Raja blinked back to the main world at Chaos Villa, fresh from 15 years in Elysium, only to find a mere six hours had ticked by. "Time dilation's my bitch," he grinned, stretching like he'd just napped through a movie.
Eager for some R&R, he rounded up the Queens of Shadow Corp—Beth, Rose, and Kandi—and whisked them to a private beach resort.
Days were a blur of cooking gourmet feasts, rubbing sunscreen on curvaceous bodies, and splashing in the surf like oversexed merpeople.
Nights? Pure chaos—Raja fucked their brains out until they collapsed, exhausted, giggling, and begging for mercy.
MAYA: "Master, you've turned this vacation into a pornographic cooking show!"
Post-vacation, Raja sauntered into Shadow Corp's sleek office, handing the Queens a stack of medical formulas from Elysium—forgotten pre-Med-Pod recipes for diseases, with minimal side effects and maximum potency.
Their jaws dropped at the treasure trove, each formula a pharmaceutical goldmine. "This is bigger than Pfizer," Beth gasped.
Raja smirked. "Set up a company in India, tie up with the central government, and make India the sole producer. Export globally, but keep it our hub. Local politicians sniffing around? Let Dobby handle them—silently."
He winked, knowing Dobby's "diplomacy" involved creative disappearance of trouble. "Make Shadow Corp India's manufacturing beast and freeze out the competition."
As Raja strolled out, he spotted Sylvia, Beth's assistant and a former con woman he'd tangled with in D.C., now rocking a sexy secretary vibe—tight skirt, glasses, pure bombshell.
She froze, flustered, and bolted for her office when she saw him.
Raja, stunned by her panic, chased her down, pinning her to the wall with a playful grin. "Oye! What's with the sprint? Am I a monster now?"
Sylvia, blushing crimson, stammered, "Master Raja, humble apologies! I didn't know you were the Shadow Monarch, the man of the three Queens!"
Raja chuckled, easing off. "Nah, I'm just their boy toy, financier, and occasional executioner. Hey I Missed that marshmallow body of yours. Weekend trip, you and me?"
Sylvia shook her head, flustered. "I can't! I'm Beth's personal assistant, swamped with real estate deals."
Raja smirked, yelling, "Yo, Beth, I'm stealing Sylvia for a weekend trip!"
Beth snorted from her office. "Womanizer, don't break her! Take one of your sex friends too."
Raja's evil grin landed on Sylvia, who trembled, blushing as he squeezed her ass, whispering, "Hardcore fun, incoming."
He dialed Penny, his cheese cake fling, pitching a Japan trip. She squealed, "Hell yeah!" without hesitation.
Raja scooped up Penny and roared to Shadow Corp's airstrip, where Sylvia waited nervously in a private jet.
To ease Penny's nerves, Raja spun a BS tale: "I'm Sylvia's boy toy, a rich gal who's cool with me bringing another woman for a chill Japan trip."
Penny, intimidated by Sylvia's polished vibe, relaxed as Sylvia, leaning on her con-woman charm, chatted her up like an old pal.
After an eight-hour flight filled with giggles and champagne, Penny and Sylvia were BFFs, plotting shopping sprees.
In Japan, Raja led them to a high-end hot springs hotel nestled in misty mountains, then secretly swapped their clothes for skimpy, custom-bought outfits.
As the girls prepped for the hot spring, they found their dresses replaced with porn-star bikinis, Sylvia smirking, "Raja's handiwork."
Penny, shocked, laughed as Sylvia explained his antics.
Raja, lounging in the steaming spring, feigned disappointment at their bathrobes, but when they dropped them, revealing curvaceous, bikini-clad bodies, his "pole" saluted at 90 degrees.
"Ladies, get in here," he growled, pulling them into a hug, kissing and squeezing their curves. The spring erupted in moans, gasps, flesh-slapping sounds, and orgasmic cries for two hours, Raja orchestrating a steamy symphony, their combined efforts on his "pole" leaving the water frothy.
For two days, Raja had them roleplay in wild costumes—naughty nurses, cavewomen in the woods—savoring every debauched moment.
Exhausted but glowing, the trio jetted back to the USA, Penny and Sylvia now inseparable BFFs, unbothered by sharing Raja.
Sylvia, impressed by Penny's spark, offered her a movie role at Shadow Corp's production arm.
Penny, ecstatic, kissed Sylvia, their lust reigniting. They dragged Raja into a mid-flight passion fest, the jet's cabin a tangle of limbs.
Back in America, Raja blinked to Chaos Villa, itching for a new sci-fi haul—tech, bloodlines, maybe a virus or two.
"Dobby, I'm soul-sleeping to another world," Raja announced, sliding into the Enchanted Pod of Safety.
"MAYA, fire up soul reincarnation to the DOOM movie universe."
The pod hummed, and Raja materialized in 2025's DOOM world, where the Union Aerospace Corporation's Olduvai Research Facility on Mars was under ominous quarantine. Using his Chaos Watch, Raja hacked a satellite, crafting a fake special forces identity loaded with PhDs and redacted missions. Tracking the general overseeing the Mars op at Twenty-Nine Palms' Marine Corps RRTS HQ, Raja used Telepathy to slip his name onto the Rapid Response Tactical Squad's roster.
At RRTS HQ, the general sent a voice message to squad leader Sarge, a cool, calm The Rock lookalike, with Raja's sealed credentials.
Sarge, scanning Raja's resume—elite special forces, a PhD list longer than a CVS receipt, and blacked-out missions—raised his iconic eyebrow, impressed.
"This guy's a one-man army," he muttered.
Sarge stormed into the team room, where his squad—gearing up for vacation—groaned as he announced, "Leave's canceled. We got a mission." Low curses rippled, but they fell in line.
As the team boarded the chopper, they spotted Raja, 6'2", ripped, in RRT squad gear, waiting like a statue.
Raja saluted Sarge, voice crisp. "Rudra Raja, IDxxxx, reporting for mission duty, sir. Honor to work with you, Commander Sarge."
Sarge shook his hand, sizing him up. "Likewise, Rudra. Your resume's… unusual."
Raja chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Raised as a soldier, studying's my hobby."
The team grabbed their DNA-locked guns, each verifying: "Destroyer," a hulking Black man; "Mac," a sharp-eyed Asian; "Portman," a leering pervert; "Goat," a religious zealot; "Kid," a nervous rookie; "Duke," another Black man with swagger; "Sarge," the stoic leader. A latecomer, "Reaper," joined, followed by Raja's gun, ID'd as "Chaos."
Kid, jittery, asked about their destination, the ARK. Duke clapped his shoulder. "Don't sweat it, rookie."
Sarge grilled Reaper about his sister, a scientist at Olduvai. "When'd you last see her?"
Reaper's jaw tightened. "Ten years."
The team choppered to the UAC ARK facility in Nevada, meeting Sandford, a jittery PR officer.
Reaper asked, "How many stuck in Olduvai?"
Sandford replied, "Eighty-five."
The squad circled the ARK's teleportation core, Sarge ordering, "Lock it for six hours—standard quarantine."
They stepped through a wormhole, the ARK, landing on Mars.
Technician Marcus "Pinky" Pinzerowski greeted them, explaining the Ark was sealed when alarms tripped to protect the teleporter.
Sarge synced their weapon cams, ordered Mac to guard Pinky, and led the team into the sealed zone, Raja's Chaos gun gleaming, ready for whatever hell awaited.
To Be Continued…