POV: Rick C-137
Location: Unknown coordinates — Deep multiversal drift
The glow of the portable reality-field shimmered against the battered hull of the old space cruiser. Rick C-137 leaned back in the pilot's chair, legs up, a near-empty flask of neutron-rum dangling from his fingers. The stars didn't blink out here. The void was deeper. Stranger. Darker.
Morty sat across from him, legs crossed, picking idly at a glowing deck of cards.
Morty: "S-so... are we just gonna sit here and ignore the fact that this Zane guy's been popping up all over the damn multiverse?"
Rick took a long pull from the flask, wiped his mouth, and grunted.
"We're not ignoring it, Morty. We're watching. There's a difference. Strategic non-intervention."
Morty: "Y-yeah, except the strategic part is looking more like we're chickens—"
Rick: "—Finish that sentence and I'm ejecting you."
Morty blinked, raised his hands in surrender, and leaned back.
Rick exhaled. He pulled up a projection screen. The holographic display flickered — Universe Sector Rick-10, now marked entirely red. He rotated it with a finger, then tapped Sector 0-Zero, now glowing gold-black.
"That's two gone. Actually three, if you count his original reality. That's not just conquest, Morty. That's method."
Morty: "So what, h-he's just... what? A Rick who decided to go full god-mode?"
Rick: "No. That's the problem. He's not a Rick anymore."
Rick stood, poured another drink, and stared out the viewport.
"He's something else. Something built. Not born."
Sector 0-Zero — Spiral Throne Citadel
Location: Core of the Origin Zone
Zane stood atop his throne, overlooking a field of stormclouds. Below, titanic machines moved through space like whales, crafting clone planets in mid-vacuum. Shipyards the size of moons glowed with inner-forge heat, ejecting dreadnoughts into position. Every two hours, another billion Zanites emerged across the sector.
Eris hovered beside him, her form now projected in a regal humanoid silhouette — half-machine, half-star.
Eris: "Origin assimilation is 96% complete. Final reweaving of narrative constants is in progress."
Zane's hands, laced with viral steel and glowing flesh-runes, flexed behind his back.
"Show me projections."
A sphere unfolded in front of them, flickering with threads of potential.
Eris: "Based on current conquest speed and resource output, at this pace you will achieve Multiversal Saturation Priority-Level Alpha within an estimated span of—"
"Pause. I'm not interested in timelines. I'm interested in interference."
Eris blinked. Then nodded.
Eris: "Minimal multiversal military response so far. Most Ricks remain observers. Watching. Calculating."
Zane smirked.
"That's what they do best. Sit and think."
He turned to her.
"What of Rick C-137?"
Eris: "Still drifting. No allegiances. Traveling with his Morty. Monitoring your progress, but making no moves."
Zane's eyes narrowed. A spark of respect — or calculation — passed across his expression.
"He's the wild card. The one I can't predict."
POV: Rick C-137
Location: Cruiser Interior
The ship floated beside a decaying time-rift. Rick watched ancient versions of himself play out dead timelines on loop through the rift's haze.
Morty finally broke the silence.
Morty: "So... are we gonna stop him?"
Rick (quietly): "No."
Morty (blinking): "W-what? Wh—why not?! He's wiping out universes!"
Rick: "Not yet."
Morty leaned forward, fists clenched.
Morty: "What the hell do you mean 'not yet'?!"
Rick turned slowly, his voice flat, empty of bravado.
"Because we don't know what he's really after yet. Because if we jump in now, we're doing exactly what he's waiting for."
Morty: "Y-you think he's baiting us?"
Rick grinned. It wasn't a happy grin.
"No, Morty. I think he's mapping us."
He waved his hand and the screen changed. It showed several Clone Planets forming just outside of Origin Zone. Then rows of self-building mega-factories blinking into existence on self-forged asteroids.
Rick pointed.
"This isn't just a war machine. It's a culture. He's not just replacing governments — he's replacing meaning. And every time he wins, he absorbs the logic of that universe and makes it his."
Morty: "So... he's turning every universe into him?"
Rick paused.
Then nodded.
"That's the real virus. Not the one in his blood — the one in his ideas."
Sector 0-Zero — Assembly of the New Order
Inside the Throne Citadel, Zane's top generals knelt before him. Each represented one of the latest divisions.
General Rhain – Leader of the Myth Reapers:
"We've broken the last worship-based dimensions. Their gods are being repurposed as power cores."
Admiral Siven – Echo Stars Fleet Command:
"Sector subrealms fully converted into memory-refinery zones. Ships are dreaming enemies out of existence before engagement."
Commander Vox – Head of the Chrono-Shields:
"Time-guard anomalies secured. Origin Chronolocks are holding. All paradox threats neutralized."
Zane listened silently, then stepped forward.
"Good. We are no longer fighting. We are designing. I want every new universe to reflect evolution. My evolution."
Eris: "New Clone Planet Production has increased by 16% since the assimilation of the magic-class sectors. Clones are now birthing with limited preinstalled memories. Loyalty protocols still intact."
"Excellent. Have the Civilian District begin simulations on post-logic societies. Prepare the Culture Fracturing Engine for long-term deployment."
POV: Rick C-137
Location: Orbiting a neutral timeline
Morty watched the multiversal feed flicker.
Morty: "W-we can't just sit here and watch this. Every day he builds another world. Another fleet. Destroys another reality."
Rick exhaled, pulling a worn silver chip from his pocket.
He stared at it. Then passed it to Morty.
Rick: "That's not a weapon. That's a question. And when the time comes, we'll use it. But not before."
Morty: "What question?"
Rick's eyes narrowed. He turned back to the stars.
"What makes a Rick… not a Rick anymore?"
Spiral Throne — Zane's Private Sanctum
Zane stood before a vast mirror — not glass, but a pool of liquid thought. It didn't reflect his form. It reflected what others feared he could become.
A god.
A tyrant.
A singularity.
A savior.
He turned to Eris.
"Prepare the fleets. The next campaign will target the narrative sectors. Realms where stories define power."
Eris: "Acknowledged. Initiating trajectory plotting."
"Let's see how they fight when their plot armor fails."