"100 YEARS, MORTY Burrrp," Rick said, slurring his words as he violently shook Morty by the shoulders. The sound of Rick's half-drunk speech carried an unpleasant odor, which Morty could feel splattering against his face. Morty squinted, eyes still hazy from whatever Rick had been shoving into his rear moments before.
His surroundings felt off, the floor beneath him too hard, the air filled with a chemical scent. Slowly, as Morty's senses came back to life, he realized he was no longer where he thought he'd been. The old man was still in front of him, stumbling like a drunk, his green stained, and ragged lab coat flapping against his frail legs as he tried to regain some semblance of balance. Morty blinked, his body stiff, and looked around, confused.
"W-what's going on here? Where am I?" the 15-year-old boy asked, his voice sounding strange in his own ears, like he was listening to himself through a high pitch voice changer. His hands were shaking as he touched his face, feeling something wet. He glanced down, only to find his fingers covered in spit.
The old man, completely ignoring Morty's confusion, kept stumbling toward a cracked door at the far end of the dimly lit room. The door's frame was barely intact, looking as though it had been beaten down many times before.
As he observed the old mans retreat the boy couldn't help but panick remember where he was last "Wait—wait a second!" Morty or rather, he panicked, his voice cracking in an unfamiliar, higher-pitched tone. He tried to get his bearings, but his mind was spinning faster than his disoriented body could keep up with. The chemical scent stung his nostrils, and the sterile, metallic taste lingered in the back of his throat. His heart raced as the sudden rush of memories hit him with a jolt.
His last memory... It was clear now, like a snapshot burned into his brain. He was just a normal kid, a straight A student who was just about to skip a grade level in a few days. Getting out of track practice he was tired from running for hours on end, he decided to head directly back home not in the mood to talk to his friends who were albeit nice, weren't the brightest bunch.
On his way he was waiting at a cross walk next to the road until he saw an old lady beginning to move into oncoming traffic "Hey! stop lady!" he yelled, as she was now deeper into the road cars barely missing her. He made a quick decision, deciding to guide the lady across the short road. Rushing towards her he began guiding he quickly across the road notice how the cars stopped for them he began to calm down letting his logic take over and move effectively across the road, until.
*SWURVE*---* CRASH* " A damn truck hit me!" he said tik marks forming in agitation. He had always been the kind of person to act logically. He wasn't one to get swept up in emotion. He could have let the lady be. He could have kept walking, ignoring the situation entirely. He would've gone home, studied, played video games, maybe even taken a nap. His future was already planned out—he was on the fast track to graduating early.
But now he was here staring at his new reality, trapped in the body of? He assumed Morty Smith, judging by his surroundings and the crazy old man. Although He enjoyed the series of Rick & Morty he wasn't stupid enough to think he'd survive it. Morty had been dragged into the madness of this dimension, where every day was a chaotic nightmare of absurd science, interdimensional travel, and Rick's reckless, god-complex genius.
It wasn't just the regret of being here in Rick and Morty's world. It was the idea that he had given up his whole life for the sake of a woman who didn't even know his name, someone who would have forgotten his face the moment they parted ways. He had been on track for greatness, and now?
Now he was stuck here. In this insane universe.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He was smarter than this. He had been smarter than all of this. He could've been someone—he could've made something of himself. But instead, he was stuck with Morty's body, with Morty's pathetic existence, trying to survive in a world that didn't care.
The cold realization hit him like a punch to the gut. If he wanted to survive in this crazy, unpredictable world, he couldn't rely on anyone. He couldn't afford to be a hero anymore. He couldn't afford to make any more impulsive decisions. He had to think about himself now. He had to be cold, calculated, and focused on his own survival.
As his heart rate slowed and his mind cleared, Morty realized what he had to do. He had to put everything—everything—else aside. He wasn't going to save anyone. He wasn't going to sacrifice himself for some random stranger or follow some delusional hero's journey. He wasn't going to waste his time on altruism or trying to fit into this broken world. The only thing that mattered now was him.
He needed to survive. That was it. That was the only goal he knew he could afford to have for now.
With a sharp breath, he stood a little taller. The fear that had gripped him earlier was starting to recede, replaced by something colder, more calculating. He walked out of his new grandpa's garage, contemplating his next actions, thinking of what he should do next.