Drunk Beginnings (Rick and Morty Fanfiction)

Slick Morty

    OH MY GOD YOU GUYS WE MADE IT TO NUMBER FIVE RANKING IN #GLOOMY CATEGORY AND NUMBER 16 IN # rickandmorty CATEGORY I REALLY CANNOT THANK YOU GUYS ENOUGH I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE I'M SHOUTING AT YOU GUYS BECAUSE YOU'RE SO AMAZING!!! THANK THANK THANK YOU!!!!! Thank you so much for the support everyone! 6.1k reads is just insane thank you so much and thank you to Jiminismypabo and autumnbellwinchester for vote spam! Give me your guesses on who you think the Supreme Leader is by leaving me a comment! 

   Also the Slick Morty featured in this chapter is an OC of mine...except it's still Slick in the franchise. So it's Slick with my ideas <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Discourse interrupted the sunny day in the Citadel's marketplace, the shops and vendors and patrons all wore similar expressions of content until a particular citizen took off running from the police. He weaved in and out of lines of Ricks and disrupted purchases from bursting through the interactions. Rick vendors wore nice suits and sold Morty Dazzlers to other Ricks and Morty's, but this disheveled hood rat in comparison dashed in between them, causing the Ricks to cuss him out and yell at him to return to where he belongs. This hoodlum wore an olive green bomber jacket with sewn-on novelty patches, patches with sayings along the lines of 'Not Afraid', 'Fuck you and your Lambo', and of course a Misfit Skull patch. His blue jeans and white Converse high tops made him faster and more flexible, allowing him to throw his backpack full of stolen goods up into the air and slide under a floating hover-board with an advertisement on it just to pop right up off the linoleum floor and catch the bag with ease. The police were right on his trail, but he took a few shortcuts to run away quickly and trick them from knowing his actual location. This bomber jacket wearing, patch toting runaway carried a backpack full of Crinon Vitamins, a very valuable substance in the Citadel due to all the Ricks dying of alcohol poisoning. The vitamins absorb the poison from the Rick's livers and pass it along the body naturally in a dissolving capsule. This technology is relatively new, and very hot on the market. They were, however, very expensive and in demand. This thief stole them early in the morning and is now running to the location his buyer is sitting out at. It was only up until recently the thief was being followed by the cops. 

  He looked over his shoulder, his brown-blonde locks falling into his wild green eyes. He was breathless, but a smirk held his mouth up. Playing with the cops was such fun it almost felt like a game to him by now. Let them catch a glimpse of your ankle and when they turn the corner to nab you, you've already been gone for an entire five minutes. The thief climbed up a nearby ladder to put a small pause on their game; the cops searching the streets for him while he rested on a rooftop. He calmly sat back and relaxed his tense shaking muscles. He was confident in his ability to run away from the cops every time, but the thrill and the adrenaline rush from being on the hunt always left a tremor in his fingers. This tremor stayed, but he barely noticed due to it being a common occurrence. The thief caved into a nasty habit, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He flicked a blooming flower of flame from the lighter, the familiar taste of nicotine already playing on his tongue as the first puff exhaled out of his mouth. 

   It was entertaining to see just how frustrated the police would get, but now it was time for a move on. The thief made a deal with his buyer he would make it to the rendezvous point by 1:30. It was 1:26 now and he still had to make it across Morty Town without getting caught from the cops. He surveyed the traffic of people, the same monotone yet popping colors of the crowd catching his eye. It was monotone because he saw it nearly every single day, but it was eye catching because it was still a blur of yellows and blues and whites and browns. He knew these streets and the traffic that held them like the back of his hand; scars, freckles and all. He raked his light hair back and took a deep breath, flicking out his cigarette with resolve. The cops were fun to mess with, but he really needed this money and he couldn't be late.