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Rick Sanchez • C-528. He recently lost his Morty because they ran into space pirates and Rick got in the ship and locked the doors without a second thought. Yes, technically he did lose his 'grandson'. But the kid was already a replacement of a replacement, so it didn’t really bother him too much at this point. But it was always sad to watch a Morty that he owned die. I mean, he loved that kid (those kids?) like a gadget.
Point is, he now needs a replacement of a replacement of a replacement. Maybe he should start keeping a tally, that would be funny. Anyway, he flew his way to the citadel to visit the sidekick adoption center. It was a big, generically sci-fi place like every other building on the citadel.
Rick steps through the automatic doors with obviously over-engineered mechanics, he could deal with that, but he just has to roll his eyes derisively at the orange laden Rick working at the counter. Ugh, a worker Rick. They all act like it’s impossible to escape from the citadel. Just don’t be pussies and face all the enemies you’ve got. Particularly with a Morty; so that your brain waves can’t be detected.
The uniformed Rick welcomes Rick like it pains him to do his job, pointing him to another pair of double doors (again, over-engineered). He steps through them to find a big room stocked with bunk beds and Mortys romping like stupid teens. The space has an annoyingly open floor plan. A few of what he assumes are ‘care’ Ricks planted against the walls to watch over the stupid teenagers. There’s literally bowls of water on the floor to stress the point this is nothing more than a Morty kennel.
A Rick in a suit comes up to him and starts to guide him through the adoption process. He listens absently while his eyes scan over the room. A cowboy Morty walking too stiffly to actually be confident. Hah, dumb. A Rick dressed in Morty clothes speaking like a retard while he plays poker with other assorted Mortys. Scoff, even dumber. His eyes settle on a couch across the room, focusing in on two teens. A Cat Boy Morty and a generic Morty, the pair obviously fighting while the cat-eared one aggressively tries to lick the other. Hah, ever dumber, and gay.
Main character Rick turned to the besuited Rick with a simplistic smile, making a split-second decision he’s already thought over completely. “Gimme the cat boy one.” He laughs with the other identical man. Both of the Ricks know that this is going to be an absolutely awesome bit.
“Right away. Paper work’s over here.” The besuited Rick leads him to a counter and a Secretary Rick hands him a clip board with pages of legal work to fill out. Not complicated, because no Rick likes to do stupid paperwork, review it, or give it a stamp of approval. Rick didn’t even know why they required him to fill it out, then. It’s not like it’s legal paperwork. The citadel may have cops but there’s no laws. (That makes them practically vigilantes on a pay roll?)
“Want the Falsified Memory Package?” Besuited Rick asks, and main character Rick considers. If your Morty remembers you being a part of their life since early childhood they’re more obedient and less likely to rebel in any meaningful way. But on the other side of the coin there’s the fact that the Falsified Memory Package costs an extra 45 blemflarks. And Rick also thinks that Mortys with a real backstory are more interesting. But he’s going to get the insurance anyways, so why not pay an extra 23 USD to ensure this Cat Boy Morty loves him like a grandpa?
In the ship, Rick and his new Morty drive home in silence. The dichotomy of their mindsets on the other is almost humorous. Rick views the feline teen as nothing other than a replacement of a tool that broke. And a bit that Rick is playing (that he hopes is funny enough to last a week before he gets bored). Morty on the other hand, in his perspective Rick is his mother’s father who takes him on awesome adventures. Sure, he for some reason has 4 distinct memories of being a version of himself he’s not, but he has a chip in his brain preventing him from thinking deeply about that.
Rick low-key enjoys that this small cat boy loves him like family. It is, for lack of a better term, endearing to him. He drums his fingers on the side of the steering wheel deliberately to not focus on how the teen’s tail does an interested little flick whenever he looks in Rick’s direction. And has that note in his gaze that screams ‘you are the center of my universe’. The note that always reminds him of his original Morty. ‘Don’t get too clingy, whiskers. You’re a sidekick; not my damn pet’ Rick thinks to himself, even though, on this side of the curve what’s the distinction?