Rick and Morty: My Grandfather is Rick?

"Then you'd better take responsibility for your own problems and stop turning your issues into other people's problems all the time!"

"Do you understand?"

After saying this, Morty turned and left, intending to check on Sangmei and Beth's situation, as the unrest in the city was escalating.

Sooner or later, those security robots will be unable to control the situation.

He didn't care whether Jerry lived or died.

I hope nothing goes wrong with Sangmei and Beth, especially the former. When I contacted her on the phone just now, she was practicing her potion resistance.

Who knows what kind of potent drugs they've taken this time?

After Morty left, Jerry lay on the ground for seven or eight minutes, his face covered in tears, before slowly getting up.

He didn't leave, but walked to the car and looked at the dead girl, feeling a mix of emotions.

On the one hand, he always believed that this matter had nothing to do with him, because before he came here, he had been admiring the beautiful commemorative coin.

You two brought me here, and now you're making me the scapegoat for everything?

On the other hand, the courage and conviction that surged within him when he tried to save the girl had indeed brought about a slight change in him.

That was all that he would reveal when facing what he cared about and desired, making Jerry feel as if he had grasped something in a daze.

After gazing at the girl for a long time, his gaze fell on the sea of ​​fire in the distance. For the first time in his life, he wanted to do something practical.

I'll clean up the mess you two made!

Summoning his courage, Jerry took a few steps forward, only to hear air raid sirens blaring throughout the city, which stunned not only him but everyone else in the city.

What the hell? !

Air raid siren?

Where did this air raid come from?

Who's behind this?

Just as Jerry and the others were puzzled and thought it was just something someone had messed around with out of boredom, dozens of small black dots appeared in the azure sky!

Jerry, whose eyesight was not bad, suddenly broke out in a cold sweat. With a premonition, he turned around and glanced at the girl.

Then...

Where is the sewer?!

Why is there no sewer system in this sci-fi world?!

Do their drainage systems just randomly obliterate wastewater?!

Fortunately, before the first missile hit, Jerry found an open sewer, even though he heard someone behind him telling him not to close the sewer when he went down.

But when Jerry jumped in, the sewer still blocked the way...

"Fuck! What are you locking us up for?! You filthy bastard!! Why did you leave us out there to die?!"

"Waaaaah! I don't want to die!!! I don't want to die!!!"

"Help!!! Mr. Smith, please help me!!!"

Standing on the dry steps at the edge of this large underground waterway, I listened to the sounds of collapse from the ground and the complex gazes of the people who had fled down there to escape the chaos.

Jerry plopped down on the ground, curled up into a ball, rested his forehead on his knees, and covered his ears with his hands, as if this would allow him to escape the cries and curses of the dying.

However, there is not only one Jerry in this city.

Mr. Smith, still on the street, saw the missiles about to hit the city. All he could do was curse in his heart, "How could the Death Girl be dead?" and then try to capture her with the highest probability of success in his life.

Because he absolutely would not allow any missile to explode in this city!!!

Chapter 392 It's all Rick Sanchez's fault

Missile interception is generally accomplished using anti-missile missiles, but once your capabilities exceed certain limitations, the methods become more diversified.

Hackers use hacking techniques.

The protagonist in the movie will fly a fighter jet that's faster than a missile and directly blast it apart.

The protagonist in a fantasy story might run fast, catch up with the missile, and then praise the little thing as quite unique.

But Mr. Smith, a man who has no hacking skills, no fighter jets available, and no chance of catching up with missiles, can only use playing cards as props to achieve a series of goals by capturing probabilities.

They faced more than forty missiles coming from the sky.

His once clear white eyes became bloodshot within five seconds due to intense eye movements, and even trickled blood down the corners of his eyes.

In the tenth second, due to the highest frequency of movement in his upper and lower lips ever recorded, his nervous system began to lose control of the muscles.

But at the fifteenth second, he drew ten playing cards and threw them into the sky, under a perfectly timed, even perfectly coordinated, gust of wind.

The playing cards drifted towards the sky with the wind.

Since these missiles are arranged in a net-like pattern and are heading towards the ground, the ten playing cards were chosen to target the missiles located at the center.

Mr. Smith, who had overworked his brain, could no longer move a single finger. So, after he collapsed, he closed his tired and bleeding eyes and waited for it all to end.

In the eyes of countless people, unable to see the playing cards, they ran towards any place where they could hide. The city, which had just been in chaos, now had only the thought of escape in everyone's mind!

So countless people didn't see those ten playing cards, which, with the help of the wind, were blown to the side of the missile and, with almost unbelievable precision, tilted and inserted into the gaps in the missile's outer shell welds, causing a short circuit.

Ultimately, with the probability magnified countless times, ten missiles exploded in the air, creating a massive sea of ​​fire, like a fiery lotus blooming in the sky.

The missile fragments ejected from it also struck other missiles.

The second explosion turned the sky above the entire city into a sea of ​​fire, and countless people who stopped in their tracks were stunned when they saw the inferno.

Once the flames died down, the people who had come to their senses let out a collective cheer of relief at surviving a disaster.

"It's Mr. Smith!!!"

While the entire city was swept up in a frenzy of jubilation, a loser in some underground sewer was being angrily questioned by the people.

Why did you close the manhole cover?!

"If we wanted to save our own lives, we would have closed the manhole cover before you even came in!!"

"If we close the door, do you really think you can escape from there?"

"You're not Mr. Smith! You're just a shoddy imitation! What right do you have to tarnish Mr. Smith's reputation here? You must have been sent by someone from the top, you piece of trash!"

As the series of explosions in the sky and the cheers from the ground fueled the anger of the people in the underground sewers.

The two people clearly have the exact same face.

Look at the mess you've made!

Look at their heroic deeds!

You are a disgrace to humanity, a loser among dogs, a filthy excrement machine that wastes nothing but air, food, and water!

Amidst the angry shouts, Jerry curled up tighter and tighter, his head bowed lower and lower, and his hands covering his ears tightened, as if afraid to hear even a single word.

But will this work?

Hands are not soundproof panels; they cannot block out any sound.

These words were like tiny needles, constantly pricking Jerry's heart, causing everyone to question everything about him.

Finally, an old woman emerged from the crowd, exhausted from her tirade. Dressed simply, she did not glare angrily at Jerry like the others.

With a calm demeanor, she reached out and placed her hand on Jerry's head, comforting him in the gentlest voice she knew: "Child, sometimes being timid isn't a bad thing. No one says you have to be brave, but when you encounter danger, if you have the ability to help others, shouldn't you lend a helping hand?"

"If everyone only cares about themselves and ignores the danger and eventual death of those around them, will there still be warmth in this world?"

Jerry, who had been scolded by everyone for more than ten minutes, was like someone who had been walking in the desert for many days and finally saw an oasis.

He lifted his face, swollen from crying, took several deep breaths, and then said haltingly, "I...I know...but I really can't do it...I'm probably just that kind of person...when faced with everything I care about...I might occasionally muster up my courage."

"But at other times, I...I'm like a lamb to the slaughter...I can't even muster any resistance, let alone any so-called courage..."

"But what can I do? God is so unfair to me. I haven't encountered any major harm in my life, and I've lived peacefully until now. But He also wants me to live like a coward, so He took away my courage."

"I admire Morty. He's so young, yet so brave. He's achieved everything I, as his father, hoped he would have."

"I also envy Rick. He's so carefree, he doesn't care about anything, he doesn't have to think about anything. He can do whatever he wants."

"And then there's Beth and Somme, my wife... She inherited everything Rick had. She's not lacking in courage, you could even say she's the second bravest in the family. She can face anything head-on, but she's just trapped by someone like me..."

"Sangmei, a child born at the wrong time, her arrival rewrote Beth's and my lives, trapping us in an endless loop..."

"So courage..." Jerry finished his long speech, swallowed hard, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and said with an almost humble, dust-like attitude, "That's a wonderful quality I'll almost never have again in my life."

"It just exploded like fireworks."

"I don't know how to continue... but I know that change would be a great thing for me, but I just can't do it!"

"How can I do something that seems impossible?"

"My life wasn't supposed to be like this; I never wanted such a crazy life."

"All I wanted was a wife and children, a happy family of four. I endured until Sangmei got married, and as an old father, I stood by silently shedding tears. I endured until Morty got married, and I stood by with my grandson, applauding and cheering for Morty's first dance..."

"And all of that! With the appearance of that damned Rick Sanchez...it was all destroyed!!!"

"It's all his fault!!!"

Chapter 393 has too many negative aspects.

slap~

"Hey, why can't you break this stupid habit?"

Grandpa casually ripped off the hood covering his face, and while taking off his disguise, he dissed Jerry, who was completely stunned.

"This...you were behind all of this?"

"You're overthinking it... Why would he have the time to plot against someone like you? You don't even deserve to be the target of P850's schemes."

Grandpa, now back in his standard white lab coat, took out a bottle of liquor, unscrewed the cap, and took a big gulp before continuing his story.

At the same time, he also reached out his left hand and poked at the air a few times, which made his body appear more ethereal.

"Oh right, I forgot to remind you, I'm his AI. I'm here in Mirror City. You four have been running around everywhere, so this is the only way to see where you've all gone."