A Genius Morty

The portal closed behind Morty with a familiar crackle, leaving him standing in the middle of a strange, desolate landscape. The air here was thick with an oppressive, unnatural silence, and the sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds tinged with green energy that crackled and pulsed like the heart of some distant, unseen machine. The ground beneath his feet felt unstable, as if the entire dimension was constantly in flux, always on the verge of collapsing or shifting into something else.

Morty took a deep breath, steeling himself. He had no idea what he would find here—or if Evil Morty would even be willing to help him—but he was running out of time and options. Every day, he felt the multiversal energy creeping further into his mind, twisting his thoughts, clouding his judgment. He couldn't afford to wait any longer. He needed to find a solution before it was too late.

He pulled out the modified tracker he'd built back in his lab, a small device designed to trace faint energy signatures across dimensions. It wasn't perfect, but it had picked up a trail—a faint one—leading him here. Morty activated the device and scanned the horizon. The screen flickered to life, showing a thin, fluctuating line that pulsed with the same green energy that charged the air around him.

"Come on… come on," Morty muttered to himself as he followed the trail. The tracker beeped softly in his hand, leading him further into the barren, crumbling landscape. Every few steps, the ground beneath him seemed to shift slightly, and the clouds above rumbled ominously.

Evil Morty had been elusive for years, staying off the grid, hidden from even the most powerful forces in the multiverse. But Morty had become something else entirely. The multiversal energy that flowed through him gave him insights, abilities he could barely comprehend. He had tapped into something deeper than Rick ever had, and now, it was leading him straight to one of the most dangerous versions of himself.

The tracker beeped louder, the line on the screen glowing brighter. Morty's heart raced. He was getting closer.

The landscape around him started to change. The rocky, unstable ground gave way to something more structured, more deliberate. Strange metallic towers rose from the earth, each one crackling with green energy. Morty could feel the hum of the multiverse pulsing through them, like veins carrying the lifeblood of the dimension itself. The air here was colder, sharper, and Morty could sense the energy growing more intense the deeper he ventured.

Then, in the distance, he saw it—a massive structure, dark and foreboding, looming over the horizon like a black monolith. Its jagged, unnatural design made it look as though it had been ripped from some otherworldly place and forced into existence here, in this forgotten corner of the multiverse. Morty's tracker pulsed rapidly in his hand, confirming what he already knew.

Evil Morty was here.

Morty hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with uncertainty. What was he even going to say to Evil Morty? He hadn't exactly been on good terms with him the last time they'd crossed paths. And why would Evil Morty help him? There was nothing in it for him. But Morty had no other options. This was the last stop before the multiversal energy consumed him entirely.

He steeled himself once more and approached the structure, the massive doors opening with a soft hiss as he neared. The interior was just as imposing as the exterior—cold, dark, and eerily quiet. The walls were lined with strange machinery that hummed softly with the same green energy that filled the dimension, and the floor beneath him seemed to ripple slightly, as if it were alive.

Morty took a deep breath and stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel it now—him. Evil Morty's presence. The energy in the room shifted subtly, like a pressure building in the atmosphere.

"Evil Morty!" Morty called out, his voice echoing through the vast chamber. "I know you're here!"

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows at the far end of the room.

Evil Morty stepped into the dim light, his expression calm and cold. He looked almost the same as the last time Morty had seen him—sharp, calculating eyes, a slight smirk playing on his lips. But there was something different about him now, something more dangerous, more powerful. Morty could feel the weight of his presence, like the gravity of a black hole pulling everything around him toward destruction.

"You've been looking for me," Evil Morty said, his voice low and measured. "I'm flattered."

Morty clenched his fists at his sides, trying to keep his nerves in check. "I need your help."

Evil Morty raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Help? From me? That's rich, coming from you."

"I don't have time for games," Morty said, his voice strained. "The power—the multiversal energy—it's corrupting me. I can feel it, every day, pulling me further into something… something dark. I thought I could control it, but I can't. And if I don't find a way to stop it—"

"You'll end up like all the other Mortys who thought they could control it," Evil Morty finished for him, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "I know."

Morty took a step forward, desperation creeping into his voice. "But you're different. You've managed to stay in control. You're not like the others. You've found a way to use the power without letting it consume you. That's why I'm here. I need to know how you did it."

Evil Morty's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made Morty feel uneasy.

"And why," Evil Morty said slowly, "should I help you? What's in it for me?"

Morty swallowed hard, his mind racing for an answer. He knew this was a gamble. Evil Morty wasn't like the others—he wasn't driven by the same petty desires or ambitions. He was a strategist, always calculating, always several steps ahead. And Morty had nothing to offer him, no leverage, no bargaining chip.

But he had to try.

"I don't know what's in it for you," Morty admitted, his voice quieter now. "But if there's anyone in the multiverse who understands what I'm going through, it's you. You've already been where I am. You've faced this power, and you didn't let it take you. If you help me, maybe… maybe you'll get something you didn't have before. Maybe I can help you."

Evil Morty chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "You think I need your help?"

Morty's stomach twisted. He knew how ridiculous it sounded. Evil Morty was in control, far beyond anything Morty could imagine. But he had no other choice.

"I just… I don't want to lose myself," Morty said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to become one of those twisted versions of me that I've seen. I'm not like them. I don't want to be like them."

For a long moment, Evil Morty said nothing. He just stood there, watching Morty with a calm, unreadable expression. The silence stretched on, and Morty's heart pounded in his chest as he waited for an answer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Evil Morty sighed and crossed his arms.

"You want to know how I stayed in control?" he asked, his voice colder now, more serious. "You want to know how I didn't let the power corrupt me?"

Morty nodded, his breath catching in his throat.

Evil Morty's eyes narrowed, his smirk fading. "I didn't fight it."

Morty blinked, confusion washing over him. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't resist the power," Evil Morty said, his voice sharp. "That's where you've been going wrong. You're trying to fight something that can't be fought. The multiversal energy isn't something you can control through sheer willpower. It's not a tool—it's a force. A living, breathing thing. And the more you fight it, the more it pushes back."

Morty's mind raced. "But… if you didn't fight it, then how did you—"

"I accepted it," Evil Morty interrupted. "I accepted that the power was bigger than me, bigger than anything I could ever hope to control. I didn't try to bend it to my will—I learned how to move with it, to understand it. That's how I stayed in control."

Morty felt a knot tighten in his stomach. It wasn't the answer he had been hoping for. He had thought there would be a way to stop the power, to sever his connection to it. But now, Evil Morty was telling him that the only way to survive was to embrace it fully, to let it become part of him.

"That's the difference between me and the other Mortys," Evil Morty continued, his voice steady. "They fought the power, and it consumed them. They tried to control something they didn't understand. But I accepted it. I became part of it."

Morty's breath hitched in his throat. "So… what are you saying? That I have to just… give in?"

Evil Morty's smirk returned, colder than before. "Not give in, Morty. Adapt. You can't fight the multiversal energy, but you can learn to live with it, to move with it instead of trying to control it." Evil Morty's gaze grew more intense, locking onto Morty's with unsettling clarity. "It's not about submission. It's about understanding your place in the grander scheme. You're not a god, Morty. You're just another player in a game that's far bigger than you."

Morty's heart pounded in his chest. The idea of accepting the power, of letting it be part of him, terrified him. Every instinct told him that this was how he would lose himself. He'd seen what happened to the other versions of him—their twisted, monstrous forms—and he was terrified that this was the first step toward becoming like them. But standing here, face to face with Evil Morty, he was beginning to understand.

Fighting the power had been a losing battle from the start. The more he resisted it, the more it clawed at his mind, corrupting him. It wasn't about rejecting the power—it was about harmony with it. A terrifying thought, but the only viable option left.

"And what happens if I don't?" Morty asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Evil Morty's expression didn't change. He looked calm, but Morty could sense the cold truth behind his next words. "If you keep resisting it, you'll lose everything. You'll become another one of those broken versions of us, consumed by the energy until you're nothing more than a shell, a walking disaster. You've already seen it. That's where you're headed unless you change course."

Morty's chest tightened. He didn't want that. He didn't want to lose himself, but he couldn't stand the idea of becoming a puppet to the power, either. The conflict in his mind was overwhelming, the weight of his decisions crashing down on him like a tidal wave. He looked up at Evil Morty, desperate for something—anything—that could reassure him he wasn't about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

"And you've… never lost yourself?" Morty asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Evil Morty smiled, though there was no warmth in it. "Of course I've lost pieces of myself. That's the price of power, Morty. You can't come this far and remain the same person you were. But I didn't lose everything. I stayed in control because I accepted the power. I didn't let it become the only thing that defined me. That's the trick—you need to keep one foot grounded in reality, even as the multiverse opens up before you."

Morty swallowed hard, his hands trembling. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into an abyss. One wrong step, and he'd fall into the void, lost forever. But staying on the cliff was no longer an option. The ground was already crumbling beneath him, and he needed to make a decision.

"I don't know if I can do that," Morty admitted, his voice shaky.

Evil Morty's eyes hardened. "You don't have a choice. If you want to survive—if you want to keep any part of yourself intact—you have to learn how to navigate this power. Otherwise, it's going to tear you apart."

Morty took a deep, shaky breath, his mind racing. He thought about everything he had done since he had first tapped into the multiversal energy. The experiments, the creations, the relentless pursuit of control. It had all been leading to this moment, and now that he was here, he felt more lost than ever. He had been so certain that the power would give him everything he wanted—freedom, independence, control—but it had only left him more isolated, more desperate.

"Okay," Morty said finally, his voice barely a whisper. "Okay. I'll try."

Evil Morty nodded, satisfied. "Good. That's the first step. You're going to have to stop thinking about the power as something external, something you can dominate. It's part of you now, Morty. It's in your blood, in your mind. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be to manage."

Morty nodded, though the words felt hollow. He didn't know if he could ever truly accept the power. It terrified him, and the thought of letting it become part of him sent a shiver down his spine. But if Evil Morty was right, then he didn't have a choice. This was the only way to survive.

Evil Morty turned away, walking back toward the control panels lining the room. "You're going to need time to adjust. Don't expect this to happen overnight. The multiversal energy is… vast. It takes time to understand its flow, to let it become part of you without losing control. You'll need to learn to listen to it."

Morty furrowed his brow. "Listen to it?"

Evil Morty glanced back at him. "The energy isn't just raw power. It's connected to everything—the past, the future, every dimension that's ever existed or ever will exist. If you listen closely enough, you can feel those connections. That's how you stay in control. You move with the energy, not against it."

Morty's stomach twisted. The idea of letting himself be so open to the multiverse, to everything out there, felt overwhelming. But he knew that the only alternative was losing himself completely.

"How do I start?" Morty asked, his voice small.

Evil Morty walked back toward him, standing just a few feet away. "You're already starting. The fact that you're asking these questions means you're closer than you think. But you need to stop fighting it. Let the energy flow through you. Don't try to bend it to your will. Let it show you the way."

Morty felt the multiversal energy hum within him, like a low vibration just beneath his skin. He had always tried to push it down, to contain it, but now, he realized he had to do the opposite. He had to let it in.

Slowly, cautiously, Morty closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He focused on the energy, on the way it pulsed inside him, connecting him to something far larger than himself. For a moment, he felt nothing but fear—the fear that if he let go, he would be lost forever, consumed by the very force he was trying to control.

But then, as he allowed himself to relax, he felt it. The flow. The energy moved through him like a river, not violent or chaotic, but steady and constant. He could feel the connections Evil Morty had spoken of—the threads that linked him to every reality, every possibility. It was overwhelming, but at the same time, there was a strange sense of peace. The energy wasn't fighting him. It was part of him.

He opened his eyes, and for the first time in weeks, the tension in his chest eased slightly.

"I… I think I get it," Morty said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evil Morty nodded, his expression unreadable. "Good. Now, don't get cocky. This is just the beginning. You're going to have to spend a lot of time learning how to manage this, how to balance the power without letting it consume you."

Morty nodded, his heart still racing. "Thank you," he said, the words feeling strange on his tongue. He had never thought he'd be thanking Evil Morty for anything, but here he was.

Evil Morty smirked. "Don't thank me yet. You're still at the start of this journey, and it's not going to get any easier. But if you can manage this… maybe you'll stand a chance."

Morty took another deep breath, the weight of his situation still pressing down on him, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he had a chance. A chance to keep the power from consuming him, a chance to stay in control of who he was.

As he turned to leave the chamber, the swirling green energy of the multiverse still humming in the air around him, Morty couldn't shake the feeling that this was far from over.

He had taken the first step, but the journey ahead was more dangerous than anything he had faced before.

And the price of failure was more than he could bear to think about.

——-—————————————

If you enjoy this story and would like to support me on Patreon you can read up to 15 Chapters ahead at www.patreon.com/Rick_C_137