Author's Note (a.k.a. My Villain Origin Story?):So apparently... only 14 comments. FOURTEEN. Not fifteen. Not fifty. Just... one-four, like a discount horror movie sequel. 😭
Are y'all secret agents sent to silently observe my downfall? Did my fanfic accidentally cast "Silencio Maxima" on everyone reading it? Am I writing in a cursed language only understood by squirrels?
I'm starting to wonder if I should toss this whole fanfic into the Abyss and start fresh with a new one called "How to Write a Story No One Comments On: A Tragedy in Fourteen Parts."
But seriously, fellow readers (and lurking phantoms), I need guidance! Drop a comment, a review, a cryptic emoji, even a dramatic gasp will do. Help me figure out if I should:A) Continue this beautiful chaotic messB) Pivot to another chaotic messC) Fake my death and come back as a new author with a moustache and a mysterious backstory
Your move, internet. I await your judgment. 🎭✍️
Raja, still tingling from the slaps and kisses of Alice, Rain, and Jill, flashed a grin at the badass Shadow Queens in the smoldering ruins of L.A. "So, what's this 'Shadow King' stuff Umbrella's yapping about?"
Alice, all business, shot back, "We'll spill after we bug out—Umbrella's satellites will lock this place in an hour."
Raja nodded, eyes glinting. "Then I gotta move fast. We've got survivors and a pile of clones to transport." As if on cue, Carlos and the convoy rolled up, dust swirling.
Carlos, grinning, hugged Alice, Rain, and Jill, introducing Claire and the ragtag crew—K-Mart, Mikey, Chase, Otto, and Nurse Betty—each looking like they'd seen a ghost and a superhero in one day.
MAYA: "Master, you're juggling clones, queens, and convoys like a chaotic circus ringleader!"
Raja darted back to the underground Hive, his boots echoing in the blood-smeared halls. Using Telepathy, he put the 30 Alice clones in stasis, their developed forms slumping peacefully.
He covered them with tarps, then faced the White Queen's hologram. "Wipe all Alice clone data, blood, DNA—nuke it." The AI complied, erasing Umbrella's twisted research.
Raja absorbed the White Queen's core into his Chaos Watch, stashing it alongside all Hive data, clone-processing tech, and T-virus samples in his interdimensional inventory. With Telekinesis, he levitated the clones out, arranging them gently on the surface.
He rigged an Elysium bomb to level the Hive, its timer ticking ominously. The sight of 30 Alice clones sent Alice into a rage, her fists clenched, while the convoy gaped, horrified.
Raja, calm, assured her, "They're safe now, and Umbrella's data is toast."
Using his Chaos Watch, Raja jammed Umbrella's satellite trackers, cloaking their escape.
He herded the convoy and clones onto the Queens' helicopter, the group scrambling aboard as the Hive's bomb ticked down.
They lifted off, vanishing into the sky just as Umbrella's satellites swept the area, finding nothing but rubble.
The chopper soared to Alaska's vast forests, landing near a hidden cave.
Raja whistled, and a waterfall parted like a sci-fi Batcave, revealing a tunnel.
The convoy, clones, and Queens entered, jaws dropping at a sprawling military base inside the mountain—soldiers and techs buzzing, operating like a doomsday fortress.
Helicopters touched down on a heli-pad, the Badass Queen Trio—Alice, Rain, and Jill—disembarking to salutes from personnel, who treated them like generals, handing over reports.
Alice barked, "Get the convoy cleaned, fed, and rested. Take my clones to the hospital wing—check them thoroughly."
She glanced at Raja, geeking out over the base's tech, and sighed. "Ignore the chaos monger for now."
Turning to him, she snapped, "You, troublemaker, follow us."
Raja, grinning ear to ear, trailed the Queens like a giddy puppy, his Demi-God Swagger dialed up.
They led him to a sleek room, tossing him a fresh outfit. "Clean up, hotshot."
Raja bathed, using Telepathy to scan the base. Holy shit, he thought, this place is a mountain-sized fortress! Housing 20,000 people, it boasted armories, medical bays, research labs, and a fleet of helicopters, jets, jeeps, and speed tanks—an American doomsday bunker on steroids.
Emerging in a Nick Fury-esque black coat, Raja found the Queens waiting in crisp black uniforms, looking like they ran the apocalypse.
They escorted him to the base's highest point, a command platform with a glass desk setup. Alice took charge, touching the desk, activating an Iron Man-style interface. A camera scanned her, projecting her hologram across the base's screens.
"All personnel and inhabitants of Shadow Den," Alice's voice boomed, "this is your commander, Alice, speaking. I need your attention to introduce the man behind our resistance, our will, our hope, and the spiritual leader of the Shadow Resistance, fighting for humanity's survival from day one. With pride, I present your Shadow King!"
She waved at Raja, who stood stunned, mouth agape at the glowing praise.
Rain and Jill, smirking, shoved him forward.
Raja faced the camera, his hologram beaming across the base, his 20-year-old, nerdy Indian face shocking the 20,000-strong crowd, who expected a grizzled warlord, not a college kid.
With a goofy grin, Raja waved. "Hi!" The base fell silent, personnel exchanging skeptical glances, muttering, "This is our Shadow King?"
Rain and Jill burst out laughing, while Alice twitched, slapping the back of his head. "Talk properly, idiot!" The crowd gasped, floored by Alice manhandling their supposed leader, doubts intensifying.
Raja, rubbing his head, faced the camera, his goofy demeanor vanishing. His aura shifted, eyes burning with veteran resolve, Demi-God Swagger radiating like a supernova. Channeling Subhas Chandra Bose, he gripped the desk, voice steady and commanding, silencing every whisper.
"People of the Shadow Resistance," Raja began, his tone cutting through the air like a blade, "we face a war not just for survival, but for the soul of humanity. Umbrella, those corporate vipers, unleashed the T-virus to wipe out our world, turning our families into monsters while their elites cower in underground Hives—fortresses in Tokyo, Nevada, and beyond. Their plan? Exterminate us, repopulate with brainwashed clones as their servants, ruling as gods over a dead Earth. But I've seen their data, raided their Hives, and I know their every move. They think they've won, but they've awakened a storm—us."
The crowd leaned in, eyes wide, hearts pounding. Raja's voice rose, fierce and unwavering. "I've collected intel on every Umbrella base, their virus labs, their clone factories. We're not just fighting to survive—we're fighting to end them. I believe in an anti-virus, airborne and unstoppable, that'll purge the T-virus, cleanse our air, and give us back a green, thriving Earth. We'll rebuild our cities, our homes, our future—not as Umbrella's slaves, but as free people, building a utopia where no one bows to tyrants. This is our war, our moment, and we will not falter!"
The base erupted, soldiers and civilians roaring, fists pumping, blood boiling with defiance. Raja pressed on, voice thundering. "I, Rudra D. Raja Kumara, Shadow King of the Shadow Resistance, promise you this: I will guide you through this darkness, fight beside you, and tear Umbrella's empire to the ground. We'll save what's left of humanity, restore our world, and make those bastards pay for every life they've stolen. Who's with me?"
The crowd exploded, chants of "Shadow King!" shaking the mountain, their doubts obliterated, every soul ready to follow Raja into hell itself.
To Be Continued…