Chapter Text
In the days after the Morty became president of the Citadel, Storage Rick was jumpy, almost paranoid. Logically, he knew he had nothing to fear. It wasn't like the Citadel's president had any power, and even if something did happen, he wasn't exactly on any watchlist for abusive Ricks. At worst, the Morty would send some dickhead to make a report on him and that would be the end of it. But Storage Rick couldn't help it. There was something decidedly un-Morty-like about their new President Morty, and it made his stomach clench and his skin crawl.
A week after the overhaul of the Citadel's leadership (which, if rumors were to be believed, had been less than peaceful), a CPD officer showed up at the Daycare's doorstep. What surprised storage Rick the most wasn't the fact that the officer was there, but the fact that he was a Rick. Storage Rick didn't know whether that was a good or a bad sign. On one hand, the fact that this Rick was trusted by President Morty meant that he was probably more sympathetic towards Mortys than most of the CPD. On the other hand, he was still a Rick. Storage Rick didn't trust them.
"Are you Storage Rick?" the other Rick asked.
"S-uRp-ure am," Storage Rick said. "What the hell do you want?"
"New leadership, new rules, new Citadel."
"I was never told about this bullshit."
"Look, I-I haven't exactly gotten used to it yet either. The point is, I've gotta inspect the Daycare and make sure it's in compliance with Directive 47-B."
"How long've you been in the CPD?"
"Uh... A week?"
"I've run the Morty Daycare for almost a decade," Storage Rick said. "Alright, Rookie, you can do your stupid inspection. Just keep in mind that I outrank you."
"I'm not a rookie," the other Rick muttered as he pushed past Storage Rick into the Daycare.
"Keep telling yourself that, Rookie Rick." It probably wasn't smart to antagonize a CPD officer, but Storage Rick couldn't help it. He'd run the Daycare alone and done a damn good job at it for a long time, and for that to be taken away by some Morty that probably couldn't tell his head from his asshole galled him.
At least it would all be over quickly. Then he could go back to his life and forget all about fucking politics.
Five hours later, and Rookie Rick was still there. Storage Rick ground his teeth as a Morticia came out of the room that the rookie had stolen to interview some of the Daycare's Mortys. When she saw him sitting in the hallway, she marched over to him.
"What's going on?" Morticia demanded. "Th-They never gave a shit about us before, what changed?"
"Don't you shit stains ever watch the news? We're under new leadership," Storage Rick snapped. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Look, y-you probably don't have to worry. The new president's a Morty, so he had your best interests at heart."
"What part of having my best interest at heart involves trying to trick me into throwing you under the bus, huh?" Storage Rick ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it nervously.
"Probably looking for a reason to replace me with one of his toadys, to be honest," he said, shrugging. Morticia's mouth dropped open. "Hey, don't worry about it. Fuck, it'll probably be better for you little shits if he finds someone else to run the Daycare."
"Jeez, Rick, there's no way in hell that's true." Storage Rick couldn't help but grin. "Who even voted for that guy? He sounds like an ass, replacing people like you with - with - with-"
"I don't know. I voted for Juggling Rick, anyways."
"And that will be a point against you on my report," said Rookie Rick, making a note on his stupid little clipboard as he leaned in the doorway. Morticia bristled.
"That's stupid!" she yelled.
"I - uRp - I hate to agree with a Morty, but she's right. That's bullshit," Storage Rick said. "Last time I checked, i-it isn't much of a democracy if I can get fired just for voting for someone who isn't your fucking boss."
"L-Look, I'm not saying you're getting fired. I'm just saying that it'll count against you. It's the rules. I'm just following the rules."
"Yeah, and so were the Nazis," Storage Rick said, taking a long swig from his flask. "Have fun sucking your boss's cock. You're just about the shittiest Rick I've ever met."
Storage Rick had been tending to the No Skin Mortys when Rookie Rick came around again. Stray Cat Morty, who had answered the door, looked nervouse as he led the other Rick to Storage Rick
"R-Rick, th-this is O-Officer Rick."
"So, Rookie, you here to arrest me?"
"No! Why would you even think that? I-I don't even have a warrant or anything!" Storage Rick rolled his eyes and turned back to the No Skin Morty, who had somehow managed to get nicked in multiple places in spite of Storage Rick's warnings. Stray Cat Morty ran over and leaned into Storage Rick.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you basically said you'd turn me in last time. Maybe because I've heard what happens to noncompliant Ricks under our new beloved leader. Or maybe it's just because I don't trust you." Storage Rick sneezed, ruining the end of what had been a pretty decent speech. Damn cat.
"Look, I-I don't blame you for being nervous, but there really wasn't any reason to be. My inspection didn't show any evidence of abusive behavior towards Mortys, and so you're good. I mean, some changes are going to be implemented, obviously-"
"Get the fuck out of my Daycare," Storage Rick snarled.
"Hey, dickhead, it isn't anything major-"
"So what is it? Do I have to kowtow in the direction of the President every morning? Do I have to give my Mortys over to Citadel brainwashing like all the other Rickless ones?" Stray Cat Morty was hiding behind him now, and Storage Rick was glad for that. At least his Mortys were still on his side. "No one gave half a shit about the Daycare before now. I was the one for fought to keep them from being reassigned after Morty collecting stopped being a thing. I was the one who got them away from the Federation when all you bastards were too busy looking out for yourselves to care about your grandsons. You might work for the President, but I don't give a fuck. I'm not doing anything that will have a negative effect on my Daycare and my Mortys." Rookie Rick stared at him, and Storage Rick couldn't begin to parse the look on his face.
"I - uRp - I've got this packet," Rookie Rick said at last. "It's got the changes you - you're gonna have to make. Read it. I - I've gotta get back to work, but I'll put in a good word for you. You're a decent Rick, and we need more like you in the President's circle."
"Thanks, but no thanks," Storage Rick said. "I'm happy where I am, and I'd rather turn myself over to the fucking Federation than work for the Citadel's leadership." Rookie Rick gave him a baffled look as he left, as though he couldn't imagine why anyone would turn down such an amazing job as an ass-kisser. Storage Rick turned back to his work with an annoyed grunt.
"R-Rick," Stray Cat Morty said, "wh-what'll happen to us if, you know, you do g-get the new job?"
"That's not gonna happen," Storage Rick said. "They're looking for good Ricks. I don't have a fucking chance. Besides, who else would put up with you little pains in the ass all day, every day?"
When Storage Rick received an invitation for a meeting with the new President Morty, he knew that it was more of a quote-unquote invitation than an actual invitation. So he got into his cleanest labcoat, put a more or less competent Double Denim Morty in charge of the Daycare while he was gone, and got a taxi to the Citadel center.
"Why am I not surprised?" he groaned when he saw that Rookie Rick was his escort.
"I'm just as sick of dealing with you as you are of dealing with me," Rookie Rick said. "Just cooperate, and hopefully we won't have to see each other again."
"Yeah, good luck with that." The elevator dinged, and they stepped into a large conference room. Storage Rick could dimly see President Morty, silhouetted in the window by the setting sun.
"Rick S-501 to see you, sir," Rookie Rick said.
"Thank you, R-734." The President turned to face them, and Storage Rick felt like one million ants were crawling up and down his spine. There was something unnatural in the President's gaze, something cold and calculating and dead. It wasn't normal for a Morty; if Storage Rick had seen that look in the Daycare he would have thought the Morty was psychopathic or abused, probably both.
"It's Storage Rick, and why the fuck did you order me here? I have shit to do," Storage Rick said, crossing his arms.
"I'm sure you do," President Morty said, lips twitching mockingly, "but I've heard from R-737 here that you have been... less than cooperative with the new standards. Is that correct?"
"Yeah, I've read those new standards, and quite frankly they're bullshit. I mean, mandatory reassignment testing? Morty pride training? Sounds like fucking brainwashing to me. And that's not even getting into the deal that, despite the fact that I fucking started the place, you're going to be trying to replace me with some government clone. Bull. Shit." President Morty frowned slightly, but even that expression looked practiced and fake.
"And I don't suppose that you've taken any time to think about what the goal of those regulations are?" he said.
"Frankly? No, no time at all." President Morty nodded.
"I see," he said. "S-501-"
"Storage Rick."
"Storage," President Morty said, contempt dripping from the nickname, "let me explain myself. I don't expect a Rick like you to understand what it's like for a Morty to live in the Citadel. No freedom, no respect, not even the possibility of escape. Just being endlessly passed from Rick to Rick, like an itchy, regifted Christmas sweater. But I have it on good authority that you have earned the respect of the Mortys in your care, and that holds no little weight with me." President Morty paused, pouring himself a glass of some kind of liquor and downing it. Storage Rick twitched. Yeah, call him a hypocrite, but he never let the Mortys at the Daycare drink. Addiction was in their genes, and he'd be damned if he let them turn out just like their Ricks. "And so I have a proposition for you."
"Suck my balls."
"Don't dismiss it before you've heard your options. You may find it agreeable. The way I see it, there are two things you can do. You can hold out stubbornly and force my hand, losing your Daycare and your Mortys in the process, or you can take my offer as a blessing. I propose a... probationary period, where you will be observed by a Rick I know and trust to ensure that you are following the rules." Storage Rick ground his teeth, bristling. "Please choose carefully. I have been generous in forgiving your flaws thus far, but I can be cruel. Cruel to be kind, isn't that the phrase, R-734?"
"Yes it is, sir." President Morty nodded and turned back to Storage Rick.
"So, what will it be?" It took everything Storage Rick had to be smart, to respond the right way, but he didn't have a choice, not really.
"Fine," he spat out. "I'll take your shitty little deal, asshole."
"Excellent!" President Morty said. "But, in the future, you'll address me with a bit more respect, won't you?"
"Of course, sir," Storage Rick ground out, trying not to think about the deal he'd just made and how much he had to lose.