Richard clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the dismantled components of Zigerion tech. His mind was already cycling through a million ways to exact revenge for that cheap breakup comment from the simulation. Every single one of them was excessive. Beautifully excessive. But he forced himself to let it go. For now.
He turned to Rick, who was slouched in the corner, drool still clinging to his chin like a parasite. "Alright," Richard said, voice sharp and cold. "We're awake. Time to blow this place up and go home."
Rick stretched, burped mid-yawn, and scratched his belly. "Jeez, Richard. Way to kill the fun. We could've at least scammed 'em first. Make 'em think we were gonna give 'em some big science-whopper, then—BAM!—pull the rug out from under 'em."
"Why scam idiots," Richard said, flicking a switch on the cracked helmet he'd just gutted, "when we can just wipe them off the face of the galaxy?" Then, with a sudden glint in his eye, he snapped up from the device, "I just thought of something even better."
A chorus of panicked Zigerion footsteps echoed as the simulation chamber doors burst open. The lead Zigerion waddled in with his usual puffed chest and jittery nerves, attempting intimidation but radiating wet noodle energy. "Y-You may have escaped the simulation, b-but you're still trapped on our ship! Y-You will surrender your scientific secrets or suffer the c-c-consequences!"
Rick let out an exaggerated, mock yawn. "Oh nooo, consequences. What are you gonna do, huh? Run another laggy-ass simulation with emotional trauma and janky CGI?"
The Zigerion narrowed his eyes. "T-They were high-definition! And, uh, emotionally sophisticated!" Richard ignored him, twirling a glowing energy cell in his hand like a fidget toy.
"Rick," he said, "I think we should help them."
Rick raised a brow, intrigued but wary. "Oh yeah?"
Richard grinned wide, that unhinged glint sparking again. "These guys are so fucking stupid, they don't even understand their own ship's failsafes. I mean—why else would this be just lying around?" He held up the pulsing energy cell—the containment field's main power core.
The Zigerion leader took a nervous step back. "T-That's h-highly unstable! You d-don't know what you're—"
Before he could finish, the cell let out a low hum. A strange ripple of violet light pulsed through the room.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
One by one, the Zigerions collapsed like defective toys. Even Rick's eyelids drooped as he slumped down against the wall. Only Richard and Morty remained standing.
"W-what just happened?" Morty asked, eyes darting nervously. "Did you kill them?! D-Did you just kill everyone again?!"
Richard shook his head. "Nah. I trapped them in a simulation. An actual simulation. Custom-built and piped straight into their neural cortexes. But here's the kicker—" He cracked his knuckles and let out a low, sinister chuckle.
"It's a full psychological hell loop. They'll live through the most disgusting, depraved, brain-meltingly awful experiences their tiny minds can generate. All in a single day. Then it resets. Over and over. Forever."
Morty looked horrified. "T-That's messed up, man! Like, that's super messed up! They're gonna go crazy!" Rick suddenly snapped awake with a sharp intake of breath. He glared at Richard with bleary, furious eyes.
"Too far, dickhead."
Richard grinned. "Bite me."
Rick stood up, cracking his neck. "You wanna go? Let's go, bitch."
The air between them thickened like tension soup. Rick hurled a wrench from a nearby table—Richard deflected it with his wristband's kinetic shield. Richard launched a magnetic pulse that sent Rick sliding across the floor.
Rick growled, yanked a screwdriver from his coat, and threw it like a dart—barely missing Richard's head. "You throw like a drunk twelve-year-old," Richard taunted.
Rick belched and charged. "I am a drunk twelve-year-old! Emotionally!"
They grappled, shoved, and exchanged quick jabs until Morty—hovering near the ceiling in zero-gravity yelled, "Would you guys quit it before you destroy the ship or something?!"
Both froze mid-scuffle. "Oh, right," Richard said flatly. He casually crushed the energy cell in his palm.
ZZZZZZZZZZZT!
The ship flickered like a dying VHS tape. Sirens screamed to life. Red emergency lights bathed the walls, and artificial gravity spasmed like it was trying to breakdance. "Oops," Richard said, deadpan.
Rick stared, then burst out laughing. "Hahahaha! Holy shit! You did it! You little psycho—I love it!"
Morty floated by helplessly, arms flailing. "A-Aw man! What did you do, Richard?!"
"Simple," Richard said, holding up his portal gun. "I just made sure this ship blow up like a fucking supernova in like 10 seconds, 9, 8…"
Panicked Zigerions began to wake up in their simulation pods, screaming and crying in horror as their minds adjusted to their new eternal nightmares. "Later, dumbasses," Richard muttered as he opened a shimmering blue portal mid-air. He stepped through without a second glance.
Rick followed, still chuckling. "Hoo-wee, you might be more ruthless than me, kid."
Morty scrambled to latch onto Rick's lab coat as the ship started to shake violently. "W-Wait for meeee!"
The three of them emerged back in the Smith family garage. The usual clutter of tools, gadgets, and unwashed beakers greeted them like home. Richard stretched his arms as if they'd just gone out for coffee, not cosmic war crimes. Rick flopped into his favorite chair, cracked open a half-warm beer, and took a long swig.
"Well," Rick said, wiping his mouth, "that was fun. Got my cardio in today."
Richard rolled his eyes, already scanning through blueprints on a holographic tablet. Morty leaned against the wall, panting. "At least... at least we're home…"
Before he could finish the sentence, Richard pressed a button on his wristband.
FLASH!
Morty vanished in a beam of blue light. Rick blinked. "Did you just—"
"Sent him back to the party," Richard replied, tone as flat as his stare. Rick burst into hysterical laughter, nearly choking on his beer. From somewhere deep in the cosmos, a very distant, very familiar scream echoed like the sad ending of a sitcom.