CH3: The Strain of Restraint

As Morty stepped through the portal and into another world, the familiar rush of interdimensional travel washed over him—the brief, dizzying sensation of his molecules being reassembled in a new location. For most of his life, he'd stumbled into new dimensions disoriented, catching his breath and trying to keep up with Rick's breakneck pace. But now, as he arrived on the other side, he landed on his feet, his senses instantly adjusting. It was a small detail, but one that reminded him just how much had changed.

He and Rick emerged into what looked like a barren, rocky landscape—red skies, jagged cliffs stretching endlessly in every direction, and a harsh wind that whipped dust into their faces. In the distance, Morty could see towering, crystalline structures jutting from the ground like teeth. The Plutonian crystals Rick had mentioned.

Rick, predictably, didn't waste a second. He pulled out his portal gun, flicking a few switches and muttering to himself as he scanned the area. "Alright, Morty, here's the deal. We need a handful of those crystals for this project I'm working on—don't ask, you wouldn't understand. And this planet? Well, let's just say it's not exactly friendly, so we need to be quick, grab the crystals, and get the hell out of here before the locals start getting curious."

Morty's mind, sharper than ever, processed the information faster than Rick could dish it out. He knew from their previous escapades that "not exactly friendly" was Rick's way of saying "definitely hostile." As Rick continued to ramble, Morty's eyes scanned the horizon, analyzing the terrain, noting potential threats, escape routes, and the best approach to harvesting the crystals. It all felt automatic, like his brain was running a sophisticated simulation in the background.

It was exhausting.

For the past few hours, Morty had been fighting the urge to fully flex his newfound intelligence and strength. Every instinct screamed at him to take control, to solve the problems more efficiently than Rick could, to stop holding back. But he couldn't. Not yet. The more competent he appeared, the more suspicious Rick would become—and Rick was already suspicious.

"So, what's the plan, Rick?" Morty asked, forcing a casual tone.

Rick didn't even look up from his gadget. "The plan is you follow my lead, stay out of trouble, and let me do the thinking, Morty. As usual."

Morty bit his tongue. Stay out of trouble? That phrase had always grated on him, but now, it felt like an insult. Every fiber of his being itched to take charge, to move faster, to outthink Rick and show him that he wasn't the same clueless sidekick anymore. But he couldn't. Not yet.

Rick adjusted the dials on his scanner and gave Morty a sideways glance. "You're quiet today. What's the deal? You planning on doing something stupid?"

Morty shook his head, keeping his face neutral. "No, Rick. Just, you know, trying to stay focused."

Rick grunted, unconvinced. "Yeah, well, don't get too focused. You're not exactly known for your tactical brilliance, Morty. Let's move."

They started walking toward the crystal formations, their footsteps crunching against the cracked, dusty ground. Morty could feel his muscles humming with unused potential. Every step felt controlled, restrained, as if he had to consciously moderate his movements so as not to appear too strong, too capable. The constant effort to hold back was starting to wear on him.

They reached the first of the crystal spires, towering above them like a jagged, glittering mountain. Rick pulled out a laser cutter and started hacking away at the base, his muttered curses carried away by the wind. Morty stood by, scanning their surroundings, his mind running through countless calculations, potential threats, and optimal escape routes.

It didn't take long for the first signs of trouble to appear.

"Uh, Rick?" Morty said, his eyes narrowing as he spotted movement in the distance. His enhanced vision picked up several humanoid figures approaching rapidly, their silhouettes flickering like mirages in the heat. "We've got company."

Rick barely glanced up. "Yeah, yeah, I figured as much. The locals don't like anyone messing with their precious crystals. That's why we're going to be quick about this." He continued cutting, not bothering to speed up his pace. "Just let me know when they're about to shoot us, okay?"

Morty clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. His mind was already several steps ahead. He could see the most efficient way to deal with the situation—disable the attackers before they got too close, create a distraction, grab the crystals, and portal out of there. It would be easy. But if he did that, if he showed his hand, Rick would notice. Rick always noticed.

"Rick, they're getting closer," Morty warned, his voice steady despite the growing tension in his chest. "We should hurry."

Rick snorted. "Calm down, Morty. I've got this under control. You just—"

Before Rick could finish, a bolt of energy whizzed past them, sizzling through the air and scorching the ground a few feet away. The attackers had opened fire.

Rick cursed, finally standing up and activating his wrist blaster. "Alright, fine! Let's do this the hard way!"

Morty watched as Rick started shooting back at the approaching figures, the familiar chaos of battle unfolding around them. His instincts screamed at him to leap into action, to use his enhanced speed and strength to neutralize the threat in seconds. But he hesitated, forcing himself to stay in check. Every move had to be calculated, every action precise. If he moved too fast, if he showed too much skill, Rick would start asking questions.

Another energy bolt zipped past Morty's ear, and his patience snapped.

He sprinted toward the nearest rock formation, his body moving with fluid precision, every muscle working in perfect harmony. He reached the cover in seconds, faster than he should have been able to. His mind calculated the trajectory of the incoming fire, mapping out the attackers' positions with startling clarity.

I need to hold back, he reminded himself, his heart racing. I can't let Rick see what I can really do.

But it was so hard. The raw power coursing through him, the near-infinite knowledge swirling in his mind—it all demanded to be used. He could feel it building inside him, like a dam ready to burst.

Rick, meanwhile, was firing wildly, his wrist blaster sending bolts of energy in every direction. "Morty! Get your ass over here and cover me!"

Morty's jaw tightened. He could end this right now. He knew exactly how to do it. The attackers were sloppy, uncoordinated. He could outmaneuver them easily. But no. He couldn't reveal himself. Not yet.

Another blast came dangerously close to Rick, and Morty saw his grandfather stumble, cursing under his breath.

Damn it.

Morty shot out from his cover, moving faster than he should have. He crossed the battlefield in a blur, reaching the first attacker before they even realized what was happening. With a swift, controlled strike, he disarmed the alien, sending its weapon clattering to the ground. The second attacker barely had time to react before Morty was on them, a well-placed punch knocking them unconscious.

He stopped himself just in time. He had to make it look like luck—like a fluke. He couldn't let Rick see him taking these guys out like a trained assassin.

Panting, Morty turned to Rick, who was now staring at him with wide eyes. "What the hell, Morty? When did you learn to fight like that?"

Morty shrugged, trying to play it off. "I don't know, Rick! It's just… adrenaline, I guess. It just happened."

Rick narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. "Yeah, sure. Adrenaline. Whatever. Just get the crystals and let's get out of here before more of these assholes show up."

Morty nodded, but inside, he was fuming. Fuming at Rick's dismissiveness, fuming at the fact that he had to pretend to be weaker, less capable than he actually was. It took every ounce of self-control to reign in his abilities, to not just take charge and show Rick what he was really capable of.

As they collected the crystals and prepared to portal out, Morty couldn't help but glance at his grandfather, who was still eyeing him with suspicion. The worst part wasn't even Rick's doubts or questions. The worst part was the frustration that gnawed at Morty's insides, the knowledge that he had to hold back when he could so easily do more.

As the portal opened and they stepped through, Morty's fists clenched at his sides. He was done playing the role of the clueless sidekick. But he couldn't reveal himself. Not yet.

And that—more than anything else—was driving him mad.