Chapter Text
Mortimer had finally made it to the point he'd been waiting for. After years of watching C-137 Rick and his Morty, Morty was finally starting to slip. It was when they had gone to some random planet that had been having its purge when Morty seemed to finally realize his true potential, and had let the rage overtake him. Mortimer had watched gleefully as Morty had mauled and maimed one person after another, only stopping when Rick had incapacitated him. Mortimer waited impatiently as they had gotten home and gone to bed, only acting once they had all fallen asleep. Opening a portal and stepping through, he emerged to Morty sleeping, fitfully tossing and turning. It was not unusual for Morty’s to have nightmares, but it was uncommon for them to have as many as this Morty had on a regular basis, another sign that he was ready for what Mortimer had planned.
Mortimer knew that he had to approach this situation gently. if he made even one wrong move he'd have to start all over, maybe even having to dispose of this Morty and wait for C-137 to find and bond with another one. Not impossible, but definitely unpleasant. The situation was not helped by the fact that social skills were not his forte, but he was comforted by the fact that he had taken his time to research emotional connection (and manipulation) beforehand. The image of a smiling woman on TV rambling off, "If you can't make it at home, store bought is fine" popped into his mind, and he stifled a smirk. He examined the table by Morty’s bed, before giving it three rapid knocks with his knuckles. Morty woke with a start, looking around frantically before locking eyes with Mortimer. Morty stared dumbly at him, long enough for Mortimer to decide that he should speak first. "Morty Smith, there's something that I've been needing to discuss with you." Mortimer could tell he was coming off as distant, and internally berated himself. He would have to work on the friendliness aspect. Morty slid his legs over the bed until he was sitting on the edge of it, facing Mortimer. "O-okay, then? Is there a problem with the Ricks or something?" Mortimer almost rolled his eyes. Even if this Morty was ready, he was still too invested in Ricks wellbeing. Morty was shuffling his feet nervously, glancing down at them, then back up at Mortimer. "Many of the Morty’s have begun to talk of and plan a rebellion of sorts. We've all noticed that without fail, each of our Ricks seem to..." Mortimer paused, searching for his words, "Not care about their Morty’s. We have concluded that they only view us as shields," Morty visible winced, and Mortimer knew he had hit a sore spot, "And we have decided to do something about it." Mortimer was proud of how well he had delivered the lie, although he doubted Morty would have noticed he was lying either way. Morty studied Mortimer for several seconds. "You're that Morty who was with the Evil Rick, aren't you? The one who locked me in that room with all of the other Morty’s." Mortimer found it ironic that out of all of them Ricks, this Morty had decided that his own manufactured Rick was the most evil one. Although he did suppose that since that's how he himself perceived all Ricks, his attempt at one would come off as evil, even to a Morty. "I take work where I can get it. My intentions were not malevolent, and now that that Rick is dead, I have no ties with his ethics. How did you know it was me?" Morty scrutinized him for a few more seconds before seeming to find him satisfactory. "You don't really stutter at all, and your speech is... different. You know like, big words and better sentences and stuff." Morty titled his head thoughtfully. "Where's your eyepatch though?" Mortimer glanced off to the side, coming up with a quick lie while fiddling with a piece of paper on Morty’s desk. "It was a temporary injury, it had since healed itself." Mortimer was impressed with Morty’s observation skills, they were good enough to rival his own. Once they were together, they would be unstoppable. He found that although he and Morty had only been talking for maybe three minutes at most, he was already growing fond of this Morty. He had already grown a soft spot for him while monitoring him, but coming face to face was completely different. Mortimer stopped fiddling with the paper and faced Morty fully. "I'll let you decide your answer in your own time. If you want to talk, here is my number, Its accessible in any dimension." Mortimer smoothly pulled a small card he had tucked away earlier from his pocket and handed it to Morty. Morty stared at it blankly before looking back up. His hands were shaking, something that Mortimer had noticed was oddly persistent in this Morty’s tics, and for a brief second, he took pity on him. "You know, Rick is on to something with his alcohol and drug use. It really takes the edge off when you need it." Morty looked down at his hands, which he wrung together almost violently. "I'll-I'll consider it. For both things. Thanks, uh...." Morty searched Mortimer’s eyes. "Mortimer is fine."
"Thanks Mortimer. I'm, I guess I'm Morty." Mortimer pulled out his portal gun, shooting a portal and stepping through it stiffly, fighting the urge to stay and talk more. One step at a time. "I know."
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Rick was busy tinkering on his latest project, trying to forget the events of the day. Although it had technically been a successful mission (as in, no one died and they got wiper fluid), things had still gotten more out of hand than Rick had ever wanted them to. From his car getting stolen, being stranded on a purge planet, to watching his grandson murder innocent people without an ounce of regret, the entire ordeal had made him consider using his harder drugs right when he had gotten home. He had told Morty that it had been the chocolate bars they had eaten earlier, that they had a chemical that made people angry cold blooded killers. He had known that the bars they had eaten had been made without it, of course, but he still held onto the hope that if Morty believed that it was an outside force, then he would stop going down the path he seemed to be on. He was starting to remind Rick of his very first Morty, his original Morty. The anger, the talking back, it all was too much for Rick, bringing back bitter memories of C-137 Morty. He started to frantically rummage through his drawers, searching for something to take his mind off the memories that were piling up.
Morty had been about 10, which was still too young for adventures, but little Morty had insisted that he had been ready. He had been adventuring with Rick ever since the age of 7, quickly picking up on how to use guns, and the benefits of dealing illegal drugs, both things that Rick had tried to shield from him to no avail. This particular adventure wasn't supposed to be very exciting, just a quick harvest from a mostly uninhabited planet for some minerals and then straight back home. They had been blissfully mining when Rick realized they weren't the only aliens on planet anymore. Rick had tried to get Morty back to the ship, hoping for a peaceful transfer of territory, but Morty had other plans, attempting to convince Rick that they needed to rob the other ship and kill the crew members. Morty was like that, hot headed and never looking before he leaped. He had a certain bloodlust, a penchant for violence that coursed hotly through his veins, giving him an edge that no 10-year-old should have. On top of that he was wicked smart, using his cunning and manipulative tendencies to get Rick and himself out of multiple hair situations. In the end, Rick was persuaded into sneaking on board and looting them, but had prohibited Morty from killing them unless the crew members attacked first. Looking back on it, Rick had no idea why he had even gone along with it. It had probably been the sure and determined look in Morty’s eyes, the way he carried himself as if he knew what he was doing, knew what was best.
He was only a kid, though, no matter how much he tried to not be. In the end, they had been spotted, fleeing from the enraged crew members. Rick had made a portal and jumped through it, assuming that Morty was right behind him like usual. This time though, he hadn't been, and Rick had emerged on the other side safe and with a rising sense of panic. He had gone back almost immediately, only having grabbed one or two extra guns before going, ready to rescue Morty, but had found the ship gone. He had driven around for hours, screaming Morty’s name in his ship (as if he would hear him). Rick had finally found the ship, only to find each passenger brutally murdered, and no sign of Morty anywhere.
Ricks hands were shaking as he manically threw things off his desk, trying in vain to find an escape from the vivid memory. He heard someone clear their throat, and he looked up to see Morty standing in the corner of his workshop holding a familiar bag full of powdered crystals. "Looking for this?" Morty tossed the bag to Rick, and he tripped trying to catch it, falling hard onto his knees. "Jesus Morty, what are you doing with-"
"I'm not Morty." The Morty was cleaning his nails lazily, leaning back against the wall. Rick stared, slowly reaching for his gun before the Morty snorted. "I'm not real, idiot. It's all in your head." Rick was still for a moment, pondering the situation, before sitting cross legged on the floor. He started to play with the bag, moving the crystals under the plastic. "So, I'm finally losin’ it, huh?" The Morty picked up something from his crafting table and examined it. "It would appear so. Or maybe you've always been like this." Morty set the device back down and stepped over towards Rick. Rick noticed that there were wires hanging out of one of the Morty’s eyes. "Morty’s deserve better than to have you, anyway. An imaginary Morty should really be the only Morty keeping you company." The Morty walked past him, but Rick just kept looking at his bag, refusing to look at the imposter anymore. He half expected the Morty to hit him, but instead all he heard was a portal opening and then closing again, then he was alone. He looked down at the crystals in his hand somberly.