I had searched for Roderick Sanchez's picture and found none to my liking. If you look at Beth's picture, that kinda art is what I'm searching for.
Feel free to add the picture for our Rod, or you can give me suggestions on where to create it.
Thanks for reading ts, peace!
- - - - - - - - - -
Rod stood with his arms crossed, the edge of his smirk replaced by something harder.
"Alright, old man… We've got almost everything for the Diane job. Just tell me you got the last piece."
Rick grinned like a raccoon who'd just found a dumpster full of caviar. He tapped the metal case he'd been dragging in.
"Oh, I got it. It took me three drinks, a death threat, and one very awkward cult orgy, but I got it. You're welcome."
Rod flipped the case open, stared at the contents for exactly two seconds, then blinked slowly.
"…Whoa, old man. This is not the right item."
Rick's smile froze. "Hahaha… ha… ha—nawhh, they're the right items, kid! Whatchu talking about—" His eyes focused properly on what was inside.
"F–Fucckk. They're not the right item."
Rod dragged his palm down his face. "What do I expect from this senile geezer… It's just punching some guys and taking the loot, old man! How hard can it be?!"
Rick's eyes went wide. "Shut up, you ungrateful kid! You think it's easy?! This motherfucker!"
Rod snapped back instantly. "What?! I'm a motherfucker? You better watch your mouth, geezer! Mom is a sacred thing—she's your fucking wife, you dumb fuck!"
Rick froze mid-sentence, the comeback short-circuiting in his brain. "…That's… true… FUCK!" He spun toward the living room.
"Morty! Pack your things! Wait—nah, you don't have to.
We're moving now! Let's race, kid—who gets their item first! What'd you say, kid?"
Rod scoffed and rolled his shoulders. "Pft. Oi oi oi, old man. Do you think you can win?"
He turned and bellowed toward the hallway.
"Beth! Pack up, lil devil! We're going to raid sub-chroniton regulators and a few other things on the way. Rick—you get the other thing, you hear me!"
Beth appeared halfway down the stairs, holding a glass of wine like it was a weapon.
"Huh? What? Rod, what's… chrono-whatever-the-fuck you said earlier?"
Rod sighed like he'd just aged ten years in one conversation.
"Sometimes I truly regret not influencing you more… It's okay, Beth. I'll explain on the way. Now get your things, you middle-aged old lady. This is war against the old man!"
Beth narrowed her eyes. "Middle-aged what?"
Rod grinned without fear. "You heard me. Let's move!"
Rick snatched up his portal gun, muttering curses that would've made a warlord blush.
"Alright, brat—first one back gets to call the other their sidekick for a week."
Rod's smirk sharpened into a full-on wolfish grin. "Deal. And when I win, I'm making you wear an apron that says 'World's Gayest Dad.'"
Rick's boots fired up with a roar, and Rod's gauntlets lit in response. Two portals flared open side-by-side, each a different color.
Without another word, they dove in at the same time—both aiming to be the first to come back with their prize.
The air in the garage vibrated with tension—the kind you get right before two nuclear warheads are fired in opposite directions.
Rick and Rod stood opposite each other, both already suited up like they'd been waiting their entire lives for this moment.
Rick had gone full combat science mode: lab coat armored with kinetic-weave plating, shoulder harness bristling with gadgets, and boots glowing with ion thrusters.
His portal gun was locked into an overcharged combat grip, humming like it was hungry.
Morty was beside him, wearing what was basically "space riot gear" duct-taped to a tracksuit. A nervous grin kept flashing on and off his face.
Across from them, Rod looked like a poster for "intergalactic outlaw chic."
Sleek, armored exosuit hugging every line of muscle, gauntlets crackling faintly, and a utility belt stuffed with capsules and unmarked devices that probably violated forty different multiversal treaties.
Beth had swapped her daily wear for a reinforced, skin-tight tactical suit that was more "assassin-meets-space-biker" than soldier.
Twin plasma pistols sat at her hips, and a matte-black visor rested over her forehead, ready to drop down when the shooting started.
Both teams stood in the center of the lab, portals primed.
Rick's green portal flared open first—a swirling, toxic emerald vortex that buzzed with instability.
Rod's yellowish-orange portal roared to life a heartbeat later, smooth and burning bright like the sun condensed into a doorway.
Neither said a word.
They locked eyes.
Nodded once.
And then—both jumped in at the exact same time.
Rod and Beth burst out of their portal into open space—weightless black scattered with stars—and Rod's boots magnetized instantly to the deck plating of an abandoned dock. Without missing a beat, he flicked his wrist and tossed a silver capsule forward.
The capsule hit the ground, hissed… then unfolded with a smooth, fluid bloom of alloy plates and neon edges until it became a sleek, futuristic, luxury star-runner.
A low, throaty hum vibrated from its core, and the hull shimmered with a custom paint job that looked like liquid chrome under starlight. Its design screamed speed, wealth, and zero fucks given about interstellar parking laws.
Beth's jaw actually dropped.
"Whoa, Rod! This is a nice car!"
Rod's smirk grew into an unholy grin. He threw his arms wide.
"Hoho, praise the lord! PRAISE ME MOREEE! WUAHAHAHA!"
Beth's laughter was sharp and unrestrained. "Hahah, shut up, you big oaf!"
Rod vaulted into the pilot's seat, visor sliding down over his eyes. "Let's get some chroniton regulators, The Deeeeeeevil!"
Beth was already strapping into the co-pilot's chair, pistols resting at her sides. She yelled over the rising hum of the engines —
"ARE COMING!"
The star-runner's thrusters roared like a wild beast, and the ship shot forward into the void, leaving only a streak of burning orange light in its wake.
The cockpit of Rod's star-runner was a cathedral of speed—panoramic glass wrapping around them, control panels glowing in deep golds and blues, and thrusters growling under the deck.
Beth leaned back in the co-pilot's chair, her visor pushed up, watching streaks of starlight warp past them.
"So… are you gonna tell me what the hell happened after you just vanished?"
Rod's grin softened—just a fraction. "Oh, that.
Yeah… long story short, I kinda Omega-Device'd myself out of existence to study Mom's erasure.
Didn't exactly plan on cutting myself off from everyone, though."
Beth frowned. "Right. And you didn't think maybe… I don't know… a note? A hologram?
A 'Hey, Beth, don't freak out if I disappear for years'?"
Rod tilted his head. "You were pregnant with Summer when I left.
Last thing you needed was big brother showing up to dump cosmic drama on your lap."
Beth gave a short laugh. "At that time, you hadn't met Jerry yet, right?
That's… terrifying. What will you even say to him if you meet him, though?"
Rod chuckled, tapping a sequence into the flight controls. "Oh, you mean the first time?
I should walk right up to him outside the hospital and say, 'So you're the guy? Try not to screw it up. Or I will break your lil' dick.'"
Beth groaned. "God, that will rattle him for years. Hahaha!"
"Oh, he will rattle, alright. Shook like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm," Rod said, smirking.
"I hung around Earth for a few weeks after that. Watched you two try to be 'normal parents.'
Almost felt bad for the guy. Still doesn't like him."
"Almost?" Beth arched a brow.
Rod shrugged. "I was busy; I don't have the time to think about a man that fucks my sister and has a bad pull up game.
Spent most of my exile mastering tech I couldn't have touched with the old man breathing down my neck.
Bio-engineering, quantum architecture, adaptive AI… I even built an organ printer that could make you a new liver before your hangover finished."
Beth laughed once. "Sounds like something Dad would have done—"
"Except," Rod cut in, "I actually made it safe. No homicidal side effects. No spontaneous jazz singing from your kidneys."
Beth snorted, shaking her head.
"Alright, fine. That's impressive. But mastering tech alone sounds… boring for you."
Rod's grin came back, dangerous and warm.
"Who said I was alone? Met a few allies. Made a few enemies. Had one fling with a woman who could bench-press a tank."
Beth winced. "Do not tell me you—"
"Oh, I'm telling you," Rod teased.
"Anyway, I wasn't just lying around, alright. I got better till I was enough to come back and kick the old man's ass at his own game."
Beth smirked, eyes drifting to the starlines ahead.
"Are you sure this isn't about winning some dumb sibling rivalry?"
Rod's voice dropped low, but the grin stayed. "Oh, do you remember, Beth? I need to know...WHO DOES MOM LOVE MORE!!!!? And Beth… if it were, you'd already know who won, hahaha."
Beth's laugh also echoed through the cabin as the star-runner blazed toward their target.
- - - - - - - - - -
The star-runner dropped out of slipspace with a low, bone-deep rumble.
Ahead of them, Neo-Alpha filled the view — a planet that looked like it had been built by a watchmaker with a god complex.
Its surface was a shifting mosaic of gears the size of continents, meshing and turning so slowly it was almost imperceptible.
Massive clock faces were embedded into the landscape, their hands sweeping in lazy arcs that spanned hundreds of miles.
Cities were built on the rims of colossal chronometers, each tick of the planetary "clock" sending tremors through the steel-and-brass terrain.
From orbit, faint streams of light coiled upward from the planet's core — time-lattice conduits bleeding raw chroniton energy into the sky like auroras made of liquid gold.
Beth stared, her mouth partway open. "Holy shit… the whole planet's a clock."
Rod grinned.
"And they keep perfect time. Down to the nanosecond. Maybe that's why every warlord here thinks they're some kind of divine scheduler, hmm."
The docking bay they descended toward was shaped like an hourglass, the upper bulb a sprawling landing field, the lower a pit of massive gears grinding in constant, rhythmic motion.
As the star-runner's landing gear touched down, a welcoming committee of chrome-armored soldiers marched in perfect synchronicity toward them.
The figure at the front stood out immediately — towering, draped in robes woven from what looked like shifting, liquid sand.
His face was hidden behind a golden mask in the shape of a clock's dial, the hands frozen at midnight.
Rod and Beth stepped out of the star-runner, boots clanking on the brass deck.
The warlord's voice boomed through some kind of chrono-amplifier, deep and resonant enough to rattle their ribs.
"I am Arch-Primarch Chronos Velatrix, Keeper of the 9,001st Cycle, Eternal Warden of the Second Sundial, Slayer of the Timeless Leviathan, Holder of—"
Beth leaned toward Rod and whispered, "Is he gonna list his entire résumé?"
"Probably," Rod muttered back, not looking away.
"—and sworn enemy of Rick Sanchez!" Velatrix finished, pointing a long, jeweled staff directly at Rod.
Beth blinked. "Oh, here we go."
Rod tilted his head, half amused, half annoyed. "Yeah, about that… wrong guy."
Velatrix's masked face tilted, the hands on it twitching like they were adjusting for focus.
"Your stench is the same. Your bone geometry… is similar. You are Rick Sanchez!"
Rod sighed. "Close. Son of Rick Sanchez. The upgrade package, yknow, like DLC... though some DLC downgrade the game but believe me, man.
I'm more handsome, has better physique, has better temper and hm... I don't know what else to say, I'm just that... I'm Roderick 'Devil' Sanchez, hehehe."
The warlord clearly didn't care. "You stole chroniton regulators from my vault during the Last Gearstorm, Sanchez!
Now you return to steal more! For this insult, I will grind your atoms between the gears of the Prime Dial!"
Beth smirked. "Sounds like he's not taking 'wrong guy' for an answer."
Rod's smirk sharpened. "Good. Makes things easier."
In a single fluid motion, Rod's gauntlet flared to life, sending a bolt of concentrated chroniton discharge into the bay's lighting grid.
Sparks exploded, bathing the hangar in flickering shadows.
Beth was already moving, twin plasma pistols spitting hot blue light into the soldiers' formation, cutting down their perfect synchronization into chaos.
Rod darted forward, weaving between panicked guards with inhuman speed, grabbing one by the collar and slamming him into a wall hard enough to knock the chrono-plating off his armor.
Beth vaulted onto a cargo crate, using it as a platform to nail two more soldiers before diving behind cover. "Rod! The regulators?"
"Top vault, center spire," Rod called back, planting a fist in another soldier's gut.
"We'll have to cut through the warlord's personal chrono-lock to get them."
Velatrix's staff split open, revealing a rotating core of glowing gears, each one dripping raw chroniton energy.
"You will not leave this cycle alive, Sanchez!"
Rod grinned. "Bet I will."
He tapped his gauntlet twice, and the star-runner's AI pinged to life in his ear.
"Cortana — prep escape vector. And warm up the pulse cannons."
Beth's visor slid down over her eyes. "Looks like we're doing this the loud way."
Rod's grin widened. "The only way I know."
The warlord roared, and the entire hangar seemed to shift — the gears beneath their feet turning faster, the air rippling with compressed time.
The hangar erupted into a storm of noise and light.
Beth was a blur, cycling through weapons like a duelist with ADHD — plasma pistols first, clean shots to the knees and visors.
When her clips ran dry, she swapped to a graviton net launcher, tangling three soldiers mid-charge and flinging them into a spinning gear the size of a house.
Then came the flame baton, the whip-blade, even a shoulder-mounted micro-rocket pod she'd clearly stolen from Rick's workshop.
Meanwhile, Rod didn't draw a single weapon.
He didn't need to.
Every step he took left a faint shimmer in the air, and his fists burned with a soft blue aura — not bright enough to blind, but sharp enough to leave ghost trails when he swung.
Each punch folded armored soldiers like they'd been hit by a freight train, the air cracking with a snap of displaced force.
Beth noticed between unloading a pulse rifle and kicking a soldier off a catwalk. "What the hell's with the glowing fists, Rod?"
Rod casually elbowed a charging guard in the gut, sending him flying into two more.
"Oh, that? I, uh… once accidentally ended up in this weird world where all the ninja were basically battle mages. Big on speed builds."
Beth shot a plasma burst over his shoulder. "Ninja… battle mages."
"Yeah. There was one guy there who couldn't use ninjutsu at all.
Still fought seven dudes at once while protecting some kids. Duy taught me the technique after I patched him up."
Rod planted a punch into the floor, and the shockwave sent a ring of soldiers sprawling. "Pretty neat, huh?"
Beth smirked. "Neat? You're basically cosplaying as a human nuke."
Rod grinned. "Only on weekdays, my lil' devil."
They pushed through the chaos, ducking between shifting gears and diving under clockwork pistons the size of houses.
Velatrix barked orders from above, but his troops were already falling back under the relentless assault.
At the base of the central spire, a set of massive bronze doors loomed, each engraved with swirling constellations and turning clock hands.
A pulsing energy field sealed them shut — the warlord's personal chrono-lock.
Beth slammed a magnetic breacher onto the lock and yanked a cable to her wrist console. "Thirty seconds to crack it."
Rod glanced back at the narrowing path behind them — soldiers regrouping, warlord descending the steps. "You've got ten."
Beth smirked. "Watch me."
Nine seconds later, the lock sputtered, sparked, and dissolved in a wash of blue light.
The doors groaned open to reveal the vault — walls lined with sealed cases, each humming faintly with temporal distortion.
In the center sat their prize: a rack of polished, cylindrical devices glowing with a soft white pulse — the chroniton regulators.
Rod scooped the entire rack into a capsule case and snapped it shut.
"Got 'em. Cortana, bring the car around."
The warlord's roar shook the spire. "NO ONE STEALS FROM VELATRIX!"
The gears beneath them screamed into overdrive, and suddenly the air thickened — like moving through syrup. The light dimmed, shadows stretching unnaturally.
Beth's eyes darted around. "Rod… this feel weird to you?"
"Time loop," Rod growled. "He's trying to lock us in the same ten seconds until we're too slow to escape."
Velatrix's staff spun, its gears whirring in reverse. "Your moment will repeat until your bones are dust! Wahahaha!"