Raja Rudra Wyllt, Supreme Wizard King, Chaos Incarnate, and Multiverse's Sassiest P.I., strutted into New York, fresh from cracking FBI cases like they were Muggle puzzles.
First stop: coffee with Harold Wren, the tech nerd from Person of Interest. Raja flashed his shiny P.I. license and FBI consultant badge, leaning in with a grin. "Harold, I'm out here fighting the good fight—evil's got no chance with me on the case!"
Harold blinked, sipping his latte, as Raja planted seeds of vigilante dreams in his brain.
MAYA: Master, you're recruiting him for chaos.
Raja winked, "Just warming him up!"
Next, Raja cruised to Prudence's place, craving her vibe. Cheryl Ann, her mom, answered the door, with stunned face and embarrsed tone. "Raja! Pru's out shopping—it may take some time."
Raja smirked evilly and asked Cheryl for coffee. She hesitantly got into the kitchen and started to make coffee.
Cheryl, who is wearing a white top showcasing her big tits and cleavage and jean shorts that showcase her juicy ass.
Raja slowly walked towards her and hugged her from behind. She shirked and struggled a little he didn't let go of her, and he squeezed her assets and forcefully kissed her. She fought for 5 seconds and melted in his lust, and she became obedient and became more passionate and kissed back.
Raja couldn't control his lust anymore and fucked her in the kitchen, on the sofa, in the room, and everywhere in the apartment for 2 hours. He even made her work on his pole.
Raja declared her as his woman, and no man will touch her except him. Cheryl nodded in submission.
He sprawled on their couch, munching cookies, until Prudence burst in, bags flying. She tackled him with a hug and a smooch that shorted his brain. "Missed you, trouble!" she laughed. Raja cooked dinner—spaghetti with a WylltWoozer sauce that glowed faintly—charming them with tales of P.I certification and FBI shenanigans. That night, he crashed in their guest room, dreaming of multiverse bars.
MAYA: You're show casing your Tyrant side. Gross.
Morning hit, and Raja peeled out to Uncle Charlie's Malibu pad, where Alan, Charlie's neurotic bro, roped him and Charlie into a "quick errand"at Jake's school.
In the car, Alan spilled: he and Judith, his ex, needed musicians for Jake's class music show.
Raja raised an eyebrow, "This smells like a rom-com trap."
Charlie groaned, "Alan, you're scheming to win her back, aren't you?"
Alan blushed, "Volunteering might… spark something."
Raja snorted, "Bro, I see zero spark in Judith's eyes—just divorce vibes."
At school, Alan and Judith teamed up to prep a class song, all forced smiles.
Charlie, sniffing Alan's desperate plan, bailed, muttering, "I'm out—rather date a cactus."
Raja elbowed Alan, "Told ya, man—she's serving repulsion, not reconciliation."
Mid-rehearsal, a courier dropped divorce papers from Judith's lawyer.
Alan's face crumpled; he and Judith bickered in the hall, airing years of baggage. Raja sighed, Sitcom drama's too real.
Charlie, guilt-tripped, took over music prep, ditching lullabies for commercial jingles—think "Pizza Hut, oh what a cut!"
Raja cackled, "You're turning kids into ad bots!"
Alan sat Jake down, voice shaky, "Buddy, Mom and I are splitting for good."
Jake frowned, looking to Charlie, who knelt, "Kid, your dad's hiding his hurt to keep you strong."
Jake nodded, hugging Alan tight, whispering, "It's okay, Dad."
Raja, moved but allergic to sappy, slipped Alan a card for Pearson Law Firm. "Call Donna Paulsen—she'll help you in acquiring best divorce deal, no charge."
Alan bear-hugged him, "You're a lifesaver, Raja!"
The fourth-grade show was a riot—kids belting jingles about coal mines and steam engines, parents squinting like they'd stumbled into a infomercial.
Raja and Charlie saved it, jamming piano and flute vibes that turned "Buy Buy Baby" into a bop.
The kids grinned, but parents grumbled, "Where's 'Twinkle Twinkle'?"
Raja shrugged, "Blame Charlie's ad-man soul."
MAYA: You're enabling nonsense.
That night at Rose House, Raja caught Rose eyeing Kandi, who has just returned after completing her shooting Schedule, doing yoga in spandex that screamed seduction.
Raja joined, stretching with exaggerated grunts, winking at Rose as Kandi's poses turned the room into a softcore set.
Raja changed into Naked Arts teacher and performs extreme Kamasutra positions on Rose and Kandi combined in the name of checking flexibility, compatibility, and exhausting the girls all night.
Next day morning "Divine Seduction," he muttered, brain fritzing. Then his phone buzzed—Ellie Bartowski, craving a "freakout weekend."
Raja bolted to Echo Park, LA, where Ellie pitched a Griffith Park hike. "Camping, stars, us—deal?"
Raja fist-bumped, "I'm your hiker, Doc!"
They trekked Griffith's trails, flirting under pines, and camped under a starry sky, cuddling like rom-com leads. Over marshmallows, Raja bragged, "Got my P.I. license and FBI consultant ID—crime's my playground now."
Ellie's eyes sparkled—until a mama bear crashed their site, sniffing for her cub.
Ellie froze, but Raja grinned, Game on. Reading the bear's vibe with 25% brainpower, he saw her panic.
She lunged; Raja, with Yujiro Hanma-level reflexes, hoisted her 500-pound bulk and slammed her to the dirt—BOOM!—leaving her dizzy.
The cub waddled out, and mama bear, spooked by Raja's wrath, Runaway with her Cub.
Ellie gawked, "You wrestled a bear?!"
Raja kissed her, smirking, "Just another Tuesday, babe." She checked him for scratches, worry fading as he flexed, unharmed.
Camp night becomes lust night with Elli became proactive after witnessing Raja's dominant side in the wild; they fucked like wild savages, releasing their pleasure cries into the jungle without thinking of the consequences.
Post-hike, Raja roamed Manhattan, itching for trouble. Spotting four pals—three dudes, one gal—ducking into MacLaren's bar, he tailed them, sniffing sitcom vibes.
Inside, he scanned their table: Ted, Marshall, Lily, Barney, but no fifth. "Bingo," Raja muttered, ordering five beers and sliding them over like a game-show host.
The gang blinked, confused. "Yo, I'm Raja Wyllt, new in town!" he beamed. "Y'all look fun—let's vibe!"
MAYA: You're buying friends now?
They huddled, whispering, eyeing Raja like he might be a conman. He waved, unfazed, and they returned, cautious.
Ted Mosby, architect and hopeless romantic;
Marshall Eriksen, sweet lawyer bro;
Lily Aldrin, kindergarten teacher and Marshall's ride-or-die;
Barney Stinson, suit-obsessed player with a mysterious job.
Raja turned on the charm, cracking jokes about New York's rats and his P.I. gigs, easing them up. When they learned he was 19, jaws dropped. "Nineteen?!"
Lily squeaked. "With a criminal justice degree and P.I. license? We thought you were 21!"
Barney, eyes gleaming, leaned in. "Real talk, Raja—how many chicks you Fucked?" The gang tensed, but Raja, squirming, laughed, "I don't mess with girls, Barney—women, 20s, 30s, classy. Lost my V-card ages ago, no specifics."
Barney gasped, "You're my new Ted!" and ordered shots.
Raja, vibing, read their palms—predicting Ted's epic love quest, Marshall's dad dreams, Lily's art itch, Barney's suit fetish.
They scoffed, but he whispered secrets—Lily's calf kink, Barney's revenge job—making them gape. "He's legit," Barney whispered.
A brunette wandered in, lost-puppy style—Robin Scherbatsky vibes.
Raja nudged Ted and Barney, "New crew member, watch."
He slid to the bar, flashing a grin. "Hey, I'm Raja. Need a favor—told my pals I'd bring my girlfriend, but I'm solo. Can you play along? I'll cover drinks for you and yours friends if any, and if it's weird, bail anytime. Pretty please?"
She sized up the gang whether they are legit or not but looking at their innocent faces, shrugged. "Robin Scherbatsky, TV reporter, new here. Deal—drinks on you, and I'm out if it's off."
Raja nodded, "You're the boss."
He led her to the table, announcing, "Meet Robin, my girlfriend!" The gang tilted heads, confused, but Raja's wink kept them quiet.
Robin chatted, warming up, and Raja read her palm—dreams of global reporting, daddy issues, gun love.
She blinked, spooked but hooked.
Lily, tipsy, spilled, "Robin, no need to fake it—Raja just wanted you to vibe with us, join the crew!"
Robin laughed, "Sneaky, Wyllt—I'm in the gang."
Raja paid the tab, grinning, and drove Robin to her apartment, her chatter filling the car. "Not bad for a first night," she said, hopping out and kissed him.
Raja waved, peeling off into the New York night, ready for more chaos.
MAYA: You're a sitcom magnet.
"And lovin' it," he shot back.
To Be Continued…