The portal closed with a greenish hum, leaving Rick standing in the middle of a planet that reeked of hot metal and alien smog. Another mission, another damn problem to fix. He adjusted his tool belt and spat on the ground reluctantly.

“Okay, Rick, just you and this fourth-rate dystopia,” he muttered, pulling out his portal gun to check its charge. “No Morty to whine about, no Summer to ask stupid questions...it almost feels relaxing.”

The sky was a jumble of chemical clouds and flashing lights of intergalactic advertising. Advertisements floated in the air, selling everything from canned tentacles to life insurance for species with existence cycles of less than a minute. Rick ignored it all, moving down the street with his typical nonchalance, dodging a pair of mutants with more eyes than brain cells.

He'd come to retrieve a rare component, a quantum battery from a black market in this crappy interdimensional hole. It wasn't much, but he needed it for his new invention, and, honestly, the theft was more entertaining than buying it.

A security drone hovered overhead, scanning passersby. Rick didn't even flinch. He knew that in less than ten minutes, the alarms would be going off and someone would be screaming his name with a gun in their hand. It was business as usual.

He adjusted his jacket, smiled to himself and exhaled with weariness.

“Time to do what I do best...and fuck, how sad is that.”

With a sigh, he pushed open the door to the black market and entered, ready for another of his classic impromptu catastrophes.