The man’s expression didn’t waver. He stepped closer, boots striking the floor with crisp precision, voice like iron drawn from habit.

“I am Captain Pluto Jews,” he said again—measured, deliberate, each syllable heavy with the authority of someone used to being obeyed. “Affiliated with the Hercules Command. You will address me properly.”

Then, with a faint curl of his lip, he added, “Phantom Flame.”

Rudra went rigid. The air in the cabin thickened, every sound muffled except the thud of his pulse. “Don’t call me that,” he said, low and sharp, the words like glass barely holding together.

“Alright, alright—Caitlyn’s brat,” Pluto countered, tone casual but eyes cold, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But we didn’t fish you out of that wreck for charity. You’re here because we need you.”

Rudra’s answer came before he could even think. “No.”

Madison shifted beside the bed, crossing her arms, her voice softer, almost apologetic. “You… are to return to Handpump, amigo.”

“No,” Rudra said again, this time the refusal carried weight—like something final. His knuckles whitened against the sheets, but his eyes stayed locked on Pluto.

“Didn’t ask,” Pluto said flatly. “Choices are a luxury, and luxuries die first when the world starts ending. You’ve only got two options—and neither of them is ‘no.’”

Pluto’s smirk didn’t falter. “Bigger, way bigger—for an eight-year-old.”

Madison blinked, doing the math aloud. “Wait—if he was eight years old seven years ago…” Her brow furrowed, then she muttered in Portuguese, “Caralho! That means you’re only fifteen?!” she said looking at the picture.

Rudra stared blankly at her, crimson eyes dull with exhaustion. “And what, you expect me to start crying about being a child soldier?” he said flatly.

Madison opened her mouth, closed it again, then frowned. “I mean… I was gonna at least pretend to be shocked.”

“But you’re tall,” she continued after a pause, scanning him up and down. “Like—six-four? Six-five? I’d know, I’m six-two.”

“Genetics,” Rudra replied casually, flexing a shoulder. “My grandfather was tall. My father was too. Also, good diet—protein, calcium, vitamin D. The Jailer made sure I ate well enough in that dark box back in Kala Paani. But honestly, I’d say it’s my pituitary gland—genrationally cracked.”

He stood up and stretched his arms like a gym instructor. “There’s this one stretch you can do, actually—helps open the spine’s growth canal. You just—”

Pluto cut in sharply. “Excuse me, Mr. Nutritionalist. We have actual business to discuss.”

Rudra mumbled under his breath, “Long-nosed bastard.”

Pluto’s single eye twitched. “What was that?”

“Nothing! Nothing,” Rudra said quickly, hands raised. “I wasn’t calling you ugly, I swear—I was just calling a Je—”

“Don’t.”

“—t engine of discipline,” Rudra improvised instantly, grinning nervously. “You’re like a jet engine, sir. All… pressure and noise.”

Madison snorted again, shaking her head. “Meu Deus,” she said, still laughing. “You’re seriously going to get yourself spaced before breakfast, amigo.”

Rudra just rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, “The things I wanted to say… would’ve taken this whole webnovel down for anti-Semitism.”

Madison froze mid-step, wrench hovering. “What webnovel?”

Rudra blinked, frowning. “What webnovel?” he repeated, genuinely confused, tilting his head like he was trying to solve a puzzle only he could see.

[Charachter Note: He has 4rth wall breaking shiznophrenia where he breaks the 4rth wall without knowing it]