#I have two separate designs for Iterators now geez

[luoisalunitic]

FK10 but yaoi gets domain expansion-ed

[sinemoras09]

1.

The remains of the Citadel lie crooked against a starscape of blues and blacks, the long arms connecting individual spheres of cities jutting out like jagged bones. On the inside, Construction Ricks rappel down the city towers, small and ant-like compared to the gleaming city structures below them.

Militia Ricks step out, ferrying the dead. A dusty truck crunches over debris and broken glass, while bodies are rolled up in thick stripes of canvas and tossed into the back.

In a subterranean basement, Caretaker Ricks rush around the large glass columns of yellow liquid while thousands of clone bodies are decanted, sputtering and slimy, a thousand reborn Ricks coughing and crouching on the ground.

*****

The artificial light is stuck in perpetual dawn or dusk, the entirety of the skyline barely visible in the dying half-light. In the middle of the rubble, Slow Rick is crying, a lone figure crouching among a throng of dead Mortys, his yellow shirt scuffed and his temple caked with old dried blood.

"Can, can, can anybody help me?" Slow Rick says. He hugs his arms and limps, accidentally kicking a dead Morty in the shoulder. He starts crying harder. "I-i-is anybody there?"

Cop Rick is digging in the rubble when he sees him and comes running over.

"Are you, are you my new Rick?" Slow Rick says. Cop Rick kneels down in front of him.

"Y-yeah. Yeah buddy, I am for now," Cop Rick says. He reaches back into his holster and grabs a tablet, quickly scrolling through the Citadel database. Slow Rick, it says, also known as Tall Morty, from dimension K-32-ipsilon-9. He suffers from Savant Syndrome and excels in electronics and rapid calculations. He invented a portal gun, accidentally portaling himself into Federation Space, where he became frightened and started calling out for his caretakers.

"Your name is Slow Rick, Rick?" Cop Rick says. Slow Rick shakes his head.

"My name is Tall Morty," Slow Rick says. Cop Rick touches his shoulder.

"All right, Tall Morty. Let's get you some help, buddy."

"Thank you, Mr. Rick," Slow Rick says. Cop Rick nods.

"Hey now, just call me Rick," Cop Rick says, and he helps him up from the ground.

*****

2.

They found him living in an adult care facility in a dimension 70 iterations off the Central Finite Curve. It wasn't surprising: ever since the Council of Ricks implemented routine brain scans across the multiverse, they found non-scientist Ricks in all sorts of places. There were Ricks who became school teachers and Ricks who were truck drivers, working stiff Ricks with the same potential and IQs.

The portal opened, and they expected that this Rick was a caregiver, maybe a physician or a nurse working in the facility. They weren't expecting to see him as a resident, wearing a bright orange shirt and eating a popsicle.

*****

"I didn't know Ricardo had a twin brother," was the first thing the receptionist said, as one of the Citadel Ricks conducting surveillance filled out his paperwork. The Rick opened his mouth, about to answer, when his other Rick partner stepped up behind him.

"Yo, I just did a preliminary scan, the Gromflomites have this place under surveillance." The second Rick walked toward the first Rick, where the receptionist choked on her coffee and did a double take. "Oh. Shit."

"Yeah. We're, uh. Triplets." The first Rick handed her the clipboard. "Uh. Monozygotic," he said, and he thumbed between the two of them. "And with little Ricky, uh, dizygotic."

"Oh. I see." The receptionist smiled kindly.

"Hey. I don't know you," Slow Rick said, as the two Ricks flanked beside him. The caregiver tsked at him.

"Ricardo. These are your brothers, Rick and Rico," the caregiver said.

"That's okay, ma'am. We don't blame him - we never really visited." The Ricks glanced at each other, uneasily. "Hey buddy. You playing with blocks, man?"

"Yeah!" Slow Rick said, and he beamed up at them happily. Warily the Ricks sat down at the table, watching him.

"Why the hell are the Glomflomites keeping him under surveillance? All he does is play with blocks and fingerpaints." The second Rick frowned, looking around.

"Hey, check it out," the second Rick said. Slow Rick started writing a bunch of numbers on a notepad. "Watcha doin' there, buddy?"

"I'm making a formula!"

"Oh, wow, buddy, real cool there, let's see--" he picked up the paper. His eyes widened.

"Bro," the second Rick said, and he handed it to the first.

"Did he...did he just come up with a grand Unified Theory of Everything? On the back of a fingerpainting?" Technically, all standard Ricks solved the riddle of marrying quantum physics to the theory of relativity decades ago, but given Slow Rick had the mentality of a 6-year-old, they were impressed.

"Ma'am? Is it okay if we take him out for day-long excursions?" The Ricks had radioed their findings to the Council, who ordered them to bring Slow Rick in.

"Of course!" the caregiver said, and she handed them the paperwork.

*****

Slow Rick - or Tall Morty, as he was now called - loved the Citadel. The Rick caretakers gave him candy. Everybody was really nice to him.

"What's this?" Slow Rick said. The Ricks set down a small glass of portal fluid, which glowed a hazy iridescent green.

"I-it makes things go other places. See?" One of the Ricks loaded it into a portal gun, shot two portals, and tossed a ball through. It sank into one membrane, then bounced off the second, making Slow Rick laugh hysterically.

"You think you can make that, buddy?" The Ricks provided all the materials. They would sit down and watch him to make sure he didn't do anything too dangerous. Slow Rick grinned and nodded.

"Yeah! I can do that!" Slow Rick said, and he started grabbing materials.

Like the other Ricks, this Rick had a genius's intuition. This Rick threw together the ingredients of portal fluid without measuring it. The two Ricks watched as he loaded his finished fluid into the portal gun, then shot two portals. They tossed in a ball, which easily slipped through it.

"Good job, buddy! Y-y-you think you can solve this equation?"

"Sure!" Slow Rick chirped, and he started writing down the math, chewing on a piece of licorice and kicking his feet under the table.

*****

3.

A circle of Militia Ricks surround a fallen Gromflomite, who's lying on his back and shaking. Wordlessly they all unholster their ray guns and shoot, the purple rays searing the Gromflomite's carapace and liquifying its insides.

"Geez," a Militia Rick says. Another Gromflomite charges at him but the Militia Ricks pull out their ray guns, easily neutralizing him. "How many fucking more of these Federation goons are left?"

"Hard to say, D-23. That's why we're patrolling each sector searchin' for them."

"Ugh, I wanna go home," the Militia Rick says. Another Gromflomite pops up to the side of him, but he points his arm and shoots him dead without even looking at him. "This sucks." Another Rick nods.

"Yeah, I know."

More digging. They throw pieces of rubble into a pile, hoisting up the dead bodies crushed beneath the debris. The Ricks are sweating, wiping their foreheads with their sleeves, when behind them there's a flurry of action.

"We got more survivors!" a Militia Rick says.

There's a group of Mortys huddled beneath the remains of what used to be a pharmacy. Around them, overturned shelves and broken bottles are scattered by their feet. The Mortys are miraculously intact, holding each other and crouching beneath a cardboard Rick sign advertising Energy Juice.

"W-w-w-what's going on?" a Morty says. The Militia Ricks flash their flashlights on him, the beam cutting a white line through the shadowed ruins. "Why were they attacking us? What's happening?"

"I don't know." The Militia Rick digs him out of the rubble. "What's your designation?"

"I-I-I don't remember. But they called me Glasses Morty." Glasses Morty isn't wearing his glasses. The Militia Rick grunts and hefts him and his friends out of the pile.

*****

In a remote outpost on the farthest corner of the Citadel, Cop Rick walks with Slow Rick following an abandoned street. The asphalt is cracked and jutting out at odd angles, the buildings surrounding it bombed out and crumbling. Cop Rick walks and he hears a few errant bricks falling off. He pulls out his scanner and searches for other biosignatures. No one else is alive.

"M-M-Mr. Cop Rick?"

"Yeah, Tall Morty?"

"W-w-when can I go home?" Slow Rick hugs his arms. "I'm scared and I'm cold."

"It's okay, Tall Morty. I-I got separated from my unit, but whatever was attacking us seems to have gone home." Cop Rick looks around. "Sorry, buddy. To tell you the truth, I-I-I'm just a rookie, I haven't even graduated from the Academy. Sorry you got saddled with a useless Rick like me."

"Y-y-you didn't gradutate yet?"

Cop Rick smiles. "It's graduate," he says, gently. "And no, I-I'm still part of the Academy."

They keep walking. A column of smoke rises from another ruined building, and Cop Rick hears someone yelling.

"Help me!" It's a Morty. "Help, can somebody help?"

"I'm coming!" Cop Rick says, and he breaks out into a run.

He can see a flash of yellow peaking out from a pile of debris. Cop Rick skids onto his knees, then starts digging through the rubble.

But it's too late. The Morty is guppy breathing, skin clammy, the blood that was tamponaded by the rubble suddenly rushing out. His lung is punctured and his pelvis is shattered. The Morty gasps, then chokes for air.

"Are you, are you a cop?" The Morty's eyes drag listlessly up toward Cop Rick's. "Are you gonna rescue me?"

There's no way the Morty will live another day, let alone the next ten minutes. Cop Rick grasps his hand.

"Yeah, buddy," Cop Rick says. "Reinforcements are coming, just hang on."

The Morty smiles. It's a sickly smile, wan and pale, until his pupils dilate and he stops breathing.

"Shit," Cop Rick says. He wipes his eyes angrily.

In the background, Slow Rick whimpers. Cop Rick straightens, dusting the front of his uniform.

"C'mon," Cop Rick says. "It's getting dark.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816478