Rick and Morty: Smartest Morty in the multiverse

I just want to say l put my love and heart into this chapter. as you will be able to tell how much l like perfume, watches, nice shoes, nice shirts, nice

Pant,nice accessories l love them and this chapter does that

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Morty stepped into the mall with the quiet confidence of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and exactly how much of it he was about to take. The vast expanse of polished floors, glass storefronts, and soft pop music playing overhead greeted him like an old acquaintance, but this time Morty wasn't the awkward kid tagging along behind Rick or Summer. This time, Morty was here on his own terms. He walked into the first boutique a sleek, minimalistic space with mannequins dressed in the latest street fashion and picked out a few shirts without hesitation. A deep maroon button-up with a sharp collar, a charcoal gray fitted dress shirt that clung just right to his frame, a crisp white tee with subtle designer markings, and a soft black henley for casual wear. He grabbed a few casual t-shirts too simple, comfortable, but with cuts and fabrics that screamed understated confidence. Morty checked the mirror as he tried them on, giving a small approving nod to his reflection before moving on.

Next was pants. Dark denim jeans that hugged his legs perfectly without looking try-hard. A pair of tailored black chinos, ideal for when casual wasn't enough. Some classic khaki slim fits that paired well with almost everything, and a bold, dark green pair that gave him an edge most people didn't dare try. For formal occasions, he picked out a sleek pair of black dress pants that could pass at any high-end event. The fabric was soft, the cut flawless, the look timeless.

Morty wasn't done. He moved toward the watch counter, his eyes scanning the gleaming selection under the soft glow of display lights. He chose a matte black chronograph with a leather band classy but aggressive. Then a silver watch with a clean face, minimalist, the kind of thing that said you didn't need to flaunt it to own it. He added a rugged sports watch, waterproof with a tactical design for whatever came his way, and a sleek digital piece with customizable faces for casual days. For the last one, a vintage automatic with exposed gears elegant, timeless, a little nod to the old world. Each timepiece slid onto his wrist like it belonged there.

At the jewelry counter, he didn't hesitate. A simple silver ring for his right hand, thick enough to be noticed but not obnoxious. A black onyx ring for the left a statement piece. A leather-strapped bracelet with steel accents, subtle but strong. A silver chain bracelet with interlocking links that caught the light just right. And a final addition a thin gold band he slipped around his wrist, almost hidden beneath his sleeve, a quiet symbol of confidence.

When it came to shoes, Morty hit every style he'd ever admired but never dared to buy. A pair of sharp, Italian leather dress shoes black, sleek, perfect for any formal occasion. Then a pair of clean, white sneakers for casual days that could match any outfit. He picked out a pair of polished brown loafers, ideal for semi-formal events and dinners. For something different, rugged black combat boots tough, unapologetic, built for both style and statement. And lastly, high-top designer sneakers in a bold, deep crimson loud enough to turn heads, sharp enough to shut them up.

In the cologne section, he took his time, testing scents with a quiet patience. A musky, woodsy fragrance that lingered with a subtle spice for everyday wear. A sharp, clean citrus blend for casual days that still wanted to impress. A deep, smoky scent layered with leather and dark amber for nights when presence mattered more than words. A fresh, oceanic cologne perfect for summer days and light conversations. And finally, a bold, intoxicating mix of tobacco, vanilla, and cedar.powerful, distinct, and impossible to forget.

Morty made his rounds, arms heavy with bags, but his steps never faltered. As he stepped out of the last store, his attention was caught by something ...standing there, half-swallowed by the alley's shadows, was a battered but unmistakable Ducati 916, its iconic red faded like dried blood, still noble even in rust.parked just off the alley beside an Italian pizza shop. Its frame bore the scars of time faded paint, a few dents, a cracked mirror but beneath the wear was the unmistakable line of a classic racing beast. Something about it pulled at him. Morty, curiosity piqued, walked into the pizza shop, the warm scent of tomato sauce, melted cheese, and baked dough wrapping around him like a familiar embrace. He ordered a slice, took a seat by the window, and waited.

It wasn't long before the owner a broad-shouldered man with dark, weathered features and kind eyes came over to check on him. Luis, the name stitched on his apron, smiled as Morty struck up casual conversation. In minutes, Morty had him laughing, sharing stories, and opening up like they'd known each other for years. The kind of charm Morty carried now wasn't forced; it flowed with a natural ease that felt both refreshing and dangerous.

Over a second slice, Morty asked about the bike parked outside.

Luis chuckled. "What? Interested in that old thing?"

Morty shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "I'm interested in fixing up an old bike myself… figured it might be fun."

Luis leaned back, wiping his hands on his apron. "She's fast. Real fast. But she's got a bad habit of biting back. Crashed her last year haven't had the guts to ride since."

Morty leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest. "How much you want for it?"

Luis raised a brow. "You serious?"

Morty met his gaze without blinking. "Yeah. Serious."

Luis scratched his head, letting out a long breath before shaking his head with a soft laugh. "Tell you what… you want it? She's yours for three thousand."

Morty tilted his head, feigning surprise. "Three thousand? For a classic like that?"

Luis smiled. "She just needs some love, kid. You promise me you'll take care of her?"

Morty nodded, his expression softening with genuine respect. "Don't even worry about it."

Luis extended his hand, and Morty shook it firmly, sealing the deal with a silent understanding that passed between men who knew value wasn't always measured in money.

As Morty stepped back outside, he looked at the bike again really looked at it. Underneath the scratches, the dents, the faded paint… it was beautiful. And it was his.

The wind caught the edge of his coat as he mounted it, the weight of his new purchases pressing lightly against his side. He ran a hand along the bike's worn leather seat, feeling a connection that went deeper than just metal and wheels.

This wasn't just a bike. It was a symbol a piece of freedom, a project, a statement.

Just like everything else he'd bought today.

Morty kicked the stand up, gave Luis a nod of thanks, and fired up the engine. The roar echoed through the alley, a deep, throaty growl that sent a shiver up his spine.

He smiled, the kind of smile that promised this was just the beginning.

Morty wasn't just changing his wardrobe.

He was rewriting the script.

And now…

Now, he had the ride to match.

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The bike is an old Ducatti 916 and l forgot the price so l had to Google it in a good condition it about 10k to 20k.

But Luis bike can run but it doesn't look good visually and Luis had no idea of it true price aswell

So Morty now have a sweet ride do want him to modify it for his adventure .