Rudra D. Raja Kumara, led his ragtag, multiracial squad through the alien jungle like a kid hyped up on magical Red Bull.
His Chaos Watch hummed faintly, its sleek new design barely noticeable under his tactical vest. The team—Royce the mercenary, Isabelle the IDF sniper, Nikolai the Spetsnaz soldier, Cuchillo the cartel enforcer, and Hanzo the silent Yakuza—trailed him, their guns ready and their patience thin.
"Keep up, people!" Raja chirped. "More sky-droppers are this way. Let's make some friends before the jungle eats us!"
They reached a clearing and froze. A white guy in a prison jumpsuit was trading blows with a Black man in African warlord gear, their fists flying like a low-budget action flick.
Raja leaned against a tree, grinning. "Royce, I'm betting on the African dude. He's got that 'I've seen some shit' vibe. What's your pick?"
Royce sighed, rubbing his temples. "Kid, you're gonna give me an aneurysm." Isabelle, Nikolai, and Cuchillo exchanged looks, their faces screaming, We're used to his nonsense now. Hanzo just stared, probably plotting how to ninja-vanish from this circus.
Raja clapped his hands, undeterred. "Gentlemen, we're in an unknown jungle, no clue how we got here, and your first move is a cage match? Come on, we're better than this! What did Gandhi say? 'Take both eyes, and the world goes blind' or something."
Isabelle's eye twitched. "Gandhi didn't say it like that, Raja. It's 'an eye for an eye.'"
"Tomato, tamato," Raja shrugged, dodging a flying pebble from the brawl.
The prisoner, panting, glared at them. "You with the Black guy? If not, mind your fuckin' business."
Raja raised an eyebrow. "Hey, man, look around. We've got bigger problems than your petty fistfight. It's always the white man's drama, isn't it? We're a rainbow coalition here—join the party."
The prisoner smirked. "Fine, boss. Strength in numbers, huh?"
The African guy grabbed the prisoner's collar. "I'm finishing what you started, white man!"
"Yeah?" the prisoner sneered. "Maybe we should help that guy first." He pointed to a tree where a plain-looking dude hung upside down, his parachute tangled, yelling, "Somebody help me!"
Raja grinned at Royce. "Shoot the branch, will ya? Let's save Mr. Screamy."
Royce, muttering about babysitting, fired a single shot. The branch snapped, and the guy plummeted into a muddy puddle with a splat.
"Nailed it," Raja said, giving Royce a thumbs-up.
The newcomers introduced themselves: Mombasa, an RUF officer; Stans, an American death row inmate; Hanzo, the stoic Yakuza; and Edwin, a jittery American doctor.
Raja clapped his hands. "Dream team! Teamwork makes the dream work!" He broke into a rendition of Luffy's "Mina Mina" from One Piece, bouncing like a caffeinated pirate.
The team groaned, but the tension eased—except for Hanzo, who looked ready to seppuku himself out of embarrassment.
Hanzo, scouting ahead, froze and pointed to a blue boomerang-shaped structure covered in skulls. "Trophy pile," he said, his first words all day.
The team gathered, spooked. Mombasa spoke first. "The warrior with the most trophies should lead."
Nikolai scoffed. "We are getting tested, who cracks under pressure."
Isabelle rolled her eyes. "We're not all soldiers, genius."
Cuchillo grinned. "Kidnap for ransom. Classic."
Stans, licking his lips, suggested, "Drug 'em. Experiment on 'em."
Edwin, the doctor, shook his head. "Drugs just slow motor function. This isn't behavioral research—it's random."
Mombasa's pitched best theory " Maybe we're dead. This is hell."
Royce "Last time I checked, to enter hell there is no need for a parachute."
Royce turned to Raja. "Kid, you're hiding something. Spill it."
Raja smirked, twirling his Enchanted Arnold Knife. "I've got the highest IQ in history, folks. I've got a theory, but you'll laugh, so I'm keeping it zipped."
Isabelle aimed her sniper rifle at the sky, exasperated. "We've heard Mombasa's 'hell' pitch and Stan's' drug experiment fever dream. Spill it, Raja, or I'll shoot the next bird that flies by."
Raja sighed dramatically. "Fine. It's ridiculous, but… we're abducted by aliens."
Silence. Then the group erupted in laughter, Stans doubled over, wheezing. "Aliens? Kid, you're nuts!"
Raja pouted. "Hey! Isabelle, you promised no laughing!"
Royce, still chuckling, walked off. "Doesn't matter why we're here. The question is, how do we get out?"
Isabelle called after him. "Where are you going?"
"High ground," Royce shouted. "Follow me."
Raja jogged to catch up. "Oi, merc bastard! Don't steal my captain spot! I'm leading this jungle jamboree!" He struck a pose, pointing forward. "To the hill!"
The team trudged through the jungle, Raja's goofy antics—humming anime themes and doing impromptu cartwheels—driving Isabelle and Royce to the edge of sanity.
Nikolai muttered about vodka shortages, while Stans kept eyeing Edwin suspiciously.
After hours of trekking, Raja clapped. "Break time, crew! Your captain orders a breather. Isabelle, Royce, sidebar."
He pulled them aside, grinning. "You two are more frustrated than a wizard stuck in a Muggle traffic jam. What's up?"
Isabelle, flustered, grabbed a leaf and a pin, putting it in a water Puddle and it the leaf rotating in circles "The magnetic field's all fucked up. Nothing makes sense."
Royce glared at Raja. "And the sun hasn't moved since we got here. You knew, didn't you, kid? Still acting like this is a field trip."
Raja smirked, unfazed. "Guilty. I'm just built different."
Isabelle snapped, "What's going on, Royce?"
Royce scanned the group. "Look at us: Spetsnaz, cartel, Yakuza, RUF, FBI's most wanted, IDF sniper, Raja—a super soldier—and me, a merc. We're heavy hitters. Except the doctor. He doesn't belong."
Isabelle frowned. "Belong to what?"
"I'd say we were chosen," Royce said darkly.
Raja's smirk widened, his eyes flicking to Edwin, who was fidgeting in the distance. "Oh, the doctor belongs, alright." He leaned in, voice low. "He's a serial killer. Never caught. Gives me the chills."
Isabelle and Royce whipped their heads toward Edwin, jaws slack. "What?" they chorused.
Raja winked. "Trust the Chaos King's instincts."
The team resumed their trek, reaching a fallen container draped with a parachute. Weapons drawn, they approached cautiously.
Raja yanked the cover off, revealing… a swarm of glowing bugs. "Well, that's anticlimactic," he said, swatting one away.
Mombasa pointed upward. "Look!" Dozens of open containers hung in the trees, their contents long gone. The team exchanged spooked glances.
They pressed on, but Mombasa tripped, his foot catching a hidden wire. Raja's eyes widened. "Everybody move! It's a trap!"
Chaos erupted. Wooden spikes shot from the ground, narrowly missing Hanzo. Spears rained from the trees, and massive logs swung like pendulums. The team scattered, dodging death by inches. Isabelle, sprinting, tumbled into a spiked pit, grabbing a vine just in time. "Help!" she screamed.
Raja, moving like a cheetah on energy potions, skidded to her side, yanking her up with one hand. "Gotcha!" He spun, pointing. "Royce, 12 o'clock, 100 meters, take him down!"
Royce fired, and a thud echoed. The team regrouped, staring at a corpse with a gaping chest wound. Raja rifled through its pockets, pulling out dog tags. "US Special Forces, Afghanistan. Been dead for a long time."
Edwin, pale, muttered, "Two weeks decomposition rate confirms it."
Nikolai growled, "His last stand. Shot everything."
Stans scratched his head. "Why set traps for us?"
Royce shook his head. "Not for us. Something bigger. Look at the trap size. Something walked through and killed him."
Mombasa froze, staring into the trees. Raja, catching his gaze, whispered, "Come with me, buddy." He dragged Mombasa aside, leaving Isabelle suspicious. "What's he hiding now?" she muttered.
The team pushed on, reaching a peak. The horizon revealed a jaw-dropping sight: multiple planets looming in the sky, their glow bathing the jungle.
Raja's laughter started soft, then exploded into a maniacal cackle straight out of The Eminence in Shadow. "Fuck yeah, in your face, you damn peasants! Look who's laughing now!" He launched into a Telugu movie-style mass dance, hips swinging, arms flailing.
The team, fed up, aimed their guns at him. Isabelle barked, "Spill every goddamn theory in that chaotic brain, Raja. Why are we here?"
Raja froze mid-dance, hands up. "Okay, chill! My Why Wild theory: we're all killers—Spetsnaz, cartel, Yakuza, RUF, sniper, merc, and me, the super soldier. Add in the skull trophies, fucked-up magnetic field, unmoving sun, dead soldier's traps, and those planets…"
He smirked evilly. "We're abducted by aliens, chosen for our combat skills, and dropped here as prey for their hunters."
Silence. Then, as one, the team cursed, "Fuck."
Raja grinned, twirling his knife. "So, folks, get ready to be hunted. Welcome to the alien jungle!"