent, acknowledging his words with a small, polite nod.

His foot graced onto the marble floor that was cool and smooth to the touch, inlaid with an intricate mosaic of swirling patterns in gold and deep green, catching the light in such a way that it just made the colors seem almost alive.

Directly ahead, your eyes would be drawn to the grand staircase, an architectural marvel that curved gracefully upwards. 

Its banister, crafted from dark oak with brass accents, gleamed warmly under the glow of a crystal chandelier suspended high above. 

The chandelier, an elaborate cascade of diamonds and cut glass, the crowning achievement of this house sparkled brilliantly, sending flecks of light dancing across the walls.

"This way." The butler guided Ricky's gaze, walking him over to the living room with emerald-green armchairs and a deep, inviting sofa arranged around a grand marble fireplace.

"Ah, if it isn't Ricky Luciano." A man, oldened since the last time he had seen him, smiled as he crossed his legs while setting down his drink.

This man, Harry Sheffield, was currently at the pinnacle of his career in the steel industry.

However beyond this confident smile, this confident demeanor, was a struggle that had caused this scenario in the first place.

He had become a leader known for his exceptional expertise and innovative contributions. 

However, his rise to the top was not without its challenges, especially as he found himself grappling with the intense competition from the massive steel corporations and other industry players. 

Despite his reputation for producing high-quality, specialized steel products, Harry faced constant pressure from the industrial giants who controlled vast resources, production facilities, and distribution networks.

The steel corporations such as U.S. Steel, Bethlehem Steel, and Krupp AG, dominated the global market with their ability to mass-produce steel at lower costs. 

These corporations benefited from economies of scale, cutting-edge technology, and powerful financial backing, which made it difficult for smaller, more specialized producers like Harry Sheffield to keep up.

While Harry was known for his innovations in steel quality, such as pioneering stronger, more durable alloys used in critical applications like aircraft and military hardware, he just struggled to match the profits that the giants were generating through sheer volume and cheaper price. 

The larger companies could afford to undercut his prices, using their vast production capacities to sell at a rate that made it hard for Harry's company to remain competitive without sacrificing quality.

It wasn't more so that he was proud of his quality, but it was his pride that wouldn't let him diminish it.

It was a stance that made him feel superior to the other steel giants, as their quality couldn't compare to his and he reveled in that fact.

But Harry also faced intense financial pressure as the demand for high-end steel products wasn't always consistent, and his focus on quality over quantity meant that his production rates were slower and less predictable. 

The Great Depression had a ripple effect on all industries, making it even harder for independent producers to survive, as many companies went bankrupt or were swallowed up by the larger conglomerates.

In his desperation to stand among the top players in the steel industry, Harry Sheffield had made a decision that would define his legacy, for better or worse. 

Although New York offered proximity to major markets, along with construction and shipping industries, and even though he was moving to a city already enshrouded in Steel, Harry needed to take a chance.

What truly set Pittsburgh apart was its proximity to the natural resources essential for the industry. 

It was nestled right next to an abundant amount of coal and iron ore deposits while also cutting transportation costs for raw materials.

Beyond resources, Pittsburgh provided financial relief through lower operating costs that Harry so desperately needed to compete. 

Wages, real estate, and taxes were way more affordable than in New York, but what made it so appealing was its deeply rooted industrial ecosystem. 

The city thrived on a symbiotic network of industries and suppliers, creating an environment where steel operations could seamlessly integrate and flourish.

Finally, Pittsburgh's transportation networks sealed the deal with its extensive railways and access to the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers.

However, now standing before the man willing to gamble everything on the promise of elevating himself, Ricky found himself faced with a dilemma.

"So, you want my steel mill?"

The problem was that Sheffield knew exactly what he wanted, understood why he needed it, and wasn't about to make it even remotely easy to attain.

"I wonder what you thought, what rattled around in that empty skull of yours, to even remotely think that I would ever think about giving my mill to you after what you did." Harry laughed in Ricky's face, covering his mouth as the mere thought of this man, actually coming to him with his hat in hand, after everything he did, gave him such unparalleled joy that nothing could describe.

"I mean, if anything, this is a gift served up on a silver platter by my esteemed butler," Harry laughed, waving the butler off as he bowed and walked away, leaving Ricky to glance to the side.

"Are you done-"

"I just cannot BELIEVE that, after everything, EVERYTHING, you'd say something so idiotic and think I wouldn't let you fall flat on your face," Harry cackled, his laugh echoing through the room all while Ricky just sat in the chair before him, slouching slightly, his posture betraying his disinterest.

"You know, I've heard the tales spun by the sheep on the street," Harry said, spreading his hands and waving his fingers in the air as if conjuring something dazzling.

"How you mercilessly slaughter those who stand against you, while showering those around you with jewels of promises that lie in the wake of your ambition," Harry continued, his tone dripping with mock admiration.

"And the feats, oh my god, how they never shut up about your achievements, as if no other man had ever walked the path before you," Harry added, his voice thick with sarcasm while shaking his head, a stream of laughter directed solely towards him.

"Truly, TRULY, remarkably disappointing if they found out the real you." Harry emphasized his words, gesturing towards Ricky who he thought nothing more than a sleazy degenerate.

"So, Ricky Luciano, what are you going to say that would without a doubt, not change my mind-"

"I know that Ruth was knocked up and you sent her away," Ricky said, dropping the card without hesitation as he didn't bother with subtle hints or games and instead, went straight to the point.

Thump

The glass Harry had been about to pick up slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor as he paused, a sharp retort ready on his tongue, but it faltered as his mouth snapped shut.

Although the rumor in high school about Ruth sleeping around had been spread by Ricky, it never amounted to more than gossip since he hid it quite well.

But this was, if not the family's best, well guarded secrets that only direct relatives knew the real reason, while distant associates were told she'd gone to study abroad.

It was a horrifying secret, one that threatened to unravel his reputation and yet, as the weight of it settled, his composure quickly returned as e bent down, silently reaching for the shattered glass.

"I have no idea-"

"Ruth, was sent away to a secluded mansion in Iowa to raise her son, Logan, effectively exiling her from the family. Her relatives were determined to keep the family's reputation intact, refusing to allow a bastard to carry their name. As a result, Logan was given the surname Roy, a stark reminder of his mother's estrangement." Ricky lazily read off the system panel, each word he listed off effectively shutting Harry's mouth until it looked as if he was choking on a lemon.

"Yeah, how's that for convincing?" Ricky reached over to the table, grabbing the crystal glass that held the expensive whiskey and pouring himself a drink with two ice cubes.

"Did I fall flat on my face or press the right spot?" Ricky raised his eyebrow, taking a sip and leaning back as Harry was a little speechless.

"It is literally impossible for you to know, literally impossible." Harry literally couldn't believe what he was hearing, staggering over how in any realm could he possibly know about it and yet, here he was, sipping on his whiskey without a care in the world.

"Yeah, well, I figured it out, and now I'm using it against you, so that's all that matters," Ricky said, pointing his finger at Harry as he ignored the dazed look on his face, casually glancing to the side.

Ricky glanced around at the lavish decor that surrounded him, an embodiment of this wicked family's ideal, an image of nobility crafted not by virtue, but by their wealth.

But when Ricky looked at Harry, when he scanned the room, all he saw was a wealthy, successful man, nothing more.

He wasn't taking away from what he had done, achieved for himself, but he wouldn't admire him for his feats either.

How many people, how many beings, had he encountered who possessed as much, if not more, than Harry?

It was strange, almost amusing, how once Ricky had viewed Harry as a formidable figure, someone to be cautious of, to tread lightly around, but now, he simply gazed at him, indifferent.

Gazing at the ordinary man he was, because without the wealth that clung to him, Harry was nothing in Ricky's eyes.

"Are you going to say something, anything?" Ricky asked, swirling the ice cubes around his drink as the power dynamic had been flipped over on its head, in almost an instant.

"Like some stupidly snobbish rambling about the sheep talking about my achievements? No?" Ricky asked once more, seemingly giving Harry the floor and a chance to say something, anything, to stop the hellfire he was about to bring down on this man.

"Yeah, I figured as much," Ricky sighed, leaning his head on his hand as he stared at Harry, who was squinting at him in response.

When Ricky entered his house, his domain, Harry held the complete advantage. 

He knew exactly what he wanted, why he wanted it, and what it would take to get it.

Harry was ready to load it over Ricky, to rub it in his face and watch him squirm, all while holding that ideal of a factory just out of his reach. 

But in a sudden twist, the tables were turned and the playing field leveled as Ricky unveiled a secret, one that could unravel the very foundation of Harry's carefully built reputation.

"Alright, now that you're in that mood of thinking to yourself how I even know, let's start the negotiations." Ricky cocked up a smile, returning the mocking expression back at Henry who was a little infuriated at it.

"I'm going to pay you 1 million dollars, and with it, I get the land rights, the factory rights, all the machinery, and the employee contracts, including full control over their terms and conditions." Ricky pointed Harry's own glass at him, almost ordering out his requests.

"You can't have the machinery-"

"Shut up, I'm not finished," Ricky said, holding up his hand, laughing at Harry, who gritted his teeth as his fingernails dug into the emerald chair.

"When you agree to this, you'll come out and stand before the public, advocate for me, and make up some bullsh*t about how I'm the saint you heard about in the whispers of the sheep around you." Ricky words sprinkled salt on the wound, before rubbing it in and making Harry tremble within his seat.

"Then, and only then, will I sign an NDA saying that I won't reveal your family's dirty little secret, before you pack up your sh*t and go to Pittsburgh, never to come back to my city," Ricky finished, giving the floor to Harry, who was holding his face as if it could somehow cling to a sliver of hope.

"One million isn't enough, I need ten to twenty million-"

"You're not getting a single cent more, the only reason I'm giving you this much is because it would raise eyebrows that would annoy me later on down the line." Ricky waved his words away, dismissing him without a thought and giving him this much only because it would be annoying to have Franklin come knocking at his door.

"But how could you explain to me selling all of that, all of this, for a single million?!" Harry let out a baffled exhale, gesturing towards the outside world while looking at Ricky who shrugged.

"Obviously because of charity, I don't know, make up some sob story about how you-"

"Five million, and I'll give you my consideration," Harry countered, his serious demeanor overshadowing everything about him previously.

The business world, which Ricky would come to realize, wasn't as clean-cut or straightforward as one on the outside thought. 

It wasn't about who had the best product or the most innovative ideas; it was about who held the dirt, who could sway the bustling tides of sheep, who could manipulate the shadows, and who was willing to pay the price to keep their own buried secrets from surfacing. 

Deals weren't always made based on logic or fairness, but on leverage, on what a person could hide or expose. 

Those who played the game well knew how to use others' vulnerabilities as stepping stones to climb higher, and that included using their own flaws as shields or weapons when necessary.

The system was designed around this unspoken rule: everyone had something to hide. 

And in the midst of it all, the winners were those who could turn secrets into power. 

For Harry, this tribe and truth had finally come full circle as the one who held his dirty little secret wasn't his own subconscious, but Ricky. 

"You see this, see how my hands are forming." Ricky gripped his fist tightly together, showing it to Harry who felt uneasy at the demonstration.

"Right now, my hands are gripping you by the f*cking balls, and because of it, any ballsy ideas or words should be kept to yourself." Ricky held the balled up fist to Harry, the dignified man watching it with widened eyes as he involuntarily gulped.

"We could've had a nice negotiation, one where I got what I wanted and you kept your dignity, but we're far past that now." Ricky's voice was resolute, making it clear that he wasn't going to give Harry anything unless it was mere scraps.

"The only shred of hope you have is that I don't put these balls in a fcking jar above my fireplace and look at it while I mindfck your entire business into oblivion in front of it." Ricky laughed at his own words, blatantly threatening Harry to his face without any shred of remorse.

"So sign the transfer rights, take your one million dollars, and get the f*ck out of my city." Ricky released his hands, his metaphorical balls dropping as Harry gripped his pant legs.

"If you think this is over-" Harry stood up only for Ricky to meet his stride with one of his own, towering over this little man without any restraint.

"Oh, I f*cking dare you." 

HUFF

A green aura suddenly flooded into the room, pressing down onto Harry as his body crumbled under the sheer weight of Ricky, now standing above him, gazing down at him if he wasn't anything other than the dirt and grime that stained the bottom of his shoes.

"I dare you to do something stupid, because there's nothing I enjoy more than ruining the people who get in my way." Ricky bent down, his entire body radiating with the oppressive aura of his sovereign will.

"You spit in my hand when I reached out, I offered you a good deal which kept that ugly secret buried and you think, you actually think, that you have the power here." Ricky bent down, his green eyes staring directly at this man struggling to get to even his own knees.

"I can ruin you Harry and sure, you'll be rich, but what's wealth without respect, what's power without respect?" Ricky grabbed his head, pressing it down onto the ground beneath his very feet.

"Nothing for people like you."

Ricky then let go, dispelling his aura as he watched Harry slowly regain his breath, his body trembling.

"S-So you'll sign an NDA-"

"Do you really want me to sign one?" Ricky asked, interrupting him while smiling ear to ear.

"Yes I-"

"Like, really, really want me to sign one?" Ricky interrupted him again, wondering how bad he wanted him to sign that NDA as Harry's fist balled.

"Yes, I really do-"

SNORT

Ricky actually snorted out in laughter, looking at Harry wobbling to his feet as if the sight, mixed with his words, weren't the funniest things he had ever heard.

"Well, I changed my mind." Ricky shrugged, shamelessly changing the deal right when Henry thought it was over.

"But you said-"

"Yeah, I know, I lied." Ricky laughed, watching Henry crumble at his words since he only gave him that sliver of hope, to crush it right before him then stomp on it.

"Oh, come on, you said it yourself, that you knew what kind of man I am. So why would I ever give you something favorable when I have this much dirt on you?" Ricky genuinely asked, gesturing toward him as if he should've known better.

"Oh no Harry, you're gonna be my b*tch." Ricky laughed even harder, watching Harry try to not pale at his words.

"I-I'm Harry Stefiied-"

"The ashamed father who let his daughter have a child out of wedlock, I can only imagine the headlines I'll print about you." Ricky spread his hands in front of Harry, almost as if envisioning the scandal for him.

"But you know me, the loud mouth who just spouts whatever on his mind, f*ck, I might just go do it now-" Ricky turned around only for Henry to instinctively bolt forward, grabbing Ricky's suit as he ducked his head.

Harry was someone who thrived on reputation and quality; the very deterioration of it would be the ruin of the man he believed himself to be.

"I-I'll do it, I'll take the deal-"

"Of course you will, of course." Ricky wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of agreeing, patting his cheek as if it was his only option.

"And remember, Henry, when you stand before the public, really go in-depth about how much you respect me. Spill some chagrin about me being a man of God or whatever, just make me look peachy perfect." Ricky chuckled, pushing Henry away from him as he stumbled backward while walking out of the living room.

"Don't get in my way, Harry. I mean it, I'll f*cking crush you." Ricky kicked open the doors of his house, striding out toward the car waiting patiently for him.

Ricky couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, laugh at how Harry, a man who had spent decades building a steel empire, was now willing to compromise everything he had worked for his reputation, his livelihood all because of a rumor, because of one secret.

The fact that his daughter had a child out of wedlock was the nail in the coffin, something so trivial in the grand scheme of things, yet it had the power to topple his world. 

Harry's desperation to save face, to protect his social standing, was almost comical to Ricky.

What Ricky was peeking into, though, was the real engine of the world of the rich; a world built on appearances and status rather than substance. 

The values that governed that world were all about protecting one's image, maintaining the façade of control, and ensuring that no one saw the cracks beneath the surface. 

In this world, pride and power came not from actual success, but from the illusion of success and keeping up appearances meant everything, even if it meant selling your soul.

Ricky got his first taste of this fact, about how the upper classes weren't just motivated by money, though that was certainly a big part of it. 

They were motivated by the need to maintain their status, to keep up with the ever-shifting game of social dominance. 

This wasn't just about wealth; it was about control. 

And control meant not allowing anything, no matter how minor, to threaten the polished image they projected.

Harry's willingness to let go of his entire factory for the sake of protecting his family's reputation was a textbook example of the kind of cowardice that ran rampant in this world. 

It was a world where people didn't want to face the consequences of their actions; they just wanted to cover them up. 

Ricky found it hilarious, almost pitiful, that a rumor, something so easily disproved or dismissed, had the power to destroy Harry's reputation, not even his steel empire. 

But it was a lesson, one that Ricky was learning firsthand: in the world of the rich, everything could be bought, but nothing was ever truly safe.

It wasn't about what you had, it was about what others thought you had, and how far you were willing to go to protect that, no matter the cost. 

In Ricky's mind, this made the world of the rich seem weak but it also made it clear that, in this game, knowing the right weaknesses and when to exploit them was what made you strong.

But Ricky had more important things on his mind, unraveling a slip of paper that was previously tucked away in his pocket that had an address and a picture.

"Here, go to this address." Ricky handed the slip of paper to his driver, who nodded and turned the car to the left instead of right.

Meanwhile, Ricky rubbed his thumb over the image, an image of a woman and a little girl as the picture revealed itself, it became clear: it was Irene.

'What have you been up to, Irene?'

Meanwhile In Upstate New York,

A beautiful redheaded woman walked toward a man holding a menu, dressed in a waitress uniform with an apron stained by the grease of the diner and showed a warm smile to the customer.

"Welcome to Joe's Diner, what can Joe get just for you?"

Author's Note: Yo, I know i ussually I read the comments and reply to them but I've been f*cking busy lately. I kind of feel bad cause I always make time to look over them but my god, I opened them up and say there was over 350 just on the paragraph ones alone. But don't get me wrong guys, I f*cking apperciate you guys interacting with my story and I don't want this to adhere you all from commentings, It's just gonna take me a while to respond to all of them, anyways enjoy the chap.