Kaelen's world had shrunk to a single point of terror: the blue-haired man in the lab coat standing in his garage doorway. The portal gun in his hand felt useless, a pathetic tribute to the original's power. Panic, cold and absolute, paralyzed him.
Beside him, Padmé felt the wave of fear emanating from him. Her first reaction was protective. She stepped slightly between Kaelen and the man, her posture that of a Senator preparing for a diplomatic confrontation, though she had no idea how to negotiate this situation.
The air was thick with tension. Kaelen, the man who had faced droid armies and Sith Lords, who had rebuilt himself with metal and determination, found himself reduced to a lost child. A single word, a whisper laden with the weight of two lives and a universe of fear, escaped his lips.
"Dad...?"
The word was almost inaudible, but on the quiet suburban street, it sounded like thunder.
Rick Sanchez C-137 froze. His hand, bringing the flask to his lips, stopped midway. Slowly, very slowly, he turned. His eyes, normally clouded by boredom and alcohol, focused with terrifying sharpness. They swept over the elegantly dressed, steely-resolved woman, then settled on Kaelen.
He saw the strange clothing, the homemade portal gun, the thin scars on his hands, and the barely noticeable sub-dermal armor. But most of all, he saw the genetic signature. The unmistakable echo of himself.
"Well, sh-shit," Rick said, his voice a mix of annoyance and a genuine surprise he rarely showed. "I knew I got drunk in some weird universes, but I don't remember donating to a space soap opera sperm bank."
Just then, the front door of the house burst open. A teenage boy in a yellow shirt with a perpetually anxious expression rushed out.
"Rick! I'm coming, I'm coming! You don't have to..." Morty stopped dead, his eyes wide at the sight of the two strangers on the sidewalk and the palpable tension in the air. "Who are you guys?"
Before anyone could answer, a blonde woman in a turtleneck with a wine glass in her hand appeared in the doorway, followed by a meek-looking man in a ill-fitting button-up shirt. It was Beth and Jerry.
"Dad, what the hell is going on?" Beth asked, her tone a mix of irritation and concern. "Who are these people?"
"Oh, great, a party!" Jerry said, clearly missing the point of the situation. "Are these from your work, Rick?"
The entire Smith family was now on the porch, staring at the scene. Kaelen, Padmé, and the original Rick, all caught in a bizarre suburban standoff.
Beth was the first to connect the dots. She looked at Kaelen—at his posture, the way he held his strange tech, the unmistakable arrogance and fear in his eyes. It was a look she'd seen on her father a thousand times.
She turned to Rick, her voice filled with familiar accusation. "Dad. What did you do? Do you have... you have another secret kid from another dimension?"
"For God's sake, Beth!" Rick snapped, putting away his flask. "He's not a kid! He's... he's a data leak. A pirated copy. An echo of my genius who somehow developed relationship issues and a taste for dramatic clothing!"
"Data leak?" Padmé repeated, stepping forward, her voice regaining her Senatorial strength. "This man is my husband. And he just saved us from a squad of versions of you who wanted to... 'rectify' him."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Rick's irritation turned into sharp interest.
"Citadel Rectifiers?" he questioned. "You faced them and you're still here? How many?"
"Ten Ricks. Ten Mortys," Kaelen responded, finally finding his voice, though it was shaky.
Rick looked him up and down, re-evaluating him. "And you killed them. With that toy gun and... what is that? A phase molecular destabilizer?" He gestured to the weapon on Kaelen's back. "Interesting design. A bit crude, but the intention is good."
"Dad, can you stop analyzing his arsenal and explain who he is?!" Beth insisted, her patience wearing thin.
"I don't know!" Rick yelled, frustrated. "He shouldn't exist. It's like one of my drunken ideas on a napkin came to life and married a space queen. This goes against... well, a lot of my own rules!"
He stepped closer to Kaelen, circling him like a shark, his eyes dissecting every detail, from the implants to the terrified look in his eyes.
"The question isn't who you are," Rick said, stopping right in front of Kaelen. "The question is, how the hell did you manage to tap into my genetic signature from another galaxy? And more importantly," his voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "What part of my knowledge do you have, and what are you going to do with it?"
The Smith family, Padmé, and Kaelen were all caught in the orbit of the most dangerous man in the multiverse. And he had just found an anomaly he couldn't explain. For Rick Sanchez, there was nothing more intriguing, or more dangerous, than a mystery that bore his own name.