{Smith House}
The portal hums softly as Richard's car comes into the garage, and from it, Richard and Morty step into the familiar, chaos-laced quiet of the Smith household. Richard and Morty stood in the quiet of the Smith living room, the air filled with that strange domestic tension that only truly exists after the end of a war.
"I… I need time to think," Morty mumbled, barely audible. He didn't wait for a response. His steps were heavy as he trudged up the stairs, each creaking step a note in the song of a soul quietly unraveling. When he reached his room, he collapsed face-first onto his bed and, without ceremony, cried himself into sleep.
Downstairs, Richard thought 'When will this kid learn? Whatever, let's just eat something,' and walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Only to find it empty. A lone lemon rolled slightly from the sudden shift of air. There was half a tube of wasabi, one limp slice of American cheese clinging to the shelf like it had seen things, and a soy milk carton with a passive-aggressive label that read "NOT FOR RICK."
Richard sighed. "I build gods and armies, but this family continues to astonish me with their stupidity," he muttered, grabbing a packet of stale chips from the cupboard. Then, he walked quietly down the hall and stopped at Summer's door. Inside, music blasted. The kind of song that sounded like someone screaming about metaphors while falling down a staircase of broken guitars. Through the muffled noise, he could hear the unmistakable sound of weeping.
He knocked. "Go away!" Summer's voice was raw, barely cutting through the distortion of her grief and the electric guitar solo. Without replying, Richard reached to his chest, pressed a hidden switch, and phased directly through the door. Summer was curled up under a blanket fort on her bed, a half-melted tub of ice cream cradled in her lap. The spoon stuck out like a lonely soldier abandoned on a battlefield. Her mascara was smudged, her hair wild, her face both exhausted and angry.
"What the hell?" she snapped, startled as Richard walked across the room and plopped down near the foot of the bed, casually opening the chips. "I said, go away."
Richard didn't reply. He just ate one chip, then another. Silence fell between them, broken only by the crunching sound and the distant guitar scream. Eventually, Summer peeked out from under her covers, eyes puffy.
"You're not gonna say anything?" she asked. "Not even an 'I told you so'? Or 'You shouldn't trust demons'? Or" her voice cracked, " 'you're broken and you'll never survive in the real world'?"
Richard glanced at her. "Do you know what society is, Summer?"
She blinked. "No?"
He leaned back against the wall. "People think adults have it all figured out. That somewhere out there is this master blueprint for how the world works. Spoiler: there isn't. Not even I know what the hell society wants. And I've been to societies where they legally marry sentient sandwiches."
Summer gave a wet sniff, half-laughing through it.
"Infinity is one big mess, Summer," Richard continued. "There are no utopias. No purpose. Just chaos looping in prettier shapes. You think you failed? Please. That'd require a rubric. You lived. You trusted. That's more than most."
She was quiet for a long time. Then, finally: "So... you're not disappointed in me?"
Richard smiled faintly. "There's nothing to be disappointed in. You're writing the story as you go. That's the point."
Summer wiped her face with a blanket and leaned slightly into him. Richard stayed still, the room now quiet except for the soft hum of the universe outside the window. The days that followed were filled with uncharacteristic effort. Summer began lifting weights. With every rep, she yelled affirmations.
"I am not weak!"
"I have worth!"
"I will kill anyone who says otherwise!"
Richard sparred with her in simulated gravity storms, barely breaking a sweat. Rick, of course, joined eventually. Shirtless, glistening, and holding a bottle of tequila like it was pre-workout.
"Alright, kids," Rick announced. "Let's get physical in the most irresponsible way possible!"
The three of them trained together, side by side. They bench-pressed a cybernetic gorilla. Ran from self-aware treadmills. Punched morality ghosts in a VR world made entirely of emotional baggage. Richard, at one point, flexed. His muscles grew to ridiculous proportions, then, with a slow exhale, he deflated them until he looked completely normal again.
"You can compress a muscle?" Summer gasped.
"I control everything inside my body on a quantum level," Richard said modestly.
Rick snorted. "Or maybe you're just afraid of looking jacked in case you run into your ex, what's-her-name—Eliz, or something like that?"
Richard didn't reply. Instead, he stood up and walked calmly to the garage. Rick followed, suddenly tense. "Hey, uh… you're not gonna break anything, are you? 'Cause if this is a rage thing, let me just hide the unstable dark matter pudding—"
But Richard said nothing. He walked to the shelf, picked up his portal gun, and typed in coordinates. He turned to Summer and Rick one last time. "Bye."
A portal bloomed open in front of him, casting violet light across the garage. Richard stepped through, and as he walked, he pulled up a holographic phone display mid-stride. "Commence corporate purge," he said coldly. "Wipe all traces of 'Needful Things.' Full-spectrum deletion. Burn it from the business world."
The lights flickered.
Mr. Needful cowered in his glass office. Outside the door, two shadows loomed.
Summer kicked the door down, brass knuckles labeled "TRUST ISSUES" shining under fluorescent light. Rick revved a chainsaw that was somehow also a shotgun.
"Hey, Needful," Rick grinned. "Have you ever gotten beaten up by a family bonding moment?"
Mr. Needful screamed as they lunged.