It was late—well past the time when anyone in the Smith household should have been awake. The house was silent, the only sounds coming from the faint ticking of the wall clock in the living room and the occasional rustling of the wind outside. Morty waited patiently, standing in the shadowy corner of his bedroom, listening for any signs of movement from his family. It had taken days of meticulous observation to learn everyone's sleep patterns, but tonight, Morty knew with near certainty that Rick was passed out, likely face-first in a pile of empty bottles and half-finished gadgets in the garage.
This was his moment.
With a practiced ease that still surprised him, Morty opened his bedroom window and slipped out into the night. His feet touched down lightly on the grass below, and he moved with quiet efficiency toward the garage. Every step felt calculated, his muscles finely attuned to his movements, even the ones that were unnecessary. His body was alive with energy, stronger than ever, yet he was constantly holding himself back. It took everything in him to rein in the raw power coursing through his veins.
Tonight, though, he wasn't holding back—at least not mentally. His new abilities, both physical and intellectual, had been simmering beneath the surface for days now, and he couldn't resist anymore. It was time to act.
The garage loomed ahead, its heavy metal door slightly ajar—a usual sign that Rick was either inside working on something dangerous, or had left in a drunken stupor after another one of his late-night experiments. Morty had seen this routine play out a hundred times before, but tonight he felt no hesitation. He pushed the door open, his eyes adjusting quickly to the dim glow of flickering lights inside. The familiar scent of burnt metal, chemicals, and stale beer hung in the air, and scattered across the workbench were Rick's half-completed projects: bits of circuitry, alien components, and tools that looked more like weapons than anything used for traditional engineering.
Rick was nowhere to be seen. Perfect.
Morty stepped cautiously into the garage, his heartbeat steady as he closed the door behind him. The overhead light flickered slightly, casting long shadows across the floor, but Morty paid it no mind. His attention was already focused on what he had come here for.
Rick's lab had always been a place of chaos—a place Morty had entered many times before, usually dragged in by his grandfather, who was barking instructions, pushing him around, or outright ignoring him. But this time, Morty wasn't the unwilling participant. He was in control.
Moving to the center of the room, Morty scanned the workbench, his eyes quickly locking onto Rick's custom-built toolset. Normally, this was Rick's domain, a space where he tinkered, built, and occasionally blew things up. But tonight, it was Morty's turn.
For days, Morty had been holding back the full force of his newfound intellect. In front of his family, and especially Rick, he played the part of the old Morty—clumsy, confused, and always a step behind. But inside, his mind was a supercomputer, running simulations, solving equations, and designing inventions far beyond anything he had ever dreamed of before. And tonight, he was finally going to put that intelligence to work.
He reached for the tools, feeling their weight in his hands, and began to assess the materials scattered across the bench. His mind was already forming a plan. Rick had been working on a multi-dimensional energy collector for weeks now—a device that could siphon power from alternate realities and convert it into a form usable in their own. Morty had watched Rick stumble through the process, taking shortcuts, slapping together prototypes that barely functioned. Morty, on the other hand, had already mapped out a far more efficient design in his head.
He wasn't just going to finish Rick's device. He was going to improve it.
With his hands moving swiftly and confidently, Morty began to work. He dismantled the partially finished energy collector, breaking it down to its core components. Wires and metal plates clattered onto the bench, and Morty's fingers moved with precision, threading circuits and reconfiguring power cells. His mind raced ahead of his hands, visualizing the final product even as he pieced it together.
It wasn't just about finishing Rick's work. Morty wanted to build something of his own—something that reflected his new capabilities. The old Morty wouldn't have dared to tamper with Rick's designs. But this Morty, the one who could see solutions Rick had missed, wasn't afraid.
The hours ticked by as Morty worked, completely absorbed in the task at hand. He created new components from scratch, bending reality to his will using Rick's materials, but improving upon them in ways his grandfather hadn't considered. Rick's original energy collector was clunky and inefficient, designed to draw power slowly and with great effort. Morty's version, however, would streamline the process, pulling energy from parallel dimensions with ease and storing it in a compact, hyper-dense core. It would be sleek, powerful, and efficient—everything Rick's invention was not.
And Morty knew exactly how to make it work.
He paused only briefly, his eyes scanning the garage to ensure he was still alone. There was no sound but the low hum of the equipment, and Rick was still nowhere to be found. Morty's fingers moved faster now, soldering wires, assembling conduits, and fine-tuning the crystalline structure that would serve as the energy collector's core. His body thrummed with anticipation, a sense of purpose driving him forward as he completed each step with meticulous precision.
An hour passed. Then two. The world outside seemed to blur as Morty lost himself in the rhythm of creation, the once-chaotic environment of the garage bending to his will as the device took shape.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Morty stepped back, wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead. He looked down at the bench, and there it was: his creation. The energy collector, fully operational, gleamed under the dim light. It was sleek, compact—no bigger than a softball—but it was a marvel of engineering. Morty knew it could pull energy from countless dimensions and store it with minimal loss, a feat Rick hadn't even come close to achieving.
But Morty wasn't done yet. His mind buzzed with ideas, each one more ambitious than the last. He moved on to Rick's pile of unfinished gadgets, scanning for components he could repurpose. He wasn't just here to finish one project; he was here to make his mark.
Within minutes, Morty was designing new devices. He built a multi-phasic scanner, capable of mapping out dimensional anomalies with unprecedented accuracy. He created a handheld portal generator that used a fraction of the energy of Rick's bulky portal gun. And he crafted a neural enhancer, a sleek headband that could temporarily boost cognitive function in any user—though Morty didn't need it. His intelligence had already surpassed anything the device could offer.
As he worked, Morty's thoughts drifted to Rick. He imagined his grandfather's reaction when he discovered what Morty had done—how he would bristle with anger, confusion, and maybe even jealousy. Morty knew Rick hated being outsmarted, and part of him relished the thought of proving himself superior. But another part of Morty, the part that still struggled with his old insecurities, feared what would happen when Rick inevitably found out.
Would Rick be angry? Proud? Or would he see Morty as a threat?
Morty shook the thoughts from his head. It didn't matter right now. What mattered was the work in front of him—the thrill of creation, the power that surged through him as he brought his ideas to life. For the first time in his life, Morty wasn't following Rick's lead. He was leading himself.
Hours passed, and by the time the sun began to rise, the garage was filled with Morty's creations. Small devices hummed and blinked on the workbench, each one a testament to his newfound genius. Morty stood there, breathing heavily but grinning, his eyes wide with excitement. He had done it. He had taken Rick's lab—Rick's domain—and made it his own.
But as the first light of dawn began to creep through the garage window, Morty's excitement was tempered by a sudden jolt of reality. He had to hide this. For now, at least. Rick couldn't know—none of them could know. Not yet.
With reluctant efficiency, Morty began dismantling his inventions, carefully stowing the pieces in a hidden compartment beneath the workbench. He couldn't leave any trace of what he had done, not until he was ready to reveal his true potential. As he packed away the last of his creations, he felt a pang of frustration—an echo of the constant restraint he had been forced to endure since his transformation.
But there was a sense of satisfaction too. Morty knew his time would come. He could feel it.
As he closed the garage door and slipped back into the house, Morty glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Rick standing there, watching him. But the garage was empty, and Morty allowed himself a small, secretive smile.
He was more than just Rick's sidekick now.
He was ready to be something far greater.
And soon enough, the world would know it too.
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