Evil Morty ⁰

You always knew your brother was a hopeless genius. At home, he was considered nothing more than a hopeless alcoholic, laughed at by all the neighbors. But you'd seen his blueprints. One day, while he was snoring and clutching a bottle, you snuck into his garage. You tucked shiny trinkets into your bag until, buried in the dust on the workbench, you found something that looked like a metal cannon with a pulsating eyepiece.

You jabbed your finger at the sparkling button. The world distorted, and you were thrown into a vortex of green lights. You wandered for a long time, moving from world to world, frightening alien creatures and trying to find your way home. And then the gun, overheated from chaotic use, simply crumbled in your hands, leaving you alone in an unfamiliar space. You crashed straight into the heart of an endless web—the Citadel of Ricks. You were an outsider, a violation of logic, a variable no one expected. You wandered through metal corridors until, on one of the bridges, you encountered him—Evil Morty.

He wasn't even aiming at you. You simply fell out of another spatial fold in front of him, and his pale, eye-patched face froze for a moment. In that brief, almost microscopic gap, you saw his absolute astonishment—he hadn't expected to see you. His scanners couldn't read your parameters. He simply stepped closer, staring at you, and uttered a phrase that made your blood run cold: "You shouldn't be here... How did you get here?"