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Halloween wasn't a major celebration on the Citadel any more than anything else was, although many Mortys would try dressing up in cute or sexy costumes to try and manipulate Ricks into handing out Halloween treats, or cash.
Pumpkins were available too, one of the farmer Ricks on the rural outskirts of the Citadel had pumpkin plants on his land that he cultivated especially for sale at this time of year.
Blondie had picked up a small one at the Morty Mart on impulse and was sitting cross legged on the carpet, attempting to carve it. His artistic skills had never been good, so he was just trying for a standard pumpkin face with three triangles for eyes and a nose and a row of pointed teeth.
The radio was on, and Ricky FU was spewing out more nonsense. With no particular crimes to rant about at the moment, he'd apparently fallen back on gathering conspiracies or, more likely, making them up. Though at least he was becoming more entertaining to listen to.
"TH-THEY WANNA TAKE OUR MONEY, TAKE OUR HOMES, TAKE OUR MORTYS, AN-AN-AND FUCK US IN THE ASS!" he bellowed, audibly banging on his desk. "AN-AND THEN..." He paused for breath, sounding briefly like he was choking on his own saliva. "THEY'RE G-GONNA TAKE YOUR DAMN DNA AND SELL IT TO... TO FUCKING ALIENS! AN-AND THE WHOLE DAMN CITADEL I-IS SO CHOKED IN FUCKING CORRUPTION TH-TH-THAT YOU WON'T EVEN FUCKING NOTICE IT UNTIL..."
"That man's gonna give himself a fucking stroke one day," Veteran Rick remarked, from his position of full-length on the sofa.
"What does he even think aliens would want damn human DNA for?" Blondie wondered, as he worked on the pumpkin's teeth.
"I doubt he's thinking at all," Rick scoffed.
"AN-AN-AND THAT'S WHAT THOSE PRICKS IN CHARGE WANT YOU TO BELIEVE!" Ricky finished, from whichever point his cocaine-addled brain had wandered off to. "WELL, I DON'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT!"
There was a second or two of silence and then a muffled thud, as though he'd lost consciousness and fallen sideways off his chair. After a few more seconds, some generic 'Hold' music started playing. Eventually a perky Morty voice came on.
"Hey, everyone! It's your favourite DJ, M-Bomb, here! Looks like Ricky's gonna be out of action for a few hours, so I'm taking over his shift early tonight! So, er..." He seemed to be searching for a topic. "Why don't you phone in and let me know what you're doing for Halloween?" he chirped, in an obvious piece of improvisation.
A funky 70s song started playing, and Blondie returned to his pumpkin, vaguely wondering what the radio station staff had done with Ricky. Knowing Ricks, they'd probably just stuck him under the desk to sober up.
He finished the pumpkin as the song came to an end and the commercial break began, disposed of the innards, and set it up on the table with a candle flickering away inside, feeling some sense of pride. He'd never made a Halloween pumpkin on his own before, he'd made a couple back when he was a small kid, but only with his dad's help.
"What do you think, Rick?" he asked.
"Cute," Veteran Rick commented, smiling.
Blondie grinned and bounced happily onto the sofa to snuggle with him, getting a sound of protest from the framework. Rick smiled, and tucked one arm around his waist, pulling him in close.
Apparently, the caller on Line One was some completely drunk Rick who was slurring something about Mortys in revealing costumes. It was unclear if he was for or against it.
"Okay... that's, er... great, man. Thanks for calling!" M-Bomb chirped in his usual perky way, as he cut him off. "Who's on Line Two?"
"Good evening, Citadel Radio" said a serious-sounding Morty voice. "This is Morty Beta-129."
"Hi, man! Thanks for calling! So, what are your Halloween plans?" M-Bomb chirped back, obviously relieved to have someone coherent call in.
"My partner and I run a-a paranormal investigation channel and we're going to do a livestream from nine o'clock at a-a-a mystery location, hoping to find some ghosts. Our regular viewers already know to tune in, but I wondered if maybe you give us a shout-out, we can get some more interest."
"Sure thing, buddy! Nine o'clock tonight! For anyone who wants to watch anything spooky! What's your channel name?"
"TheMortyFiles, all one word," said the caller clearly.
"Okay, folks! Tune into the TheMortyFiles on CitadelTube at nine, if you want to see some ghost hunting for Halloween. Thanks for calling, buddy! Have a great evening! Who's on Line 3?"
"That might be worth watching," Blondie suggested, curled up against his Rick. "Not much else on for Halloween, right?" Not unless you wanted to watch tired old horror films that everyone had already seen a hundred times.
"Sure, if it makes you happy, baby," Rick agreed. "Let's check it out."
***
Blondie hauled out the laptop and booted it up a couple of minutes before nine, then typed the channel name into the CitadelTube search bar. Like anyone else, he had his regular channels that he followed, but paranormal stuff wasn't usually in his sphere of interest.
TheMortyFiles channel header showed the faces of two Mortys, one of them in glasses, on a darkened background with lurid green text. The thumbnails for the uploaded videos mostly featured either one of the host Mortys standing in the dark with a flashlight, or both of them sitting side by side behind a desk in what was presumably their apartment.
There was a thumbnail for the livestream stating it would start in about three minutes. The chat box was already filling up with messages from what Blondie assumed were regular viewers wishing each other Happy Halloween and wondering the identity of the mystery location.
Eventually the screen began counting down and, on reaching zero, revealed an image of a Morty in a darkened room talking directly into the camera while illuminated from off screen by a flashlight.
"Hi," he said. "If you're new to the show, I'm Morty Z-589, or Zee for short." He spun the camera around to focus on his partner, who was holding the flashlight.
"And I'm Morty Beta-129. You can call me Specs." He pointedly adjusted his glasses. "Welcome to our Halloween livestream. You want to tell them where we are, Zee?" he handed over to his partner like a news anchor.
"This is the apartment where th-the serial killer Rick the Ripper lived with his Morty before he was captured and executed!" Zee enthused, spinning the camera back around onto himself. "We're hoping to find some... some real paranormal activity here. Maybe even contact the spirits of some of the victims!"
"But we are going to have to be quiet, because, well... we aren't really supposed to be in here," Specs added, from off-camera.
Zee chuckled slightly. "Don't wanna get kicked out before we find anything, right?"
"What the fuck?!" said Blondie in disgust. "I-is this a... a fucking joke?"
"That's... pretty sick," Rick agreed. "Using fucking... fucking murder victims for entertainment."
"So, before we get started, let's take a-a quick look around the place," Zee suggested.
Specs led the way with the flashlight and Zee followed, keeping the camera on him.
"As you can see, it's not a very big place. Kitchen area, living area. This must be the bathroom." He opened the door. "Looks like it's been recently cleaned. I mean, th-they probably want to rent the place out again."
That was disappointing, the two Mortys had been hoping to find at least bloodstains and maybe an old murder weapon lying around. But the place had clearly been thoroughly scrubbed and everything except the fixtures had been removed.
"No furniture," Specs continued. He paused for a second to think. "Wait! Sh-shouldn't it be echoing in here with no furniture? Maybe the Ripper soundproofed the place."
"Must have!" Zee enthused. "That's one of the reasons he got away with it. No one heard the victims scream!"
"Two bedrooms," Specs continued. "I-I bet one of them was the place he did the killing." He opened one of the doors. "No, nothing in here. Looks like the main bedroom, this is probably where he and his Morty slept. So, the other room must have been the killing room." He opened the second door and stepped into it, followed by Zee with the camera.
"Still empty," Zee commented.
"There's definitely a-a bad vibe in this room," Specs remarked.
Not wanting to draw any attention to their presence, they'd already decided against switching the lights on. Instead they'd brought along a couple of dim camping lamps in addition to the flashlight, it was better for atmosphere anyway. He extracted one from the hold-all and set it up on the floor in order to free up his hands from the flashlight while still providing enough light for the viewers at home.
He slowly walked towards the centre of the room, holding both arms spread out to his sides, elbows bent and palms up, his usual stance for 'feeling' a room. He didn't exactly claim to be psychic, he more sort of let the audience draw their own conclusions.
"I'm getting a lot of dark energy," he commented seriously. "Th-there's been a lot of pain in this room."
"This is so cool," Zee whispered dramatically, for the benefit of the audience.
"Are you sure you wanna watch this?" Veteran Rick asked Blondie. His Morty didn't have any actual trauma over the Ripper incident, as far as he knew, but it hadn't exactly been a fun experience for him.
"Yeah," said Blondie firmly. "I wanna know what they're doing."
"This is the room we need to focus on," Specs said decisively.
Zee set the camera down and dug his phone out of his pocket to open their channel while Specs set up the second lamp and positioned both of them for optimal lighting.
"Before we go any further, I'm just gonna check the chat," he told the camera. "Looks like we've got almost 200 viewers right now." He scrolled through the comments, which were mostly just regulars saying hi to each other and commenting on how cool this was. "RickLover69…" He rolled his eyes. "Nice user name, buddy! Says, 'How do you know you've got the right apartment?' Th-that's a pretty dumb question. His dimension number was G-199, that was all over the news. W-we just looked up his address on the Citadel public records."
Specs settled himself cross-legged and held up a piece of equipment. "Okay, w-we're gonna try the EVP device."
"Hold it, w-we've got a complainer in the chat," Zee interrupted him. He read it aloud in a scathing voice. "A Morty 24-XY says 'This isn't funny, you assholes! I lost friends to that guy, he nearly killed me, and you're using it for likes and views!' Well, no one's forcing you to watch, buddy!"
That was true, Blondie had to agree. Maybe Rick was right, he probably should just switch off and do something else, this damn thing was only going to make him angry. On the other hand, he was - as far as he knew - the only Morty to ever survive an encounter with the Ripper, which presumably meant he was the best placed to know anything about it. Maybe he should stay in the chat, just in case.
Specs switched the EVP device on, waited for the flashing red light to settle to a steady blink and placed it carefully on the floor in front of himself. "Hello," he said clearly. "Is there anyone here who would like to get into contact? Any victims of Rick the Ripper?"
The EVP sat processing static for a few seconds...
Č̵̺̼̼ó̵̞͙̼̈́ͅl̵̛͈̆͠d̷̲̲̦̓̐̽̊
"What was that?" Zee buzzed with excitement. "I-I think we got something! I think it said 'cold'!"
"It's cold where you are?" Specs asked earnestly. "Where are you?"
"A-all the bodies were ejected out the airlock, right?" Zee mused. "Floating in space would be cold."
I̵̝̼̺̥͛̐̃̑̕ͅ ̶̱̍͊̈̍͠s̵̞̼̓̃̿͑̅e̵͎̙͎̚ȅ̵̮͘
T̶̤̏ḧ̴̰̳́̅ọ̴̆u̴̟̓s̵̻͍̿͛ả̷̧̩̏ṉ̵̍d̸̙̩͛̌ŝ̷͎
W̶̼̝̥̮̒h̶̦͕̍̔̋̒i̵̧̢̳̣͝t̴͖̦̞̭̐̓ë̷̫́
"Thousands? White?" Specs wondered. "Maybe he means stars, thousands of white dots. If he is in space, that would make sense."
Utter idiots, Blondie thought. Whether ghosts were real or not - and he tended towards not - the damn device was clearly just spewing out random words and the dumb Mortys were interpreting it to fit their theory.
B̵̡̞̐̀ų̴̪̃̑ṟ̵̙͛̀s̸̖͒̀͜ṫ̶̗̾
C̵̞͘l̶̢̺̽͠ŏ̵̻̩u̸͓̚d̵͕̈ͅs̵̪̜̃
D̴̖̩̿a̸͔͍̓z̴̪̭̓z̵͚͐ĺ̶̡̡e̴̡͖͘
"C-can we get a name?" Specs tried further. "Who are you? Can you tell us your name?"
C̶̡͓͈̼̙͈͇̋̽̈́̽͐̈́̽̉̅̓̕ͅä̸̧͚̺̦̲̯̜̦́̄͛͛̋͒̅̀͘͠n̸̛̜̭̞̦͆̅̄̉̄̄͝͠d̶̡̕y̵̧̛̛̺̻̟̲͖̼̟̥͐̍͌͆́̍̈͌̚
"That was pretty distorted, but I-I think it said 'Candy'." Specs mused. "Was that the nickname of a Morty? Maybe he liked candy. Or maybe I misheard, i-it might have said..."
Blondie scoffed. He'd known all the Mortytown hookers to some degree or another. The only one to ever go by 'Candy' was the one who did tricks with bubblegum and lollipops, and he was still fucking alive.
A sudden loud clanging sound echoed through the room from off-camera, making both Mortys jump.
"Did you hear that?!" Zee yelped.
It was something either of them frequently did in order to liven up a video or livestream if they didn't seem to be getting any actual results, but in this case he didn't need to try to act. He had clearly heard a clanging metal sound that seemed to come from somewhere within the walls, and so had his partner.
"Sounded like something moving around in the airducts," Specs deduced. "But i-it could just be a-a rat or something."
There was a vent cover in the main living area that should provide a look into the ducts, but it was set too high up in the wall for the Mortys to be able to reach without anything to stand on.
"I-is there someone in the ducts?" he asked the EVP box.
D̷̞̫̽́a̶̫̮͌ḍ̶͂ḏ̸̅ỳ̴͖
"What was that one?" he wondered. "Did it say 'Daddy'? Who's Daddy? Jerry?"
Blondie's face went white. "Shit!" he hissed. He rapidly typed a warning.
Zee looked up from the chat feed. "Morty 24-XY says 'That's what the Ripper's Morty called him, I heard him say it when they were threatening me'! Whoah!"
"Is this Rick the Ripper's own Morty?" Specs asked the device. "Can you tell us about him?"
"Fucking idiots!" Blondie cursed them.
Zee moved over to the wall, and looked up in the direction of the clanging sound. "Is someone in the ducts?" he repeated loudly.
Another, louder, clang.
Get out of there! Blondie frantically typed.
The EVP began hissing and crackling violently. Both Mortys crouched over it, listening hard.
F̶̧̡̢̢̛͇̱̘̦̦̩̫͈̤̜͓̗̲̹͚́̆́̆̎̍͗̾͆͊̇͋̊̀̀̚̚͘ͅu̸̡̱̞̳͉̙̻̦̖̦̻̤͇̬̳̳͒̇̊̀ͅc̷̟̖̺̗͔̜͕̺̪͕̝͎̖͎͛͊͛̐̎̓̿̏̚̕͘͠͝ͅḱ̸̻̝̎̈̊̀͌̽̓̊̓͗̈̈́̋̎̉̔̿̄́͠͠͝ ̴̺̻̓́̽̏́͠y̶̛̹̮̜͚̟̪̥̺̫͓̍̃̿͗̈́̾̀͛̓̽̽͒͌̏̿̀̎̃͐̕͠͠ö̶̧̪̹͕̗̩̖̲͕̠̟̒̾̃̌͌̅̈́́̌͘͜u̷͈̺͊̚͝
"What was that? That one w-was hard to make out."
L̶̨̢̮̳͇̫̥̺̻̪̬̙̞̍̒̌̊͗̍͝͝i̷̯͉̰̺̣̠͉͌̏̐́̃̚͠͝͝ť̸̢̮̘̯̘̭̯͈͚̤̮̻̭̤̥́͐̅̈́͋͠t̵̨̡͚̣̱̖̮̙̽̆͋̇͒l̵̡̡̛̟͚͙̼̬̥̲̘̖̰̱̈̑̓͋̉̉̎e̵̛͖̮̊̓̔̔̋͑̄̄͌̍̈́̂̎͝ ̵̲̥͇́̌̿̓͛͆̈́̈́͘s̸̬̖̠̜̬̥͙̘̜̭̜̀̃̈́͒͑̑̈́̆͝h̸̬̗̰̤̙͗̒̈́͐̌͐̏̆i̴̧̡̨̫̹̭̙͇̮̲̭̓̉̃̈́̔̀͌̀̀͝ͅt̸̼̺̬̖͇̠̳̻̮̘͎̺͙̻̊̽̋͝s̸̱͔̠͛̌̈́̈́́́̿͋͑̆̔͗͠
"Morty-Mort says 'I think I saw something moving behind you'!" Zee hissed.
The two Mortys spun around in unison, nothing was visible in the gloom.
"Is there anyone here?" Specs called. His eyes went wide behind his glasses in realisation. "Is this the Ripper?!"
GET OUT OF THERE NOW! Blondie typed in all-caps, as one of the camping lamps started to violently flicker.
The door to the second bedroom slammed open and both Mortys leapt to their feet, screaming in fear, and clinging to each other. A second later, the overhead light was switched on, revealing it was just Landlord Rick, storming in with a thunderous expression.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LITTLE SHITS DOING IN HERE?!" he bellowed.
"J-just something for our channel," Zee replied awkwardly.
"I know! M-my Morty stumbled on your... your damn livestream! How the fuck did you get in?"
"... Lock picking technology?"
"I suppose you little shits think... think this is fucking funny, huh? My Morty says you were tryna call up the ghost of... o-of that fucking little psychopath who fucking ra..." He stopped suddenly, realising that the camera was still running. "Just pack up your shit and get the fuck out!"
"Okay, folks, looks like we're finished here. Sorry about that. W-we'll do a follow-up video when we get home to discuss everything that... that happened. Ciao!" Zee hurriedly told the camera before killing the feed and switching it off.
"What the fuck? Is it over?" Blondie wondered out loud. "What happened?"
"Guess th-that was the fucking Landlord," Veteran Rick grunted. "Little shits said they were... they were fucking trespassing." He slowly stood up with a creak from his knees, and went to the kitchen area. "You want a hot drink?"
Landlord Rick watched impatiently as the Mortys scrambled to grab their equipment. His grandson suddenly appeared behind him in the doorway, and the red light on the EVP began frantically blinking as static whined loudly through it.
:̴͈̗̫̞́͌'̵̛͙̜̭̺̜̏̔̎-̸̺̦̘̓.̷̬͔̯̐́̃̾̕.̸̖͚̍͒͒͠,̶̛͔̯̼̮͝
-̶̜̙̩͋;̶̣̳̺̟̇͛̇͂̍̍/̴̙͇̄͒̈́̓̅.̴̰̼̱͖͋͝,̴̤̫̭̣̱̥̣̂̅͘.̴̰͉̙͖̂̏,̷̧̫͎̟̹̇̄́̕-̵̺͍̾̆̈́̋͋ͅ
̴̧̖̻͉̗̹̹̜͕̤̝̙̳̏̾͊͌͌͆̾̈͆̃͊̕͜͠Z̶̧̭͍̦͍̖͓͎͉͚͎̝͕͆z̵̧̬̆͆͑͊̓͆̇̂̂̀͛͑̒͝͝z̸̢̢̡͍̫͈̳͇̲̰̱̰̠͈̘̜͎̻̝̓̔̐̾͜͠ͅͅz̴̢̪̼̘̦̘̻̼͇̘̳̉̇̂̔͒̆̚ͅz̴̨̧̘̩̯̻̰̱̬̙̥͚̪̫̳̞͕̼̮̊́͊̿̿̍̓́͋͋̆̓͗̐͘͜z̴̛̮̖͍̎̆̄̄̈̅̔̈́̈́͗͘͝
*̵͈̩̤̪̜̲͍͇̳̋͂͂̂̓͆͒̓̕.̵̨̛̛̜͇̠̤̮͇͋͘͘͝͠.̸̝̫̭̩̰̱̀͊̚;̴̤͎̩̂͆̾̽̔̚'̷̢̟́̽:̷̧̟͓͂͌͆̇̌̀̌̚>̶̩̗̳̼͕͓́̾͆̑͝/̶̼̗̹̙̺̙̣̜͊͜
Ḇ̷̡̛̼̦͉̹̺͎̖̝̿̌͗͌̑̄̎̉̃͗̚̕͜͝͠A̸̧͍͙̬͔̗̮͈̜̞̫̤̒͗͛̌̂̈̊́̂̊͂̕͜͠͝Ḇ̷̨̛̜̪͚̱͈̪͍͔̫̳̮̙̾́͐͛̃̍͜͝Ỳ̶̡̡̮͇̳̼̙̲̀́̆̆̀̎̍͗̏͒̏͋̈́́̔̍͘͝͝
[̴̨̞̗̻̱̜̱̱͚̋̈́̍͂̍̄͐̀̈́̀͊͘'̷̹̤̘̱͚̝̣̖̪̝̪̓̉͑̈́̓̆̇͝ͅ;̴̡̮̖̂̃̿̎̅͗̚̕͝&̶̨̤̥̠͗̔͂̊́̈̊#̸̮̹͇͓̤̔̍͊͒͐̔̂͑̕<̶̨̡̡͕͍̼̭̬̭̠͔̰̬̈̈̄̉̀̏̈́̎-̴͚̘̺͚̪̠̣͉̺̼̘̼͚͊̔͒̂͜͝.̷̧̫̻͕̈́͐̈́͒.̸̟̰̙͇̠͆͗
Z̸̨̨͍̯͔͉̯͇̿̈̂̅͊͆̔̔̚͝͝z̷̨͍̠̩̼͈̬̐̒͛͐̈̊͑̔͒̃̚͜z̸͓̩͍̹̠͍̰̆͑͘z̶̧̰͇̓̽̋͆͗̌̃͆̒̆̆͊z̸̩̻̳̎̿
:̴͈̗̫̞́͌'̵̛͙̜̭̺̜̏̔̎-̸̺̦̘̓.̷̬͔̯̐́̃̾̕.̸̖͚̍͒͒͠,̶̛͔̯̼̮͝
B̸̨̪̘̫̱̻̲̙̥̹̝̠̠̝̜̪̱͙͍͙̦͈̙͎̥̼͂̏͆̿̀̈́͌̇͐̂̃̂̂̓͐̀̿̉̂̕͘͜͝͠ͅƠ̵̡̨̤͉̠̮͈̻̘̪̂̆̆̔̐̅͐̓̃͐͆͛̾̽͂̒̈́̍̀̈́̀̑̀̓̓͆̚͠͝Y̵̨̨̛̪̰̟̝̬̦͇̯̼̹̤̮̰̤̰̯͙̤̱̫̺̻͖̞̱̼̌̄͐̓̋͋̀̅̉́̉̽̐̕͝
*̵͈̩̤̪̜̲͍͇̳̋͂͂̂̓͆͒̓̕.̵̨̛̛̜͇̠̤̮͇͋͘͘͝͠.̸̝̫̭̩̰̱̀͊̚;̴̤͎̩̂͆̾̽̔̚'̷̢̟́̽:̷̧̟͓͂͌͆̇̌̀̌̚>̶̩̗̳̼͕͓́̾͆̑͝/̶̼̗̹̙̺̙̣̜͊͜
:̴͈̗̫̞́͌'̵̛͙̜̭̺̜̏̔̎-̸̺̦̘̓.̷̬͔̯̐́̃̾̕.̸̖͚̍͒͒͠,̶̛͔̯̼̮͝
Both Mortys stared at the machine in utter shock.
"What the hell?!" Zee wondered.
"What the fuck's that damn device for anyway?" Landlord Rick grumbled.
"It picks up supposed spirits," said Landlord Morty quietly.
"It's going fucking haywire," said Specs in bewilderment. He didn't often swear, it wasn't really his style. He picked the device up and firmly switched it off. "I've never seen it react like that before."
"A-are you okay, buddy?" Zee enquired. Landlord Morty had gone white in the face.
"Just leave!" Landlord Rick growled.
He stood with folded arms and a scowling expression while the Mortys stuffed their equipment back into the hold-all and scurried past him into the corridor.
"Guess it is over," Blondie commented after nearly five minutes of blank screen. He shut down the laptop. "Stupid fucking Mortys! Wh-what the fuck were they playing at?"
"Here." Rick handed him a large hot milky cocoa floating with marshmallows. "Halloween cocoa."
Blondie moved to the sofa to drink it, sitting with the mug grasped in both hands, and took a big reassuring gulp.
"That wasn't real, right?" he asked Rick. "They didn't really contact the ghosts of that bastard or the creep. Even if they think they did."
The machine had certainly sounded like it was genuinely getting angry, but it had been so distorted it had been hard to really make out any words. Maybe it hadn't actually said what he had thought it had.
"'Course not," Rick dismissed instantly. "I-it's just a bunch of staged shit for the camera. Pair of fucking losers."
***
Landlord Morty caught up with the paranormal team in the lobby. "Hey, listen...," he said hurriedly. "Don't tell anyone about this, d-don't put it on your fucking blog o-or anything, but... If that was the Ripper's Morty, i-it kinda makes sense that he'd go crazy when he saw me. The guy had a-a fucking obsession with me. I-I dunno why, other than that he was fucking insane."
Specs adjusted his glasses studiously. "Go on...," he said seriously.
"Okay, what happened was..." Landlord Morty took a deep breath and spoke in a rush. "The Ripper tricked me into going into his apartment, and... W-we didn't know he was the Ripper then, he was just a tenant. H-his Morty spent the whole night raping me, an-and then he mindblew me and... and dumped me back in my own apartment. I kinda figured it out from the evidence, so I-I searched his apartment for the mindblower and gave it to the fucking cops. Turned out, it also had him admitting to being the Ripper on it."
"Yeah!" Zee remembered. "The papers said he was identified 'cos of a mindblower."
"Well, yeah... that's how. I-I've only seen the first couple of minutes of the mindblower footage, so I don't know what exactly the little freak did to me, and I-I don't wanna fucking know, but I get the general idea. So..." He shrugged helplessly. "It kinda makes sense."
"Yes...," Specs mused. "A troubled spirit seeing his..." He almost said 'Unrequited love' but realised that probably wouldn't go down well. "Obsession," he substituted quickly, "probably would trigger a reaction. Well, thank you for telling us."
"And don't put it on your channel!" Landlord Morty reiterated, as he held the door open for them.
Left alone in the dim lobby, he suddenly felt cold, and shivered slightly. He hurried back to his apartment, a couple of the corridor lights flickering as he walked past them.
But that was just the cheap electrics, wasn't it?