[Third Person]
Two days passed. Two days in which the plan to dismantle the galactic economy took a detailed and terrifying shape. In the garage of Kaelen's new home, which now rivaled Rick's in chaos, the two geniuses were in their element. The wall was covered with a new series of diagrams, this time showing the capital flows of the Banking Clan and the vulnerabilities of the HoloNet.
"And here," Kaelen said, drawing a circle around a data node, "is where we introduce the virus. Not as an attack, but as a routine 'security update.' No one will suspect!"
"And the devaluation algorithm!" Rick added, rubbing his hands together with manic glee. "Basing their currency's value on something as stupid as public opinion on Max Rebo's latest album is... chef's kiss! It's poetry! It's economic anarchy at its finest!"
They looked at each other, their eyes gleaming with the same light of deranged genius.
"They're going to go from rich to poor in one news cycle," Kaelen gloated.
"They won't even know what hit them!" Rick concluded.
And then, together, they let out the same malicious laughter that had terrified the Naboo strategy room. They were so engrossed in their brilliant plan of destruction that they didn't hear the garage door silently slide open behind them.
Padmé was there. She had come to bring them some sandwiches. But she stopped dead at the sound of the laughter. Her expression shifted from patient affection to steely exasperation. She looked down at the elegant low-heeled shoes she wore, a gift from the Alderaanian royal house. They were pretty. They were aerodynamic. And they were about to become a projectile.
"What did I tell you about supervillain laughter?" she said, her voice dangerously quiet.
Kaelen and Rick froze. They slowly turned. They saw Padmé in the doorway, one hand on her hip and the other holding one of her shoes by the heel, as if it were a war hammer.
"Red alert! She's deployed the 'Slipper-missile'!" Kaelen yelled with comical, genuine panic. "Evacuation protocol: 'Every Man For Himself'!"
Both scrambled for the door connecting the garage to the house. Kaelen, being younger and more agile, should have been faster.
But Rick was Rick.
In a blur of motion that defied physics and decency, Rick shoved Kaelen aside, darted through the door, slammed it shut, and bolted it from the other side.
CLICK.
Kaelen crashed into the closed door. He stood there for a second, processing the betrayal.
From the other side of the door, he heard Rick's manic laughter. "Sorry, kid! It's every Rick for himself in an 'angry wife' situation! Besides, I need data on your pain threshold for future upgrades! It's for science!"
Kaelen slowly turned. He was trapped. Alone. In a room with a very, very displeased Senator who now held her shoe with very clear intent.
"Padmé... darling... my sun, my moon, my brightest star..." he began, slowly backing away. "We can talk about this. It was a 'productive scientific collaboration' laugh! Easily misinterpreted!"
Padmé said nothing. She simply raised the shoe.
"No, wait! We can negotiate! I have access to incredible technology! I can build you a closet that never runs out of clothes!" he pleaded as he continued to retreat.
"RICK, YOU DAMN TRAITOR! I SWEAR I'LL DISMANTLE YOUR STUPID SHIP PIECE BY PIECE!" he yelled towards the door.
He tripped over a toolbox and fell to the floor. Padmé loomed over him, a figure of elegant, righteous anger.
The last thing heard from outside the garage, where Rick and the rest of the Smith family now listened with ears pressed to the door, was a series of very clear sounds.
First, Kaelen's desperate voice: "No! Wait! The metal arm is new! Have mercy! AAAAAAY!"
Then, a series of dull, rhythmic thuds. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Followed by Kaelen's exaggerated screams: "OW! MY DIGNITY! YOU'RE HITTING IT RIGHT IN MY DIGNITY! AHHHHH! THE BETRAYAL HURTS MORE THAN THE SHOE! ALMOST!"
Rick wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. Morty looked like he was about to throw up from anxiety. Summer was recording everything for her interdimensional social media account. And Beth simply sighed and poured herself a glass of wine, resigned to her new, strange normalcy.