"Stop! Hands up! Hands where I can see them!"
The words echoed through the grand hall like a bad echo in a karaoke bar, shattering the mystical ambiance. Golden runes on the floor flickered erratically, the air thick with the scent of ozone and desperation. In the center of the summoning circle stood a bewildered young man in pajamas, blinking at the ornate throne room around him. He looked like he'd just been yanked from a Netflix binge—messy hair, stained T-shirt reading "World's Okayest Gamer," and a pair of fuzzy slippers that clashed horribly with the medieval decor.
Opposite him, a stunning princess in a flowing gown of silk and jewels froze mid-incantation, her hands still glowing with ethereal light. Her entourage—knights in shining armor, mages with pointy hats, and a couple of wide-eyed maids—gawked in shock. The princess, with her cascading auburn hair and emerald eyes, had the kind of beauty that launched a thousand fanfics. But right now, she looked like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Bursting through a swirling portal of electric blue was the source of the command: a squad of IDP officers, geared up like SWAT meets sci-fi convention. They wore sleek black tactical suits emblazoned with the IDP insignia—a stylized Earth pierced by dimensional arrows. Leading the charge was Commissioner Zane Vortex, Z for short. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a mop of unruly silver hair and a grin that could charm a dragon, Z holstered his phase pistol with theatrical flair.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there, Your Highness," Z said, his voice a smooth baritone laced with amusement. He sauntered forward, hands raised in mock surrender before pointing accusingly. "Illegal summoning in progress? Tsk tsk. That's a Class A multiversal misdemeanor. You know the rules—no poaching Earthlings without a permit."
The princess, recovering her composure, straightened her tiara and huffed. "How dare you intrude upon the sacred rites of Eldoria! I am Princess Elara, heir to the throne, and this… this hero has been chosen by the gods to save our realm from the Dark Lord Vexar!"
Z glanced at the "hero"—the pajama guy, who was now scratching his head and muttering, "Wait, is this a dream? Did I eat bad pizza again?"
"Nah, buddy, this is real," Z replied with a wink. "Name's Zane Vortex, IDP Commissioner. We're here to get you home before you accidentally fulfill some prophecy and mess up your Netflix queue."
The guy—let's call him Mike for now, since he looked like every Mike ever—blinked. "IDP? Like… interdimensional police?"
"Patrol, actually," Z corrected, chuckling. "But close enough. And you, Princess Hot Stuff, are under arrest for unauthorized translocation of a sentient being."
Elara's knights drew their swords, the metal singing as it cleared scabbards. "Insolent cur! You will not lay a hand on Her Highness!"
Z's team fanned out—four officers, each with gadgets that hummed with otherworldly energy. One was a burly woman named Reyes, ex-Marine with a cybernetic arm; another, a lanky tech whiz called Sparks, fiddling with a holographic scanner; then there was Jax, the muscle with a penchant for bad puns; and finally, Lena, the sharpshooter who could hit a flea from across dimensions.
"Stand down, tin cans," Z warned, his tone light but eyes sharpening. "We don't want to turn this into a interdimensional incident. I've got paperwork for days already."
Elara stepped forward, her gown swishing dramatically. "You have no jurisdiction here! Eldoria is sovereign!"
Z pulled out a glowing badge from his pocket, projecting a holographic charter signed by multiversal accords. "Actually, sweetie, the Treaty of Realms says otherwise. Earth ratified it last year after that whole 'truck-kun' epidemic. No more yanking randos for your hero fantasies."
Mike raised a hand timidly. "Uh, can I go home? I have work in the morning."
"See? Consent matters," Z said, nodding approvingly. "Unlike some royals who think magic circles are Tinder for heroes."
Elara's cheeks flushed—part anger, part something else. Z had that effect; his charisma was a weapon in itself. "The Dark Lord will destroy us all! We need a champion!"
Z smirked. "Lady, I've seen a dozen Dark Lords this week. They're like bad exes—always coming back with the same drama. We'll handle Vexar after we book you."
One knight lunged, sword raised. Z sighed, his system pinging internally. Threat level: Minor. Unlocking basic enhancement.
In a blur, Z sidestepped, grabbed the knight's wrist, and twisted. The sword clattered away. "Whoops, butterfingers. Hey, wanna hear a joke? Why did the knight go to therapy? He had too much emotional armor!"
The knight groaned, more from the pun than the pain, as Reyes zip-tied him.
Elara chanted quickly, summoning a barrier of light. "You will not take me!"
Z's eyes gleamed. Opponent power rising—copying arcane shield. His own aura flared, mimicking the barrier but stronger, laced with his essence. He shattered hers with a casual wave. "Nice trick. Mine's better—comes with Wi-Fi."
The princess gasped. "What are you?"
"Commissioner, comedian, and occasional cosmic badass," Z quipped. "Now, hands up, or I'll have to get creative."
As the team subdued the entourage, Z approached Elara. Up close, she was even more striking—curves that could start wars, lips parted in defiance. Z felt a spark, the kind that led to fun detours.
"You know," he murmured, close enough to smell her perfume—lilacs and magic, "we could settle this amicably. Dinner? Discussion? Maybe more?"
Elara's eyes widened, a mix of outrage and intrigue. "You… you jest!"
"Always," Z grinned. "But seriously, resisting arrest adds charges. Play nice, and I'll put in a good word."
She hesitated, then lowered her hands. "Fine. But only because you're… interesting."
Z chuckled, cuffing her with energy bands that hummed softly. "That's what they all say."
Mike watched, bemused. "So, uh, home now?"
Sparks opened a return portal. "Yep. Back to Earth. Enjoy your pizza dreams."
As Mike stepped through, waving awkwardly, Z turned to his team. "Bag 'em and tag 'em. Princess goes to holding for processing."
In the IDP transport shuttle—a sleek vessel that warped through dimensions like a hot knife through butter—Z lounged in the pilot's seat, Elara secured beside him. The entourage was in the back, grumbling.
"So, tell me about this Dark Lord," Z said conversationally. "Big bad wolf type? Or more of a emo vampire?"
Elara glared, but her lips twitched. "Vexar is a ancient evil, commanding legions of shadows. He seeks to consume all light."
"Sounds like my ex on a bad day," Z joked. "Bet he's got a tragic backstory. They always do."
She rolled her eyes. "You mock everything."
"Only the mockable. Life's too short—or infinite, in my case—to be serious."
The shuttle hummed, stars streaking by in hyperspace. Elara shifted, her gown riding up slightly. Z noticed, appreciating the view. "Uncomfortable? I could loosen those cuffs…"
"For what price?" she asked, arching a brow.
Z leaned in. "A story. And maybe a kiss for good luck."
She laughed despite herself—a melodic sound. "You're incorrigible."
"Guilty as charged."
What followed was a detour—consensual, steamy, and strictly no-strings. In the privacy of the captain's quarters, while the team handled navigation, Z and Elara explored mutual curiosities. Her magic intertwined with his power, creating sparks literal and figurative. It was passionate, playful, with Z's jokes eliciting giggles amid moans.
"See? Interdimensional relations at their finest," Z panted afterward, as they dressed.
Elara smirked, adjusting her tiara. "Don't flatter yourself. It was… adequate."
"Ouch. I'll improve next time."
"There won't be a next time."
Z winked. "Wanna bet?"
Back at IDP HQ—a sprawling complex hidden in Earth's Antarctic, shielded by dimensional folds—Elara was processed. Fingerprints, magical scans, the works.
"You'll face the tribunal," Z explained. "Plead guilty, pay the fine, promise no more summons. Easy peasy."
"And Vexar?" she pressed.
Z sighed. "We'll send a team. Or I will, if it escalates."
Her eyes softened. "Thank you. For… everything."
"Anytime, Princess. Stay out of trouble."
As she was led away, Z's comm buzzed. "Commissioner, new alert. Demon lord in Realm 47 summoning college kids for a harem."
Z grinned. "On it. Time for round two."
But as he geared up, his system whispered: Threat horizon expanding. Seals loosening.
The multiverse was just getting started.
Meanwhile, in Eldoria, shadows stirred. Vexar watched through a scrying orb, his voice a rumble. "This commissioner… he intrigues me. Prepare the legions."
Back on Earth, Mike woke in his bed, thinking it a dream—until he found a IDP business card on his nightstand. "Call if you need us. -Z"
The patrol continued.
Z assembled his team in the briefing room. "Alright, folks, next stop: Demon harem bust. Sparks, hack the portal. Reyes, bring the big guns. Jax, work on your puns—they're killing me more than the bad guys. Lena, eyes sharp."
Jax grinned. "Why did the demon go to school? To improve his hell-raising!"
Groans echoed. Z laughed. "That's the spirit. Let's roll."
The shuttle launched, piercing realms. En route, Z reflected. Power sealed, but itching. Opponents would grow stronger, unlocking more. He copied, adapted, dominated. But the jokes? Those were all him.
In Realm 47, a sleazy demon lord chanted over a circle, pulling co-eds from a frat party. Portals flared.
"Stop! Hands up!" Z's voice boomed as they arrived.
The demon snarled. "Who dares?"
"Z Vortex, IDP. Your harem party's over. Consent forms or bust."
Battle ensued—fireballs, laser blasts, copied demon magic turned against its master. Z quipped relentlessly: "Why don't demons play hide and seek? Because good luck hiding from taxes—or me!"
The demon despaired, crumbling under the verbal assault as much as the physical.
Victory secured, victims returned. Z shared a quick fling with a grateful succubus informant—fun, fleeting, no commitments.
Back at HQ, reports piled. More summons, bigger threats. Z's power hummed, ready for escalation.
Little did he know, a conspiracy brewed across infinities, targeting him.
But for now, the patrol marched on, one bust at a time.