Raja Rudra Wyllt, Supreme Wizard King, Chaos Incarnate, and Multiverse's Snarkiest Prankster, crashed into his penthouse lab, fresh from smooching a goddess in Lucy's world, CPH4 stash burning a hole in his pocket. "Time to play mad scientist!"he cackled, eyeing vials like a kid in a candy store. "MAYA, prep the lab—Daddy's cooking brain juice!"
MAYA: "Hold up, Master. No need—Lucy already whipped up a modified CPH4 sample, plus a letter with the formula, chem list, and how-to guide. Gift-wrapped for you."
Raja froze, jaw dangling like a broken broomstick. "WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?! Why's my inbox empty? Is this Lucy's love letter to her favorite chaos gremlin?"
MAYA: "While you were gun-blazing to 'save' her, I had a chat, slipped her the God Manual, and helped her ascend to deity status. Mentioned your CPH4 obsession—she cooked it up in a nanosecond, handed it over, and I stashed it. Surprise, dummy."
Raja's grin split wider than a Diagon Alley sale. "My girl Lucy's got taste! Spill—what's this drug do?"
MAYA: "Permanently unlocks 25% brain capacity, tosses in mid-range telepathy and telekinesis. No side effects, just pure brain swagger."
Raja whistled, moonwalking across the lab. "Lucy loves me! I know exactly who's getting this Drug—time to gift some queens!"
He dance like a Telugu Movie hero in Love sickness, flailing like a Muggle at a wizard rave.
MAYA: You're a walking rom-com disaster.
"Dobby!"Raja bellowed, still dancing. "Where my queens at?"
Dobby, rocking a tux and shades like a mini mob boss, bowed. "My lord, Jane, Beth, and Jessica returned from their Shadow Corp briefing last night. Shall Dobby arrange a meeting?"
Raja grinned, "Nah, make it a full-day freakout—Magical Private Island Resort, max vibes!" Dobby snapped his fingers, arranged everything necessary for the Freakout like a cabanas faster than a Firebolt.
At the resort, Raja strutted in Baki shorts Flexing his Demon Back, Drip Supreme screaming chaos, meeting Jane, Beth, and Jessica in bikinis that could stop a dragon's heart. Over piña coladas, Jane bragged about buying companies to merge with Shadow Corp, Beth flexed owning half of Silicon Valley and Beverly Hills—eco parks, skyscrapers, the works—while Jessica steamrolled legal woes with her Pearson Law Firm.
Raja nodded, plotting. "Big moves, queens. Y'all need brain buffs for world domination."
He turned it into a spa day, giving massages that had them purring, grilling lobsters like a chaotic Gordon Ramsay, and mixing cocktails dubbed "WylltWoozers" that glowed faintly. When Jane asked, "What have you been hustling, Raja?"he leaned back, smirking, "Oh, y'know, brewing brain drugs, punching cabals, scrapping with the Mafia, and dating a literal goddess."
The queens howled, thinking he was joking. "Sure, Raja, and I'm Aphrodite!" Beth snorted.
That night, by a bonfire, they danced to Raja's playlist—think Dragon Disco meets Muggle Mixtape—and tried their usual "dominate Raja" in bed.
First the Queens enter their room and came back outside, Raja heart skipped a beat while looking at them, The trio wearing customized Pornstar Bikinis, that make teenagers just Jizz their short without touching.
The trio performed a seductive dance that they learn in dubai, and Raja who is in a trance with a standing Pole in the shorts that put even rockets shame. After the dance raja walked towards them in beastly trance and Fucked them like animal in heat the girls surive due to the super solider serum otherwise, they would die of exhaustion.
Morning hit, and Raja, sipping a WylltSmoothie, slid each queen a NZT pill, poker-faced. "Breakfast vitamins, babes—trust me." They popped them, and—HOLY NIRVANA!—their eyes lit up, brains at 15% capacity, no warning with their super solider serum and NZT Wyllt Drug. They spazzed for an hour, giggling like they'd hijacked White House, spouting plans for Shadow Corp's global takeover and Mars condos.
Raja tiptoed out, muttering, "World's doomed—my bad!"and bolted for fun.
He blinked into Brooklyn with a sparkle-pop and the scent of cinnamon, landing near smack dab in Max and Caroline's muffin shop—2 Broke Girls chaos in full swing. The duo barely looked up from the register before hurling him an apron with Olympic precision.
"Serve or perish, Raja,"Max deadpanned, eyebrow arched higher than Mount Olympus.
"I am a demi-god, not a barista-slave!" Raja whined, striking a pose like he was auditioning for a tragic opera.
"Then tragically you won't get any snake coiling rubs and kisses tonight," Caroline snapped.
Raja zipped it. Begrudgingly. He clutched the apron like it was cursed cloth from Mordor. Between flirting outrageously with goth customers, dropping trays like a clumsy ballet dancer, and whispering to the espresso machine, "You're the only one who understands me," his shift was a mess.
Then—drama!
Three teenage punks in dollar-store ski masks barged in, waving plastic guns with the conviction of soap opera villains. "Nobody move! Gimme the cash!"
Raja slowly turned, holding a tray of scones like it was a holy relic. He sighed dramatically, placing the tray down with the reverence of a Shakespearean death scene.
"Oh, mon dieu. Armed with plastic, fueled by angst, and robbing carbs? Truly, society has collapsed."
The leader aimed the toy gun at him. "You deaf or just dumb?"
"Neither," Raja said with a manic glint in his eyes. He stepped forward, arms raised like he was about to do a Broadway number. "But you, sir, have just interrupted my coffee break—and that is a crime I cannot forgive."
Suddenly, lights dimmed. (They didn't. Raja just whispered, "MAYA, mood lighting,"and she obliged.)
He launched into a pirouette worthy of So You Think You Can Dance, disarming the leader with a dramatic spin, snatching the toy gun mid-twirl, and tossing it over his shoulder—Caroline caught it without blinking.
One of the others lunged. Raja sidestepped like a flamenco dancer on Red Bull and gently guided the teen into a wall of muffins. Powdered sugar explosion.
The third tried to flee, but Raja flicked his string. The apron strings magically slithered across the room like enchanted spaghetti, wrapping the boy to legs and made him fall .
He turned, arms wide, spotlight imagined.
"BEHOLD! The Muffin Messiah has vanquished the Ye Olde Threat of Budget Crime!"
The shop was silent. Someone clapped. Probably ironically.
Raja cleared his throat and launched into a monologue like he was delivering Les Misérables in a high school gym.
"You three… misguided musketeers. Let me tell you what awaits you if you continue down this dark, gluten-laced path. Jail. And not the fun Monopoly kind. Actual jail. Where your cellmate is named Big Eddie and he really wants to talk about his Bath soap encounters with his new cellmates. You think you're tough? Try explaining to your future employer you got arrested for robbing a muffin shop. You'll be a meme before you're even booked!"
The kids looked terrified. One of them sniffled. Another took off his mask and whispered, "I just wanted to buy some Groceries…"
Raja pointed at Max. "She's hiring. Dishwashing. No XP, no loot, but it builds character—and arm muscles."
Max sighed. "Fine. But if they eat the muffins, I'm docking your non-existent pay, Raja."
"I am chaos incarnate, madam,"Raja said, bowing with a flourish, "but also a firm believer in second chances and carb-based redemption arcs."
Caroline muttered, "You've turned the shop into a reality show."
"Correction!" Raja winked. "I've turned it into a redemption musical. And act two begins… now."
That night, Raja partied at Max and Caroline's apartment—tequila shots, bad karaoke, and a dance-off that broke a lamp and the glorious lust based threesome with Big tits and Snake Waist.
Next day Post-nut clarity hit hard as he sprawled on their couch. "I'm a demi-god… who can't fly. LAME!"
MAYA: "Master, flying's a movie-world perk. Pick one."
Raja snapped his fingers. "My Super Ex-Girlfriend! Meteorite gives Supergirl powers—no Kryptonite nonsense. I'm snagging it!"
He soul-shifted that night, landing in My Super Ex-Girlfriend's universe, set to save the heroine, Jenny, from her doomed love life. Raja staked out a wild park where teen lovers smooched, spotting Jenny and her boyfriend creeping in for a kiss. "Time for a nap, kiddos," he grinned, using Telepathy to knock them out cold—gentle, like a cosmic lullaby.
MAYA: You're a creep. "I'm a hero, MAYA!"
Raja waited, eyes on the sky. The meteorite screamed down, a fiery softball of power. With a flick of Telekinesis, he snagged it mid-air, stashing it in his inventory without a touch.
"Mine now, My space rock!" hissed like a Gollum on his quest to retrieve his Precious.
To cover his tracks, he poured WylltBeauty Potion on the snoozing teens—glow-up juice for their trouble. "Prom's yours, lovebirds!" he winked, then yeeted out, cackling, the multiverse his playground.
To Be Continued…