Chapter Text
"Mortys!" Principal Rick's voice boomed through the classroom. He was draped in traditional graduation regalia, his gown draped oddly over his lab coat. "We are gathered here today to bestow upon you the title of Morty Academy graduates."
The graduating class of Mortys—all thirty of them—cheered from where they sat at their desks. Dressed in their cap and gowns, it was hard to tell them all apart. Well, most of them. Spider Morty had eight eyes.
"Before you can be assigned your new Ricks, you must first—uuurp—swear the Morty Oath." Principal Rick put his hand to his heart, signaling for everyone else to do the same. "Repeat after me: I, Morty, solemnly swear…"
"I, Morty, solemnly swear…" A chorus of pubescent voices parroted.
"To listen to and obey my Rick." Principal Rick waited for the delayed echo of the class. "And to protect his life at all costs." Principal Rick narrowed his eyes at one Morty in particular. "I'm looking at you, Murder Morty."
Murder Morty snapped to attention, eyebrows drawn up in a pathetic expression. “I-I-I’m not Murder Morty! I’m Morty D-913!” his voice cracked as he cried out, averting his eyes shamefully. His cheeks began to flush as he heard the sound of the Mortys around him snickering. He brought a hand up to shield his eyes, hiding his face from the other Mortys.
“I heard—”
“Isn’t he the one who—?”
“And all he had do to was—”
Murder Morty quickly clasped his hands over his ears, his cheeks flooding with redness. No. He couldn’t have a breakdown. Not now. Not with graduation right on the horizon.
“Now, now, settle down, class. There’s no reason to spread rumors about Murder Morty just because he’s a despicable little shitstain Morty that killed his Rick.” Principal Rick spoke matter-of-factly as he finally looked away from Murder Morty, hands clasped behind his back.
D-913 took the rest of the ceremony breath-by-breath. He mosty tuned out what the principal was saying, just mindlessly mimicking the Mortys around him. There was something in the speech about what a privilege it was to be a Morty, working under a Rick. It certainly didn't feel like a privilege.
"And now, for the announcement of your Rick assignments," Principal Rick said. That snapped Murder Morty back to attention. "When I call your dimensional number, step onto the stage, to collect your diploma and receive your Rick assignment. We will start with T-039."
As a Morty in the front row stepped to the stage, the other Mortys started to whisper.
"I hope my Rick pays an allowance," Morty P-73 daydreamed. "It would be nice to, you know, get a little spending money every once in a while."
"Oh wow, th-that's a good one, Popular Morty," said Q-128, Brown-nose Morty. "You really, uh, know what's up with Ricks! I was just gonna say th-that I hope my new Rick lets me control the music in the car sometimes, but y-yours is definitely better."
“I-I hope my Rick uh-likes playing cool tabletop fantasy games with me!” Morty G-42, Nerd Morty, piped up.
“Pshh, yeah, right! No way any Rick is-is gonna wanna play your stupid D&D game,” Morty T-667, Bully Morty hissed, leaning over a row to shove Nerd Morty out of his chair. Nerd Morty yelped as he narrowly avoided toppling down to the ground. He gasped as he held onto the edges of his desk to stay upright, shooting a glare at Bully Morty once he’d stabilized himself.
“Order in the class!” Teacher Rick snapped between swigs of his flask. “I’m trying to listen to the ceremony.”
D-913 sighed, sinking down in his chair. He folded his arms on the desk in front of him, burying his head in the little cavern where his arms bent. When he was hiding his face like this, it was almost like his limbs were a fortress protecting him from the outside world.
Morty felt his stomach clench up into a knot of terror. Disjointed memories flashed through his mind. A dented flask, liquor splashed across the floor. A cold, empty room. The sickening feeling of curling up into a ball when all hope is lost. Morty could feel the walls closing in on him. His breathing was getting short.
How could they all talk about it with such levity? How could they all gossip and whisper about their new Ricks as if they weren’t lambs being led to the slaughter? All his classmates were so excited to be paired with a new Rick—so optimistic and eager for the future. But D-913, all he felt was dread.
All around him, the other Mortys got called to the stage, and each received a Rick. Popular Morty was assigned to Sunglasses Rick, Bully Morty was given to a high-ranking Rick in the Citadel's military, and Nerd Morty was even sent to a Rick with dragon powers. One by one, each Morty was given their diploma and sent off, smiles beaming, to a Rick that was hand-picked for them.
"Okay, D-913. It's your turn, now." Principal Rick seemed much less committed to the graduation ceremony bit now that Murder Morty was the last Morty left. "Come on up here and get your Rick assignment."
The Morty let out a defeated sigh, unable to stop himself from sulking as he slowly stood up and walked to the front to receive his diploma. It all felt like such a sham.
D-913 knew this was all just the typical protocol. When a Morty was left all on his own, custody was given to the Citadel. It only made sense to pair up stray Mortys with lone Ricks. But knowing that didn’t make anything better.
Starting over with a new Rick wouldn’t erase the memories of his original Rick. It wouldn’t change his Rick’s fate. Starting with a new Rick just meant he’d be a human punching bag to someone new. It just meant re-entering the cycle he’d tried so hard to claw his way out of.
"Morty D-913, I grant you this diploma, and with it, the acknowledgement that you have—regrettably—passed your Morty classes." Principal Rick handed Morty a rolled up piece of paper. Then, Principal Rick checked the list in front of him. "Now, let's see here… D-913 is to be paired with—uuuuuuuuuurrrrrrp… " The Rick drew out his burp, making Morty D-913 wait to hear his fate as one final cruelty. "H-11." It took Principal Rick a moment before recognition shone on his face. "Wait a minute, is that…?"
"Sweater-vest Rick?" Teacher Rick chimed in from his desk. "Sure is."
"No fucking way they paired Murder Morty up with Sweater-vest Rick." Principal Rick and Teacher Rick shared a laugh, like this was some kind of in-joke. "Oh man, D-913. Your new Rick is certainly gonna have fun with you."
The Morty paled, horror flashing across his expression. His stomach twisted with anxiety, and he had to swallow down bile that threatened to rise into his throat. He had a terrible hunch that the Ricks at the Citadel had used his pairing as punishment.
Due to the nature of the accident, Morty D-913 couldn’t be held accountable for the death of his Rick. But that didn’t mean he was viewed as innocent. He’d been dubbed Murder Morty, for God’s sake! Of course the Citadel Ricks had gone out of their way to pair him with an especially horrid Rick!
Morty D-913 could feel his bottom lip trembling, tears stinging in his eyes as he stood before his superiors. He balled his hands up into fists. No crying. Crying only ever made Ricks angrier.
"Welp, good luck with your new Rick, Murder Morty. You'll probably need it." Principal Rick finally stopped laughing. His tone turned apathetic, like D-913 was a toy he'd grown tired of. "Follow the red arrows in the hallway, and it'll lead you to the Morty pickup area, where your new Rick will be waiting for you."
On shaky steps, Morty walked out into the hallway. Sure enough, the screens on the walls that usually displayed messages like "Every Morty needs a Rick" and "Obedience is key" now featured red arrows pointing in the direction of D-913's doom.
Walking felt mechanical. One foot in front of the other. Like Morty wasn’t even the one moving himself. His vision was starting to tunnel. Nervously, the Morty glanced behind him at the room with the Ricks, but they weren’t even watching as he walked away, now engaged in some kind of casual conversation with each other.
D-913 fixed his gaze back in front of him. The red light from the arrows on the walls were becoming disorienting. He staggered forward a little more, anxiety mounting. Maybe, if he was quick enough, maybe he could slip away! Maybe he could make a run for it—try to dash past his assigned Rick and wait for the Citadel security to take him out with a flurry of gunfire. That seemed like a good option, right? Better than voluntarily handing himself over to a new Rick!
Finally, he reached the room with a sign that said Morty Pickup Area. The security guard posted outside of it, an especially muscular Morty, eyed him suspiciously, and gestured for him to enter.
Morty peeked inside the door and saw a few pairs of Ricks and Mortys introducing themselves. It looked like Popular Morty and Sunglasses Rick were laughing about something together. Of course they assigned Popular Morty a cool Rick.
Then, in the corner, D-913 spotted him: a standard looking Rick, his only defining feature being the blue sweater-vest he wore under his lab coat. He tapped his foot impatiently and checked his ridiculous sci-fi watch. The Rick met his eyes, and Morty ducked his head back into the hallway.
"You goin' in?" Security Morty asked, hand hovering near the gun on his hip.
“Aw, jeez…” D-913 whimpered, frozen in place. He felt like a deer in headlights. His Rick already looked angry. Morty let out a shuddery little breath, hands coming down to nervously grip the hem of his shirt. He squeezed the fabric in his hands, trying to control his breathing. What did the other Ricks mean when they said this Rick was going to have fun with him?
The Morty stood there for a moment, trembling like a lost dog, eyes wide and full of terror. And then the Morty found himself falling down to his knees, desperately grasping at the jeans of the Security Morty. “Please, I-I can’t go with that Rick! He’s gonna hurt me! Y-y-you’ve gotta let me go back! Y-You can’t let me go with that Rick, please!!”
Immediately, D-913 had the barrel of a gun in his face. He should have probably predicted that. D-913 quickly let go of the other Morty, trembling even harder now.
Maybe it would’ve been smarter to just go with the Rick.
"L-listen, man," Security Morty said, not meeting D-913's eyes. "This isn't like, a killing gun. They don't give those to Mortys at my level. If I have to pull this trigger, it's just gonna knock you out, and create a big hassle for everyone." He rested the gun back at his side. "Please, for everyone's sake, just go in the room."
D-913 held a blank expression for a moment before he let out a sad laugh, shoulders slumping down. Right. There were no winners in this system. The most a Morty could ever hope to be was an effective pawn, like Security Morty. And even then, there was no happiness to be found.
There was no point in fighting or trying to make a scene. Like Security Morty said, it would just create a hassle for everyone.
D-913 slowly stood back up, taking a deep breath as he tried to prepare himself to meet his new Rick. When he started walking, his legs felt like jello. The Morty thought he might collapse at any moment. He kept his gaze low as he slowly approached the Rick. His last Rick never tolerated a Morty trying to make direct eye-contact.
D-913 was only about halfway across the room when his heart began to pound even harder, adrenaline shooting through every vein in his body. He wanted to stop. He wanted to go back. But he was in too deep. If he were to freeze up now, his new Rick would surely make him regret it.
So he forced his way through. D-913 shuffled up to sweater-vest Rick, visibly shaken. The Morty cleared his throat before speaking. That didn’t stop his voice from cracking. “Uh, h-hello! I’m y-your new…” D-913 felt dizzy, like he might lose consciousness. The words tasted like poison in his mouth. “I’m your n-new Morty…”
"Heyyy, little buddy!" His new Rick practically chirped. The impatient frown on his face softened into an inviting smile. "I was starting to worry you weren't coming!" He extended a hand. "I'm Rick H-11."
The Morty gasped when Rick reached out, instinctively stepping back as he reached up to cover his face. He braced for… something. For the Rick to grab him or smack him or bark some kind of command, but instead there was just… silence.
D-913’s eyes peeked out from behind the arm he’d brought up when he flinched. He timidly glanced up at the Rick, meeting his eyes for a moment before quickly darting his gaze elsewhere. Slowly, the Morty settled back into a normal stance, his face red as he realized how dumb he must look to his new Rick. A pathetic, weak, scaredy-cat.
“Um, y-yeah. Right. It’s nice to meet you…?” D-913’s voice was shaky, even more so than usual as he reached out to shake the Rick’s hand, bracing himself for some kind of hidden shock device—Ricks loved their cruel pranks.
Only, there was nothing of the sort. It was just a normal handshake, adequately firm and kinda wrinkly.
"They call me Sweater-vest Rick on the Citadel," The new Rick said, slipping off his lab coat to show off the lack of sleeves. It made this Rick look especially grandfatherly. "I guess sweater-vests aren't as much of a fashion staple in other dimensions."
For some reason, the lack of direct animosity only made the Morty more on-edge. He found himself tensing up, anxiously eyeing the Rick as he tried to figure out what the man’s angle was. Was he going out of his way to appear harmless? Morty knew this Rick was dangerous! All Ricks were dangerous! Why was this one acting so… kind?
“Oh, uh… M-Makes sense,” Morty nodded simply in response to Sweater-vest Rick’s explanation. He didn’t want to say anything but what was necessary to get by. He needed to feel out the situation, first. He needed to figure out what the deal with this Rick was. Something wasn’t right.
"What about you? Any identifying features?" Rick's gaze washed over him analytically. Morty shrank even further beneath it. "Moles? Tattoos? Cybernetic limbs?"
“Um, n-no…” Morty could feel his skin crawl as the Rick’s eyes scanned his body. He felt naked under the man’s gaze. It was terrifying. He began to break out in goosebumps. Had the Rick already been briefed on his history? Was this some kind of test? “There’s nothing special about me. I’m j-just Morty D-913…”
Maybe if he said it enough, it would be true.
"He killed his Rick!" Bully Morty piped up from beside his own uniformed Rick. "That's Murder Morty!" He pointed an accusatory finger at D-913.
Suddenly, all eyes were on him. There had to have been at least five pairs of Ricks and Mortys staring him down, their expressions ranging from shocked to furious.
D-913 wore a horrified expression as his gaze traveled the room, taking in the judgmental stares of his peers. He could feel his face flushing, shameful tears welling up in his eyes.
Quickly, he whipped back around to face Sweater-vest Rick, desperate to defend himself. He was on the verge of tears now, keeping his gaze low in the hopes his Rick wouldn’t notice him crying.
“I-I-I’m-I’m not M-Murder Morty…” D-913’s voice was almost a whimper. He was trying to stay quiet, not wanting the other Ricks and Mortys to hear him. “I-I didn’t kill my Rick, r-really, I didn’t!”
"I know, Morty. I was briefed on your, uh, situation." Sweater-vest Rick stepped in front of Morty, using his body to shield him from the other Rick's view. "Don't worry, I can handle you," he said, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. "I'm not gonna be scared of a Morty, not even one that’s a murderer."
Morty tensed up when Rick got closer to him, but relaxed a bit upon seeing that the man was hiding him from the crowd. “I didn’t kill him…” he repeated, sounding a little less sure of himself despite his insistent words. Morty knew it wasn’t good behavior to ask a Rick for something, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t stand the eyes on him—the whispers around them. “C-Can we get out of here? Please? T-They really, uh, don’t like me here…”
"Don't have to ask me twice." Sweater-vest Rick rested his hand on the small of Morty's back and led him towards the door. "I'm not especially popular in the Citadel, either."
Morty followed Sweater-vest Rick into his ship, eager to escape the shame that he felt under the gaze of all those Ricks and their new Mortys. He sat down in the passenger seat of the ship, still tense and nervous, trying to anticipate the next imminent danger. He didn’t exactly feel great about being alone with this new Rick, but it wasn’t like he had any other options.
“So, um… Wh-What did you do to make the guys at the Citadel… N…Not like you…?” Morty stammered out, trying to choose his words carefully. Ricks could get very upset over semantics. “Did you, uh, m-mess with the government or something?”
"Most Ricks are just… judgemental assholes." Rick narrowed his eyes at the Citadel as they soared above it. "I'm sure you—uurp—know that from experience." He cracked a smile at Morty and nudged him with his elbow.
Morty jumped as Rick bumped him, not used to the casual physical touch. “Ah-! Uh— Y-Yeah… I haven’t exactly, um, met a whole bunch of nice Ricks. A-A-Actually, I don’t think I’ve… ever met a nice Rick…”
"Well, now you've met me." Sweater-vest Rick winked at Morty, like they were in on something together. "Wanna go on a little adventure? Classic Rick and Morty style?"
“Um…” Morty felt his stomach twist up with fear. An adventure sounded like an invitation for trouble. An invitation for Morty to make some kind of terrible mistake. An invitation for his new Rick to harm him in retaliation. “Aw, jeez, uh, I-I don’t know, Rick… It’s uh, kinda been a long day… Maybe we can just go home?”
"Aww, Morty, come on! We can do like, a good people type of adventure." Rick tapped a rhythm into his steering wheel. "Let's go slay a beast and save an alien village. Mortys love that kinda shit."
Morty immediately felt pressured by Rick’s insistence. After all, wasn’t this the whole reason they’d been paired together? It was a Morty’s job to accompany his Rick on whatever stupid adventures the scientist wanted to go on.
“Uh, y-yeah, I-I mean, if you really want to, yeah. We can do whatever!” Morty tried to offer up a weak smile. This was what he was trained to do—to be a good Morty. He could be a good Morty! He wasn’t defective!
"That's my new grandson!" Rick cheered, steering his ship in a space-donut. "Let's go—uurrp—save some space loser's lives!" He kicked up the speed in the ship, and blasted off towards their mission.
Morty tried to stay optimistic. He tried to feel something other than overwhelming dread and fear. He really was trying to put his best foot forward with this new Rick! But how could he do that when he was still so affected by what had happened?
Morty grit his teeth as the ship hit turbulence, zooming down into the murky atmosphere of an alien planet. The clouds were dark, blotting out most of the sunlight. It was overcast as far as the eye could see. Morty couldn’t help his curiosity as he sat up a little taller in his seat, bringing his face closer to the window. He looked down at the streets of the civilization they were flying above, mesmerized by the sight of homes and businesses lined up side-by-side, roads woven together to form a small community.
“W-Wow, Rick. This-This is like some kind of Amish… M-Mormon… Quaker village or something! Look at them down there!” Morty exclaimed as he watched the townspeople move about the city square.
"Space-Mennonite, actually," Rick corrected, landing onto a field. As he did, a gaggle of children ran over to gawk at the ship. "Super wholesome, family values aliens. Reallyyy makes you wanna protect them, right?"
Morty stared out the window of the ship, amazed. Fuck, he hated how cool adventuring with a Rick always was! He didn’t want to admit that he’d missed going on adventures for obvious reasons, but now that he was sitting in a Rick’s ship on an alien planet, he could feel the excitement starting to swell inside him. Morty waved at one of the alien children that was staring at the ship.
“S-So, uh, Rick. W-What do these guys need from us? W-We’re here to help them, right?” Morty asked, trying to get another peek back at the city. Maybe there was something big Morty had missed—some obvious sign of an epic quest in need of two adventurers.
"Give it a couple minutes, you'll see what the problem is." Rick got out of the car and he was immediately surrounded by the children. He ruffled the hair of one little alien girl, which made her giggle.
The cute moment was rudely interrupted by a piercingly loud roar, so intense it seemed to shake the village. A chorus of screams rang out, the children scattering to find shelter. The world darkened for a moment as something flew overhead.
It was massive and winged, resembling a dragon in shape, but with the gnashing teeth and grey fur of a rodent. Its beady eyes scanned the village below it. With another roar, it locked in on its target, a blue-skinned lady in a modest dress a few yards away. She barely had time to scream before its teeth closed in on her.
"This thing eats two villagers a day to sustain itself." Rick took a sip from his flask as he watched it gnaw on the woman's body in mid-air. "That's why the Space-Mennonites have so many kids, so they don't run out of villagers to feed it."
Morty had tentatively followed Rick out of the ship to accompany him, but almost as soon as he did the beast was soaring overhead, causing Morty to squeal in terror, ducking down beside the ship for cover. “O-O-Oh shit!!” Morty cried, cowering as he watched the beast snatch up its victim. “R-Rick! What the hell!! What is that thing?!”
"Its a beast." Rick reached into the pocket dimension in his pocket and pulled out a large, glowing blue sword. "And you're gonna slay it." He handed the sword to Morty, and it was about the same size as him—even for a Morty, D-913 was especially scrawny.
“What?!” Morty squealed, eyes going wide as he grasped onto the handle of the sword with both hands, struggling to not drop it. His muscles had to strain to hold it up, shaking with effort. “Me?? N-No, no, no way!!” he was immediately shaking his head, “That’s-That’s not a good idea, Rick! I-I-I don’t know anything about slaying beasts!!”
"Don't worry Morty, Grandpa Rick'll be here the whooooole time." Rick pushed a button on the side of the sword, and it suddenly got way lighter. When Morty tried swinging it, the motion was easier than expected, like there was some kind of automatic motion stabilizer on it. "This is like a level 1 beast. Literally all you've gotta do is stab it a few times and be the village's hero forever. Like one of those video game things you like."
For some reason, Morty’s stomach twisted with discomfort upon hearing this Rick refer to himself as “Grandpa Rick.” Something about it just felt… wrong. This Rick wasn’t D-913’s Grandpa.
“A-Aw, jeez, Rick, I-I-I don’t know…” Morty whimpered, staring down at the sword in his hands. “What if I mess it up? I-I’m just a Morty, y-you really shouldn’t—you shouldn’t trust me with something like this!” He tried to hand the sword back to Rick.
"What do you mean you're just a Morty?" Rick laughed, not letting Morty give him the sword. Rick kneeled down in front of Morty so he could better meet his eyes. "Being a Morty means that you're the second-coolest person in the multiverse." He gave Morty a smile that, despite everything, made that statement feel genuine.
Morty stared at Rick in disbelief, eyes scanning the man’s expression for some hint of sarcasm or cruelty. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why would a Rick say something like that to a Morty?
“I… A-Are you…?” Morty stammered, feeling like he’d been knocked off balance. “A-Are you messing with me? Is-Is this some kind of bit or something?” he asked timidly, shrinking away from the Rick.
"Stop overthinking it, Morty. It’s just a compliment. I'm trying to get your self esteem up and shit." Rick rolled his eyes.
Oh. Right. That made sense.
Morty had kind of forgotten that Ricks like this could exist—Ricks that made an effort to endear themselves to their Mortys. These kinds of Ricks were few and far between. Usually Ricks found that instilling fear and obedience was the best way to control a Morty. It was easier, too. Kindness didn’t ever seem to come naturally to Ricks.
But why would the Citadel Ricks give Murder Morty a kind Rick?
Rick stood back up. The shadow of the beast covered them for a moment as it circled overhead. "It's about to land. Just get in there and follow your instincts. I'll play defense and make sure nothing bad happens to you, okay? We're gonna work as a team."
Morty let out a sigh, gripping the handle of the sword with more intention, now. “Alright… H-Here I go!”
The beast swooped down, the ground shaking and splintering beneath it when it finally touched down. On instinct, Morty’s body began to clam up, fear seizing his little body as he stared up at the creature.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Morty whimpered under his breath as he lifted the sword in a battle stance, glancing back at Rick for support. “W-W-What do I do?” he called out to the man, desperate for guidance as the beast turned to face him, its teeth bared. His original Rick never would have given him this much responsibility, and the poor Morty didn’t know what to do with himself.
"Hey rat-face!" Rick shouted at the beast, shooting it with one of his smaller guns. It was just enough to catch its attention. The hulking creature turned to face Rick and let out a blood-curdling roar as it barreled towards him.
Rick ran as it pursued him, still shooting at it. One of his bullets hit it in the eye and it recoiled, howling in pain.
"Quick, Morty!" Rick shouted. "While I've got it distracted!"
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—Shit!!” Morty warbled, his whole body alight with nervous energy as he charged at the beast, sword drawn. He let out a loud battle cry, his voice high-pitched and shaky as he screamed, plunging the sword into the side of the beast. In one fell swoop, the beast turned in the direction of the blow, knocking Morty down to his feet. His sword was still buried in the beast’s side, now too far for him to reach as the beast’s gaze bore into him, ready to strike.
"Morty!" Rick yanked the sword from the beast's flesh, sending a river of thick, green blood pouring out of the wound. "Catch!" He tossed the sword in Morty's direction.
Morty braced to be cut in two by the sword, or to feel the jaws of the creature consume him. Neither happened. The sword instead course-corrected in mid-air, aiming its handle at Morty's hands like a heat-seeking missile. It landed right as the beast was ready to strike.
Morty wasn’t even sure his actions were his own. Before he knew what was happening, his hands were on the handle of the sword and the blade was pointed up at the beast. It surged at Morty, mouth agape as it went in for the kill. Morty felt a sob tumble from his lips as he kept the sword steady, and then—
The sword made a sickening pop as it tore through the roof of the beast’s mouth, the blade wedging its way into the creature’s skull. Hot green blood gushed from the wound, sending Morty tumbling back onto the ground, his entire front coated with blood.
“Fuck!! Jesus—! Rick!!” Morty cried in terror as he scrambled back and away from the beast, which drew one last labored breath before its body stilled.
"Fuck yeah, Morty!" Rick ran over to Morty, beaming with pride. "You totally slayed that beast! Fuckin' riggity wrecked its ass!"
“Jesus, oh-oh my God, Rick!” Morty stammered, stifling a gag as he pulled at the blood-stained front of his shirt, feeling the way the fabric stuck to his skin. “I-I killed that thing! Oh my God!”
Townspeople were beginning to regroup after the commotion. Amazed chatter echoing through the alleys of the village. People peeked through their curtains before finally venturing out onto their porches.
"You hear that, village people?" Rick shouted to the aliens. "My grandson Morty slayed the beast!" He grabbed Morty's wrist, lifting the hand holding the blood-soaked sword into the air. "Everyone cheer for not sacrificing your children anymore!"
The townspeople erupted with applause, cheering and shouting. A chant of Morty’s name started through the crowd, making Morty flush. “A-Aw, jeez… Uh, th-thanks, everyone…” he waved timidly, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Morty wasn’t a very big fan of people staring at him. Usually, stares were accompanied with whispers and horrid rumors.
An older alien with a white beard emerged from the cheering crowd, adorned in long white robes. The townspeople bowed as he walked past them.
"As Mayor of this quaint village, I wish to formally thank you for your service, young hero." Just as the crowd had bowed for him, the Mayor bowed at Morty's feet. "That beast has terrorized this village for generations, eating our tastiest friends and family. You have done us all a great service." The Mayor stood back up and addressed the crowd. "I hereby designate this day as Morty Day! Let the celebrations begin!"
“Aw, jeez, uh… That-That’s really not necessary…” Morty nervously took a step backwards, closer to Rick and away from the dancing, cheering villagers. “I-I was just, uh, y’know. Just doing what I do!”
Rick leaned down and whispered in Morty's ear. "Wanna get outta here?"
It was like Rick had read his mind. Morty nodded quickly, a smile still plastered on his face as he stared out at the crowd of aliens that continued cheering for him. “W-Well, uh, it-it was an honor to, uh, slay your beast-thing!” Morty waved again to the crowd, feeling horribly awkward. “Uh, thanks for the-the holiday, I guess?”
"You should all, probably, uh, have less kids now, by the way!" Rick shouted as he led Morty back towards the ship. "Have a blessed Morty Day!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of candy. He tossed it to a group of nearby children chanting Morty's name. He kept just one saltwater taffy, which he slipped into Morty's hand.
Morty climbed into the ship, his legs wobbly beneath him. His body was still flooded with adrenaline from the fight. His heart pounded in his chest as he buckled his seatbelt.
“Gosh, Rick, that-that was…” Morty stammered, hands clammy as they clasped around the candy. The ship began to lift off the ground, and Morty finally managed to pry his eyes away from the cheering crowd. “That was r-really insane… I-I haven’t—I haven’t been on an adventure with a Rick in-in… a while…”
"Y-you pulled through out there, Morty. That whole stabbing in the mouth thing looked really badass, from where I was standing." Rick praised as the planet got smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. "It got you fuckin' dreeeenched in beast blood though."
Morty’s eyes widened, his pupils shrinking as he realized what he’d done. In the midst of the chaos, Morty had forgotten that he was absolutely covered in the thick, green fluid. He hadn’t even asked for a change of clothes before getting into the ship! Rick was gonna kill him!!
“Oh-Oh, God! I-I-I’m sorry, Rick!!” Morty yelped, immediately worming around as he pulled off his yellow t-shirt, trying to stop the spread of anymore bloodstains. “I’m-I’m really sorry, I-I didn’t mean to track it into the ship!! I can clean it, I-I promise!!! Y-Y-You won’t even know I messed it up!! I’ll fix it!”
"Woah, Morty, chill out." Rick's eyes fell on Morty, shirtless and cowering. They lingered for a moment before he continued speaking. "You think I would build a ship that wasn't self-cleaning?" As he said that, a red lazer slid across the car. It passed over Rick and Morty just fine, only zapping away all of the mess. The mess, unfortunately, included Morty's bloodied shirt, which vanished right out of his hand.
“I-I-I-!” Morty stammered, desperately searching for the words to defend himself before his brain registered Rick’s words. He watched in dumbfounded silence as the laser swept the car, instantly solving the problem.
Morty sat there, his head spinning as he tried to understand his situation. He’d made a mess in Rick’s car and somehow it didn’t lead to a fight. It didn’t lead to a screaming match, or Rick throwing his flask at Morty—Hell, Rick hadn’t even raised his voice!
Morty didn’t know what was happening to him. Even though the crisis had been averted, the panic stayed. Morty could feel his breath shortening, his inhales becoming jagged. His eyes burned as they welled up with tears. Fuck. Fuck. He didn’t want to start crying! Not now! There wasn’t even any good reason to be upset!
"Morty?" Rick tilted his head at him, raising one side of his unibrow. "Everything alright over there, bud?" He flicked on autopilot to give Morty his full attention.
When Rick turned to face him, on instinct Morty went to guard his face, scared of retaliation. “Yes!! E-Everything’s fine! I’m-I’m fine, d-don’t worry about me!” he quickly answered, not wanting any more attention on him. He wiped the tears away from his face in the hopes that he could try to appear normal, but fresh droplets were rolling down his cheeks within seconds. “I’m fine,” Morty said again, turning away from Rick so the man wouldn’t see his face, all blotchy and red, wet with tears.
"Listen, Morty, if this is gonna work, you're gonna need to be honest with me." Rick placed his hand on Morty's knee and leaned in even closer. There was nowhere Morty could hide from him. "A Morty that keeps secrets is a liability. If something is wrong, I need to know."
Morty’s breath caught in his throat. The touch was unexpectedly… soft. Morty wasn’t used to a Rick acting this kind. His bottom lip trembled as he timidly turned to look up at Rick—as much as he could look at Rick without making direct eye-contact. That was still far too big of a step to take, even if this Rick had been nice so far.
“I’m sorry… I-I’m sorry, Rick…” Morty sniffled, wiping his face again. “I’m just… I-I’ve never had a Rick that’s not… Y’know… M-My Rick… And you’re…” Morty trailed off, his gaze lingering on the hand on his knee. “Y-You’re—uh… A lot different, I-I guess…”
"I guess it's a good thing I'm your Rick now." Rick reached into his pocket dimension. "I've got just the thing to make it official." After a moment of rummaging, he produced a Morty-sized yellow sweater-vest. "This is for you, Sweater-vest Morty."
Morty blinked a few times, eyes wide. “W-What…? Really? F-For me?” he stammered, reaching out to take the sweater. He stared at it for a moment, amazed.
It was just a sweater. That’s all it was. But to Morty, somehow it felt like so much more.
His original Rick had never given him anything, let alone something that held such a symbolic value. The meaning wasn’t lost on Morty at all. It was a little terrifying, actually. Accepting the sweater made it all feel so… real. Like this truly was Morty’s new Rick.
Morty pulled the sweater on over his head, wiggling his arms through the sleeve holes. “Wow… I-I don’t… I don’t know what to say…” Morty’s voice was quiet as he looked down at his new sweater. Timidly, he smoothed the fabric. “Th-Thank you, Rick…”
"You've got it, Morty." Rick grabbed his portal gun from his jacket and made them a doorway home. "Ready to meet your new family?"
“A-Aw, jeez… Uh… I-I guess so…” Morty gulped, trying not to seize up in terror. He stared into the swirling green mass, trying to imagine what would await him on the other side. He tried to imagine what it would be like to go back to his house—a version of his house. One with a version of his family ready and waiting to meet him. “I-I-I’m kinda nervous… It’s, uh… Been a long time since… since I l-last saw them all…”
"Well I'm sure they'll be happy to see you." Rick set his foot on the gas. "Especially since, you know, they don't know you're not—uuuurp—their original Morty."
“Wait, w-what?!” Morty sat up straight, horrified. But before he could get any more clarification, they were vanishing into the portal, off to meet Morty’s new family.