A Genius Morty

Morty woke up the next morning with a jolt, his heart still racing from the events of the night before. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. His room was quiet again, the chaos of the battle between the two agents now nothing more than a memory, but the weight of what had happened still pressed heavily on his chest. He could feel it—like a knot in his stomach that wouldn't go away.

Two powerful, secret organizations. One claiming to protect the balance of the multiverse, the other bent on controlling it. And both of them, for reasons he couldn't fully grasp, had set their sights on him. The thought made his skin crawl. He had never asked for this. All he wanted was to be more than just Rick's sidekick, to prove to himself that he could stand on his own, but now… now he was caught in the crossfire of forces far beyond his control.

You will need guidance, but not from the one you expect.

The words of the shimmering agent from the Conclave of Aeons echoed in his mind. Morty turned them over again and again, trying to figure out who or what the agent had meant. He knew he couldn't rely on Rick for this. Rick was brilliant, sure, but reckless. Rick wouldn't understand the kind of danger Morty was in. And if he did, Rick would probably throw himself into the conflict without a second thought, dragging Morty deeper into the chaos.

No, Morty needed someone else. Someone who could help him navigate this without tipping the balance even further. But who?

With a deep sigh, Morty rolled out of bed, his body sore from the previous night's encounter. He glanced around his room, at the cracked walls and scattered inventions, a reminder of how far out of his depth he was. He'd have to repair the damage later, make sure Rick didn't notice anything was off. For now, though, he needed to act normal. Pretend everything was fine.

He headed downstairs, trying to shake the fog from his mind as he went through the motions of his morning routine. His family was already at the breakfast table—Beth sipping her coffee, Jerry fumbling with the toaster, Summer glued to her phone as usual. It was almost comforting, in a strange way, to see that life went on as normal, even when his world was crumbling around him.

"Morning, Morty," Beth said with a small smile as he slid into his seat at the table. "You look tired. Everything okay?"

Morty forced a smile, trying to act casual. "Yeah, Mom. I'm fine. Just didn't sleep too well last night."

Beth raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she didn't press the issue. Morty was grateful for that. The last thing he needed right now was his mom worrying about him.

Across the table, Summer shot him a glance over the top of her phone. "You look like you got hit by a bus," she said, her voice flat. "Rough night?"

Morty shrugged, trying to ignore the anxiety gnawing at his insides. "Something like that."

Before Summer could make another snide comment, Rick's voice echoed from the living room. "Morty! Get your ass in here! We've got another adventure to deal with!"

Morty winced. He wasn't in the mood for one of Rick's chaotic escapades, not after what had happened, but he knew he couldn't avoid it. Rick wouldn't take no for an answer, and if Morty tried to resist, it would only make Rick more suspicious. With a sigh, Morty stood up and made his way to the living room, his mind still racing with thoughts of the two agents, the Conclave, and the Infinite Coil.

Rick stood by the portal gun, as disheveled and half-drunk as ever. He barely glanced at Morty as he motioned toward the swirling green portal he had just opened. "Let's go, Morty. We've got a couple of corrupt warlords on Dimension X-33 to topple, and we're already running late. I don't want to hear any whining today, okay?"

Morty swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, forcing his legs to move. "Yeah, sure, Rick. Let's just get it over with."

They stepped through the portal, the familiar rush of interdimensional travel enveloping them as they emerged on the other side into a chaotic warzone. Lasers crisscrossed the sky, explosions echoed in the distance, and alien soldiers were locked in combat all around them. Morty had been through countless battles with Rick before, but today, it all felt… distant. His mind wasn't on the adventure. It was stuck on the battle in his room, the realization of how powerless he had been.

Rick, of course, didn't notice Morty's distraction. He was too busy barking orders, shooting down alien soldiers, and cackling like a madman as he wreaked havoc on the battlefield. Morty followed along, doing his best to keep up, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Who could guide him? Who could help him make sense of the forces now converging on him?

For weeks, this became Morty's routine. He went through the motions of his daily life, joining Rick on countless adventures—whether it was toppling corrupt governments, negotiating with alien mafias, or escaping from interdimensional prisons. On the surface, nothing had changed. Morty was the same old Morty, following Rick, complaining about the danger, trying not to die. But underneath, the tension gnawed at him. The weight of what he had witnessed, the knowledge that he was being hunted by forces he couldn't control, lingered like a dark cloud over his every thought.

He began secretly researching, scouring Rick's lab for any mention of the Conclave of Aeons or the Infinite Coil. But there was nothing. Rick's databases, normally filled with information on every conceivable interdimensional threat, were silent on these two organizations. It was as if they didn't exist. No matter where Morty looked, he couldn't find any clues.

His frustration grew with each passing day. Who was he supposed to turn to? Who could guide him through this mess? It wasn't Rick. It wasn't anyone in his family. It wasn't any of the alien allies they had encountered over the years.

But then, one night, as Morty lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, the answer hit him.

Of course.

It was so obvious, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Evil Morty.

The memory of their past encounter flooded back to him—the ruthless, calculating version of himself who had outsmarted the entire Council of Ricks and escaped into the multiverse, his plans still shrouded in mystery. Evil Morty had shown a mastery of the multiverse far beyond anything even Rick had achieved. He had tapped into the deep currents of power that connected the dimensions, manipulated them to his advantage, and disappeared without a trace.

Evil Morty knew things. He understood the multiverse in ways that Morty didn't—yet. If anyone could help him, guide him through the web of forces converging on him, it was himself.

But finding Evil Morty wouldn't be easy. He had gone off the grid, slipping into the depths of the multiverse after dismantling the Citadel of Ricks. But Morty had to try. He had no other choice.

The more he thought about it, the more certain he became. Evil Morty had been playing a long game, one that Morty still didn't fully understand. But whatever that game was, it involved tapping into the same kinds of power that had now attracted the Conclave of Aeons and the Infinite Coil. If anyone could help Morty figure out how to harness that power without losing control, it was him.

Morty sat up in bed, his mind racing with possibilities. He knew Rick would never help him find Evil Morty—if Rick even suspected what he was planning, he'd shut it down in an instant. But Morty had his own tools now, his own knowledge. He could find Evil Morty. He would find him.

This was the only way.

Morty climbed out of bed and moved to his hidden workshop. His hands shook slightly as he gathered his tools, knowing that he was about to take the first step toward a path he couldn't turn back from. But this was what he had to do. He was done being afraid, done feeling powerless. Evil Morty had the answers he needed, and Morty was going to get them.

He didn't know how long it would take, or what dangers he would face along the way, but it didn't matter. He had to find his other self.

And when he did, maybe—just maybe—he'd finally be ready to face the forces that had come for him.

With renewed determination, Morty set to work. The search for Evil Morty had begun.

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