Wizard King’s Taipei Takedown

Raja Rudra Wyllt, Supreme Wizard King, Chaos Incarnate, and Multiverse's Snarkiest Showman, strutted into Wyllt Industries, fresh from his Limitless romp. Fred and George Weasley, his ginger lieutenants, gaped as he slapped a sleek handheld device on the table—a magical smartphone prototype, glowing with runes. "Boys," Raja grinned, "meet the WylltPhone. Texts, spells, and Snape's scowl as the wallpaper. Revolution starts now."

Fred whistled. "Blimey, Raja, Muggle tech's got nothing on this!"

George nodded. "When's it hit Diagon Alley?"

"Soon," Raja winked, already plotting. "Polish it, lads. I've got worlds to crash."

Back at his penthouse, Raja flipped through the latest Muggle Studies book, hot off the press after his Rita Skeeter interview. It drooled over Wyllt Industries' tech—drones, hoverboards, magical VR. "Not bad," Raja muttered, tossing it aside. "Rita didn't lie too much."

He swung by the Forbidden Forest villa, where Hoggi (Hogwarts' sentient spirit) and Myr (Merlin's grimoire) trained like mystical gym bros. Ragnarok, Raja's black-gold dragon, wrestled Fawkes the phoenix, while they brewed potions that smelled like chaos and candy. "Looking ripped, Hoggi!" Raja called. Myr glowed, pages fluttering. "Keep those elixirs spicy, gang."

Boredom nipped at Raja's heels. "MAYA!" he barked, lounging on a conjured throne. "I'm done with normal. Show me supernatural and sci-fi movie worlds—gimme the good stuff."

MAYA: Master, your definition of 'normal' includes toppling cabals. Scanning… Here's the list: Doom, Lucy, Chronicle, Resident Evil, Terminator, My Super Ex-Girlfriend, Brightburn, Matrix, Jurassic Park, Star Wars, Predator, Marvel, DC, and more.

Raja tapped his chin. "Too many capes. Action movies—hit me."

MAYA: John Wick, Fast and Furious, Mission Impossible, Kingsman, Taken, The Equalizer, Raid—pick your poison.

Raja's eyes lit up. "Lucy. That CPH4 drug—god-mode in a baggie. I want the formula. Set me in Lucy's world, one month before the movie kicks off."

MAYA: Confirmed. Lucy universe, Taipei, one month pre-plot. Buckle up.

Raja soul blinked into Taipei's neon jungle, the chilly air smacking his face like a wet noodle. Dressed in a black hoodie and jeans—Drip Supreme dialed high—he scanned the bustling streets. One month to infiltrate the underworld, arm up, and snag Lucy before she went full deity. Easy? Nah. Fun? Hell yeah.

"Step one: cash and Chaos," Raja muttered. No underworld bowed to broke boys, so he needed a computer. Charm was his weapon, and Taipei's supermarkets were his battlefield. He strolled into a fluorescent-lit store, spotting a tired Taiwanese mom in the cereal aisle, her cart half-full. Raja cranked his Puss in Boots face—wide eyes, quivering lip, pure innocence.

"Excuse me, Beautiful madam," he said, Mandarin smooth thanks to MAYA's crash course. "I'm lost—can I use your computer to find my way? Please?"

She squinted, suspicion fading as maternal vibes kicked in. "Fine. A few minutes."

Raja flashed a grin—step one, nailed. At her apartment, he hijacked her PC, pulling up Google Maps and underworld hotspots: shady bars, clubs, brothels. He memorized gang territories, swiped a few bills from her husband's forgotten wallet, and dipped with a "Thank you, Madam!" She'd never know she'd bankrolled Taipei's reckoning.

By nightfall, Raja hit the city's grimiest district, whistling like a kid in a candy store. Dark alleys were his vibe, but trouble found him fast. A bag dropped over his head, and rough hands yanked him off the street. Raja smirked under the sack. "Showtime."

They dragged him to a warehouse reeking of blood and fear—classic organ-trafficking den. Cages held women and kids, some missing eyes, others trembling. Raja's gut churned, rage simmering. "Organ harvesters," he thought. "Gift-wrapped scum, just for me."

Dumped in a cell, he faced a terrified woman shielding kids. "Don't stress," Raja grinned. "Back in a sec. Keep 'em safe." She nodded, confused but clinging to hope. He spat a pin from his mouth, picking the lock with pickpocket finesse, and slipped out.

MAYA: Master, I've scanned the building—30 threats, marked. Go wild.

Raja moved like a ghost, all Agent 47 swagger. First guard: choked out, silent. Second: sleeper hold, down. He weaved through shadows, dropping bodies without a peep—mercy wasn't his style, but bloodless suited tonight. On the third floor, two goons with AK-47s patrolled. Raja tipped a crate, luring them. As they rounded the corner, he pounced—knee to gut, elbow to neck, both out cold.

"AKs?" Raja whispered, snagging one. "This ain't Die Hard, losers."

He swiped a guard's uniform, strolling into the operating room where a sleazy doctor loomed over a girl, scalpel gleaming. Raja's blood boiled. He crept close, breath hot on the doc's neck. "What's up, Doc?"

The guy yelped, spinning—Raja's fist crashed into his jaw, lights out. He scooped the girl, carried her to the cell, and faced the captives. "Anyone got cop or lawyer kin?"

A woman and a boy raised hands. "Call 'em tomorrow," Raja said. "Stay quiet tonight. I've got cleanup."

Outside, Raja tied the gang to a truck container, mixing warehouse chemicals into a slow-burn sludge. As they woke, groggy and panicking, he poured it at their feet and struck a match. The gang leader screamed, "Who are you?!"

Raja leaned back, smirking. "You burn lives. Now feel the heat."

Flames crept up, their pleas drowned by crackling fire. Raja watched, stone-cold, letting justice roast. From that night, he was Vengeance—Taipei's underworld boogeyman. He hit traffickers hard, snatching cash and guns, his name a hissed curse in dark corners. Kids slept safer; criminals didn't.

One month later, Raja leaned on a stolen car outside a glitzy hotel, eyeing Lucy through the lobby glass. She bickered with her sleazeball boyfriend, hesitant but taking the drug-delivery job. Soon, she'd be nabbed, CPH4 stitched in her gut, kicked into godhood. Raja tailed her to a warehouse, where mafia goons roughed her up, leaving her out cold.

He moved fast, slipping inside. Guards dropped—one throat punch, one head slam—no flair, just results. He lifted Lucy, slung her over his shoulder, and peeled out to his safehouse, before that putting some C4 in the goons den and blasting it to high heavens, and reaching the dingy flat stacked with med gear.

In his makeshift OR, Raja scrubbed up, tools gleaming. He sliced into Lucy's stomach, gentle as a surgeon, pulling the CPH4 packet—most dissolved, 5 grams left. He stashed it, "Cracking the formula, after reaching the main world," he muttered, stitching Lucy up.

Slumped in a chair, Raja watched her sleep, CPH4 sparking her ascent. "Can she read my mind?" he asked.

MAYA: Nope, boss. Your real thoughts are locked tight—only fake memories for her.

Raja exhaled, smirking. "Good. Ain't ready for her to know I'm geeking out like a Comic-Con nerd."

He leaned back, guarding Lucy, waiting for her eyes to flutter open, the god-switch about to flip.

To Be Continued…