Life Sucks, Then you Die. (Rick and Morty x reader [platonic])

Close Rick-Counters of the Rick Kind (Part 2)

       When we walked out of the portal we were in another dimension that was absolutely full of Ricks. I'm talking like, hundreds of thousands of Ricks, Mortys, and (Y/N)s just walking around together. Behind us was a giant statue of Rick that I could barely make out. (I had to awkwardly twist my head over my shoulder because there was a stupid Rick that would shove my shoulders if I moved too much. Basically what I'm saying is that all Ricks are assholes, no if ands or buts about it.)
       "Geez, Rick! Wh-what is this place?" One of the Ricks grabbed the sides of my head and moved it forcibly to face forwards instead of back.
       "The citadel of Ricks. It's the secret headquarters for the council of Ricks." Rick sounded done with life. Well, he always had a certain inflection that made him sound like whatever question you were asking him was the absolute dumbest question in the whole world. Mostly because Rick always without fail knew the answer to any question you asked him. Well, almost any question. I was having social issues with this kid at school and I didn't know what to do with her. Obviously Jerry was socially inept, Beth was at work, so Rick was the only one left. He told me to just look at all her memories using some ray gun he had made and then manipulate her to my advantage. That's obviously psychotic so he doesn't have the answer to everything, just mostly everything.
       "Council... like government? They're like a trans-dimensional Rick government, that's so cool!" I peered around the Ricks which for some reason they didn't mind. I guess if it impeded the walking then it was a nuisance. I couldn't walk straight while I looked behind myself.
       "No. (Y/N). Not cool. A few thousand versions of me had the INGENIOUS IDEA OF BANDING TOGETHER like a herd of cattle or a school of fish or those people who answer questions on yahoo answers." Obviously I should have gathered Rick wouldn't like the idea of a government. He hated the one on Earth, never even voted and given his annoyance at the house during breakfast he wouldn't like a bunch of hims getting together.
       "Hey, what do you know? It's a cowboy version of us, (Y/N)!" Morty pointed with both hands to the left and nudged me with his shoulder. Morty's pants had cow print on them which made me laugh. Cows were cute what can I say.
       "Geez, you're easy to impress. Yeah, most timelines have a Rick and most Ricks have twins. This place is a real who's-who of who's Rick and Morty and (Y/N)."
       A Rick with a grey suit and a striped tie started walking next to me with handfuls of necklaces with the letter of my first name engraved into the front. I wasn't really one for necklaces personally. "Turn your boring old (Y/N) into a hot fashion statement, with some (Y/N) dazzlers!" Jesus... this Rick was talking about me as if I was a commodity and not a person. I shoved his face away from me with my palm and flipped him off. His face fell and he stopped walking.
       Meanwhile, Morty had a second "salesman Rick" in a black suit and a red tie hovering over him with a Morty doll with a big red button in the center of it's chest. He seemed a lot less offended than I was. Which on a scale of 1-10 was about a 4 right now. "Hey, check this out!" he said. When pressed, the Morty doll says "show me the Morty!" in a cheery voice. I kind of want one to put in our room but I'm 100% sure Rick wouldn't let me and I don't even know what kind of currency they used here (although I'm pretty sure it wasn't the American dollar).
       Another Rick leaned far enough over me that I had to take a step back so he could get access to our Rick. "'Scuse me, sir, are your twins insured? You know, every year hundreds of Mortys and (Y/N)s are injured in-"
       "Back off!" Rick, and I mean our Rick, yelled. I think I should give him a nickname. There wasn't much I could think of, but the only thing I could remember was that there was some kind of classification and if I recall correctly, the Ricks that were at our house called him "Rick C-137". So I guess he gets to be Rick C-137 and then all the other Ricks, Mortys and (Y/N)s get to be whatever I notice off of them first. "Not my cup of tea, this place."
       We entered a sci-fi looking hallway, it had high ceilings and pillars made of some kind of yellow metal. The top of the hallway arched into a point. There were light yellow squares on the dark blue walls and some kind of floating lights illuminating the hallway. All in all, even this part of the citadel was really cool looking. I understand why Rick C-137 didn't like the idea of a Rick government (I didn't like it either) but I had to hand it to these Ricks, this place was pretty neat looking.
       "I say the point of being a Rick is being a Rick." Rick C-137 was a lone wolf, separate in this universe, adrift amongst the cosmos with nobody to have his back. I giggled out loud, Morty at this point had learned to ignore it but Rick C-137 lifted his hands and smacked the back of my head.
       "Save your anti-Rick speech for the council of Ricks, terror-Rick!" Oh my God they have little names for things! If my grandfather wasn't a gross sack of dribbling alcoholism and constant burps then that would have been cute. But knowing Rick it made it just funny. In Rick school when learning to be a good Rick, would they say "aster-ricks"? Oo! Or when they go bowling and they need to make sure there wrist stays protected (because apparently now Rick cared about personal safety that much (or actually went bowling at all in the first place)), they used a "Ricks-guard".
       "Hey, save your Rick rules for the [belches] sheep-Ricks, Rick-pig!" Rick C-137 fought with one of the three guards in the front of our little gang.
       "Fuck me, pal." Guard Rick #1, said. I giggled slightly, trying to keep my laughter under my breath.
       "Fuck you? No no no no no, fuck me!" Rick C-137 barked.
       We entered a room with even higher ceilings and a lot of floor space. Hugging the walls were some kind of weird-ass tree things, the leaves were brown-ish and the trunks were white with blue strips. The room was full of Ricks, Mortys, and mes, it was unsettling. We went through different dimensions everyday, but before today I never really thought about the fact that there were so many different mes that were just... around. There was also a giant... counter? Thing? That had a bunch of Ricks on it. They seemed to be the "bosses" or at least both the jury and the judge. Which didn't bode well for us at the very least. Each of their hair was weird. One of them was just three giant tufts sticking out from the top and the sides of his head. Also a super pointy beard, which I thought was hilarious.
       "Bring up the holograms!" Tuft Rick said.
When Tuft Rick said that, a giant blue screen projected images of dozens of dead Ricks killed in super gross ways. One was hanged, another had his head shoved up his own butt, one was just plain old stabbed. It was gruesome, made me nervous because what if my Rick was next. As much as Rick was an asshole I really did appreciate the adventures we went on. Normal life was so mundane and boring, I honestly didn't know what I would do without him.
       "Twenty-seven Ricks brutally murdered in their own timelines. An unprecedented Rick-icidal epidemic. What say you, Earth Rick C-137?"
       "Jesus Christ..." I said under my breath, pictures continued to flick across the screen of dead Ricks murdered in brutal ways.
       "You think I did this? Why am I the first Rick you pull in every time a Rick stubs his toe?" Rick C-137 walked towards the counter of Ricks. They reminded me of cans on a shelf in the cupboard in my kitchen that I use when I'm too lazy to make actual meals.
       "You [belches] have a history of non-cooperation with the council." I think tufts must be the head honcho, y'know, in charge of the council or something. He's the only one talking while the other Ricks on the counter just kind of don't talk.
       "Yeah, so does the scientist formerly known as Rick! Wh-wh-wh-why isn't he here in handcuffs?" Tufts gestured wildly to the hologram projector.
       "Because he's dead too!" Tufts projected a picture of whom I could only assume was the scientist formerly known as Rick. He was wearing a old-ass looking suit with a ruffled tie? Thing? All in all he looked really gay, he was wearing rings on the fingers of both hands and his shoes were heeled. More importantly, he had a gunshot wound directly in his temple. The crowd of assorted Ricks gasped and yelled out.
       "Who else would you have us question? You fit the profile. Of all the Ricks in the central finite curve, you're the malcontent. The rogue." That seems like a great description of Grandpa. If someone were to ask me to describe him I'd say rogue and unimpressed. Obviously I wouldn't say that in front of a giant crowd of Ricks that want to pin a murder on him. He was fucking nuts for sure, but something about this didn't sit right, a regular old gun didn't seem like something he would do. On all accounts he tended to commit crimes of passion.
       "I'm the Rick. And so were the rest of you before you formed this stupid alliance. You wanted to be safe from the government so you became a stupid government. That makes every Rick here less Rick than me." The assorted Ricks gasped loudly again. Mostly asking everyone to throw him out. It seemed like C-137 wasn't very broadly liked. "Yeah, murmur it up, d-bags. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got pancakes back home with syrup on top of them. They're about to hit that critical point of syrup absorption that turns the cakes into a gross paste. And I hate to get all Andy Rooney about it, but I think we all like fluffy discs of cake with syrup on top! And I think we also like to be accused of crimes when there's evidence! So as they say in Canada, peace oot!" Rick lifted his hands up and started walking away.
       "Evidence? Good idea. Scan his portal gun!" Guard Rick #4 stole Rick C-137's portal gun from the inside pocket of his lab coat.
       "Oh, come on. Don't look at another man's portal gun history. We-we all go to weird places." I wish I had the technology to scan Ricks portal gun, or at least make one of my own. I was smart, I prided myself on being smart, but I'm somewhere between Beth and Rick intellect wise. I wasn't genius enough to make a portal gun, was smart enough to know when I was in a dying marriage and when my child sits in their room constantly smoking weed and making shitty ray guns with Rick's leftover parts. Well, that got kinda dark.
       "Yes, but it appears you alone have been going to the exact timelines and locations in which the murders occured!"
       Guard Rick #3 stuck C-137's portal gun into a slot in the same panel that controlled the hologram projector. A diagram appears on the screen, displaying C-137's portal gun history. Entries for certain dimensions flash green before it finally settles on a select few which flash red. I assume that means Rick C-137 has been to all of the dimensions that the Ricks were killed in.
       "Oh, Fuck."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Word Count: 2098

I know it's been a while since I wrote anything, but I've been really depressed and not as into Rick and Morty as I used to be. Thankfully quarantine has me bored as fuck so. Also in case it wasn't clear, (Y/N) was the one who said fuck at the end there. Thanks for waiting for me, it means more than you guys could ever know. (Edited, let me know if you see any errors.)