A Genius Morty

The pocket dimension was silent but alive with tension, every inch of it pulsing with a strange, otherworldly energy that seemed to hum just below the threshold of hearing. Morty, Rick, and Summer stood frozen in place as the seven shadowy figures stared at them from the edge of the dimensional rift, their outlines flickering like static in a broken signal. Morty could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, his fingers tight around his blaster.

One of the figures stepped forward, his silhouette becoming clearer as he moved away from the others. The distortion around him began to dissolve, revealing a tall figure with an air of calm menace. He wore a dark, tailored suit that seemed almost too perfect, like it was designed to blend into the shadows themselves. His face was still partly obscured, but his eyes—cold, calculating, and faintly glowing with an unnatural light—cut through the darkness like a blade.

"Ah, the infamous Morty and his rebellious little family," the figure said, his voice smooth and dripping with amusement. "I'm impressed you managed to find us here, but I suppose even a blind squirrel finds a nut eventually."

"Who the hell are you?" Morty demanded, taking a step forward despite the tremor in his voice. "Are you one of Evil Morty's lackeys?"

The figure's smile widened, but it was the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. "Lackey? Oh, no, Morty. I'm far more than that. I'm a partner, a collaborator in a cause that transcends the petty squabbles of your rebellion. You may call me Vaxon, though I doubt you'll remember it for long."

Rick's eyes narrowed as he sized up Vaxon, his expression cold and calculating. "Vaxon, huh? That's cute. So, what's your deal? You like playing dress-up in pocket dimensions while you help your little Morty buddy tear the multiverse apart?"

Vaxon tilted his head slightly, regarding Rick with a look that was almost pitying. "Oh, Rick. Always so quick to reduce everything to a joke, aren't you? But this isn't a game. You're standing at the threshold of something much greater than your narrow mind can comprehend."

Before Morty could respond, the air around them seemed to crackle, and the ground beneath their feet shifted violently. In an instant, the other six figures vanished into the swirling distortion, leaving only Vaxon standing before them, his presence suddenly more imposing, more real. The dimensional rift behind him pulsed like a heartbeat, filling the air with a low, resonant hum.

"We won't be staying long," Vaxon continued, his tone almost bored, "but I do want you to know that your little rebellion, your desperate attempts to stabilize the multiverse, they amuse me. Like watching ants try to rebuild a hill that's already doomed to be washed away."

"Yeah, well, we've crushed bigger egos than yours," Summer snapped, raising her rifle and taking aim at Vaxon's head. "Let's see how amused you are when I blow that smug look off your face!"

She fired a shot, and for a split second, it looked like it might actually connect. But then, with a flick of his wrist, Vaxon waved his hand, and the energy from the rifle shot twisted in mid-air, ricocheting off into the distorted landscape. Before Summer could react, Vaxon extended his other hand, and a surge of invisible force slammed into her chest, sending her flying backward into the jagged terrain.

"Summer!" Morty shouted, his heart leaping into his throat as he watched her crash into the ground, her body crumpling like a ragdoll. She didn't move.

Rick's face went pale, his eyes wide with shock. "No! Damn it, Summer!" He rushed to her side, his hands shaking as he checked for a pulse.

Morty stood frozen, a cold dread washing over him. He couldn't lose Summer. Not like this. Not after everything they'd been through together.

Vaxon's expression remained unchanged, his eyes flicking between Morty and Rick with a look of mild amusement. "You should have known better than to bring a child's toy to a war of gods."

Morty's hands trembled with rage as he raised his blaster, aiming it directly at Vaxon. "You bastard," he growled through clenched teeth. "If you've hurt her—"

"What will you do, Morty?" Vaxon interrupted, his voice dripping with contempt. "Fire that pathetic weapon at me? Try to avenge your fallen comrade? You don't understand the game you're playing, and you never will."

Morty hesitated, the weight of his failure pressing down on him. His blaster shook in his hands, his anger threatening to boil over, but deep down, he knew that firing wouldn't make a difference. Vaxon wasn't just some henchman; he was something far more dangerous—something beyond their ability to handle.

Rick suddenly turned, his face twisted with a mix of desperation and fury. "Morty, we need to get Summer out of here. Now!"

Morty nodded, his mind clearing enough to realize that Rick was right. This wasn't a fight they could win—not today. They needed to regroup, to save Summer before it was too late. He lowered his blaster, his teeth grinding in frustration as he swallowed his pride.

Vaxon watched them, his expression never changing. "Run along, little heroes," he said, mockingly polite. "And tell your rebellion that the next time they dare to interfere, they won't be so lucky."

Without another word, Rick activated his portal gun, and the familiar green vortex swirled open behind them. Morty reached down, helping Rick lift Summer's limp form, and they staggered through the portal together, leaving Vaxon's mocking smile behind.

They stumbled into the rebellion's med bay, Summer's unconscious body lying on the gurney as the medical team rushed to stabilize her. Rick and Morty stood by helplessly, watching as the doctors worked with grim determination, hooking Summer up to monitors, checking for vitals, and administering emergency care.

Morty's chest was tight, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, like the weight of the universe was crushing him from all sides. Summer had been hurt because he wasn't strong enough—because he had led them into a trap that he couldn't fight his way out of.

"Morty," Rick said quietly, pulling him aside, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Morty looked up at Rick, his eyes brimming with anger and guilt. "This is my fault, Rick. I should have done more—I should have seen it coming! I let her get hurt because I wasn't good enough."

Rick's eyes softened, and for a moment, Morty saw something in his grandfather's face that he rarely ever saw—vulnerability, regret. "Morty, listen to me. This wasn't your fault. You're not the one who did this to her. That bastard Vaxon did. You can't blame yourself for not being able to predict every goddamn move the universe throws at you."

"But I should have been able to protect her!" Morty shouted, his voice breaking. "I'm supposed to be stronger now, smarter! We've been fighting for so long, Rick, and it still feels like we're losing. Like no matter what we do, we're just running in circles while Evil Morty and his allies keep pulling the strings!"

Rick placed a hand on Morty's shoulder, squeezing it in a way that was both comforting and surprisingly gentle. "Morty, look at me. You've come a long way from that scared kid I used to drag along on these insane adventures. You're stronger than you think. You're leading this rebellion because you're the only one crazy enough and smart enough to stand up to these monsters."

Morty felt the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, the frustration and fear he'd been holding in for so long finally starting to crack through his defenses. "But what if it's not enough, Rick? What if I can't save anyone? What if I can't even save my own family?"

Rick's expression softened further, his usual sarcastic smirk replaced by a look of raw honesty. "You think I don't ask myself the same thing every day? You think I don't wake up every morning wondering how I'm going to keep you and Summer alive, how I'm going to make sure we don't all end up dead in some godforsaken dimension?"

He paused, his voice breaking slightly as he continued. "Morty, I've lost people too. More than I care to remember. But you—you're still here. You and Summer. And as long as we've got each other, as long as we're still standing, there's a chance. It's the only thing that keeps me going, kid."

Morty looked at Rick, seeing his grandfather not as the invincible, cynical genius but as a man who was just as broken, just as scared, but still fighting. Morty took a deep breath, nodding slowly as he wiped at his eyes.

"I'm not giving up, Rick," he said, his voice steadying. "Not on Summer, not on this rebellion, and not on you. We're going to make Vaxon and every one of Evil Morty's allies pay for what they've done. No more running. No more waiting."

Rick's eyes glinted with that familiar fire, a proud smile breaking through the sorrow on his face. "That's the spirit, Morty. Now let's make sure Summer gets through this. Then we'll take the fight to them like they've never seen."

The doctors continued their work, stabilizing Summer's vitals as Morty and Rick stood by her side. Morty couldn't tear his eyes away from her face, bruised and pale, tubes and wires connected to her like a web of desperation. The steady beep of the monitor was a fragile comfort in the chaos that had just unraveled, a sign that she was still here, still fighting.

"She's strong, Morty," Rick said, his voice gruff but filled with a quiet kind of hope. "Stronger than either of us gives her credit for. Summer's not going to let some second-rate dimensional manipulator take her out. She's got too much of her old man's stubbornness for that."

Morty let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. "I know. I just… I can't lose her too, Rick. I can't lose anyone else. Not like Beth."

Rick went still at the mention of Beth's name, his face tightening as the old wound was reopened. He turned to look at Morty, and for a moment, there was a flash of pain in his eyes—real, unguarded pain that Morty rarely ever saw from his grandfather.

"Beth would be proud of you, Morty," Rick said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "She'd be proud of what you've become, of how you've stepped up to do what no one else could. You're doing what I couldn't do for her—protecting what's left of this family."

Morty swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. "You think so, Rick? Do you really think she'd be proud of me? Of all the choices I've had to make, all the things I've done?"

Rick gave a slow nod, his eyes never leaving Summer's face. "Yeah, Morty, I do. You've done more than I ever could to hold this mess together. You've fought for every inch of this rebellion, every scrap of hope we've got left. And you've done it without losing the part of you that makes you better than me—better than any of us."

Morty's eyes welled with tears again, but this time they weren't just tears of frustration or anger. They were tears of something deeper, something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time—acceptance. For so long, he'd carried the burden of thinking he had to be like Rick, that he had to become as smart, as ruthless, as unflinching as his grandfather to survive in this broken multiverse.

But maybe, just maybe, that wasn't what Beth would have wanted. Maybe that wasn't what he needed to be.

"Rick," Morty said, his voice trembling, "I'm scared. I'm scared of losing you, of losing Summer, of becoming something I don't recognize anymore. I'm scared that all this fighting, all this pain—it's going to change me into something I hate."

Rick turned to Morty, his gaze softer than Morty had ever seen. He placed a hand on Morty's shoulder, his grip firm and grounding. "Morty, we've all changed because of this fight. You're not the same kid you were when we started this journey, and that's okay. Change is part of survival. The trick is not letting the worst parts of this multiverse get into your head, not letting it twist you into someone you're not."

Morty nodded slowly, letting Rick's words sink in. He knew that he was different, that the naive boy who used to look at the stars with wonder was long gone. But maybe, in spite of everything, he hadn't lost everything that mattered. Maybe he still had that spark of hope, that drive to do what was right even when it seemed impossible.

"I'm not going to let them win, Rick," Morty said, his voice steady now, a fire in his eyes that wasn't there before. "I'm not going to let Evil Morty or Vaxon or any of those monsters take away what's left of our family. We're going to stop them. We're going to find the rest of the council, and we're going to bring this whole damn conspiracy crashing down around them."

Rick's smile was small but genuine, and he gave Morty's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "That's the Morty I know. The Morty who doesn't back down from a fight, no matter how stacked the odds are. We're gonna take these bastards out, Morty. Together."

Just then, a soft groan escaped Summer's lips, and her eyelids fluttered. Morty and Rick both leaned in closer, hope flaring in their chests as they saw her begin to stir.

"Summer?" Morty said softly, his hand reaching out to hold hers. "Can you hear me?"

Summer's eyes slowly opened, and she looked up at them, her face pale but her expression as fierce as ever. "You guys look like crap," she muttered, a weak smile tugging at her lips.

Morty let out a shaky laugh, tears of relief streaming down his face. "You scared the hell out of us, Summer."

Rick chuckled, his own eyes suspiciously shiny. "Yeah, you almost made me spill my flask, you drama queen."

Summer squeezed Morty's hand weakly, her voice rough but filled with determination. "I'm not going anywhere, you two. Not until we kick some multiversal ass."

Morty nodded, his grip on her hand tightening as he held onto that small victory, that small piece of hope. They had been through hell and back together, and now, standing there with his family, Morty felt something he hadn't felt in a long time—a sense of purpose that went beyond survival, beyond the rebellion.

It was a sense of family.

He looked at Rick, who met his gaze with a nod of understanding, and Morty knew that they were in this together. Not just as allies, not just as soldiers in a war against the impossible, but as a family determined to protect each other against the darkness.

As the beeps of Summer's monitor filled the room with their steady rhythm, Morty knew that the battle was far from over. Evil Morty's council was still out there, still plotting in the shadows, but they had made a mistake. They had underestimated the bond that held this fractured family together.

And Morty was going to make sure they never forgot it.

With Summer awake, a fire rekindled in her eyes, and Rick standing beside him, his genius focused and unyielding, Morty felt ready for whatever came next. They had seen a glimpse of their enemy, but now it was time to tear apart the veil completely, to find the other six members of the council, and to bring them to their knees.

"Let's get back to work," Morty said, his voice resolute, his gaze fixed on the future. "It's time to take the fight to them."

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