Inside his room, if you could still call a reality-warped lab-chamber thing a "room", Richard hunched over a collection of hyper-delicate microchips, his eyes twitching with every flicker of static in the air. On the table in front of him sat something that looked like the lovechild of a joystick and a detonator. Wires the width of hair strands wove together like a cybernetic spider's nest, each one pulsing with faint energy.
Sweat dotted his brow. "Okay... okay, don't sneeze... don't think about sneezing... one rogue neuron and this would end all of existence," he whispered to himself. He aligned the last chip, hands trembling ever so slightly. Then came the soft click of perfection. He exhaled, a long breath of relief. "Done," he said, placing the final piece into its casing. "Finally. Finally–"
"Richard! Breakfast!" His mother's voice rang up the hallway.
"Of course," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Carefully, he opened a compartment in the corner of his room, a vertical cylindrical device humming with faint blue light. He slid the joystick-like contraption inside. "Atomic Destroyer," read the label at the top in bold, glowing letters.
The Atomic Destroyer, one of Richard's most dangerous creations. A device capable of breaking any object down to its individual atoms and storing them inside a temperature cube, a dimensional stasis field where time and entropy are paused. In simpler terms: Richard just tossed his project into a glorified atom vault, so the resources used in the project could be reused somewhere else.
With a hiss of pressure and a gentle whoosh, the machine dissolved the device into sparkling blue particles. "Bye" Richard muttered, patting the side of the machine before heading downstairs.
"House, make me a hot cup of coffee," Richard called as he entered the dining room.
The A.I. responded instantly. A hidden compartment slid open in the wall with a smooth mechanical sigh, revealing a steaming cup of rich, aromatic coffee. Seconds later, a plate of warm chocolate cookies, scrambled eggs, and toast settled gently onto the table in front of him. He sat. He drank. The life returned to his face almost immediately. Beth and Jerry watched him with silent concern.
"You good, sweetie?" Beth asked, her tone just shot of please don't die before I do. Before Richard could answer, a explosion shook the room as Rick entered with a splash of green portal sparks and the smell of burnt ozone. He crashed into the kitchen like a rock concert invading a yoga class.
"Whoa! Did someone microwave a ghost or did your soul just leave your body, Richard?" Rick cackled, tossing a laser screwdriver onto the counter. "You look like a melted Funko Pop dipped in printer ink."
Richard took another sip of coffee and bit into a cookie. Color surged back into his cheeks like he'd just mainlined joy. "I'm better now."
"Yeah," Rick muttered, eyeing the plate. "Nothing like caffeine and processed sugar to reset your trauma meter."
Meanwhile, Morty was somewhere in the North Pole, ice-fishing with a group of Inuit scientists and trying really hard not to talk about sentient nail clippers. Summer, on the other hand, was sipping cocktails on a yacht in the Caribbean with a group of girls who definitely weren't all human, but Summer was too emotionally dead inside to care. Back in the Smith house, Richard licked a bit of chocolate off his thumb and leaned back in his chair.
"Got any new adventures, Rick? I'm getting sick of my room," he said lazily. Then he called out toward the hallway. "Mom, could you clean my room today? The floor's got like thirty versions of me in various stages of madness."
Beth, pouring herself coffee, rolled her eyes so hard you could almost hear them click. "You do know you have literal A.I. maidbots that can do that in three seconds, right?"
Richard smirked. "Yeah, but the joy of making you work never leaves me unsatisfied."
Beth turned slowly toward him, her eyes sharp. "Sweetie, if I wanted to be emotionally manipulated by a narcissist, I'd call my father."
"The only problem with your statement is that Jerry is too dumb to even spell manipulation," Rick said with a wince, biting into a waffle.
Jerry, flipping through a digital newspaper at the other end of the table, mumbled without looking up, "Hey, don't talk to your mother like that," then continued scrolling, blissfully unaware of everything.
Then it happened. A whirr echoed through the air as a green portal split the dining room in half. From it emerged a group of Ricks, each one dressed like a rejected action figure prototype:
One in a full golden robe, with a Pope hat that had a portal gun holstered to the side. Another in a spiked leather jacket and cybernetic arms. A third dressed like Sherlock Holmes, complete with monocle and smoke ring-generating pipe or it's whatson. One looked like he just walked out of an anime con flowing cape, glowing eyes, unnecessarily large sword. And the last was in a suit that screamed, "I have a podcast about time ethics."
Each bore the official emblem of the Council of Ricks. "Aw man," Jerry sighed, pushing back his chair and grabbing his toast. "So much for a peaceful breakfast."
He walked out of the room without even a second glance. Richard stood, eyebrows raised. "Council cosplay? You guys doing a multiverse flash mob or is this a theme day thing?"
Rick stood abruptly, hands up in mock innocence. "Okay, okay, before anyone says anything, I'm being framed. Probably by Rick L-672. Or Rick Phoenix. That guy owes me three favors and a kidney."
"Rick Sanchez of Earth Dimension C-137," said the Pope-hatted Rick, voice like a gavel. "You are under arrest for crimes against the continuum."
Richard raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? On a Wednesday?"
Sherlock Rick turned his monocle toward Richard. "And Richard. Known singularity-class intelligence. You're coming too."
"Me?" Richard blinked. "I haven't even posted on social media in two days!"
"Your very existence is a threat to several timelines," the cyber-Rick added. "And we can't trust your neutrality when it comes to your family anymore"
Richard glanced toward Rick, ready to conjure some mischief. But Rick, strangely calm, leaned in and whispered something into Richard's ear.
"This is exactly the reason why I wanted to remove my Amygdala. Alright, Let's go then" Richard said as two of the council Ricks bound them both in shimmering chrono-bands. As the portal reopened behind them, Beth stepped forward. "Wait, where are you taking my son?!"
"To a place beyond jurisdiction," anime Rick said, his sword flaring for no reason at all. "And beyond redemption."
Richard gave her a small smile before being pulled into the portal. "Don't worry, Mom," he said. "I've got cookies in my system. I'm unstoppable."
The portal closed. Beth stared at the empty space for a long time. Then she turned to the A.I. "House. Get me the bourbon."