Raja Rudra Wyllt, Supreme Wizard King, Chaos Incarnate, and Multiverse's Sassiest Schemer, lounged on a New York rooftop, chugging a levitating espresso.
Eddie Morra, his Limitless pawn, had spun $100K into $2 million, landed a brokerage gig, and patched things up with Lindy, all thanks to NZT-48's brain boost.
But Raja—fresh from bodyguard bootcamp, knuckles itching—sensed a storm brewing.
"MAYA!" Raja called, tossing the cup into a self-cleaning vortex. "Eddie's killing it, but I smell a crash. What's the read?"
MAYA: Master, Eddie's NZT high is tanking—blackouts, memory holes, the works. Also, some trench coat weirdo's stalking him. You playing doctor or thug?
Raja grinned, " Let's dive in."
He strolled into Eddie's penthouse, finding him sprawled on a couch, looking like he'd been chewed up by Wall Street and spat out. "Yo, boss!" Raja clapped, voice echoing. "You're a walking corpse. What's the damage?"
Eddie groaned, clawing at bloodshot eyes. "Raja, I'm done. NZT's torching my head—18 hours vanished, like I blinked and lost a day."
Raja flopped beside him, masking a smirk with concern while Telepathy sifted Eddie's chaos. "Relax, man. Your bodyguard's on it. Hand me Vernon's notes, let's crack this."
Eddie tossed him a dog-eared journal, and Raja's Extreme Intelligence lit up. The pages screamed trouble: NZT users keeling over, brains fried from overuse. "Rough," Raja muttered, catching a shadow outside—trench coat guy.
MAYA: Why are you not Zapping him?
"Nah," Raja said. "Let him trail. I'll hook the real fish later."
Days later, Eddie met his ex, Melissa, who spilled her NZT nightmare—addiction, withdrawals, screams in the dark. Raja hovered, pouring coffee like a saint, but his ears twitched when Gennady, a Russian loan shark with a mug like a squashed beet, barged in, demanding his $100K. He spotted Eddie's NZT stash, swallowed a pill, and grinned like a hyena on jet fuel.
"More!" Gennady roared, yanking Eddie's tie. "Gimme the goods, or you're dead!"
Raja cracked his knuckles, no magic, just Demi-God Physique. "Hey, Borscht Face!"he shouted, charging. His fist slammed Gennady's chin, sending him crashing through a chair. Two goons swung pipes; Raja ducked, elbowed one's gut, and kicked the other's knee, dropping them like sacks.
Gennady pulled a blade; Raja grabbed his arm, twisted, and slammed him face-first into the floor, lights out.
Eddie blinked, dazed. "Raja, you're a War machine!"
"Loyalty, boss," Raja winked, hauling the goons out like garbage.
MAYA: You're a walking warzone.
Eddie's NZT stash dried up, so he begged Lindy to grab his backup. Trench coat guy chased her, but Lindy—NZT-sharp—outran him, slipping back to Eddie. She dumped him on the spot. "I'm out, Eddie. This drug's a curse."
Raja took charge, blending Herbology SSS smoothies—spinach, turmeric, cosmic zest—to soothe Eddie's crashes. "Chug this, boss. No more meltdowns."He tweaked Eddie's NZT doses, juggling sleep and diet like a chaotic life coach. Eddie hired a lab to decode NZT, a lawyer to dodge Vernon's murder rap, and extra guards to fend off Gennady's crew.
Merger day arrived, and Carl Van Loon, finance titan with a glare colder than his cufflinks, got news: Atwood, his rival, was in a coma.
Raja's Telepathy pinged—trench coat guy was Atwood's bodyguard, sniffing for NZT. "Gotcha," Raja murmured, shadowing him to a dive bar, catching whispers of Atwood's NZT habit.
At a police lineup for Vernon's case, Eddie's shady lawyer swiped his NZT stash. Eddie unraveled, sweating, vision fading. He sprinted home, only to find Gennady—now a rabid NZT addict—waiting with goons.
"Pills!"Gennady snarled, pistol waving.
Raja vaulted through the door, no Trishul, just fury. "Round two, comrade!" He tackled a goon, fist cracking ribs, and snagged his gun, firing a warning shot into the ceiling. Gennady swung a bat; Raja slid under, swept his legs, and smashed a lamp over his head. The last goon charged—Raja flipped him onto a coffee table, shattering it. Gennady crawled, knife flashing; Raja caught his wrist, kneed his face, and ended him for good.
Eddie gasped, alive. "Raja, you're unreal!"
"Job perks," Raja grinned, wiping blood off his hands.
Eddie tracked trench coat guy, learning Atwood's death freed the NZT from the lawyer. He reclaimed it, riding high again. Raja, though, aimed higher. With Potions SSS, he brewed NZT-Wyllt—15% brain unlock, no side effects, permanent gains. He slipped it to Eddie. "Pop this, Prez. You're welcome."
A year later, Eddie was a senator hopeful, facing Van Loon, who dangled NZT for favors. Eddie smirked, NZT-Wyllt making him bulletproof, and flexed fluent Mandarin at dinner—bluff or not, he owned the room.
Raja, now "Shadow," dug into Van Loon's world. Telepathy peeled back curtains: Van Loon answered to five ancient families—cabal kings ruling the USA, rigging wars, hoarding cures for cancer, diabetes, everything, all for cash and power.
"Puny oligarchs,"Raja scoffed, cracking their servers with Extreme Intelligence finesse. He trashed their human experiment labs, freed captives, and framed their spoiled kids for scandals, chuckling as they brawled. He ousted a dictator they'd installed, grinning as rebels stormed his castle.
MAYA: You're taunting gods with a slingshot.
"Gods bleed," Raja said.
The cabal heads called a summit in a fortress—turrets, drones, steel walls.
Raja, masked as Shadow, slipped in Like Magical Agent 47, no fight magic. He dodged lasers, choked guards with sleeper holds, and hit the meeting room.
Telepathy ripped their secrets from the Five Heads: accounts, atrocities, lab locations. "Checkmate," he whispered, snapping their necks clean.
He swiped their drives, sent proof to Eddie, and freed lab victims, rigging sites to collapse. Raja hacked a satellite, masked like a digital phantom, and dumped cures—cancer, AIDS, diabetes—onto the internet. The cabal's wealth? Funneled to Eddie, tagged "Messiah Fund."
Raja's last move: a masked video, hailing Eddie as "the savior who freed me."He vanished as protests swarmed the White House. Eddie, crowned President, swore truth and freedom, while the world roared with hope and fury.
MAYA: You torched a nation for kicks. New record?
Raja laughed, lightning in his eyes. "Just the warm-up, MAYA. Next world's gonna cry."
To Be Continued…