Raja Rudra Wyllt, Supreme Wizard King, Chaos Incarnate, and Multiverse's Sassiest Troublemaker, lounged in his penthouse, still buzzing from snatching CPH4 and smooching a goddess in Lucy's world.
But his do-gooder itch was tingling—time to save some teens from a power-tripping rock in Chronicle. "Those kids—Andrew, Steve, Matt—deserve better,"Raja declared, cracking his knuckles. "Plus, I'm yoinking that shiny telekinesis stone for my Chaos Bag. Savior vibes, baby!"
MAYA: "Master, you're calling this heroism? Scanning Chronicle universe—soul transfer ready. Don't break the school."
Raja grinned, "No promises!"Reality warped, and he blinked into a Seattle suburb, nerded up in glasses and a hoodie—Drip Supreme screaming "undercover geek." Using Telepathy, he hacked the school's principal mind, landing in Andrew's class, then rented a house next door to the kid's crumbling home.
MAYA: Stalker much? "It's strategy, MAYA!"
Morning hit, and Raja spotted Andrew, a lanky introvert, fiddling with a new video camera, waiting for his cousin Matt to roll up.
Raja sauntered over, channeling Big Bang Theory vibes. "Yo, Man! Raja Wyllt, new kid. Bus to school's which one?" Andrew mumbled, "Number 12," eyes glued to his lens. Raja, undeterred, unleashed nerd-fu: "Sick camera, bro! 1080p/720p, 30 FPS, prime for vlogging—bet you're snagging the new Sony model, right?" Andrew blinked, relaxing a smidge, muttering, "Uh, yeah… maybe." Raja fist-pumped internally—ice broken!
Matt's beat-up car screeched in, and he clocked Raja chatting up his cousin. "Who's the nerd?" Matt asked, grinning. Raja spun, hand out. "Raja Wyllt, geek extraordinaire! Just hyping Andrew's camera game." Matt laughed, "Fair. Need a lift to school?" Andrew nodded, shy, and Raja hopped in, crowing, "Shotgun—let's roll!"
MAYA: You're insufferable.
In the car, Matt belted pop tunes, and Raja joined, shredding "Eye of the Tiger" like a karaoke god.
Matt whooped, "Dude, you're a rockstar!"
Andrew's jaw dropped, camera catching Raja's air guitar. "Multiverse Idol, baby!" Raja winked, vibing hard. They pulled into school, Matt peeling off for a club, leaving Raja and Andrew to navigate the halls. Andrew, filming everything, gave a mumbled tour: "That's… the gym… lockers…"
Raja nodded, "Five-star narration, Spielberg!"
They hit the training field for lunch, chowing on sandwiches while Andrew's camera swept the scene—football jocks tossing spirals, cheerleaders flipping. Raja, sneaky, used Telekinesis to nudge the lens toward the guys, dodging the pom-poms. Enter Karen, a loud cheerleader craving drama, storming over. "Stop recording, creeps!" she snapped.
Andrew flinched, but Raja leaned back, smirking. "Whoa, Karen, calling us creeps for filming the field? What's your deal—scared your cartwheel's viral?Cheerleading's literally flexing for claps. If you're that insecure, practice in your garage or quit the squad."
His voice boomed, crowd freezing. Andrew's eyes widened, like he'd seen a unicorn. Karen's lip quivered, and Raja doubled down. "You're out here entertaining, right? Own it or bounce."
The squad gasped; Andrew gripped his camera, itching to speak. Karen burst into tears, her crew swarming, and a muscle-head jock—let's call him Chad—lumbered over, barking, "Why're you freaking out the girls, losers?"
Raja tilted his head, all innocence. "Yo, Chad, you gay?"Chad sputtered, face red.
Raja pressed, "No shame, man—are you?" Chad roared, "I'M NOT!"
Raja shrugged, "Cool, so you got mad over a question, huh? Karen called us creeps for filming football. How pissed should we be, big guy?"Chad blinked, words evaporating, crowd snickering.
MAYA: You're bullying a bully. I'm almost proud.
The coach jogged up, whistle bouncing. "What's the deal?"
Raja jumped in, smooth as silk. "Coach, Karen accused us of creeping with zero proof—feels like she's got a chip against brown and white kids. I'm demanding her cheerleader badge and an apology for the racist vibes."
Karen wailed, crocodile tears flowing, claiming they filmed her squad for "gross stuff."
Raja scoffed, "She's doubling down with no receipts! Coach, stay neutral—check the tape."
Andrew froze, but Raja handed over the camera, cool as a Bludger dodge. Coach played the footage—nothing but jocks tossing pigskin. The team glared at the cheerleaders, Andrew exhaling like he'd dodged a hex.
Raja crossed his arms, smirking. "See? No creeps here, just Karen's drama. We're not ripped, sure, but God gave us brains. We'll bank millions, date models hotter than Vogue—y'all will beg for selfies. Don't judge books by covers, racist."
Karen bolted, sobbing, squad trailing like lost Puffskeins.
Raja turned to the gawking cheerleaders. "Ladies, pro tip: if you're as shaky as Karen, ditch the pom-poms. Let's roll, Andrew."
Andrew trailed him, camera rolling, whispering, "Dude, you're insane—so bold! I wish I had that."
Raja winked, "Stick with me, Spielberg—you'll roar soon."
Class dragged, but trouble brewed at dismissal. Two bullies—greasy-haired goons—snatched Andrew's camera, shoving him.
Raja strolled up, eyes glinting. "Oi, losers—drop it." One sneered, lunging;
Raja sidestepped, slamming a fist into his gut. The kid barfed, face-planting in his own mess, crowd gasping.
The second bully, who'd slapped Andrew, charged—Raja's hand cracked across his face, a tooth flying like a rogue Snitch.
He snatched the camera, tossing it to Andrew, then loomed over the punks, voice low. "Andrew's my boy. Bully him—or anyone weak—again, and I'll turn your faces into modern art. Got it?"
The crowd parted, kids whispering, Andrew gaping like Raja was Thor.
MAYA: You just made high school your kingdom. Happy now?
Raja grinned, strutting off. "Born for this, MAYA."
To Be Continued…