Yay! fist story in years~ Hope you enjoy! comment and like for more!

"You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else."

Albert Einstein

Iridescent

Rick Sanchez was desperate. He paced back and forth, circling around the metal confines of his warehouse. He paused for a moment, trying to remember when he had begun to refer to this crap-shoot as his. The warehouse was rather large, but size did not make up for quality. The walls were rusted and almost paper-thin from erosion. The cement floors were cracked and stained with whatever experimental or illicit substance Rick had carelessly allowed to spill. An unkempt cot with a flat pillow and a threadbare blanket sat near the back wall; like a deserted island in a sea of all the wanton equipment, alcohol containers, and unimportant junk, that Rick had decided wasn't worth his time. Or had simply lost interest in. The more important objects worth his muddled attention for the time being, were mostly hidden under blue, black, or white tarps to protect from the rain. Because the ceiling leaked. A lot. Countless containers littered the floor: cups, vases, bowls, Tupperware, the occasional garbage can, and empty fast-food cartons. They're intent to catch the freezing rain that poured in during the planets frequent storms. They didn't do a very good job. There were so many leaks, Rick had given up on trying to isolate the water flow. He could come up with some crazy invention to fix the roof, but that required effort. Time he didn't see worth dedicating.

Rick finally sat down in his swivel chair, he had apparently finished his pacing. The chair was rolled up to his work table, next to his old space heater. The only source of heat on this God-forsaken planet. Rick was in a bind. The Galactic Federation was tracking him, and he was unable to find a way to hide his brain waves. There were far and few places he could hide. This crappy planet, Birdperson's nest, Squanchy's bunker, and the fucking Counsel of Ricks. He was forced to go to the Counsel every few days for food. Get in, get out. Ignore their shit.

He was designated as Rick from the universe C-124. His time line was a few years behind the others. Around five years to be exact. He was perturbed by one thing that kept the other Rick's disguised. An itch in the back of his head, a morbid curiosity about Mortys. It made him hesitate, remember the past. He didn't want to remember, that's why he drank it all away. Well, at least tried to. The other Rick's began their runs with Morty's soon after they turned thirteen. Approximately twenty years after they left Earth to fight in an intergalactic resistance.

It took them all twenty years to cope enough to return to the people they had forsaken. He still had five years to wallow in the depths of his self-pity. He stood, his white lab coat twisting behind him. He was better than those counsel pricks. He could do what they did faster. He was stronger. He didn't need anybody but himself. Rick's eyes traveled back to the desk, a shining flask perched atop it, right next to his portal gun. He snatched it up and took a swig of hard liquor, his mind pleasantly fogging with each sip. He didn't need anyone.

The swirling green portal opened up in an upscale neighborhood. Rick casually stepped onto the custom sidewalk. Taking a swig from his bottle, he shifted his eyes across the expanse that was unfolding before him. Cookie cutter homes lined the streets, each as normal and equally boring as the last. Lawns were perfectly manicured, rose bushes, petunias, lilies, and bluebells decorated the small flowerbeds that rested under all the windows. Each mailbox proudly displaying the family names, each porch had a number printed on the right-hand wooden supports. A white-picket-fence neighborhood if he ever saw one.

Rick glanced down at his DNA tracker. His Morty was waiting behind one of these doors. The device gave off annoying buzzes when he moved toward the signal. He would have made it different, He would have made it better. But he had to 'borrow' this one from the damned Counsel. From what he knew by eavesdropping on the inferior Ricks, his daughter Beth had married that dipshit boyfriend Jerry Smith. Well, At least in 90% of the other realities. They had two kids; Morty, obviously, and Summer. He thought his sweetie was smarter than he was. Love didn't exist. He took another long swig from his bottle. His marriage failed and he could make black holes. Another swig. If he couldn't make it work, then it was impossible.

Rick trailed through the yards, following the buzzing. His mind was rolling with unpleasant thoughts. He craned is neck. Stars lit the night sky, twinkling and lightening the darkness of space. It had been so long since he had seen Earth's sky. It was special to him for some reason. That said something considering he wasn't sentimental in the least. What had become of Beth? Who was Summer? What was his Morty like? That was a stupid thought. They were all the same. Idiotic shields that whined and cried and thought that they meant something. He finished nursing his drink, dropping the bottle in the yard he was crossing.

The house came into view. How old was this Morty? Nine? Yeah, according to the timeline he should be nine. Too young. Maybe if he got him started on missions early, he could be somewhat less dimwitted than the others. Maybe he wouldn't whine as much as the others. Less of a pain in my ass.

He hesitated, slowing his walk to a snails pace. Moving up the driveway. The steps he skipped, his lanky legs lifting him directly up onto the stoop. He knocked.

No answer.

He rapped loudly on the door with his fist.

Nothing.

"Goddammit, I was gone for fifteen years! Congatulations you bastards! Thanks for making me waste my valuable time, which I will never spend on you fuckers again, to come here and give up whats left of my miserable liOOUUGHHfe!"

Rick continued to yell for a while. His frustrations boiling over. He yelled at the house, cursed his ex-family, screamed his hurts to the world. He didn't particularly yell because they didn't answer his knocks, he yelled because of the unfairness of his situation. He eventually came down from his rage, leaning up against the door and sliding down to the ground. His eyes wandered to the overhead street-lamps and empty roads. Only then did he notice the garage was open, the car gone.

He was an idiot. They weren't home. Great, now the neighbors were probably calling the police.

Rick quickly stumbled to his feet, still a little buzzed, and pulled out his disintegrater gun. He switched the ray to low and carved out the doorknob. Beth would forgive him, at least he hoped she would.

Rick entered the medium-sized house. He flipped the light on and dropped his tracker on to a low coffee table. The kids must be asleep he thought. Beth and Jerry on a date or something. He preferred the 'or something'. He was surprised the screaming hadn't woke them.

Rick moved from room to room, taking in all of the details. There were only two bedrooms, which he though was odd, they had two kids, and they where well-off from what he could tell.

Rick examined the first one. It had black studio carpeting with modern gray walls. A queen sized bed sat under the large bay windows with silver stars embroidered on the black curtains. An expensive black comforter and memory foam pillows were atop the bed. Against the far wall was a mahogany dresser with black handles. He didn't bother with what he assumed was a bathroom off the the left. Next to the bed was a smaller bedside dresser with an odd starry lamp decorating it. Rick moved to the lamp and switched it on. The room erupted with blue stars, the lamp slowly rotating. Rick turned off the bedroom light to get a better view.

Bright blue stars rotated throughout the room. He wondered why Beth would have a child's lamp inside her room. She did have a nine year old son.

And a husband with the same mental capacity.

He flipped the switch off and moved to the next room, skipping the second bedroom, because he assumed that the children would not appreciate a strange, semi-drunk, old man barging in.

The living room had beautiful cherry hardwood floors and clean white walls. The back wall was host to a large flat-screen television. In front of it rested a large black leather couch, under it a white, furry carpet. Must be a bitch to keep clean. There was an black cloth recliner to the left and a beautiful upholstered rocking chair to the right. A sound system between the two bedroom doors.

He quickly became bored and moved to the kitchen, hoping to find some booze.

The kitchen followed the same bland theme of black and white. The counter-tops were made from black granite, cherry wood made up the base. The floors still the same cherry hardwood, the walls a welcoming sky blue. The kitchen was decked out with all the newest appliances. Microwave, stove, blender, fridge, etc. All in black, of course. Damn, Beth had become boring.

Rick moved to the fridge and opened the door. A cool bast of air pushing past his face. His eyes scanned the contents, quickly zoning in on some cans of beer. He helped himself to a can, downing it in less than a minute, then moving to get another that he sipped at a slower pace. He granted himself a break. Leaning against the island counter, numbing his slowly returning mind into oblivion.

His head turned toward an archway that led to a large dining room. Another cherry-wood room. The table and chairs following the theme that was becoming annoying to Rick.

It was too vanilla. Too boring. He realized how much he missed traversing space. It left a pit in his chest that he drowned with the rest of his beer. He couldn't wait to get his Morty and do whatever the hell he wanted again. What did he want though? What would make him happy? Rick opened another beer.

Some time later, him mind quiet and numb, he moved to the final room. Well, aside from the basement, attic, and garage. It was a large bathroom with the floors were made from swirling, light brown tiles, and the walls a coffee color. At least some change in scenery. The tub, sink and toilet, were deep ebony black with golden taps. A blue and white towel hung from a rack at the foot of the tub. A white wardrobe stood alone against the far wall. The shower curtain was blue with white stars. It seemed to be a recurring pattern throughout the house. It stood out more than the black and white.

Rick didn't dwell on it. He used the bathroom and moved back into the living room to wait for his daughter. He sat on the couch and began to drift off. His last thoughts were, it they had two kids, why weren't there any toys laying around?

The sun filtered through white curtains, waking Rick from his light sleep. Rick groaned, and moved to the kitchen to get another beer. He idly sipped his beer and wondered why Beth and her dumbfuck husband weren't home yet. The kids would be waking up soon, and he didn't want to deal with that. He barely survived Beth's childhood. A memory of Beth with her pigtails and overalls flashed across his mind. He nursed his beer in silence.

Rick heard a car pull into the driveway and he moved to the front door. Anticipation swelled inside his stomach. Adrenaline kicking in. Millions of thoughts raced through his brain as the door slowly opened, the knob still gutted from the previous night.

Rick came face to face with an older version of the once young Jerry Smith.

They locked eyes and stared for a moment, recognition slowly building in Jerry's face.

"R-rick?" He hesitantly questioned.

Rick looked down his nose at him "Who elOOUUGHHse asswipe," it was said as more as a statement, not a question. Jerry squirmed under his glare, trying to find the words to respond.

"Why are you here Rick, you vanished like ten years ago?"Jerry stared back at Rick, looking him up and down. "You broke into my house!?" He accused.

Rick looked disinterested as he answered, peering behind Jerry for signs of Beth. "Lookin for my dauOOUUGHHghter, heard she had kids, settled down with your ass."

Jerry paused as Rick's eyes moved back to him. "Rick," another pause. "Beth is gone, she-she committed suicide four years ago..."

Rick's entire body stiffened, his eyes widening. It took a lot to surprise Rick and it was near impossible to hurt him. But felt as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath him. His heart tightening in a way it hadn't since he began to numb himself.

His body gradually relaxed as he came down from his shock. His eyes feigned disinterest, obscuring the turmoil that raged inside him. "Where's the kids," he asked numbly.

Jerry's face became stoic, "Beth had an abortion when she was seventeen. We had no other kids." Jerry refused to make eye contact during his explanation.

Liar. Rick was too good at the game to be lied to. His tracker had picked up Morty's DNA inside the house. He was in no mood for this shit. Rick lunged, grabbing Jerry by the lapels of his green polo, and pushing him up against the wall, his feet not touching the cement. "Do. Not. Lie. To. Me." He popped each word, making his slur as clear as possible. "I'm not stupid like you, and if you don't tell me were they are right now," fumbling in his coat with one hand, he pulled out his disintegrater and shoved the barrel under Jerry's chin, "You're gonna end up like the fucking doorknob!" His voice rising with every word.

Jerry tried to turn his head but failed. Staring into the enraged eyes of the older man. He seemed to gain a smudge of courage as he spoke. "Why do you care! You left for ten years!" He yelled back.

Rick grinded the gun into Jerry's chin, pressing him harder against the wall. "For one, it was fifteen years, and two, if you don't tell me where they are right now I'll kill you and get them myOOUUGHHself!" His patience was growing dangerously thin.

"Okay, okay, just set me down," he pleaded. Rick lowered him to the ground, but didn't let go of his shirt. Jerry sighed and nervously continued. "Beth did get an abortion with our first baby, we weren't ready for the responsibility," he confessed, eyes scanning the ground. "Our second was planned. We named him Morty. After he was born, Beth fell into post-pardom depression. She never managed to pull herself out of it and eventually overdosed on her anti-depressants." Jerry recounted the events with a strange scorn that Rick couldn't place. Rick eyed Jerry suspiciously.

"If you want to see him, I redid the basement as a bedroom for him." Jerry looked up at Rick. Rick was skeptic. "He wanted a cool bedroom, you know how kids are these days," Jerry tried.

Rick snorted "No not reaOOUUGHHlly." Something nagged him at the back of his mind, something seemed very wrong here. What single parent leaves a nine year old home alone all night, has no evidence a child lives in the home, and what child doesn't make a peep.

Rick turned and headed back into the house, intent on finding his only grandchild, the shock of Beth's demise distorting his reason. As he moved though the living room, he heard the car door slam and the car peel out of the driveway.

He was too stunned to stop and contemplate why. Why someone would leave their child, why Jerry was so evasive, why things were so strange.

Rick reached the basement door and threw it open. His hand only resting on the doorknob for half a second. The room was pitch black, save for a small sliver of light that may have come from a small basement window down the creaky wooden stairs. A gust of stale air hit him. It smelt of human body odor, urine, and the faint smell of coppery blood.

He took the stairs two at a time, the stench growing overwhelming. When he reached the bottom he felt the wall for a light switch. Click. The room erupted in a misty light from a bare light bulb that hung from a flimsy wire connected to the ceiling.

Curled under the stairs, filthy, hurt and terrified; was his Morty.

Oops cliffy. Review if you want more!