Calm down, Morty,
I'm almost done collecting Citadel wreckage.
I am calm.
Your fidget spinning has a passive aggressiveness to it.
I can be calm and bored.
Y-You're a million years late on that thing anyways.
Didn't the Egyptians invent those?
Fashion's cyclical, babe. I'm retro.
- Ah! - Ah, fuck!
Shit! H-Hang on, we got to find a place to land.
Whoa, there's people living here?
Are they refugees?
Clones. Bio-trash.
I-I thought everyone got sucked back to their reality of origin.
- That happened, right? - Exactly.
The Citadel was basically a factory farm for spare bodies.
That portal reset sucked 'em all back.
Oh.
W-We don't want to stop here.
This is the, uh, Morty part of town,
if you know what I'm saying.
Let's touch down over there.
Alright, Morty, grab the sealant.
I'll make this quick.
Damn, this is nice corn.
Thank you.
Whoa! Alright.
Uh, take it easy, old-timer.
I've heard about loners like this, Morty.
What are you doing on my land?
Trying to leave it as quickly as possible.
- Leave faster. - Jesus.
I was fixing it when you cocked the gun.
See? Done.
- Fuckin' hillbilly. - What's that guy's deal?
Morty, I can't imagine anything worse than having to know.
♪ My whole Saturday and Sunday, too ♪
♪ I was thinking about ways not to lose ♪
♪ I lay down my weapons is what I've done ♪
♪ Too late to hide, feet too soft to run ♪
♪ But people say I'm the luckiest man ♪
We're closed.
G-g-get the fuck out of here.
Sorry he says that every time you come in.
Mm-hmm.
Widgets, gidgets, fertilizer.
Hey, hey, Doc,
did we, uh, salvage any more of those processors?
We-- we did.
But they're on a pretty high shelf.
Which I... uh, will reach.
Come on.
Mortys, huh?
You're the worst.
Aaah!
Oh.
Riiiiiicks!
- Get over here! - Aah!
Got one!
It's the jackpot, boys!
Time to round up some stock!
Gotcha!
I got you. That's right!
Aaah!
Boss, look what we got.
Are-- are you one of us? Did we have an overalls guy?
Just tryin' to leave with my stuff.
Wait, you live around here?
We don't need to get acquainted. Aah!
Got that right, motherfucker!
Yeah! We got no code!
Yeah!
Burn it all down, boys!
You crack that gene-lock yet?
Boss is getting antsy.
This is the one.
Aah, no! Oh, God! Aaah!
Aw, fiddlesticks!
What a haul.
The ship smells like Morty farts now.
- Where's my money? - Oddjob Rick, take him upstairs.
You like football?
What?
Just making small talk.
Long elevator.
Well nawh.
My associates here tell me you rustled up quite the score.
Oddjob? Your uh, normal job, please.
I can monologue while we wait.
You ever wonder why I'm an overweight
Southern railroad baron?
See, I was cloned to be the mascot of a Citadel gumbo chain.
Get yo mouth round it!
But Big Rick's Gumbo Hutch is trash now.
Whole Citadel is trash now.
And there ain't no pecking order amongst the trash.
What a utopia.
It will be, once I have
the requisite Mowty's.
We can all be kings here, mistuh traffickuh.
Good luck with that.
Don't go spending it all in one place nawh!
Filthy degenerate. No accent at awl.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck!
Ow!
Shh!
What the fuck?!
I-I-It was his idea!
Don't hurt us! I'm not a real doctor!
What are you doing here? Get the fuck out of my car!
We're coming with you to rescue our friends.
I'm not going to rescue your friends.
I'm going to kill those guys who stole my shit.
Yeah, exactly, it's the same guys.
It is the same guys.
Flush us into space or keep driving.
Fuckin' Mortys.
Hey man, you're the one
who built this truck with a back seat.
If you die, you die.
Ha ha. Wow.
B-B-Back on an adventure w-w-with-- with-- with a Rick.
Close your eyes, and it's like nothing changed.
Some change is good. We had our own town, man.
We were free.
Hey, ya know, my-- my Rick wasn't so bad.
Used to take me and Summer to the park.
No, he didn't.
I have the same memory. It's fabricated.
"Taking me and Summer to the park."
A new Citadel?
You Ricks don't have many original ideas, do you?
And you're the arbiter of taste?
Cool haircut.
Stay out of my way.
Stay out of mine.
Ooh-whee! Almost enough for a jump!
I'm gonna head to a reality where no one has facial hair.
In the land of the blind...
When I get my hop, I'm off to a dimension
- where racism is cool. - Idiots.
You got to have bigger plans than one jump.
Oh, yeah? And what's your big plan?
You mean after I teabag your mom?
Don't even have a mom.
Come on, gimme a six!
Damnit! That's not six!
Where's your boss?
Up your butt and around the corner.
That's where this barrel is going
if you don't start talking.
Up your butt? Or my butt?
Gimme back my friends!
Jesus, man!
Whoa, whoa!
Where are they?!
They're with his stuff!
A-at the center of this new Citadel. Help!
Morty-whipped son of a bitch!
Aaah!
Get off me, you little shit!
Doc!
All we did was shoot you, man!
Y-You can't take that personally!
If we bite it here,
y-you were always a good customer.
Yeah. You always... had exact change.
Ugh. Ready?
Shit!
T-They got me, Arcade Morty.
I'm-- I'm dyin'.
It's gonna be okay.
I-I know a doctor.
Oh, ha.
Hope I bleed out before I have to burn to death.
No medical degree, but I've read enough
to know one's an okay death and one is terrible.
Flames aren't getting any closer.
Looks like it'll definitely be the bleeding out one.
Phew.
Ah!
Bye, pal.
Off to the big Med School in the sky.
Hey! Hey!
Ow!
Sorry, they make me do this to bully me.
Hoof shaming.
To clarify, I'm sorry about the needle prick.
Overall, I agree with what they're doing here.
A-Arcade Morty?
Shhh.
Rich-ard San-chez. When my associates here told me
that strange little Mowty Town had themselves a Pet Rick
with a farm full of cloning equipment,
my interest was piqued.
Cloning equipment?
You see what we have here, gentalmyan,
is a prince, in the guise of a pawpuh.
Why, not only is this little henley boy not a clone,
he's also the Citadel's former
Head of Mowty Replication.
A Morty cloning scientist?
The best Mawty cloning scientist.
And from the looks of these boys,
he's still got it.
Rishard, Rishard.
And I thought I loved my job.
This-- this is such a head fuck!
Break out the bubbly, boys!
My Citadel is a go.
Get yo mouth round it.
That place had good curly fries.
Oh, ya been there?
So you're not even a clone?
What the fuck are you doing with your life?
I don't belong anywhere else, kid.
You don't want to be an evil Citadel guy,
so instead, you live next to a bunch of cloned Mortys
on an asteroid?
Wow, you're so different.
I never said I was a good guy!
I-I hate you!
Aw, now, that ain't no way to talk to your paw.
This is.
Non-clone piece of sheeyat.
Now, we don't need to be so unpleasant with each other.
I'd love to offer you your old job back.
I'll take it. Hit the switch.
- Don't do it! - Shut up.
Kid's right. I'm no better than any of you.
I'm just self-loathing about it.
See there? I told you he was good beef!
Alright now, think that's large enough.
Morty! Get us out of here!
I'm coming!
Mortys, with me!
Kill that abominascion!
So, deep down, you super love Mortys?
Not really.
I'm just really good at making you.
I mean, look how you turned out.
Don't give yourself credit!
Wait, Rick. What are you doing?
Not giving myself credit.
Go make some memories that aren't fabricated.
Rick!
Hyah!
♪ Ooh, these ♪
♪ Little earthquakes ♪
♪ Doesn't take much to rip us into pieces ♪
♪ I can't reach you ♪
Aaah!
- ♪ I can't reach you ♪ - Oh, come on naw!
♪ I can't reach you, can't reach you ♪
Well, now that's a very
expensive elevator ride you just took.
My plans were always bigger than one jump.
No need for that.
Drop the accent.
Whatever you say, man.
That's your real voice?
Ah! Shit!
A desk gun?!
An eskr-twar weapyion.
♪ Give me life, give me pain ♪
♪ Give me myself again ♪
♪ Give me life, give me pain ♪
♪ Give me my, give me myself again ♪
Aah!
Aaaah!
Aaah!
You certainly are a burr in my saddle.
- You're a joke. - I'm whatever I want to be.
That's the freedom of life as a clone.
You wouldn't know. Someone made you with sex,
all those sweaty parts and nipply bits.
You disgust me.
It's over, man. Your dream's about to be gumbo.
Get yo mouth round it.
You... know me?
F-f-father?
Oh. Oh, no, no.
You're under the delusion of something called
the auteur myth.
Truth is, any big project is made in collaboration,
lots of delegating.
I sort of... gave notes.
I don't want to hear this!
Good news. You don't have to.
Au revoir, son.
You wretch!
Maybe he survived it?
What do we do now? Go home?
We decide where home is. For each of us.
That old Homesteader wanted us to make memories for ourselves.
No Morty towns, or Citadels, or huddling together.
It's time to grow up.
Deal me in.
Hey, uh, is your-- is your Rick around?
I-I think my Morty dropped his fidget spinner down here.
I'm telling you, I checked everywhere else.
Morty, I swear to God if I check between the seats of our car--
I checked between the seats!
Oh, shit, Morty. Check it out.
I think this little dude killed his Rick.
You really think so?
Yeah, look, there's a grave.
He buried him out front as a warning.
Damn. Ice cold.
Is that a second, smaller grave?
Burnt down his house, too.
Starting to think we should've stuck around.
Jesus Christ. I-I didn't kill--
Found it!
I told you I checked between the seats!
When you're right, you're right, Morty!
Told you, I admit that kind of stuff now.
And I can admit you're right about that, Rick!
You're really changing!
Assholes.
Did you get any of that?