Continuation of their time in the lair of Evil Morty and Evil Rick.
...
May ~ Part Two~
Phoebe agreed with Rick's suggestion to lay low for a bit. "I just wish I had my portal gun with me," she sighed in frustration, twirling a loose curl around her finger, then releasing it and letting it spring back into shape. She hadn't expected for them to be arrested and hauled off during breakfast, or else she could help them hide, cloaking them under the safety of her unregistered portal gun. Not to mention that with no knives except the ones that could fit in her boots and only the senbon holding her hair in place, Phoebe felt naked. Rick handed over one of the weapons in his pocket, an electrocution pistol, but there was just something about having a blade in her hand that felt more natural, that felt like home, though she felt thankful she had something useful in her possession now. Morty's voice broke into her thoughts as they passed an upholstery shop and a homeless chair person. "Those guys were wrong, right? You don't—you wouldn't kill yourself… y-yourselves?"
"Pff-ugh, of course they were wrong, Morty. Have more faith in Rick than that!" Phoebe admonished him in a low tone.
Rick seemed equally offended. "'Course not, Morty! Listen to Phoebe, and think—how could that profit me? Someone out there is killing Ricks, and the Council ain't gonna stop thinking it's me until we clear our names, like I mentioned earlier."
They stopped in front of an ale house. Over Morty's shoulder, she could see some of the patrons staring at them through the window, but she ignored them in favor of looking at Rick and Morty. "We need to find the real Rick killer," Phoebe added, laying a hand on Morty's shoulder.
"I'm scared, guys!" Morty clasped his hands in front of him. "Maybe we should go home and stockpile weapons like that show Doomsday Preppers."
Rick instantly objected. "Not really my style, Morty. Besides, your home is most likely swarming with Ricks right now."
"He's right, Morty," Phoebe shook her head, "none of us will be safe until we do this. It's not just about Rick, although of course we should do this for Rick." She met Rick's eyes over Morty's head and smiled at him grimly but encouragingly. "We have to do this for all of us, like—like the Fellowship of the Ring, like the Three Musketeers. All for one and one for all, and all that bullshit."
"Yeah—" belch "—what Phoebe said, Morty. We're a team, and when one of us is fucked six ways to Sunday, all of us are."
"Exactly, Rick, I mean, who chased off that spider monster when it almost ate you two, huh? That was me, coming through for you two. And who shut down that gross-ass rapey jellybean fucker when he went after Morty? We did!"
"Y-you did?" Morty asked, voice tremulous. "Y-you killed Mr. Jellybean? For me?"
"Yeah, Morty, yeah," Phoebe nodded, kneeling down to his level. "When you came back to us we knew something was wrong. No one messes with our Morty, so me and Rick had to fuck him up for what he did. And remember when you and Rick knocked off that guard that was sneaking up behind me? That's teamwork, Morty. We come through for each other."
"Yeah, I guess you're right, Phoebe," Morty hesitantly agreed. "We are a team."
"Great!" Phoebe straightened up from her lowered position.
"We should get off the street while I do some investigating," Rick said, "It'll keep us from being spotted right away, and we can all rest while I figure out how some jackass clowned me." He scowled bitterly.
"What about this restaurant here?" Phoebe pointed at one a few doors down from where they currently stood.
"Sounds good," Rick agreed.
The three of them walked there as quickly as they could without arousing suspicion, entered, and were seated by a very confused Hostess chair person. They placed an order, then sat together on their human-shaped seats as Rick removed a screwdriver from his pocket and started to fiddle with his portal gun. Phoebe slipped away to the bathroom for a few minutes, where she was relieved to find that things were set up mostly the same, except the chair people had toilets of a different size and shape, and she had to bend nearly in half to reach the sink. She splashed water onto her face and stood trying to orient herself. Unlike some of their other adventures, the whirlwind of the day took them by complete surprise. The closest adventure she had to compare would be their efforts to reclaim Summer when she was kidnapped to Gazorpazorp. Usually they had some warning, some choice: they would open a portal, or get in the cruiser, and then things would get hairy later. This morning, probably more like an hour or two ago, if she were honest about the passage of time, however, they had been sitting at the breakfast table eating in the dining room when all hell broke loose. Phoebe collected herself and left the bathroom.
"You all right?" Rick said as she sat down, not looking up from the portal gun.
"Yeah, just a bit of a mindfuck to be dragged out of your home during breakfast and hauled along like a criminal only to end up in a courtroom, but obviously it's worse for you because you were the accused." She glared down at the white and red tablecloth as if it had personally offended her. "It's just such bullshit."
"I know this has got to be rough, Phoebe, but just hang in there. The Ricks are probably gonna waste some time messing with Jerry, because they won't be able to help themselves. But as soon as they get bored they'll be on to us, so we don't have much time."
"I know, Rick," Phoebe murmured, tracing a loose thread on the tablecloth. "I know." Rick took a moment from work to touch a hand to her arm, then went right back to what he was doing. The small gesture said more than he could have at the moment, and it mollified Phoebe until the food arrived.
"Phones á la clams, and phonesgetti with phoneballs," the waiter said as he set down the plates of odd phone-based food. "Anything else?"
"Yeah, more phonesticks please," Rick said, shaking the basket.
"Right away, sir," the waiter responded, gliding away to fill the request.
Phoebe sighed, then looked at Morty. "It's weird to think that some versions of me don't hang out with the two of you, Morty. I can't imagine living any other way, now. When I graduate I'm going to see if I can live somewhere close by in your area. I mean, I have my own portal gun now, but I really just want the physical proximity to be able to go over to your house on a whim, you feel?"
"Yeah, I feel," Morty responded. "But, that makes me think of something else. You know, Rick, Phoebe, when I first saw all those Ricks and Mortys, I thought 'gee, that kinda devalues our bond.'" He'd looked despondent at first, but then perked up. "But then I realized that just means that our relationship must be pretty special to span over all those different timelines."
Phoebe felt a pang in her chest as she remembered what Council Phoebe had said about their other selves. Why weren't all of them with a Rick and Morty, aside from the dead ones? And speaking of which, why were some of their selves dead? Why did some Phoebes hate Ricks? What had caused some Phoebes to never be born?
"Yeah, it's gotta be that way for you and me, buddy. You're a camouflage." Eh? She stopped brooding to look questioningly at Rick.
"Camouflage?" Morty spluttered. "Wh-wh-what are you talking about, Rick?"
"Yes, explain, please," Phoebe presses.
"Ricks have a very distinct and traceable brainwave due to our genius," Rick replied as he reassembled the portal gun. "The best way to hide from an enemy's radar is to stand near someone with complementary brainwaves that make ours invisible." He inspected it for defects, no doubt making sure it would still work, then took a pen out of his coat pocket with one hand, which he then used to draw two different wavelengths, one on top of the other, on the napkin. "See, wh-wh-when a Rick is with a Morty, the genius waves get cancelled out by the uh," he cleared his throat before finishing his sentence, "Morty waves."
"So what do my brainwaves do?" Phoebe looked at Rick curiously.
"They—they sort of…" Rick's lips twisted. "They sort of harmonize, I guess you'd say."
Phoebe blinked at him. "They...harmonize?"
"Um…" Morty waved his hands around to catch their attention, "are Morty waves complimentary...because… our personalities are so different?" Morty ventured.
Instead of answering him, Rick, who was still looking at the portal turn, exclaimed, "Oh, shit dog! My portal gun was hacked remotely, Morty, obviously by the real killer to frame me. But I was able to trace the signal. Come on, let's go!" He jumped to his feet. Morty, frowning with uncertainty, and Phoebe, frowning in thought, both stood to follow him. They turned to leave, but spotted two alternate Ricks and an alternate Morty by the door speaking to the hostess.
"Uh-oh!" Rick whispered.
"Fuck," Phoebe muttered, then something caught her eye. "Rick, look, over there," she whispered, nudging him and pointing. "You and Morty need to take off your shirts."
He glanced over, a smirk spreading across his face a moment later as he saw what she saw—passable lookalikes that could be used as a decoy to draw attention away from their escape. "Morty," he said softly to avoid attracting attention as he quickly ducked down and removed his shirt and lab coat. "Take off your shirt and put it on that chair over there that looks like you."
"Um, what?" Morty said. Phoebe sighed, reaching forward to pull his shirt over his head herself.
"Hey!" Morty objected as she tossed the garment to Rick.
She grabbed his hand and tugged him into the floor next to Rick. "We can make it to the side door if we hurry, they're still not looking," she whispered, glancing at the Ricks and Morty by the door. "Come on."
Bent low, half-crawling and half-running, they made it to the side door and outside. "There!" Rick hissed at them, "Their cruiser! We can take it and kill two birds with one stone."
A sprint that covered less than five feet and they were hopping into the craft. It soon rose into the air. Rick flipped off the other Ricks and Morty as they ran out, frantic and cursing. Phoebe stuck her tongue out at them and flipped them off too, then rolled down her window to give them a piece of her mind. "Team C-137 says fuck you for fucking with us, you fucking fucks!" She yelled out to them just before the cruiser, piloted by Rick, sped away.
"Assholes," she muttered as she sat back, rolling her window back up. "Fucking assholes."
Rick scoffed. "What did you expect from a small nation populated in large part by Ricks?"
Phoebe shrugged, sliding down in her seat. "I guess I didn't realize just how much Ricks hated each other—which is to say themselves."
"Yeah, well, get used to it," he sneered.
Phoebe flipped him off and threw one arm across her eyes. "Wake me when we get there or if we have to kick someone's ass," she murmured, voice muffled. "I'm going to take a nap."
XXX
"Hey, Phoebe, wake up," Rick's voice slithered through her confusing dream, dragging her back into consciousness.
"Hmm? What?" she whispered hoarsely, sitting up with a sigh and a stretch. She glanced at Rick and Morty and noticed they had replaced the clothes they left behind at the diner. "Hey, you found clothes that look like the ones you lost."
"Yeah, some space outlet," Morty replied glumly, arms crossed.
"Hey, kid, what's wrong?" Phoebe peered at him in concern.
"Oh, not much," Morty replied in a tone of voice that denoted that something was very obviously bothering him. "Just a little upset that Ricks use us Mortys for human cloaking devices."
Rick sighed wearily. "Morty, you're still making a bigger deal out of this than it is. The whole complementary brainwave thing is only part of it."
"Oh, yeah? And what's the other part?" Morty challenged.
"How loveable you guys are," Phoebe cut in, grabbing him and hugging him to her side.
"Phoebe, not now," Morty moaned, pushing her away from him.
"Oh, come on, Morty, are you that mad at Ri—what the fuck is that noise?"
"Um...I think it's screaming," came Morty's tremulous, uncertain reply.
"Rick?" Phoebe glanced at him, then glanced out of the front window as a dome came into view.
"Holy mother of fuck," Phoebe gasped when they could see it more clearly.
"Oh my god, Rick, look! There's a bunch of people strapped all over that building!" Morty yelped in dismay.
"Not just people, Morty," Phoebe breathed in horror as she sat forward.
"They're all Mortys," Rick said, sounding as horrified as Phoebe despite his usual careful concealment of emotion.
Nude Morty's, all chained down and being tortured via a device that stabbed into their sides, covered the entire surface of the dome, a black structure that gleamed malevolently in the available sunlight. Each Morty screamed and writhed in agony as the little arms drove thick metal spikes into the same gaping wounds, deepening and worsening them. Blood covered their sides in thick swaths and tears streamed down their faces from bloodshot eyes. Some Mortys made no sound, but those were the ones who had undoubtedly screamed themselves hoarse rather than from a lack of trying. Phoebe felt sick to her stomach, but couldn't look away. "Oh my Kali, what the fuck, what the fuck!"
Morty seemed like he might actually faint. "Oh my god… wh-why would somebody do this? It's horrible!"
"Well, one Morty's enough to hide from the bureaucrats," Rick explained as he took them down to land. "But you g- you get a whole matrix of Mortys and put 'em in agonizing pain. That creates a pattern that can hide even from other Ricks, motherfucker. I fiddled with a—" belch "—concept like this once."
Morty gave Rick a disturbed, disbelieving look as the cruiser settled to a gentle stop, firmly on the ground.
"You…'fiddled with the concept,'" Phoebe repeated faintly, slightly disturbed herself as she looked at him.
Rick facepalmed. "On paper, you two, on paper! I'm not that heartless. I wouldn't do this, it's barbaric overkill!" As an afterthought, he added while disembarking, "I mean, you could accomplish the same result with like five Mortys and a jumper cable…." He broke off when he received a facepalm from Phoebe and an outright glower of death from Morty. "Which I also wouldn't do!" Rick hastily assured them. "I'm just saying, it's bad craftsmanship."
"Oh my gods you could have kept that train of thought to yourself," Phoebe sighed as she got out with Morty.
"Look, can we just—can we just drop this? We need to sneak into this asshole's evil lair, kick his ass, and then bounce him to the Citadel."
"Sure, let's just go in," Phoebe agreed wearily.
"Fine," Morty agreed petulantly.
Getting in was easy enough—too easy, Phoebe personally thought as they wandered through the system of cave-like halls. She slipped past a loudly complaining Morty to be at Rick's side as Morty started in on Rick. "Y-you know what Rick?" Morty called, "I don't think you care about me at all! I'm no different than that jacket you've got on! Y-y-or-or your stupid portal gun! I'm just a tool! I-I'm just an object!"
"It was way too easy to get in," she addressed him in a barely audible tone. "Either this guy is just that cocky or we're being lured into a trap."
"You're probably right," Rick agreed, speaking just as quietly, "But we don't have a choice." Louder so that Morty could hear, but not nearly as loud as Morty, he said, "Hey, it's your choice to take it personally, Morty. Now for the love of god, be quiet! The point of this is to get the drop on the guy!"
Phoebe stopped dead, whirling around and shooting Morty an irritated look as well. "Hey, a little bit louder, I don't think the next five planets have heard you yet." She tried tempering her annoyance a little bit. "I love you", Morty, but I swear it feels like you want this crazy asshole to kill us and hook you up to the weird ass torture device more than you want to kick his ass!"
"I just want to make it clear to Rick that I'm more than a human shield!" Morty snapped back, stomping his foot.
"You're absolutely right, Morty," Rick snarled, "Besides being a perfect impenetrable sheet of human armor because you're as dumb as I am smart, right now you're being a pain in my ass!"
Phoebe rounded on Rick and gave him a withering look. "That was cruel, Rick," she rebuked him softly. "You went way too far."
"Y-y-you-re such a jerk!" Morty yelled, hands balling into fists. His lip quivered and he looked dangerously close to tears.
The sound of feed skittering over stone disrupted the heated argument taking place between them. Phoebe's body immediately poised itself for fighting or fleeing.
"Oh, Morty, you've done it now," Rick continued. "Something heard us."
"Are you happy now?" Phoebe grumbled, "Will you both be quiet now, pretty fucking please with a godsdamned cherry on top?" While Morty had been louder than she would have liked on his own, shouting at each other in increasing volume certainly hadn't helped the matter.
"Pfft, too late for that," Rick muttered.
"No, definitely not happy," Morty responded glumly, looking around fearfully as he blinked away tears before they could fall.
"Well, brace yourself," Phoebe told him as doors along the hall opened and strange purple creatures emerged, each with an exoskeleton, pincers, and multiple legs. It would be a close-quarters fight, one that would have been better fought with her blades. "Rick, I need to get higher, help me up." He gave her a look but quickly gave her a boost as she climbed up one of the tree-like structures on the side of the hall and sat in the dip between two branches. She pulled the electrocution pistol from her waistband and waited for a clear shot. As Rick started fist-fighting the creatures, she took aim and shot three dead. There were only five or six, with Rick doing surprisingly well and clearing the other half, but then a second wave came.
Phoebe got off one or two more shots before she saw a door open and another Rick and Morty emerge, accompanied by two more creatures, as the creatures surrounding the other two members of team C-137 closed in on the pair. She crouched down in the dip trying not to be seen as the alternate Rick and Morty approached. As they did, the Rick, who she noticed wore a black shirt rather than Rick's typical choice of light blues, had a jagged scar crossing the right side of his face and purple bruises underneath his eyes, started to slow clap. "Ooh, look at you, C-137! You're—aren't you a tough customer?" Either he hadn't noticed her yet or he was waiting for an opportune moment to have her apprehended. He seemed focused on her Rick.
"The slow clap? Really? Kinda played out, dude," Rick sneered.
"Not in this dimension it isn't," the other Rick sneered back. "In fact, hah, I invented it and nobody else has ever even done it here before."
"Well lah-dee-dah," her Rick mocked, slow clapping himself only to have his hands slapped by the other Rick with a protest of "Hey, that's mine!"
Phoebe was starting to think she hadn't been noticed. She slowly shifted her aim, intent on shooting down the alternate Rick and Morty if given the chance. No matter where she shot them, head or center mass, they would be electrocuted, so it mattered little. She turned up the charge to maximum voltage, taking aim at the chest of the Rick. Her had slid onto the trigger, ready to take the shot, when suddenly the other Morty looked up, his eye—only one, as the other was covered by an eye-patch—landing on her.
Faster than she thought possible, the other Rick punched hers in the face then grabbed her Morty, spinning him around and pulling a long hunting knife on him, pressing it to his throat. "Don't fucking think about it if you want your Morty to live," he growled, looking right at her and quite obviously speaking directly to her. His eyes slid to her Rick. "So, C-137, you have a Phoebe. I'd wondered about that. None of the Ricks I got the jump on had one. You're the first." His eyes returned to Phoebe appraisingly, his Morty not having stopped staring. Her Rick rose shakily to his feet, glaring at the opposing Rick. "I wonder what's so special about you, Phoebe." The other Rick lightly pressed the blade into Morty's throat, scraping the skin. A small drop of blood slowly trailed downward, Morty's eyes wild with panic.
"Rick," her Morty whimpered. "Phoebe."
Rick stared calculatingly between her perch and the alternate Rick, knowing he was in no position to intervene.
"Why should I listen to you? I could just shoot you in the fucking head," Phoebe hissed.
"Even if you do, what's to say I won't be faster?" the Rick taunted silkily. "Even if you shoot me, I can still just slit his pathetic throat before you have a chance to save him."
She heard a pistol cock, and her eyes darted toward the source of the noise to see that the other Rick's Morty had a pistol trained on her Rick—right at his heart, actually—who slowly raised his arms in surrender with a scowl.
Her aim shifted onto his Morty. "Then I'll just kill your Morty." She shrugged. "Seems fair."
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "But yours will still be dead, and the gun might go off anyway. Even Ricks need beating hearts."
"There are more Mortys where he came from," Phoebe bluffed, "Mortys are a dime a dozen. I'm sure we could just grab one of the poor little bastards you've been torturing and they'll come with us willingly."
"Ah, Phoebe, please!" her Morty begged, and though she tried to ignore him she glanced down at him.
The other Rick smiled dangerously. "A valiant effort at a bluff, but I can see it in your eyes. You care about this Morty, and we both know you can't risk your Rick being injured." His dangerous smile widened. "But I can see now why Ricks take an interest in Phoebes." Keeping a firm hold on Morty with the arm of his free hand, he held that hand out to her. "Come down, dear, you're just prolonging the inevitable." As if for emphasis, he let the knife nick Morty's throat again. The boy cried out in pain and fear, another drop of blood trailing down his pale throat.
If she took a shot at the Rick, he would slit Morty's throat, and his Morty would likely still shoot her Rick. If she took a shot at the Morty, he would shoot her Rick and his Rick would slit her Morty's throat. Both options ended in failure, as at least one of them would die if not both, and she would be alone. She might succeed in saving one of them, but not both. She had no choice. She grudgingly slid down the tree, approaching the odd hostage situation. The Rick's eyes raked over her with interest. "You made the right choice," he said. He made a gesture with his free hand, and suddenly a claw came down on her shoulder from behind with enough force to send her to the floor.