Disclaimer: I don't own Rick and Morty. They belong to Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon
A/N: Here's chapter 3! Comments are greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 3
The derivative of y=2x^(1/2 - e)?
…Easy. y'=(1-2e)x^(-1/2 - e).
How about the integral of (lnx)^2dx?
Once again, easy. x(ln x)^2 − 2x ln x + 2x + C.
What about….
Rick Sanchez of dimension C-137 volleyed simple math problems at himself while trying to keep mentally busy as he hung, tired and sober, in the Galactic Federation's Maximum Security Prison. Just because he felt like his body was wasting away didn't mean he was going to allow his mind to as well.
Rick had given himself up to the Feds only three weeks ago, and for every day Rick hung, chained to his cell wall, not a single living organism had come to see him. No, no one but the robots who delivered his daily nutrients and water intravenously. He had attempted to make conversation with his fellow prisoners, who were chained to their own cells beside him, but he quickly learned that extended conversation was not well-tolerated by the Federation.
So instead, Rick completed math problems in his head in an attempt to stay sane.
The lack of alcohol was getting to Rick. Going cold turkey on booze was affecting him, worse than he had imagined it would be. The headaches and migraines were terrible. The first week had been the worst. Now, his body just felt tired, more tired than he ever had before. He ardently remembered his last shot of whiskey before being arrested; it had burned in the best way going down his throat.
Rick exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes. He hated being sober; he hated being stuck inside his own mind. Sure, he was considered one of the most intelligent organisms in the galaxy, if not the most intelligent- but with intelligence came a lot of scary and annoying thoughts that Rick did not like to be left alone with.
A hovering robot zoomed up to him, breaking Rick out of his trance. Must be time for my daily nutrients from the government. Great.
However, instead of pulling out a needle, the robot used its arms to grab hold of Rick's cell wall. It swiftly detached it and picked it up, Rick moving slightly from the sudden movement.
This is different. Rick thought to himself. Probably going to torture me for information. Go figure.
The robot holding Rick zoomed out of the room. They flew around for a few minutes, the android navigating the hallways with reasonable precision, until it stopped suddenly outside a large door.
The door slid open, allowing the android and Rick access, before it closed suddenly behind them. Rick found himself inside of a medium-sized room; the walls were silver, and seemed to be made out of some type of super-strong magnesium. A blank television sat in one corner. There was only the single door Rick had entered through as any entry or exit; in the room itself was a single chair. A figure- no, a female humanoid- stood against the opposite wall.
The robot set Rick's wall down. "R-471, you may release the prisoner." The lady lazily ordered to the android. It obeyed, inserting one of its arms into the hole on the side of Rick's wall. He was immediately released, falling down onto the floor, gray hair falling in his face. His body felt like jelly. This was the first time in three weeks that he had been out of the bindings.
"Leave us," the woman commanded the robot. "Stand, prisoner C-137."
Rick grunted, putting his arms underneath him as he weakly pushed himself up. "Calm your tits, lady." He managed to get up onto his knees before standing erect, knees slightly wobbly. He grabbed the chair with one hand, steadying himself. "Can't you give a-a-an old man a break?" His voice sounded pathetic; he hadn't spoken in a while.
The alien woman took a step forward, staring at him through spectacles with a bored expression on her face. She had bluish skin and purple eyes, her green hair pulled up in a tight bun. "Sit, C-137."
A thousand thoughts and scenarios flew through Rick's mind all at once, in a matter of seconds. He considered his options. One: he could obey the woman and in extent obey the bureaucrats by sitting in the chair. Fuck that. Two: he could throw the chair at her and try to make an escape. No, I can't fucking run fast enough. Three: he could throw the chair at her and hold her hostage until they agree to release him. What the fuck kind of thought is that? They won't release me in exchange for her. Or at least give him some booze. Now there's an idea.
Rick grit his teeth, plopping himself down in the chair. He sat, legs spread slightly, one arm lounging over the back of the seat. He stared at her, one eyebrow raised. "S-s-so what? Are you gonna torture me for information? Cut off my dick? Give you the blueprints for my inventions? Oh wait, wait, wait, I know- you're gonna demand that I tell you where I hid the treasure map, right?" Rick said, sarcastic.
"Oh no, I'm not going to ask you for a single piece of information. Though I know your mind contains most of the galaxy's secrets, many of which would be extremely valuable to the Galactic Federation, I am not going to ask you for a single drop of information out of the vast bucket that is your mind. No, instead," she glanced behind Rick as two Gromflomites suddenly emerged from the shadows and grabbed each of his arms, holding him down, "you are going to simply show us your secrets." The woman pulled a syringe out of the inside of her coat, taking a few steps towards Rick.
"Hey fuck you, lady!" Rick spat, struggling slightly against the Gromflomites' hold on him. No way was he going to allow this Federation bitch to give him some type of drug. The woman grabbed his wrist, twisting it around. She plunged the syringe into his vein, and, very suddenly, everything went black.
!
"Grandpa Rick, do you think- oh my God hold on! This is my favorite song!" Summer reached forward, turning up the spaceship's radio. She began dancing and singing along to the song. "C'mon, Morty!"
Morty, sitting in the back, began dancing and singing along with his sister. "Haha, yeah!"
Rick groaned. "Is this wh-urp-at you kids listen to these days? Jesus, this is nothing but shit! Wh-what kind of people actually listen to this crap?"
"Uh, cool people, Grandpa. Unlike you," Summer noted, continuing to dance.
Rick barked out a patronizing laugh. "Then you and I have v-eurp-ery different definitions of that word, Summer." He rolled his eyes, taking a sip out of his flask as he drove, the ship swerving slightly in space. His grandchildren continued to laugh and dance to this terrible song; yet, Rick didn't turn off the radio. Instead, he lazily observed the stars and planets that flew past them, with no particular destination in mind, and a slight smile on his face.
It had been a long time since he had felt like this.
!
"Fuck!"
Rick's eyes snapped open, beads of sweat on his brow, breathing heavily as he tried to gain control over himself. His eyes darted around the room, remembrance flooding back to him immediately. No, he wasn't in the ship with his grandchildren; he was in the Federation's high-security prison, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, stuck in a bland room with a Federation bitch and two Gromflomites holding his arms down.
"You," Rick snarled at the woman, catching his breath. He looked her in her stupid purple eyes, anger heating his face. "What the fuck was that? You don't have any right to see my shit!"
"You have no rights here, Mr. Sanchez." She reminded him. She turned around to the television up in the corner, where scenes of Rick's memory were being replayed. Rick saw, clear as day, Summer and Morty in his ship, just as he had seen in his memory. "Your grandchildren, I presume?"
The lines in Rick's face tightened slightly.
"Hmm, yes. I find it fascinating how much you seem to care about them. You have quite an interesting relationship with your daughter's children. Especially with your grandson- Morty, is his name?" She turned back to Rick. "I wonder why that is?"
"Fuck you," Rick spat.
"Could it possibly have something to do with the fact that your grandson has compatible brainwaves with your own? And you use—used—" she corrected herself, smirking, "his brainwaves to hide from the Federation?"
Rick laughed, though a small part of his chest tightened. "No shit, Sherlock. What, did you really think I-I-I wanted to be caught? I'm an intergalactic terrorist, remember? Of course I was going to use his brainwaves to hide from you pissants."
The woman cocked an eyebrow. She looked at the Gromflomites holding Rick. "Take him back to his cell position."
The Gromflomites grunted out an acknowledgement, and immediately picked Rick up, pushing him up against his portable cell wall. The metal constraints immediately tightened around his wrists and ankles. The robot came back into the room, picking up Rick's cell wall.
Rick locked eyes with the woman as the robot zoomed backwards out of the room. In his constraints, he flicked her the middle finger as the door slid closed.
"Peace among worlds, bitch."
A/N: Woohoo, we finally get to see what Rick's up to in jail! Sorry this chapter's slightly shorter, but I gotta end the chapter where I see fit. I'm having a lot of fun writing this, especially from Rick's perspective! Comments are greatly appreciated, broh. Stay schwifty!