"Though Ricks may have the gift of knowledge to fathom all mysteries,
and though they may have such power that they can move the very stars,
without love, they are nothing."
- Mortilonians 2:23
...
Rick scraped the bottom of the paper carton with his chopsticks, nabbing the last dots of sticky rice stained brown with synthetic soy sauce. He stuffed them into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he eyed the delivery courier hovering by the footboard of his bed. The front of the dinged-up, white polymer vessel projected a tiny hologram of a Morty dressed as a carhop—complete with checkered shorts, paper cap, and tray. He was currently skating in a lazy figure eight while the neon sign "Enjoy Your Meal!" was lit in brilliant, yellow letters above him.
Impossibly long legs propped up on the cherrywood desk, Rick tipped his chair back and gave a restless sigh. He turned his attention away from the Morty carhop, jiggled his foot impatiently, and rewound his mentor's message for the sixteenth time that night.
"The freight elevator arrives at sub-level 10 at 2300, 0200 and 0500 hours," played Chi's recorded voice through ORA's internal audio feed.
"23, 2, 5," Rick echoed, mumbling around the grains of rice.
"There, the engineers take roughly 9 to 12 minutes to offload the tefrag carts."
"9 to—urrp!—12 minutes."
Corresponding images appeared over his retina, stills taken from a reconnaissance nano. The image was low-res and warped through the fish-eye lens but showed a passable shot of an imposing set of steel elevator doors. A pair of engineers was captured in mid-motion, directing multiple carts piled high with black shards.
"My intel says the 0500 shift is sloppy. Your run-of-the-mill k-lax junkies. They don't finish their round for a full 15 minutes—more than enough time to get there and get inside without being seen. That'll be your best bet."
You mean onlybet, Rick thought. If he missed that shift for any reason, it'd mean another full day of waiting until his next chance. A quick glance at the room's clock told him he still had hours to go. He jiggled his foot again.
"From there, it's a quick ride to Materials & Distribution."
A grainy photograph revealed a sprawling warehouse filled with industrial-grade machinery. Massive vats poured liquid metal into work lines while Ricks in welding masks crouched behind showers of sparks frozen in time. Rows of towering shelves stood like sentinels down the center of the floor, disappearing into the distance. And to the far left of them—
"The loading bay," Rick said in a hushed, almost reverent whisper.
"And then it's a straight shot to the loading bay," Chi's voice continued, outlining the escape plan with stoic precision. "You'll be posing as a Cedrite buyer, reviewing the week's shipment. As for the Morty's cover story, I leave that to you. Just keep it simple. Your disguise will help you blend in, but it's far from perfect. If they ask for ID, just flash them your security pass. By the time their systems notice it's expired, you should be long gone. Remember, the freighter you want is found in bay number 5. The CS Starfall."
"Bay 5. CS Starfall." Rick studied the ship's schematics as he threw a three-pointer into the garbage with the now empty carton.
Carhop Morty immediately sprang to life, breaking out of the skating animation to squeak, "We hope you enjoyed your General Klak Bau's Chicken, sir!" The Morty gave such a cheerful wave of his holographic hand that Rick couldn't help but wave back.
"And that's it, 280," Chi was saying. "After that, you're home free. I just hope—" This was where the recording always went silent, and Rick had to wonder if it was a glitch in the audio file. The somber tone of Chi's voice when it picked up again, however, gave him reason to think it might be something more. "Good luck out there," Chi said simply before the recording stopped.
PLAY FILE AGAIN?
YES NO
Rick puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly as he readied his selection. He already had the plan memorized, he reminded himself. Replaying it at this point would accomplish nothing, really. He paused, chevrons still blinking before the two letters. Deleting the file was a necessity if they were to ensure his mentor's safety in the event of his capture. But it still pained him to erase Chi's voice so easily.
After all, it might be the last time he heard it.
Any part of the plan could go wrong—a change in the shift personnel, equipment failure, or even just an upset stomach. Rick quickly shook the barrage of what-ifs from his mind while rubbing absently at his belly.
"If I get the runs, I'm blaming you," he said to Carhop Morty. The hologram, being a hologram, just kept waving in an endless loop. A second later, a screen asking him to rate his meal popped up over the small figure. Rick sighed.
Jeez, lonely much? You miss your squeeze that bad? the self-deprecating side of him chided. But, shit, it was true. Just two days apart, and Rick was going stir-crazy in his room, the memories of that night in the winner's suite a near-constant companion that always left him flushed and tight in the pants.
Not that he had any time to actually rub one out since then. He and Chi had worked tirelessly to concoct tonight's plan with help from the clues Rick had procured from the Resonance. Chi had deployed every one of his nanos and greased more than a few palms to pinpoint Mouse's room, until eventually the location revealed itself.
A porthole, heavy churning of machinery, three elevator chimes between Mouse's room and Façade—the mishmash of Resonances ultimately led them to a small external-facing storage closet tucked away in a corner of sub-level 10.
Things moved quickly after that. There was the means of egress to suss out, security and maintenance schedules to cross-compare, and materials to gather. The turnaround had been tight, but he and Chi had gone over the logistics with a fine-toothed comb, leaving no scenario unchecked and taking every possible contingency into account. If all went according to plan, by tomorrow morning, he would have Mouse in his arms again as they fled the Citadel. They'd leave this godforsaken madhouse behind to start somewhere new.
Rick allowed himself a soft smile, the kind that now came easily to him ever since Mouse had entered his life. He felt light, fresh, young. Rick was surprised by the unwitting transformation he'd undergone in the span of just over a week.
When he'd first come to the Citadel, revenge had been the only thing on his mind, but now his mission revolved around Mouse's safety. He'd be lying if he said he wouldn't always hold a grudge against the Council. If he had the time, he would have loved to make them suffer for the hell they'd put the both of them through, but as things stood now, escaping was his top priority.
With a silent "thank you," Rick erased the files from ORA's storage. He stood up and wiped his hands on his new slacks.
They weren't the silky material of a three-piece Elite suit nor as grimy as his personal coveralls, but they still felt familiar against his fingers. In a mirror across the room, he took a moment to admire his disguise. The simple, brown slacks and blue sweater were standard-issue among Ricks, guaranteed to be found in countless wardrobes across the multiverse. To complete his look, Rick plucked the white lab coat from the bed and slipped it over his shoulders. Giving a few tugs of the lapels, the shoulder seams fell neatly along his frame.
With the plan so close to fruition, Rick was tempted to celebrate with a drink at the bar. But would it be more fitting to make himself a mimosa or a gin nightcap at this hour? Hell, either would work, considering how morning and night were loosely held concepts within the Citadel. Its levels operated on staggered time zones so that some part of the space station was awake at any given hour.
The slogan It's happy hour somewhere! took on a very literal meaning here.
Sure, it made traveling between levels a bit disorienting, but this was also partly what made the security system so ingenious and nearly impossible to thwart. Guards could be dispatched at all hours, monitoring the activities of Citadel patrons without interruption. And security only got tighter the closer one got to sub-level 10. If Rick tried to reach Mouse's room on foot, they'd be on him faster than he could say "police state."
Luckily for him, Chi was one resourceful son of a bitch.
"You still have one meal left, sir!" Carhop Morty chirped in an overly enthusiastic digital voice. LED lights raced across a seam near the base of the courier, indicating the last compartment Rick hadn't emptied yet. "Enjoy your food before it gets cold!" Whoever had animated the hologram had really gone all out with Carhop Morty, because he finished his line by twirling in place and blowing a kiss.
"Yeah, yeah. Right. How could I forget?" Rick asked rhetorically, already sliding his hands down the sides of the delivery container. He pressed a button, and the bottom drawer popped open to reveal a small package wrapped in a dirty white cloth. With the one exception of General Klak Bau's Chicken—Chi always did make one hell of a marinade—in his Gluttony Rick-size order, the courier's compartments had been filled with pieces of contraband to assist in Rick's escape.
Just the sight of the bundle's familiar shape made Rick's trigger finger twitch with anticipation, and he smirked.
No one was going to expect him to portal in.
The use of portal guns was strictly prohibited within the Citadel. In fact, every Rick's personal gun—his own included—was confiscated upon entry as a security measure. Visitors went through a stringent process just to get theirs back upon departure, but Citadel staff were doomed to go without theirs for the duration of their employment. And once a Rick took up residency within the Citadel, the chances of getting it back were nil.
Chi had refused to tell Rick how he'd even gotten his hands on this one. All he'd shared was that there was an entire vault of portal guns that were tabulated and kept under strict security. Access was next to impossible, with only high-ranking Guards and other Citadel officials holding the key.
As though handling a precious relic, Rick gently lifted the gun by its handle, careful to keep its shroud in place.
"Thank you for ordering from Dive, for when you need a diversion!" Carhop Morty said before blinking out of existence. Its mission completed, the empty courier hovered to the door and waited patiently until Rick let it out.
Alone once again, he sunk back into his seat and pulled a small messenger bag out from beneath the desk. Its common burlap material stood at odds with the rest of the suite's rich decor. Keeping the bag out of the cameras' sight, Rick slipped the portal gun into its opening to join the rest of his supplies: A change of clothes for Mouse and himself, a day's worth of concentrated high-calorie rations, a few rolls of schmeckles, and two PIC switchboards would be his only possessions from here on out.
Chi had warned him that the gun was a salvaged piece with only enough power left for two short jumps, maximum. He'd already input the coordinates to Mouse's room for the first jump and then—
The ringing of the phone suddenly tore Rick from his thoughts.
Who in the hell is that? He darted his eyes to the bedside table where an antique-styled phone sat on dainty, clawed feet.
In all honesty, Rick already had a pretty good guess who it was—the Council's auditors, most likely, calling yet again for an update. Ever since learning that he'd drained his funds at the last auction, they'd been especially short with him, constantly asking when he'd be using an Epiphany to develop something lucrative.
He rolled his eyes before picking up the receiver. Feedback squealed over the earpiece, and Rick cursed before snarling, "For the last time, no, I haven't made any fuAUGHcking mon—"
"Go to him. Now."
The voice on the other end was muffled by static, nothing like the clear, fiber-optic quality he usually heard from incoming calls.
"The fuck?" Rick muttered. Great. Now he was getting prank calls. "Look, pal. If this is some kinda joke, you forgot the set-up," Rick said dryly.
"Rick of X-280, there isn't any time. You have to leave. They're on their way."
"Yeah. Real original. Let me guess. Next you'll say there's an ax murderer standing right behind me." Rick flipped the bird to the caller. "Newsflash. I've watched the same shitty horror movies you did. Now, why don't you take a nice, long drink of go fuck yourself!" he jeered, already moving to hang up the receiver.
"Mouse needs you!" came the tinny voice.
Rick's hand stopped in mid-air. Slowly, he put the receiver back to his ear. "Wh-who is this?"
"You must go now if you are both to live."
Picking up the phone by the cradle with his other hand, Rick walked to the door and spied through the peephole warily. The corridor outside was empty. "I swear to god, if you don't tell me—"
"There is no time to explain. You have two more minutes before the surveillance system is back online. We know you have the portal gun. Use it."
"Okaaay. Let's say I believe you—"
"Good. Now go at once." Then the line went dead.
Rick's heart was pounding wildly as he hung up, his mind reeling at the unexpected development. Was it all just an elaborate hoax...or an actual warning? Whoever it was had an alarming amount of intel that made it hard to write it off as an average prank call.
The caller had mentioned Mouse by name. Mouse said that only his mother had ever called him that, unless—an image of Mouse bound and tortured, their secret nickname being cruelly ripped from him suddenly filled Rick's mind. A fresh wave of sweat broke out over his temples.
You must go now if you are both to live.
Okay, that just sounded extreme. But in a space station full of the multiverse's biggest assholes, maybe it wasn't too much of a stretch. Hell, his last run-in with Citadel security had left him with a broken rib and a threat on his life.
Rick turned stubbornly back to readying his supplies. No. He'd spent too long going over the plan to throw it all out the window just because he'd been spooked. But his hands were shaking and uncoordinated as the caller's warning kept replaying in his mind: They're coming now.
An inexplicable itch started to crawl up Rick's nape, and he shot a look at the door, already imagining the thunderous march of Guard boots approaching. After waiting a heartbeat, he laughed aloud. He was being ridiculous. Rick's smile faltered, however, as the pounding grew louder and louder still. Or was it just the pounding of blood in his ears? For a minute he stood stock-still, staring at the door, daring something to happen.
Mouse needs you.
"Aw, fuck this," Rick cursed, his resolve finally snapping. Throwing all caution to the wind, Rick snatched the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He moved quickly to retrieve the concealed portal gun from inside. No point in trying to hide it now.
Taking a final breath and pressing his lips together, he ripped the cloth off.
The white plastic of the casing was scuffed and smudged gray from years of use; the interdimensional crystal, a mossy green where it usually glowed bright emerald. Rick could only hope that Chi was right about it having enough juice for the jump. From the looks of it, he wondered if it'd end up scattering his atomic makeup to the far corners of the universe instead.
Going on nothing more than a dubious phone call and a gut feeling that just wouldn't quit, Rick mangled the sign of the cross, leveled the gun at the nearest wall, and pulled the trigger.
...
One one thousand...two one thousand...three one thousand...
Rick knocked his head back against the wall as he counted, breathing out a curse. From around the corner, he could still make out the idle chit-chat of the Guard Ricks at the end of the hall. They couldn't be more than 20 feet from him. Giving a shaky sigh, he prayed that his temporary refuge would hold.
He ran a hand across his brow, wiping away beads of sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes. Christ Almighty, it was hot down here. Even without his lab coat, which he'd immediately torn off and stuffed into his bag upon his arrival to sub-level 10, his shirt stuck uncomfortably close to his skin, a layer of sweat trapped between it and his chest.
Housing the Citadel's extensive generator system, sub-level 10's boilers made the entire floor burn like an arid desert. The space station ran on tefrag, a powerful but unstable compound, and the entire bottom level was packed full of machines specially designed to properly handle the stuff. Engineers maintained them around the clock to keep the Citadel's metaphorical heart beating.
It was strangely fitting, in a way, that Mouse was housed here as well.
A portal jammer. A fucking portal jammer. They'd run through lists of scenarios, and yet why hadn't he considered a jammer? He smacked his head back again. Because you're a dumb, fucking moron. That's why.
So maybe this wasn't exactly the most productive conversation Rick could be having, but he was pissed. He'd input the room's coordinates correctly, but with the jammer in place, he'd been spit out into a completely different area of sub-level 10. Only luck and the fail-safe calculations programmed into the portal gun had prevented him from being portaled out into the cold embrace of space, and for that, he should have been grateful.
However, Rick had also just spent the last half hour dodging security cameras and the occasional engineer. Now he was tired, harried, and very, very cranky.
Four one thousand...five one thousand...
The droning of machinery hummed through the metal walls and into the back of Rick's skull as he counted.
Six one thousand...seven one thousand...
ACCEPT NEW DATA?
"Right on time," Rick murmured. "All right, little guy. What have you got for me?" Rick blinked, running the program to translate the reconnaissance nano's latest feed. A screenful of information blanketed his vision.
IMMEDIATE HOSTILES FOUND: 2
COORDINATES: 10TDQ78903564, 10TDQ82343832
VOLATILE COMPOUNDS: KOLD PLASMA, TETRON, TYPE-II GAMMA
OFF-SITE HOSTILES FOUND: 1
COORDINATES: 18STG83025586
VOLATILE COMPOUNDS: NONE
"Just two. I can handle that," Rick reassured himself. The third Rick—most likely an unarmed engineer on duty—didn't even factor into his mental rehearsal of the impending brawl. If he took down the Guards quickly enough, he could be in and out before even having to deal with him.
A quick peek around the corner confirmed the positions of the two Guards. Five...ten... He could probably cross the distance in just under a dozen strides. Assuming he got to them before they reacted. Rick closed his eyes and reconsidered his options. Rushing headlong into two armed Guards would be suicide. He needed something more subtle. A diversion? Maybe a demolition nano. But so close to the hull—
Rick paused in mid-thought, suddenly realizing that the Guards had gone quiet. No, wait. Someone was talking, but the voice sounded more refined than the Guards', almost deferential.
Shit! The engineer! Rick kicked himself for not moving sooner. Kneeling low to keep out of sight, Rick spied down the hallway.
"Good evening, Master Guards. The One True Morty bids you good tidings."
The Guards had their backs to him as they were addressing—a Eun-Rick? Of course, Rick figured. Wherever Mouse was concerned, Eun-Ricks were never too far behind. The Eun-Rick was partially obscured by the Guards from his vantage point, but Rick sized him up quickly. Physically, he didn't pose a threat, but now he had one more warm body to deal with.
"We come bearing an update regarding the X-Rick."
X-Rick? Rick twitched. Why would they be reporting on me? After all, he'd lain low after the second auction. But judging by the reaction of the Guards, they seemed to be anticipating the news.
"Out with it, Eun-Rick. What is it?" they asked testily.
"We've received word that the X-Rick has been tracked to level 4, quadrant 6. The Captain of the Guard is asking for all units to report there immediately for assistance. You are hereby discharged from your post, Master Guards."
The Guards looked at each other with some surprise. "How come we didn't hear anything about this?" One of them was already reaching for the communicator on his belt.
The Eun-Rick replied without missing a beat. "The Captain insists we maintain radio silence on the matter. Finding the X-Rick is now priority number one, and all orders are to be relayed in person, lest the transmissions be intercepted by unfavorable parties. After all, we don't want to upset the public with any unnecessary panic, do we?" He paused to let the Guards give a few grumbled acknowledgments before continuing. "We have already arranged a replacement to cover the remainder of your shift." The Eun-Rick bowed low, adding, "We will stand post until their arrival."
When the Eun-Rick lifted his head again, he looked past the Guards' shoulders—and straight at Rick.
Oh, shit! Rick ducked his head quickly behind the corner again. He'd looked right at him! Rick braced himself against the wall, ready to bolt the moment the Eun-Rick raised the alarm.
"You are now relieved of your post, Master Guards. We thank you graciously for your service." There was a pause. Then, "Morty be with you."
"M-Morty be with you too," they grumbled awkwardly in return.
The sound of the Guards moving away came sharply to Rick's sensitive ears even over the thrumming of his heart. The hallway then fell quiet, but he waited a full minute before daring to move. Gripping the portal gun tightly in one hand—a dubious weapon at best—he took a breath and sprang around the corner.
The Eun-Rick was facing the storage closet's door but then cocked his head and looked over his shoulder at Rick.
"Ah," the Eun-Rick said. It was not a cry of alarm but merely an acknowledgment of an expectation fulfilled. When he turned to face Rick fully, Rick saw he had thick gauze covering his right cheek. For one long, drawn-out second, neither of them moved.
Rick swayed on his feet a fraction of a degree, torn between rushing the Eun-Rick to bludgeon his head in with the portal gun or fleeing in the opposite direction. The Eun-Rick had to know that he shouldn't be there, and with Mouse's room left vulnerable, he would no doubt call for the Guards' return.
But the Eun-Rick only regarded him quietly for another moment before giving a slow nod, his eyes steeped in an unwavering calm that had Rick transfixed. Without another word, the Eun-Rick turned and departed down the hallway, his bare feet carrying him, silent as an apparition.
Rick rested a hand against the wall, suddenly gasping for air. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. Why had the Eun-Rick let him go? One shout, and he could've had the Guards on him in a flash.
But as crazy as it seemed, Rick got the sense that the Eun-Rick had been—had actually been relieved to see him.
First the anonymous call to his suite and now an unlikely ally. Things were spiraling dangerously out of Rick's control, and with the plan all but shot to hell, every step only took him further into uncharted territory. Luck appeared to have been on his side so far, but Rick wondered how long it would last.
Fuckin' A. Quit looking a gift horse in the mouth. At least you're still here, right? Rick reminded himself as he darted quickly to the unguarded door, eyes vigilant for any more surprise visitors. He half-expected to see Guards popping out from every corner, but the hall remained still and empty.
Rick pressed a shaking hand up to the door, excitement buzzing in his veins. Just a few inches of steel now lay between him and his goal. He was so close, he could already imagine the feel of Mouse, could practically smell him. He rested his forehead against the surprisingly cool surface, thanking whatever forces had gotten him this far.
Stepping back, he looked the nondescript door over. There was nothing that set it apart from the many others that littered sub-level 10, save for the security card reader positioned above the handle. Yet another obstacle he hadn't accounted for. He glossed a hand over the device's face, wondering how long it'd take him to reconfigure the switchboards to interface with it.
He was just about to take the tools out from his bag when he noticed something reflective sitting atop the matte black of the reader. Rick picked it up and stared dumbfounded at the translucent key card. CITADEL SECURIGRID was written on it in red letters above an embossed Dimension α-001.
Dimension α-001 was the Citadel's official dimension, assigned to it at its founding. Like members of a royal family assuming the title of bygone ancestors or the passing down of a coat of arms, tradition dictated that council members and high-ranking officials gave up their original dimensional designation in favor of the Citadel's. Bearing the mark of Dimension α-001 carried with it an unparalleled level of privilege and, above all else, access.
What Rick now held in his hand was the proverbial key to the city—or, as the case may be, Citadel.
He recalled the Eun-Rick had been facing the door just minutes earlier. Was this yet another gift from him? Too drained from all that he'd already endured and just too plain tired to care about the hows and whys, Rick slid the card through the reader without another thought.
The heavy lock withdrew immediately, and the door swung inside an inch. From the small gap, a gust of cool air rushed out, kissing Rick's overheated skin like a tender lover. He pocketed the card and pushed the heavy door into the unlit room, surprised when it didn't make so much as a squeak.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star..." Rick's heart seized at the wistful sound of Mouse's quiet voice wafting out from the darkness. "How I wonder what you are..." He slipped inside, all tension flowing out of him like sand through an hourglass. "Up above the world so high..." As though in a trance, Rick closed the door behind him quietly, not wanting to startle Mouse and interrupt his lullaby.
Mouse was looking out of a small porthole against the far wall, his figure highlighted by the audience of stars outside and his white robe swathed around—wait, no. It wasn't his robe but a bedsheet, the long, pale fabric enshrouding his head and trailing out behind Mouse like broken wings.
Rick restrained himself from rushing across the room and grabbing Mouse at that very second. There was something about witnessing Mouse in such an innocent state that made Rick want to cherish this moment. He'd never heard Mouse sing before and was pleased to find that his stuttered voice formed a smooth tenor in song.
"Like a diamond in the sky..."
Rick's fingers moved to the wall beside him, feeling for a light switch but finding none. He grinned as an idea struck him. Perhaps he could provide his own light show to accompany Mouse's berceuse to the stars.
He raised his right hand aloft in front of him. At his command, the ring of dormant nanos around his arm stirred and crept slowly out from beneath his sleeve until they came to rest in the center of his palm. Then they flickered in unison before lifting off on their tiny, metallic wings, like a swarm of fireflies in the night. The bright pinpoints of light bathed the room in a golden glow, reminiscent of Mouse's own luminescent eyes.
"Twinkle, twinkle—" Mouse stopped mid-verse when one of the nanos hovered close by and landed on his shoulder. He stared at it through the porthole's reflection, captivated, and gave a hushed sound of awe. When he reached for the tiny firefly, it fluttered away. He climbed to his bare feet to follow—and froze at the sight of Rick standing at the door.
Rick looked at Mouse through the net of yellow starlight hung about the room as he let the messenger bag slip off his shoulder and onto the floor. "I—" His voice strained against a lump in his throat, and he swallowed. "I'm here, Mouse."
"Rick?" Mouse croaked, taking a faulty step toward him, then another. "Rick!" In four short strides, he was across the room and throwing himself into Rick's arms. "Y-you did it! You really came for me!" he cried in excited relief as he burrowed himself into Rick's chest, unable to get close enough.
"Of course I came for you. It's all I've—" Rick's words were thick with emotion. "Mouse, I'm just sorry it took this long." He slumped down to the floor, holding Mouse tightly as he rubbed his cheek against the top of his head.
The surge of invincibility that Rick always felt when with Mouse sluiced through him, making his nerves sing with fervor. The universe could implode on itself at this very moment, and Rick wouldn't even care.
But Mouse was more impatient than Rick, already clambering up his chest and crushing his lips to Rick's. His intentions were noble but sloppy, driven by some agitated yearning that had him diving his tongue messily into Rick's mouth. Rick's brow shot up at the sudden, uncharacteristic display of affection. Still, he couldn't deny the arousal that was quickly piqued by the feeling of Mouse's soft lips and coy tongue entangled with his own.
Rick's hands were restless as they roamed Mouse's small body through the sheet, wanting to map out and memorize every contour, every peak and valley. With one strong hand, he squeezed the crest of his hip appreciatively as Mouse straddled him on wobbly knees. A distant part of Rick thought it strange that he hadn't heard a whisper of a Resonance yet, even with Mouse grabbing at him for more. His other hand smoothed beneath the fabric to cradle the back of Mouse's head.
Then his brow pinched in confusion. Something was off as he brushed his fingers across Mouse's barren nape. Where he would usually feel the weight of his thick braid, only cool air greeted him. He pulled away.
"Mouse, w-what happened to your h—" was all he could manage before he was smothered by another passionate assault on his lips. Rather than inciting Rick's carnal interests, it doused him with concern. He grabbed Mouse firmly by the shoulders and held him back at arm's length. "Mouse. What's wrong?"
Instead of answering him, Mouse only doubled his efforts, whining incoherently as he began tugging Rick's shirt up to pull at his belt.
"Mouse, I'm being serious here!" He seized Mouse's wrists. "Let me see you!" The terse command made Mouse instantly go limp in his grasp, head bowed and eyes glowing weakly. Rick slowly lifted his hands to Mouse's head, pausing briefly when Mouse cringed at his touch.
Mouse's long mane of hair was gone, reduced to a wreck of lopsided chunks that fell helter-skelter over his ears. Rick ran his fingers through the short curls, feeling Mouse's scalp for any sign of injury, but thankfully the damage was only cosmetic.
Rick pressed their foreheads together, letting his consciousness fan out in search of a Resonance that would tell him more. Come on... Show me what happened... But Mouse was silent, too traumatized to give him any leads.
Rick held Mouse's face in his palms, refusing to let him hide any longer. "Oh, Mouse," he said in a hushed voice, placing a chaste kiss on his brow. The loving gesture shattered Mouse's composure, and he broke down in open sobs. His cracked warbles tore holes in Rick's heart.
"I-I thought of you," he began weakly, "just like y-you told me to. I imagined you w-were there with me, but—but it didn't—I-I was still so—" His small frame bowed beneath the force of his sobs. "P-please, Rick. Just...make it all better." Before Rick could respond, Mouse grabbed his hands and held them to his hips. "Please," he begged again, squirming on Rick's lap until he was grinding against his erection.
"Mouse, don't." Rick looked away, confused and yet painfully aroused. He felt so dirty. "Listen, I just need you to tell me—"
"No! You listen!" Mouse's outburst stunned Rick into silence. His next words seemed to take all his willpower to get out, and he fumbled several tries before he finally said, "M-make me feel good, a-and then—then you'll know the truth."
Rick couldn't believe what Mouse was asking for.
His heart clenched at the prospect of exploiting Mouse just to gain information from him. He wanted their shared touches to be special, sacred, something born out of affection rather than necessity. It pained him to think that their feelings for each other could be whittled down to a simple equation of cause and effect; their time together, just a means to an end.
"Is that how—is that how you think it works?"
Mouse wilted at the sound of utter disappointment in Rick's voice. "I-I'm sorry. I just d-don't know w-what to do."
"It's all right, Mouse. I do want to be with you. But—" He pressed a kiss to his temple. "—not like this."
With some effort and more than a few protests from his old joints, Rick scooped Mouse up in his arms and hoisted himself to his feet. He made his way to the mattress in the corner.
The room really was no larger than a maintenance closet. The walls and floor, done in the same brushed cement, kept it unnaturally cool despite the massive boilers that burned just beyond them. A simple lavatory, the type found in interstellar prisons, occupied one corner. Sheets of paper and what looked like shards of charcoal littered the floor beneath the porthole.
The bed's plain white linens glowed like a beacon in the dim. The sheets were ragged and smelled pungently of Mouse, likely not having been washed in months, and one corner of the mattress was frayed badly, the stuffing bursting out through a hole.
Rick knelt on the sagging mattress, its springs yawning beneath his weight. Mouse refused to give up his tenacious grip on his shirt, stubbornly clinging to him like a burr, despite Rick's gentle coaxing.
"Don't worry, Mouse. I'm not going anywhere." A quick check to ORA's internal clock confirmed that he was still hours ahead of the scheduled delivery time. Jump-starting the plan had proven to be a blessing in disguise. Mouse was clearly too emotionally distraught to meet the demands of a harrowing escape. They wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. Rick would have to figure out a way to reach the elevator, of course, but right now the thought of leaving the relative safety of Mouse's room was the furthest thing from his mind.
"W-will you—will you do it n-now?" Mouse asked timidly, eyes askance. A fragmented Resonance—still too fraught with trepidation to be of any real use—skittered through Rick's brain to fill out the rest of Mouse's vague request.
Rick shook his head as he spoke. "I know you think that's what you need, Mouse. But this—" He paused to brush Mouse's limp dick through the sheet like a buyer inspecting a peddler's wares, indifferent and methodical. "Touching you isn't all it takes. Hell, anyone can do that." There was a hint of frustration in his voice as he imagined all the other countless Ricks who had touched Mouse so callously. He hated to think he could be assumed to be anything like them.
Mouse dropped his head, shame radiating from him so fiercely that Rick didn't need any assistance to decipher it.
"What I'm trying to say is that what you and me have, it's different from anyone else." He shifted off of his knees and sat cross-legged. Seating Mouse more comfortably across his lap so that he was nestled in the crook of his arm, he continued. "And that's what makes the Resonances work. You've never been able to give them to anyone else because, well..." Rick faltered, suddenly unsure of how to continue.
"Because?" Mouse urged him on.
"Because I...care about you," Rick stammered, embarrassed by his flimsy cover-up. Wow. Grown man afraid of the big, bad L word. "A-and when you're with someone that cares about you—"
"I care!" Mouse jumped in. "I care about you too!" For the first time that night, his face was alight in a smile. "I care about you more than anyone else!"
"A-all right, Mouse. I get it. Y-you don't have to keep—" Rick ran a hand over his face, hiding his blush. "Don't wear it out, y'know?" Even though his true feelings for Mouse rang through him as clear as a bell, he still refused to give them a name. He envied Mouse his Resonance just then—being able to say everything he wanted without ever opening his mouth.
"But I r-really mean it," Mouse insisted. "I care about you more than—more than Neapolitan ice cream!" He was planting kisses on Rick's neck and cheeks, driven by a rekindled energy that hinged on confidence rather than shaky desperation like before.
Rick chuckled, trying to catch Mouse's lips before they could flutter away. Goddamn, he's so cute.His grin made it impossible to kiss properly, so instead he nudged Mouse back with a persistent brush of his lips until he'd eased him down onto the scrappy pillow at the head of the mattress.
The subtle change in position roused some baser instinct inside of Rick, and he felt a heady desire wash through him as he drank in Mouse's small form: Reed-thin and boney, covered only in a threadbare sheet and goose bumps, hair hacked to bits, he looked like a cast-off street urchin, worlds away from the cushion of luxury that Rick had first found him in.
Yet, free from the trappings of his gilded cage, he was the most beautiful thing Rick had ever seen.
Rick leaned down and pressed their lips together. This time, they shared a tender kiss, one marked by gentle caresses and breathy sighs. With it came a wisp of a Resonance, that familiar feeling of Rick's mind making space to accommodate another's thoughts.
"Are you happy, Mouse?"
"W-with you, always." Mouse clung to Rick's arms, looking up at him with longing.
"Then let's both be happy," Rick rasped, claiming Mouse's lips in a fiery kiss.
He dipped his tongue into Mouse's mouth, snuffing out any shred of his prior hesitancy and making a Resonance bloom heartily in its place. It told him in no uncertain terms that Mouse wanted this, and Rick obliged him generously. Within moments, Mouse was returning the kiss with ardor, fingers tangling themselves in Rick's hair, every moan sending bolts of electricity straight to his groin.
Tired of their previously rushed encounters and missed chances, Rick wanted to make something complete between them tonight. For the first time since they'd found each other, they were in a safe space, unrestrained by time and free of intrusions. Here within the haven of Mouse's bed, away from anyone who threatened to come between them, Rick's body pulsed with the undeniable truth: He would finally have Mouse, in every meaning of the word.
If what he heard from the Resonances was any indication, then Mouse shared his yearning wholeheartedly. His usual docility replaced with a zealous need, he responded eagerly to Rick's touch.
Make me feel good. Make me feel good. Make it all better.
"Don't worry, babe. I will."
Rick drew himself back onto his knees just long enough to peel his shirt off over his head and wrestle out of his slacks and briefs. Then he dove back into Mouse's arms, tearing the flimsy sheet aside to bare Mouse and press their naked bodies together. Mouse's slim hips fit snugly between Rick's, their rigid cocks like fire-warmed pokers against each other's bellies.
The nanos had drifted closer to the bed, casting their soft light on its inhabitants. They'd sensed the sudden elevation in their master's biometric readings and had come to investigate. Hovering silently overhead, they formed a ring above the two lovers.
"Is this how you imagined it'd be, Mouse?"
Mouse nodded shakily, his eyes clenched shut.
"In your bed like this?"
Mouse only keened in response, but a resounding yes echoed in Rick's head.
He probed further. "Did you imagine me kissing you?" Yes. "Touching you?" Yes!
Every affirmation made the Resonance stronger, and Rick could plainly see what Mouse had envisioned for this moment: He saw them wrapped in each other's arms so tightly, their boundaries blurred. He saw himself holding Mouse's thighs apart as he dipped his head down to—
Aha.
Rick grinned and left a final kiss on Mouse's forehead before slinking down his torso, past his belly. He slid his hands behind Mouse's back, dragging his fingers down the twin columns of muscle framing his spine. Mouse couldn't help but arch into it, giving an indulgent sigh and turning to mush beneath the sensuous contact. Once Rick reached the base of his spine, he held Mouse's bottom aloft, watching his pert cock bob in front of him.
He kissed the tip of it before resting it on his tongue and sliding the full length into his mouth.
"Rick!" Mouse gave a warbled cry as he thrust up, seeking more of Rick's warm and gifted mouth. Rick had no trouble taking Mouse in to the hilt, letting his chin bump against Mouse's balls while he fluttered his tongue along the underside of the shaft. But at the Resonance's urging, Rick changed tactics seamlessly. He drew back to swirl his tongue sumptuously around the sheathed glans, rolling back the foreskin just enough to wriggle his tip against the slit. Rick gave a throaty groan of approval as he relished Mouse's flavor, tangy and blunt on his taste buds.
Mouse stretched his arms overhead, clawing at the edge of the mattress as he moaned "ah, ah, ah" in a rhythmic chant. He rested one foot on Rick's shoulder and tipped his thighs even wider, granting Rick better access. Rick took the hint and pressed a digit into Mouse's slick behind, drawing another shuddering gasp from him.
As he worked him with his tongue and finger, Rick let himself fall into Mouse's mind, riding the swell of Resonance far inside. Peeling back the layers of his more immediate thoughts, Rick rummaged deeper in search of some explanation as to what had happened to Mouse in the time they had been apart.
Consciousness gave way to unconsciousness, strips of images and feelings sliding across each other like eels. When Rick touched the first of them, he was immediately awash in the recent memory. The scene materialized around him, the shapes and colors suggesting—a bedroom?
The image refused to reveal anything more to him, so Rick quickened his pace along Mouse's cock while his finger pumped in and out. Mouse keened, using his foot on Rick's shoulder as leverage to smash his crotch against his face. His legs began to tremble as he rushed to the brink, muscles tensing tight as a guitar string.
The stronger Mouse's pleasure grew, the sharper the image formed in Rick's mind. The Resonance breathed life into the scraps of images until they formed a crystal-clear replica of Mouse's memory. He saw the scene through his vision, first directed at the dark carpet before swinging up to look into the face of Riq.
Riq was eyeing Mouse with a strange mix of affection and madness, his hand resting heavily on Mouse's shoulder. Now I believe you have something for me. The echo of Riq's words bubbled up from oblivion, muffled and harsh.
The scene played out like a scratched disc, jumping forward and stuttering at odd intervals, as Mouse's mind refused to recall the details of the scene in full. Rick's stomach burned at the sight of Mouse being dragged to the bed, of Riq looming over him with the clear intention of rape. But then Mouse was suddenly fighting him off, a valiant if not futile attempt, before diving for the knife.
Please, Rick. Don't let him get me. Keep me safe from the Dark Room. I wish you were here with me. I wish you were here— Mouse's internal plea was abruptly silenced by a horrific scream as Riq viciously sawed off his hair. Rick felt the slice of the knife as if it were against his own scalp, and he tore himself off of Mouse's cock to gasp at the shocking burst of pain.
Mouse protested at the sudden interruption, an unwelcome cool settling on his exposed skin where Rick's tongue had been a second ago. "Please!" he begged, arms reaching for Rick.
Rick hauled himself up from between Mouse's thighs and pulled him into his lap. He nuzzled at Mouse's temple, salty with sweat as he panted, "I'm here. I'm here, Mouse. He can't get you anymore. I won't let him. I won't let them."
A fire of possessiveness and fury roiled through Rick. He knew what he had to do now. Deserting the Citadel was no longer an option so long as the Council still lived. He wouldn't rest until those monsters had paid dearly for their crimes against Mouse, until they'd been brought to justice, their heads on fucking pikes. Rick's rage would be the fire to cleanse every iota of them from the multiverse.
Their chests were pressed impossibly close as Rick held him, hearts beating like tribal drums against one another. He rocked cross-legged back and forth on the mattress, Mouse's legs wrapped around Rick's waist.
"Rick, R-Rick!" Mouse cried, his cock burning hard and hot against Rick's stomach. He was equal parts fever and frustration, every squirm of his hips coating Rick's shaft in his slick. The smell of Mouse hung thick in the air, and Rick's senses were deluged with it until he could think of nothing else but burying himself in that sweet warmth.
Rick's voice was almost unrecognizable when he spoke again, driven to new depths by his lust. "I-I'll keep you safe, Mouse. It'll be just you and me from now on. I won't let anyone ever touch you again. You're mine."
"Please, Rick. Please..." Mouse mumbled into the flesh of Rick's shoulder. Mouse shifted his hips, letting Rick's cock prod firmly against his slick entrance. The small whorl of flesh fluttered at the contact, planting tempting kisses on the head in invitation. "I want—"
"I know, Mouse," Rick choked out, his cock poised just beneath Mouse. It echoed the fierce pulsing of his heart. "I-I just need to—let me—" he gasped in his ear, not sure what he was trying to say and not caring. But he was already canting his hips and guiding the head into Mouse's waiting hole.
He slipped past the first ring of muscle with delicious satisfaction.
Ffffuck...
Rick's toes curled beneath Mouse's rump at the sudden envelopment of heat, at Mouse's juices dribbling down his trembling shaft. Mouse grunted and writhed, trying to lower himself, but he was left skewered on the end of Rick's cock. His hole clenched in frustration at only being partially filled, making Rick hiss with every spasm.
"Shh, shh. Mouse, it's okay. Don't rush it," he said, even when all he wanted to do was the opposite. He slipped his fingers behind Mouse to caress the tender flesh stretched around his girth, marveling at how perfectly Mouse felt on him. It was as if nirvana itself had been narrowed down to this single point, and Rick sang his gratitude into Mouse's ear. "God, Mouse. It's amazing, what you do to me."
Rick's words just made Mouse cling more tightly to his shoulders as he squirmed clumsily on his cock.
For all that Mouse remained silent atop his perch, the Resonances firing off in Rick's head told a different story. He was wild with unspoken demand, rallying for more. But Mouse was so small and tight and—God, Rick was certain that he couldn't possibly take it all. Yet he was asking—no, begging Rick to fuck him into the mattress.
A feral instinct to rut pulsed hot through Rick, and his hands on Mouse's hips quivered, fighting the urge to grab and thrust and cram every inch of himself into Mouse right then and there. If he started now, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. After all those days of wanting and waiting, his self-restraint was standing on nothing but toothpicks.
He gave an experimental shift of his hips, pushing into Mouse a fraction of an inch. Mouse gave a soft whimper, his limbs going tense around Rick's neck. Another thrust, tipped inwards this time, and Mouse was loosening his hold and arching back with a deep sigh. Rick was almost thrown into a frenzy when he saw Mouse's expression.
Mouse looked euphoric, all the tension gone from his face as he gazed into Rick's eyes with uncompromising reverence. His kiss-swollen lips were parted as he drew in shaky breaths. All traces of his earlier distress had been erased, leaving only a sovereign tranquility. He was a prince come home to his throne.
"Keep going," Mouse breathed.
Needing no more encouragement than that, Rick gripped Mouse's hips and pushed him down onto his cock. Mouse gasped, kicking and struggling as he was impaled, but Rick kept going, gyrating his hips in tight circles to fit all of himself in until his balls brushed against Mouse's ass. All hint of rationale was usurped by a craving to brand Mouse so that he would be his, absolutely and without question.
"Rick, w-wait..." Mouse wheezed, small Epiphanies going off like fireworks in Rick's brain.
Rick bent forward, cradling him against his chest and rumbling into his ear, "I'm sorry, Mouse. I'm sorry. I'll make it feel good. I promise." He mouthed at Mouse's slack lips, rousing him to kiss back even as he began to thrust, swallowing each cry he punched out of him.
Rick's hips moved of their own accord, drunk on pent-up want and the scent of Mouse on his cock and pubes. A stream of profanities dribbled liberally from Rick as he fucked him in his lap, anchoring Mouse in place with his fingers on his hips. The Epiphanies gradually ebbed, replaced with something glorious as Mouse's pleasure surpassed the pain.
The strength of the Resonance was so great, it pulled Rick out and away without his even willing it. He was a slave to its power, having no choice but to follow it into the Citadel mindscape farther and more penetrating than ever before. He could navigate the tapestry of thoughts with unprecedented ease now. The differences between Ricks were so glaringly clear, they might as well have been advertising their identities and innermost secrets on neon billboards.
But he wasn't interested in exploring the thoughts of just anyone. No, his sights were set on the highest levels of the Citadel, passing over the banalities of the masses that hummed like flies on a rotting carcass. He picked out the target of his ire instantly. It'd have been impossible not to find them, with their egos radiating an aura of self-importance a mile wide.
The Council had done so much wrong to Mouse and to himself, and he wanted to find a way to decimate them from the inside out.
Before long, he had found their tangle of cacophonous thoughts, every thread braying as loud as a mule. Incredible. Even in this mind space, each council member struggled to be heard over his pompous brethren. To his relief, Riq appeared to be absent. Rick had no interest in spoiling his evening by delving into the madman's deranged head a second time anyway.
Rick quickly realized that the Council's attention was occupied not by matters of official business, but by a lavish meal. They gushed over all manner of gastronomic delights, dish after dish sparking their appetites anew. Sights and smells of a banquet filled Rick's senses, the aroma of succulent meats mingling with the musk of sex as he fucked Mouse with abandon.
The clinking of silverware was drowned out by Mouse's moans of pleasure while Rick rammed into him, grunting and huffing like a bull. Slick squelched around his cock as Rick drew his length out, only to plunge it back in, milking Mouse's sweet spot again and again.
He could nearly see the council members gathered around the stately dinner table. Napkins were tucked daintily into their collars and dishware set with fastidious care, as Mortys dressed in livery waited on them hand and foot. A fire crackled in the alabaster fireplace, and wine poured seemingly without end.
The Council were bathed in warmth and luxury, while the catalyst of their wealth was locked away in a shit hole with nothing but barren concrete walls and a shoddy bed to lie on. That same bed's ancient springs now creaked in earnest as Rick flexed his thighs, rhythmically bouncing Mouse on his cock.
With the augmented Resonance propelling him onward, Rick dove beneath the Council's surface thoughts, seeking out some evidence to use against them. At first it was dishearteningly bland. Internal monologues about trite to-do lists and petty complaints played through his head in a grating whine. Rick almost considered leaving after listening to Rick Prime prattle on about the latest shipment of dinner forks, when he heard something that caught his attention.
Such an extravagant gift of silverware. How nice of the GF to show they care.
The GF? Now things were getting interesting. Prime's appreciation was accompanied by other strangely pleasant thoughts on the subject. But it didn't make any sense. Why would the Council be talking about their sworn enemy so amicably? With a little investigating, the nugget of thought quickly branched out to a network of similar sentiments echoed by Prime's council-mates.
They've done a fine job holding up their end of the bargain.
Maintaining such a high degree of propinquity with their establishment has proven to be an efficacious endeavor for all parties involved.
The entire Citadel is at our mercy at the cost of a few measly Ricks? It's so simple, we should've done this sooner.
The last voice was unfamiliar to Rick until he realized that it was Quantum Rick's. Of course the belcher spoke coherently in his mind, but Rick was surprised to hear such acidity in his words.
The longer he lingered in the nether thoughts, the more facets of the thinkers' minds he was able to access. Rick found that he could not only dive deeper but also older, exploring memories that went back years. Like running through a database search, Rick scanned dozens upon dozens of entries centering around the topic of the Galactic Federation.
With a grunt, Rick lurched forward onto his knees, curling over Mouse on the narrow bed and rutting like an animal. He pinned his wrists to the mattress above his head with one hand while the other hoisted up Mouse's small bottom, his hips pistoning into him rigorously. Sweat dripped down his neck with the exertion, but the sweet sound of Mouse's cries at every slam of his hips spurred him on.
Life is a bed of roses when you're sleeping with the enemy.
Dawg, we's livin' the good life. Daz what I'm talkin' 'bout!
Rick replayed snippets of conversations between council members and high-ranking GF officials, every exchange baffling Rick even more. There was talk of sharing caches, divvying up new territories in a matter-of-fact way, and the topic of meeting a certain "quota" popped up with surprising frequency. But as for what that quota consisted of—weapons? materials? intel?—it still eluded Rick. Whatever it was, it appeared to be something that the Council was supplying to the GF.
Rick thought about the Citadel news and the ferocity with which it proselytized the war against the GF. He couldn't imagine that the Council had any reason to consort with them on any kind of genial terms. Yet, oddly enough, the thoughts he intercepted made it seem as if the GF were almost palswith the Council rather than an enemy.
Because that's precisely what they are, Rick.
Rick jumped at the sudden intrusion. He immediately backpedaled out of the Council's thoughts, scrutinizing his surroundings for the source of the voice. It sounded far more tangible than the previous ones he'd encountered, almost like someone had whispered the words into his ear. And most surprising of all, it sounded very much like a Morty.
Rick paused to search Mouse's face for some evidence that the disembodied voice had actually come from him. But Mouse was too busy panting his name, his arousal-blushed face pinched in concentration as he struggled to endure the pleasure assailing his senses.
He shook his head. All this traipsing around minds must've been messing with his own. He couldn't even tell where his thoughts ended and another's began. Was he going crazy?
Hardly. A ripple of laughter vibrated through the voice. But it's good to see you here. I've waited a long time for you. Come. Let me show you something, Rick of Dimension X-280.
The threads of thought he'd been following suddenly drew together, trading their disjointed meanderings for something that took real form before him. They bound together as tightly as steel cable and twice as strong, leading Rick down one particular memory from the past. He could practically feel the cool of the cable beneath his fingers as he followed it to its endpoint—and in the next instant, he was standing inside a room, his fingers now gliding along the surface of a metal table.
Five members of the Council sat before him, seated around a large, round conference table. A sterile light illuminated the space from above, while the rest of the room faded into blackness, as though nothing existed beyond the light's touch. Given the nature of memory and recall, that was likely the case.
Rick looked around at the audience of council members. He noted that they lacked their official garb, and they seemed to sport fewer wrinkles and more hair. Even Zeta Alpha's hulking wig was absent. This must've been years ago, he rationalized. Maybe even before the Council's tyrannical reign had begun.
They were looking at Rick expectantly, as though waiting for him to continue something he'd been saying. Rick tried to step back from the scene and away from their piercing eyes, but he was rooted to the spot. He opened his mouth to say there'd been a mistake, when—
"Gentle-Rick, as of today, the Galactic Federation threat is no more," he suddenly found himself saying.
A roar of congratulations echoed around the table as the Council slapped each other on the back and gave whoops and "huzzahs." Ricktiminus and Zeta Alpha high-fived each other as if they'd just heard the winning score of their favorite sports team.
Rick raised his hands to quiet them, the gravelly voice slipping out from between his lips like it'd always belonged there. "As we've all discussed, however, this news will be deemed strictly confidential. As far as the average Rick is concerned, we are still at war with the Galactic Federation. Updates on the warfront will continue to be broadcast just as before, with new campaigns being devised by our PR department every two to three months."
The council members were nodding along, completely at ease with the shocking news Rick was delivering.
"Per our agreement with General Mollar, the Federation will be allowed to carry out its functions as usual. They'll continue to unify planets under the Galactic Federation name, wage battles against dissidents—and whatever other petty, little pet projects they like to waste their time on. However, we will still hold the final say on all executive orders."
"Sheet, dawg! Dat makes us straight-up commander-in-chief in the hood!"
"Quite." Rick felt himself smile. "Now the only matter left to attend to is the quota."
Prime piped up before he could continue. "Weren't we calling it the lottery? 'Quota' just sounds so tottery."
"Urrp braaaugh augh."
Zeta Alpha pointed finger guns at Quantum Rick. "Now, that'd get my vote any day of the week!"
"Enough!" Rick slammed his palms on the table, making each council member's whiskey tumbler clatter. "What we call it is irrelevant. What matters is selecting the dimensions to fill the order. A regular supply will ensure the Rick populace remains obedient and in our debt, while also keeping those GF pigs satisfied. Even in defeat, they have their hungry egos to feed." The insult garnered another round of mumbles. He continued. "The pieces have already been set in place, and our first mock detainment is scheduled to be carried out tomorrow."
"How will the fortunate—or, rather, unfortunate—candidates be solicited, Riq?"
Rick looked down at the table's chrome surface where Riq's face was smirking back at him.
"Just leave the Code Yellows to me."
The scene flickered to a halt like a movie projector running out of film, leaving Rick in utter darkness. No thoughts, no memories, no input of any kind met him for a handful of blissful seconds. The stillness was both terrifying and soothing. Although his corporeal body was locked in the throes of lovemaking, Rick's astral self lay supine in the void, feeling an emptiness echo within him. What he'd just witnessed was too momentous to put into words, and he felt akin to a toddler tasked with preparing a dissertation on quantum entanglement.
The Council, he started slowly, is working with the GF. They're trading Ricks to—to—
Very close, Rick. The same Morty voice from before surfaced right beside him.
Rick went over the facts again, not liking the conclusion that was staring him in the face. They...arethe GF.
Precisely. The voice beamed with approval. And?
There were never any arrests. It's—they've been selling off Ricks to the Federation.
Yes. Your brothers have been sacrificed in the name of exploitation.
Now Rick had no doubt that it wasn't just a random thought that he was accessing. The voice was actually someone speaking to him.
Who are you?
Who I am is not important. Now that you know the truth, you must act.
The truth? The truth, it turned out, was more sinister than he'd ever imagined; the Council, more corrupt than he thought it capable. The sheer magnitude of the scam was overwhelming. But with it, he realized, he'd been given the key to the Council's own undoing. The only question was how he'd pull it off.
The voice tinkled like a glass bell in the breeze. The answer will come in time, Rick. Go to your teacher, and then come find me. You have far greater plans to fulfill. And with that, the voice was gone.
Gasping loudly, Rick blinked back to reality. It took a moment for him to orient himself, but the first thing he noticed was that he was lying on his back, head propped on the dingy pillow. The ring of nanos still circled slowly overhead, backlighting Mouse as he continued to ride Rick. He was sweaty and flushed, his dick slapping Rick's belly; his small hands, braced on his abs.
The earth-shattering realizations from the Resonance had rocked Rick to the core. But like a dream running through his fingers, they swiftly dissipated from the forefront of his mind. Even the strange exchange he'd had with the voice gradually bled into his own thoughts until he was convinced that he had had the conversation with himself all along. Knowledge of the Council's scheme teetered just on the periphery of Rick's consciousness, relegating itself to being dealt with at a later time.
Right now, the fog of desire was still thick in Rick's head, his temporarily split attention having done little to dull his libido. His cock was still hard as steel as it pounded in and out of his lover. He heard his name said like a mantra on Mouse's tongue, and he held onto his hips anew as he looked up at him in awe.
Mouse was an utter mess above Rick, any remnants of his subservient demeanor replaced by this debauched, lustful thing. His nest of hair, now weighed down with sweat, befitted his haggard state, and his skin glistened with a sheen of sweat.
"That's it, Mouse," Rick crooned, the next Resonance painting him a picture of what Mouse needed and exactly where he needed it. "I'll give it to you just the way you want, babe."
Rick could see Mouse's arousal laid out like a road map through the Resonance, a mental diagram that revealed his deepest devotions. What Mouse held in the safety of his mind was enough to make even Rick blush. He was finding it harder and harder to believe that he'd never not known Mouse could be such a minx.
Rick caught Mouse by the wrists, pinning them down as he tilted his hips and fucked up into him like a jackhammer. Mouse thrashed and writhed, yanking futilely in Rick's grasp, wanting escape but also so clearly wanting more. He nearly collapsed beneath the assault, drool spilling free from his slack lips, but Rick wouldn't spare him the luxury of rest.
Finally breaking free of Rick's hold, Mouse clutched at his own shoulders as though to keep himself from falling apart. His breathing became more erratic; his movements, more desperate, feeling the orgasm inside him begin to peak. Mouse was close, and Rick wanted to see every beautiful moment of it.
Mouse was like a fallen angel above him. His pale skin was flushed bright with passion, a halo of golden light illuminating his curls, his arms X'ed across his chest.
"Mouse..." Rick panted. Then he was swept under by his climax, his ears muffled by the sound of his pounding heart—or was it Mouse's? Seed pumped thick and plentiful from his cock to fill Mouse's hole until it spilled over.
Mouse's limbs went taut, and he stilled as his own orgasm finally overtook him. It rose like a steady tide inside of him, surging forward with all the force of an ancient sea until Mouse's entire body was filled with its energy. Rick could see it radiating from him as clearly as the golden glow of his eyes that lit up the room.
At last, the swell of pleasure had crested and it demanded an exit, tumbling out in hot spurts to streak Rick's abs and chest. Mouse dropped his head back, giving a long and quiet exhalation that was carried high throughout the Citadel.
...
What happened next would never be quite understood. There was no record of it having taken place, no evidence that it had ever come to pass. But for one unmistakable moment, every being in the Citadel was awash in a love so pure, few believed it even possible.
Mama Eun-Rick put down her makeup compact as she sat in front of her vanity, suddenly overcome by a contentment that warmed her cold heart. When she looked into the mirror, she saw the beauty of her own bare face, without the need for makeup to hide it—a face of someone incredible. A face worth loving.
She dropped her head back, sliding her eyes shut.
"Riri..."
The Captain of the Guard was supposed to be listening to an update in the log regarding the whereabouts of their missing target, but his attention kept drifting to the speaker instead. I-006 was simply delivering his report in his crisp and stutter-free voice, but to the Captain, it sounded like the richest symphony.
He indulged himself in a small smile as he raised his head and whispered.
"Isyx..."
ψ-530 and ψ-532 held each other tightly beneath the satin sheets. Hisses and stutters were swallowed in their open-mouthed kisses as they grabbed each other with a passion that rivaled their worst fights.
The twins breathed each other's name in unison.
"Brother..."
From behind the doors of the Council's seraglio, a great cry rose, swelling like a tidal bore of agony. It was a song of the utmost sorrow, sung in a dozen warbling voices.
It seeped beneath the door and echoed down the halls, long abandoned for the night, before dying like a retreating wave.
C-165 smiled at the drink nestled between his hands, recalling the memory of a lover from long ago.
He lifted the glass in a toast in the middle of the empty bar.
"Here's to you—"
The trio of Eun-Ricks stood in a circle around a small figure, their hands linked.
"Is this part of the prophecy?" the first of them asked.
"I-it's more beautiful than we ever imagined," sighed the second, on the verge of tears.
The final Eun-Rick knelt and pressed his forehead to their conduit's limp hand. "Has it really begun?"
"Yes," said the Morty. "They are now one."
θ-669 arched into his lover's caress, relishing the feel of λ's sturdy hands on his hips as he was fucked from behind. He called for him, cupping the back of λ's neck to guide his lips to his. λ was gentle as he ravished θ's battered mouth with his tongue, rolling his hips sensually just the way his master liked it.
"Now, who do you love?" θ asked, already anticipating the time-honored answer.
"You..."
"Good boy."
Auctioneer Rick tossed and turned in his king-size bed. He bolted upright and ran a shaky hand through his sweat-dampened hair, trying to figure out what had awoken him. All he could grasp was the sudden spite for the cold sheets beside him and the uncomfortable tent in his pants.
He huffed a lock of hair from his forehead and raised his face to the ceiling fan.
"Rickochet..."
I-6 fell to his knees, hand tugging the front of his uniform, trying to get his heart under control. Sweat rolled into his eyes as he looked around at the rest of his unit. They were equally incapacitated, some already tearing their clothes off while others simply wept on the floor. I-6 tried to reach for his communicator but ended up cupping his throbbing erection through his pants instead.
He clenched his eyes shut as he rasped.
"Captain..."
Chi sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, fingers clutching the unfamiliar cover. It was a pattern he'd have never chosen himself. The room was still dark, leaving him feeling acutely alone even when the sleeping figure behind him shifted and murmured his name. He ignored it as he picked up his glasses on the bedside table.
Chi looked up at the ceiling, closing his eyes.
"280..."
Riq was burning the midnight oil at his desk, a mountain of paperwork his only companion. He was currently sifting through the day's meeting minutes when a random, stray drop of water blurred the text.
He blinked and another tear plipped onto the digital screen, then another. A wave of nausea suddenly gripped him, making his mouth flood with saliva. He threw himself at the nearest trash bin, clutching the rim as he emptied the contents of his stomach.
Bleary-eyed, he wiped the sick that clung to his lips. He looked skyward, overcome with the need to utter the only name that could ever give him solace. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he was seized by another uncontrollable retching, his head back in the bin.
Far below the turmoil of longing and lust, in the deepest bowels of the Citadel, two lovers were locked in a tantric embrace. They whispered each other's secrets and desires and the awe they shared. But their secrets were not their own; their desires, greater than mere flesh could contain; and their awe, nothing compared to that held by the cosmos that witnessed them.
A chime of joy rang throughout the universe, for with The Ones' union, Symmetry would at last be restored.