Chapter 144 - Fixing the mess.

Okay, I'm trying to focus more on Morty world before heading to another multiverse adventure.

Note, I won't be doing all of the Rick and Morty episodes, so yeah. 

Please leave a comment so I know someone is reading the fic. 

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The council chamber buzzed with murmurs as the leading Rick, seated at the center of the high tribunal, leaned forward. His voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. 

"Twenty-seven Ricks brutally murdered in their own timelines," he announced, his tone grim. 

"An unprecedented Rick-icidal epidemic. What say you, Earth Rick C-137?" 

Rick C-137, seated in cuffs at the center of the room, rolled his eyes.

"You think I did this? Why am I the first Rick you pull in every time a Rick stubs his toe?" 

The leading Rick sneered, pointing a finger.

"You have a history of non-cooperation with the Council." 

Rick shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

"Yeah, so does the scientist formerly known as Rick! Wh-wh-wh-why isn't he here in handcuffs?" 

The room fell silent for a moment before the leading Rick replied coldly,

"Because he's dead too." 

Gasps echoed across the chamber. 

"Who else would you have us question?" the leader continued. 

"You fit the profile! Of all the Ricks in the Central Finite Curve, you're the malcontent. The rogue." 

Rick leaned forward, his voice low but cutting.

"I'm the Rick! And so were the rest of you before you formed this stupid alliance. You wanted to be safe from the government, so you became a stupid government. That makes every Rick here less Rick than me." 

The room erupted into murmurs. Some Ricks nodded in reluctant agreement, while others shook their heads in disapproval. 

Rick waved them off, standing as much as his restraints would allow.

"Yeah, murmur it up, d-bags. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got pancakes back home with syrup on top of them. They're about to hit that critical point of syrup absorption that turns the cakes into a gross paste. And I think we all like fluffy discs of cake with syrup on top! And I think we also like to be accused of crimes when there's evidence!" He smirked.

"So, as they say in Canada, peace oot!" 

The leading Rick's eyes narrowed.

"Evidence? Good idea. Scan his Portal Gun!" 

A subordinate Rick approached C-137, reaching into his lab coat and retrieving his portal gun. 

Rick glared. 

"Oh, come on. Don't look at another man's Portal Gun history. We-we all go to weird places." 

The leader ignored him, pressing a few buttons. A large screen materialized, displaying the portal gun's travel logs. Green lights flashed over the majority of the entries, but a handful of locations glowed red. 

The leader smirked, gesturing to the damning evidence.

"It appears you alone have been going to the exact timelines and locations in which the murders occurred." 

Rick's jaw tightened.

"What? That's Rick-diculous. I'm obviously being set up!" 

The leader's voice boomed. 

"Earth Rick C-137! The Council of Ricks sentences you to The Machine of Unspeakable Doom, which swaps your conscious and unconscious minds, rendering your fantasies pointless while everything you know becomes impossible to grasp! Also, every ten seconds it stabs your balls." 

The Ricks in the room roared with approval, while Morty, standing at the back, remained silent. He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the farce unfold. His sharp features and confident stance made him stand out, even in the sea of identical Mortys. 

Whispers began to ripple through the crowd. 

"Who's that Morty?" one murmured. 

"Doesn't look like any Morty I've seen," another muttered. 

"Is he… tall?" a third whispered, squinting. 

"And ripped?" 

Morty ignored the comments, his attention fixed on the council's theatrics. The moment the Machine of Unspeakable Doom was mentioned, he let out a quiet sigh. Finally, he stepped forward, his voice cutting through the commotion. 

"All right. That's enough." 

The room fell silent, every head turning to look at him. 

The leading Rick frowned, his expression darkening. 

"Excuse me? Did… did a Morty just say something?" 

Morty smirked, his voice calm and steady. 

"Yeah, I said I've had enough of this bullshit." 

He walked further into the center of the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence. With a flick of his wrist, the restraints on his arms fell to the ground with a metallic clatter. 

Gasps erupted from the crowd. 

"How did he do that?" one Rick whispered harshly. 

"Those restraints are impossible to remove without the override key!" another hissed. 

Morty shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. 

"You guys really think you're so advanced, huh? All your tech, your smug little government, your Machine of Unspeakable Doom…" He paused, chuckling softly. 

"It's cute, really." 

The leader's face twisted in anger, but he didn't interrupt. 

Morty's voice dropped, colder now. 

"Are we gonna keep wasting time playing your stupid games, or are you gonna let us walk out of here before I show you what I can do?" 

The tension in the room was palpable. The Council of Ricks exchanged uncertain glances, their confidence shaken. 

Rick C-137, still seated, let out a low whistle.

"Heh. That's my boy." 

Morty's gaze swept across the room, locking eyes with every Rick who dared meet his stare. This wasn't a Morty they'd seen before. 

And none of them would ever forget him. 

The lead Rick leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at Morty. 

"We can't just let you and your Rick walk out of here until we punish the one responsible for this. Twenty-seven Ricks are dead. Someone has to answer for it." 

Morty let out an exaggerated sigh, dragging his hand down his face. 

"Oh my God, you guys really are hopeless." Without another word, he snatched Rick C-137's portal gun from the table, ignoring the indignant protests of the council members. 

"Hey! What the hell are you doing with that?" the lead Rick demanded, his tone sharp. 

Morty ignored him, flipping the portal gun over in his hands and fiddling with its inner components. He pulled a few wires loose, then reached into his coat and produced a sleek, silver capsule. As the council watched in stunned silence, Morty's nanites swarmed out of the capsule, rapidly forming a compact, multi-layered device in his hands. 

Rick C-137 leaned back in his chair, smirking.

"Heh. Get a load of this, huh?" 

Morty stood up straight and tossed the finished device onto the council's central console. 

"There," he said casually. 

"That'll lead you straight to whoever's actually responsible for all this Rick-icide crap." 

The lead Rick picked up the device, examining it with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. 

"And why the hell should we trust you, Morty?" 

Morty shrugged, his expression nonchalant. 

"You don't have to. I mean, it's not like I need you to trust me. But hey, you've got twenty-seven dead Ricks, no leads, and a room full of egos too big to think straight. So, you can either use that thing and actually solve your problem, or you can keep playing dress-up in your little Rick government while the real killer gets away. Your call." 

The council murmured amongst themselves, unsure how to respond. 

Rick C-137 leaned forward in his chair, chuckling. 

"Oh, you gotta love it when the kid shows up and makes y'all look like chumps." 

The lead Rick's eyes flicked back to Morty. 

"And what makes you so sure this'll work?" 

Morty raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Because I built it, genius. Look, I don't have time to explain the meta-algorithmic quantum indexing or the nano-layered subdimensional tracking matrix I used to program that thing. Just know it'll do what you clearly can't and find your guy. Or don't. I don't care." 

The council remained silent, their doubt evident. 

Morty sighed again, shaking his head. 

"Alright, fine. Play skeptic. When it works—and it will work—you know where to find us." He tossed the portal gun back to Rick C-137 and turned to leave, motioning for his grandfather to follow. 

Rick C-137 stood up, smirking as he slung the portal gun over his shoulder. 

"You heard the kid. We're outta here." 

As the two walked toward the exit, Rick glanced down at Morty, his grin widening. 

"Not bad, kid. Not bad at all." 

Morty shot him a cocky grin in return.

"Yeah, well, someone had to handle it. You're welcome." 

Behind them, the council remained frozen in a mix of confusion and begrudging respect. 

Rick C-137 chuckled under his breath. 

"Heh. Proud of ya, Morty. Proud of ya." 

As they stepped through the glowing green portal into their home, Morty was already mentally shrugging off the events of the day. Evil Morty, the Council of Ricks, and the chaotic mess of the Citadel felt like distant echoes. 

'Evil Morty can have his schemes,' Morty thought to himself. 

'I'm not wasting my time on his multiversal drama unless it gets in my way.' 

The warm familiarity of home greeted them—the faint smell of leftover breakfast still hung in the air. Morty could hear Beth and Summer in the living room, their voices carrying a mix of frustration and concern. 

"There you are!" Beth exclaimed the moment she spotted them. She set down her coffee and crossed her arms. 

"Alright, what the hell happened? Where did those other Ricks take you?" 

Rick smirked, striding casually toward the kitchen. 

"Relax, sweetheart. It was just a routine council meeting. They had their panties in a twist about something or other. Nothing to lose sleep over." 

Beth frowned, clearly unconvinced. 

"Rick, I watched three armed versions of you come into my house, accuse you of something, and drag you away. You don't get to brush this off as nothing!" 

Summer chimed in, her arms crossed. 

"Yeah, seriously, grandpa. Those guys looked like they were ready to execute you on the spot! What the hell did you do this time?" 

Morty, already heading for the couch, flopped down and grabbed the remote. 

"Jeez, calm down, guys. Everything's fine. We handled it." 

Beth turned to Morty, her worry now focused on him. 

"Handled it? Morty, where did they take you? What was all that about?" 

Morty waved her off, trying to sound casual. "It was just some multiversal council thing. They thought Rick did something, but it turns out he didn't. No big deal." 

"No big deal?" Beth raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied.

"Morty, you're my son. I have a right to know where my dad is dragging you off to, especially when other versions of him show up armed to the teeth!" 

Rick, now rummaging in the fridge, called out.

"Aw, come on, Beth. You act like this is the first time I've had a run-in with those jackasses. They're like a glorified homeowner's association with delusions of grandeur." 

Summer's eyes narrowed. 

"Wait. Multiversal council of Rick? That's a real thing?" 

Rick rolled his eyes, pulling out a bottle of something vaguely alcoholic.

"Unfortunately. A bunch of bureaucratic losers who decided to turn being a Rick into a government job. They dragged us in, pointed fingers, realized they were wrong, and we walked out. End of story." Beth still wasn't buying it. 

"And what exactly were they accusing you of?" 

Morty leaned back on the couch, smirking.

"They thought Rick was responsible for some murders. But, uh, we cleared that up." 

"Murders!?" Beth's voice rose. 

"What the hell are you two involved in?" 

Rick popped the cap off his bottle and took a swig. 

"Beth, you're overreacting. It's not like we went on a killing spree. Besides, Morty here was the MVP. Handled the council like a pro." 

Summer looked at Morty, surprised.

"Wait, Morty did? What did you do?" Morty shrugged nonchalantly. 

"Just gave them what they needed to find the real guy. They doubted me, but, y'know, I let my genius do the talking." Beth was taken aback then sighed.

"Sounds like you would do?" 

Rick chuckled, raising his bottle in a mock toast.

"That's my grandson for ya. Kid's finally stepping up. Proud of you, Morty." Beth and Summer exchanged uneasy glances.

"Okay," Beth finally said and soon they continued their breakfast where they last left off.