Rick and Morty Multiverse
1 month and 6 day upon arrival (Normal time Axis)
Late afternoon
Friday
As they soared through the vast expanse of space, Morty leaned back in his seat and glanced at Rick.
"So, uh, where exactly are we heading? And what kind of adventure are we talking about here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Rick smirked, adjusting the ship's controls.
"We're heading to an alien festival—biggest one in this sector. And the grand prize? Something I need for my latest invention."
Morticia, sitting beside Morty, tilted her head curiously.
"What's the name of the planet?"
"Krootabulon," Rick answered without hesitation.
Morty froze for a moment. Krootabulon… That name instantly triggered memories from the original timeline. Wait, isn't that the homeworld of Kiara? The warrior alien that was supposed to be Jerry's new girlfriend? But things were clearly different now. If the universe rewrite affected even this, there was no telling what had changed.
Shaking off the thought, he turned his attention back to Rick.
"So, uh, what's this new invention you're working on?"
Rick leaned back smugly.
"Oh, just a little quantum catalytic neurostimulant enhancer. Uses exotic matter to alter neurochemical pathways, increasing dopamine synthesis while simultaneously modifying cognitive feedback loops."
Morty blinked.
"...So it's just a high-tech drug maker?"
Rick snorted.
"Yeah, pretty much."
Morticia chuckled, shaking her head.
"Of course it is."
As the ship sped toward Krootabulon, Morty couldn't help but wonder just how different this version of the planet was going to be.
As they descended onto Krootabulon, the ship's scanners flickered with alerts. Morty leaned forward, watching the display as Cortana's voice came through the speakers.
[Warning: Krootabulon's biosphere is classified as Extreme Hazard Level 7. Dense jungle terrain, high humidity, and lethal megafauna detected. Native species: Krootabulons—highly advanced hunter civilization with bio-adaptive abilities. Tribal culture integrated with high-tech warfare. Exercise caution.]
Rick scoffed, dismissing the warning.
"Yeah, yeah, jungle's full of death, big deal. Nothing we can't handle."
Morty peered out the window as they broke through the thick, misty clouds. Below them, a vast alien jungle stretched endlessly, its canopy glowing faintly with bioluminescent flora.
Towering trees with metallic bark and massive vines curled like living wires, shifting and twisting as if aware of their presence. Gigantic insects the size of vehicles crawled between the foliage, their exoskeletons shimmering like polished armor.
In the distance, waterfalls crashed from impossible heights, their waters glowing a faint blue from the energy-rich minerals within.
Nestled within the jungle was a sprawling village—a fusion of primal savagery and futuristic design.
Tribal huts made from reinforced chitin and sleek alien alloys clung to massive tree trunks, interconnected by bridges of woven energy strands.
Holographic banners displaying alien glyphs flickered between stone totems, and warriors adorned in biomechanical armor sharpened their blades beside advanced plasma forges. Enormous reptilian creatures, harnessed with cybernetic implants, patrolled the village like trained warbeasts.
Then there were the Krootabulons.
Tall and lean, their blue-scaled bodies were built for both agility and power. Their large occipital regions extended backward like elongated skull structures, pulsating faintly with bioluminescent energy.
Three firm, symmetrical breasts rested on their chests, and their three-fingered hands flexed with sharp, claw-like tips. Their most striking features were their massive, hollow ears, which twitched with hyper-awareness, capable of detecting the faintest shifts in the environment.
Some hovered in the air effortlessly, their hair-like cranial extensions rising like quills as they engaged in aerial movements, while others moved through solid objects like phantoms, their bodies vibrating at frequencies that allowed them to phase through obstacles.
"This place is wild," Morticia muttered, gripping her seat as they landed in a clearing.
"Like if the Amazon Rainforest got drunk and hooked up with an intergalactic warzone."
Summer smirked.
"Kinda badass, though."
Rick powered down the ship and stood up.
"Alright, listen up. This festival? It's a hunting tournament. If we want the prize, we gotta join the competition."
Morty raised an eyebrow.
"And what exactly are we hunting?"
Rick grinned, adjusting her goggles.
"Whatever hasn't killed you first."
As they stepped out, the humidity hit them instantly, thick and heavy with the scent of alien foliage and something metallic—probably blood. The jungle buzzed with strange, guttural sounds, and glowing eyes peered at them from the shadows of the dense undergrowth.
A towering Krootabulon warrior approached, his blue-scaled body adorned with both tribal armor and sleek cybernetic plating. His three hollow ears twitched as he studied them with his four yellow eyes.
"Outsiders. You come to challenge the Hunt?"
Rick shoved her hands in her coat pockets.
"Yeah, yeah, we're here to win. Point us to the action."
The warrior let out a deep, rumbling chuckle.
"Then prepare yourselves. The Hunt begins at dusk. Your only rule—" He bared his fangs in a predatory grin.
"—is survival."
Morty exhaled as the distant roar of some massive beast echoed through the jungle. This wasn't just a festival. It was a trial by fire. And they were about to be thrown right into the heart of it.
Noticing that it was still afternoon on Krootabulon, the group decided to explore before the tournament began. The jungle pulsed with an almost unnatural energy, alien flora glowing softly in the dim light filtering through the dense canopy.
Rick adjusted her coat.
"Alright, kids, split up if you want, but don't do anything too stupid." She tossed a handful of what looked like smooth, obsidian coins to Summer and Morticia.
"That's local currency. More than enough to keep you fed for a decade."
Summer caught the coins, her eyes widening.
"Whoa, where'd you even get this?"
Rick shrugged.
"Hunted a few times. Turns out Krootabulons pay good money for high-value kills. And, well, I am me."
Morticia smirked.
"So basically, you just casually murdered some apex predators and got rich?"
Rick grinned.
"Pretty much."
Morty, meanwhile, handed Summer and Morticia each a sleek wrist device.
"These will keep you safe. Forcefield, emergency recall, basic translation functions. Just don't lose 'em."
Summer rolled her eyes.
"What do you think we are, idiots?"
Morty gave her a deadpan look.
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
She huffed, waving him off as she grabbed Morticia by the arm.
"C'mon, Morticia. Let's check out the market and buy some cool alien junk. Maybe even get some footage of the locals for my social feed."
Morticia chuckled, letting herself be pulled along.
"Just don't try to vlog in front of an angry warrior holding a plasma axe."
Rick cracked her neck.
"I'm gonna grab a drink. See if these tribal warlords still brew that one hallucinogenic liquor that makes you taste sounds."
Morty gave her a skeptical look.
"And I guess I'll just… wander?"
Rick patted him on the shoulder.
"Attaboy. Try not to get too many murder attempts on your first stroll."
They all agreed to meet up once the tournament began, then went their separate ways. Morty took a deep breath, glancing around at the towering trees and glowing vines.
"Alright," he muttered to himself, stepping into the jungle.
"Let's see what this place is really about."
Morty strolled through the bustling market, the air thick with the scent of exotic spices and sizzling alien meats.
Vendors called out from their stalls, their voices a mix of guttural growls and high-pitched chattering, each trying to outdo the other in selling everything from handcrafted accessories to advanced weaponry.
As he approached a tech stall, the shopkeeper—a Krootabulon with shimmering blue scales and hollow, pulsating ears—grinned widely.
"Ah, off-worlder! You have the eye of a warrior! Perhaps you seek only the finest Krootabulon technology?"
Morty glanced at the merchandise—a collection of sleek, high-tech gadgets, some of which were clearly outdated or repurposed junk. He picked up a device resembling a wrist-mounted energy blaster, giving the vendor a skeptical look.
"This thing's a piece of crap. Half of its internal components are fried."
The shopkeeper flinched but quickly recovered.
"Nonsense! That is a premium hunter's tool, capable of—"
Morty flipped a switch on the device, and it immediately short-circuited, sending a tiny spark flying. He smirked.
"Yeah, premium alright. You're trying to scam me."
The vendor's expression darkened, his flight-hairs twitching in irritation.
"I assure you, all my merchandise is of the highest quality!"
Morty leaned in, lowering his voice.
"Oh yeah? Well, I assure you that Krootabulon law is very strict when it comes to fraud. I wonder how the local enforcers would feel if they found out you were peddling defective gear to off-worlders?"
The vendor's eyes widened, his scaly skin paling.
"T-There is no need for such accusations, friend! Perhaps… a discount would be more appropriate?"
"Now we're talkin'." Morty grinned, negotiating the price down to almost nothing. By the time he walked away, he had secured a handful of high-grade materials and tech components for a fraction of their original price.
Satisfied, he continued exploring, eventually stopping at a food stall where a large, steaming platter of grilled alien meat caught his attention. The vendor, a burly, three-breasted Krootabulon woman, handed him a skewer of something that looked like a hybrid between a crab and a snake.
He took a bite. The flavors exploded in his mouth—spicy, savory, with a hint of something he could only describe as electrically tangy.
"Damn," he muttered, chewing thoughtfully.
"This planet might be insane, but at least the food slaps."
Morty strolled through the dense jungle, his enhanced senses taking in the alien wilderness. Towering trees with bioluminescent veins pulsed with energy, their massive roots intertwining like a labyrinth. He leaped from branch to branch, his agility allowing him to soar through the treetops effortlessly.
After a while, boredom set in.
'Man, I need some action,' he thought.
He propelled himself into the sky with a powerful jump, the wind rushing past him as he got a breathtaking view of Krootabulon's sprawling jungle, illuminated by the planet's twin suns. Then, something caught his ear—a bloodcurdling scream followed by the guttural roar of a dying beast.
His eyes narrowed.
'That's my cue.'
Morty twisted midair, adjusting his descent before landing silently on a thick branch. He peered down and saw her—a female Krootabulon warrior standing victoriously over the corpse of a massive reptilian beast, her spear dripping with its blood.
Morty instantly recognized her from the show.
'Kiara.'
Before he could make another move, she tensed, her flight-hairs spiking upward. In a flash, she turned and hurled her spear with deadly precision.
Morty caught it midair with a single hand, the sheer force barely making him flinch. He grinned.
"Nice aim, but you're gonna have to do better than that."
Without hesitation, he flipped the spear around and launched it back at her. Kiara's eyes widened as she barely dodged, the weapon slicing through a tree behind her like butter.
He jumped down from the trees, landing gracefully in front of her.
"Okay, okay, I get it," he smirked, hands up in mock surrender.
"I'm not exactly a local, but is this how you say hello around here?"
Kiara studied him, her three-fingered hand gripping another spear on her back.
"You move well for an outsider," she said, her voice husky yet fierce.
"Most would be impaled by now."
Morty shrugged.
"Lucky me, huh?"
Kiara's eyes narrowed, scanning him up and down.
"You fight?"
Morty smirked.
"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea."
The air grew tense as deep, guttural growls echoed from the jungle. From the shadows, alien creatures slithered, crawled, and stalked toward them, their glowing eyes filled with primal hunger.
Morty glanced at Kiara and instantly picked up on the scent clinging to her—pheromones, potent enough to send the beasts into a frenzy.
'She must be in some kind of hunting cycle,' he thought.
'Guess that explains why the jungle's losing its damn mind.'
Kiara spun her spear, her muscles coiled like a spring.
"The beasts come. We hunt now," she declared, her golden eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Can you fight?"
Morty smirked, rolling his shoulders.
"Oh, I can do more than that."
Raising his hand, he tapped the golden dial embedded in his wrist—his Primatrix, a perfected evolution of the Omnitrix. Instantly, golden circuitry ignited across his skin, spiraling up his arm before spreading across his spine in intricate, glowing patterns.
The device whirred as energy surged through his body. His form shifted, muscles tightening, bones restructuring, his skin rippling with a new texture. His fingers elongated into sharp claws, his feet adapted for speed and agility, and his senses sharpened to an almost supernatural level. His flight-hairs sprouted, lifting as if responding to the pulse of the jungle.
A deep, resonant hum filled the air as his transformation completed. His new form stood tall and menacing, a perfected apex predator of the Krootabulon race.
Kiara staggered back, eyes wide in shock.
"Impossible... You bear the form of a Hakk'Shiran!"
Morty flexed his claws, feeling the raw power coursing through his body.
"Hakk'Shiran, huh?" he mused, testing the name.
"Sounds badass."
Kiara's voice was barely a whisper.
"They were the first... the Ancient Hunters our people worshipped. Their blood runs through all Krootabulons… but they vanished from history. No one has seen one in thousands of cycles."
Morty grinned, his golden flight-hairs crackling with energy.
"Guess it's time for a comeback."
The creatures surrounding them let out a deafening roar and charged.
Morty lunged forward, his claws gleaming under the twin suns.
"Let's give them a hunt to remember!"