Burn in Hell | C137cest AU

*Reserved - Chapter 04*

       It certainly didn't take a genius to figure out the secret behind Morty's personality anymore. The brunet had never changed as much as everybody thought. He'd merely mastered in the art of deception, convincing everybody that he was something other than his true character. He'd even fooled himself for a while, but Morty was Morty, the one true maniac. There was nothing in the world that could change that.

       "How many times is this now?" Meetings had become a somewhat boring task for the brunet anymore. There was never anything exciting during the allotted amounts of time, nobody willing to screw with the two anymore. They were a superpower, one that the world was very aware of. 
        The woman seated politely across from the two gave a frustrated huff, turning to face Rick and direct her response towards the asker. "Twice," she grumbled. "It's the second time I've asked, though I've given reasonable explanation. Blu Ihnk is not as easy to come across as you would think."
       "Cora," Rick practically cooed, pulling his glass towards himself with an undisturbed bored expression. "Cora, Cora, Cora. You should know at this point in our partnership that I know what's easy and what's difficult. Blu Ihnk is one of the most popular substances out there, something I know. It's not hard to come by something as popular as that in this world. Not with all the money grubbers out there, willing to steal from their dead grandmother if it would get them a few bucks. Your explanations, or rather excuses, are not efficient enough. I'm not convinced in the slightest." The ice in his glass knocked together as he raised it to his lips, taking a longer sip before setting the smaller glass back in its place on the end table placed strategically between the two chairs upon which he and Morty sat. "Try again," Rick mumbled, setting his hands on his stomach and leaning back in his chair.
       Cora scowled heavily, now directing her attention to Morty. "I heard you were a reasonable man. You gotta understand, it's not easy." The brunet shook his head, shrugging momentarily. "I don't think you heard correctly, then. From what I heard, from a more reliable source," the brunet motioned towards Rick, "it's easier to come across a new drug on the streets than it is a rainbow after a rain storm." 
       "It's not that fucking easy!" Cora protested now. "But it is," Rick interjected, giving a pointed stare that read danger. "It's the most simplistic thing. Ask around, find somebody, and give them the cash. Maybe your issue is money management, not locating what I want."
       Now, Morty was used to seeing Rick on the opposite end of a gun, seconds away from death as the individual wielding the weapon was raging and ready to eliminate him. He was not, however, used to being in the man's place. Watching Cora pull a gun on him and angrily aim it directly towards his head was the newest sensation he'd received recently. 
        "I'm sick of being insulted every damn time I'm in this room," she growled, standing abruptly. "Certainly not the smartest," Morty grumbled, staring expectantly at the woman. At least he knew Gary was more than capable of taking care of AJ, Al was more than capable of helping out, and Rick could probably get over this eventually. He was more composed than most would be, waiting for either death or a settling of the air around the gathering.
        "Shut it!" Cora hissed, forcing the brunet from his chair and holding the gun very rudely against his head. The brunet watched anger cloud over Rick's features, his eyes turning a very dangerous shade of dark blue as he regarded the woman with an icy glare. "Always - always - insulting me, my skills, my work. Always! I'm equally as good as the next dumbass that works for, or with, either of you! Just as good! Better, even! But you always have to fuck around, always have to push judgement upon me. I'm done with it all. You're gonna listen up now, and then you're gonna watch your boy-toy disappear before you go meet satan, you bastard."
       "Are you religious?" Morty questioned, placing his hands in his pockets while he awaited his answer. "What's it to you?" Cora grumbled, her hold never failing. "I used to work as a pastor. I thought I recognized you, Ms Cora Alve."
       "The hell are you talking about?" The woman seemed confused, though it was apparent that she was a very efficient hitman if ever there was one. Her end goal remained the same, her stance never fluctuating. 
       "Pastor John Schelan, Lutheran, from Miami. You, Ms Cora Alve, were guilty of domestic abuse, asking for constant forgiveness every week, crying because you couldn't keep your anger in check. You beat your child near to death before she was taken into full custody by your husband, though the pair later died in a wreck. I might not be the same man, but I certainly do keep his memories very well." There it was, the shift in her resolve. "My dear, you have the time to beg for your forgiveness from they, themselves. It was a pleasure seeing you again." 
       A crack broke the near silent air before any more words could be exchanged, the heavy weight of the gun easily removed from the side of Morty's head while he watched the other man grab his radio, gun still in hand. "Gary, need ya again," he grumbled, situating his weapon back into his waistband. 
       "The hell was she talking about, 'before you go to meet satan'?" Rick grumbled, grabbing his glass and refilling it. "I made satan my bitch. Now he calls me the devil," he added snarkily, setting a bottle of scotch back beneath the counter while Gary wandered into the room. 
       "This looks fun," the bouncer quipped, sighing heavily before he went about cleaning it all up. Morty never did find out what happened with everybody that died back there, but he did feel better not knowing at all, in his own opinion. "Pulled a gun on me," Morty grumbled, settling onto the couch while he checked his phone. It was never anything new, always the same apps with notifications, texts over meeting times, unknown numbers of those introducing themselves and looking for 'employment' in the field of tracking down what was desired and delivering. Always boring, always almost useless, never fun or simple. 
       The bouncer gave no immediate response as he disposed of the once-lovely lady, returning after a short while down the back entrance. "You're always so reserved and peaceful after moments like that," Gary commented as he wandered across the room. 
       "I don't have much to dwell on anymore," was Morty's somewhat confusing response. "Fair enough," Gary called as he wandered back down the hall.