Chapter Text
I’m Morty, more specifically, Morty EM-77 from Citadel approved cloning facility seven, often referred to as Lucky Morty, my friends call me Clover, though. If you’re reading this, you’re reading my journal. If I’m alive, please return it to me if possible. Otherwise, enjoy whatever I wrote down before my death, I suppose.
I was a typical Morty for a long time. I always saw the other Morty’s at the Morty academy trying to differentiate themselves among the sea of clones by rolling up their sleeves or changing their hair… I didn’t bother, it always felt like a losing battle. I got my own title despite this, and became known as Lucky Morty because every Rick I would be assigned would die in brutal and unusual ways in under a week, and I’d come back (relatively) unharmed.
In total, I had twenty seven different Rick’s. While most Morty’s would be thrown to fend for themselves by their third Rick or so, the reputation I collected made a lot of Rick’s want to take me in as a dare, or to prove that the idea of me being bad luck was just a myth of sorts; either because they thought it was all a coincidence, or because they thought I was purposely killing those Ricks. So I was kept around until President Morty put an end to the Morty Market as it was and then until the Citadel was destroyed.
Now that I’ve evacuated the Citadel, I’m starting this journal to write down my life, even among other Mortys, and even some Ricks, My life has been a subject of curiosity, I’ve heard the rumors that float around, so now that I’m free of the Citadel, and death may get me any day now, I want to tell my story myself rather than have it told at me. For a long time, I resigned myself to my fate: No matter what I did, I was forced to witness death of so many men who should’ve been my grandfather, some better at fulfilling that role than others, and while I still believe that my actions likely won’t change my fate, I suppose I want to humor myself, throw this journal out into the world so at least I know I left some sort of mark, no matter how inconsequential.
Now, with the background out of the way, here’s my first official entry… it’s kind of scary, honestly, writing the very first entry, I mean, but I’m just gonna wing it, it’s my personal journal after all, right? Write first edit later.
I’m just gonna write about my day today, I think. It’s an easy subject to write about, and my day has been pretty uh… I really wish I had some sort of dictionary. I can't think of a good word… but it’s been different to say the least. Alright, I’ll start from the beginning… Well, I need to give context for the events of today… sorry, I just gave all that background and now I’m giving even more, huh? I hope I’m not boring you.
I'll start by telling you about the place I’ve taken refuge at: It’s a small planet made inhabitable by Ricks who have also taken refuge after the destruction of the Citadel. It used to be an “anarchy” (anarchy in quotes because it wasn’t fully lawless they had rules surrounding trade and such) trading center, but after the founder of the tribe died, his Morty took over and brainwashed the Ricks though drugging the water supply and by imitating the personalities of their late Mortys, claiming to be able to embody them, and taking on the title ‘The Grandchild’ (I’m just gonna call him Cult Morty). Mortys have gone missing around here left and right since, obviously Cult Morty is killing them to prey on their grief stricken Rick’s (though not officially caught yet) so I’ve kept my distance, even if I don’t have a Rick for him to prey on, he seems just generally unstable.
My theory was proven right today, however, Cult Morty made the trip outside of the cult to where I keep my shelter. I played nice, let him in, and he told me the truth: He warned me to stay off cult grounds, admitted that while he makes sure most Mortys are removed simply to avoid “competition” he hasn’t bothered to send anyone after me because I’m “undesirable” to most Rick’s anyway. Between my bad luck and just the fact that I’ve seen too much, I’m not worth the trouble. Every kill could jeopardize Cult Morty’s reputation, after all, his on-going act that he’s the perfect Morty, made up of every perfect memory of the naive grandchild these Ricks have lost.
Even if this information wasn’t surprising to me, it was still odd to hear him admit it. Sure, I guess it makes sense, they’d never believe me over him, why not tell me? But the audacity I suppose is what got me… and impressed me, I’ll admit, I’ve never met a Morty so cut throat and blunt.
Back to the story, though: I agreed to his terms because I don’t want to get in unnecessary conflict, I don’t have a way off this planet yet so until then I have to work with what I have. It still shook me, though. Not to mention how inconvenient this will be, cult or not, the trading center his followers run is a haven for resources. I'm going to struggle to make it without it. I’m going to have to hunt for food or scavenge or something… for now I still have some food left, though, luckily.
The silver lining at least is that I know for a fact that Cult Morty is as ruthless as I thought, and I have learned a bit more about how he ticks. He doesn’t just kill Morty’s for their Rick’s, but out of some sort of jealousy as well: He sees them as competition. I’ve seen Morty’s like him before, typically a product of not being picked by a Rick one time too many in the Morty Market, being rejected quickly by a Rick once or twice right after being assigned to them, or just their Rick straight up abusing them. Obviously I’ve never seen a Morty this bad so if I had to guess, I’m assuming it’s a mix of a few.
But that’s all I can say for now, I suppose. I’m not great with outros, but that’s probably a good stopping point for now. I’ll start talking about my actual past in the next entry, though.
-Thank you for reading (if anyone is), Clover.