“For heaven's sake! Does your husband know you're here?” Lady Evelyne asked the late visitor at the back door of her kitchen, slightly horrified. “And your alliance partner? Are you sure you won't get into trouble?”
Kitana from 656 quickly and quietly flitted into the kitchen like a shadow. She giggled. “My husband knows, but I don't let him tell me what to do anyway. The alliance partner doesn't know, but I don't let them tell me anything either. Does anyone else need to know? I don't think so!”
She hugged the lady warmly. “How are you, my dear? We miss you terribly!”
The lady returned the hug with warmth.
“I'm doing very well, thank you! Apart from the fact that I'm still missing the promised spa hotel, of course, but I'm hoping that the boss will remedy the situation at some point and have one built. How are you?”
Kitana waved her hand. “Don't ask! We've been through a terrible city war. Both sides were screaming for you and cursing the fact that you changed cities. Argh. Never mind. Right now we have a truce of sorts, we hope it holds.”
She looked around curiously. “But the kitchen here has a significantly different dimension to the one on 656!”
Lady Evelyne sighed: “There are a lot more people here! And Marzzzz slips new, updated membership lists under my door every day. There are more every day!”
Kitana grinned: “You don't want to come back? It's much less stressful here!”
The lady grinned too. “Is that why you came here?”
Kitana shook her head. “No, I have two reasons. Firstly, an invitation. To you and Genny.” She placed two cards on the table. “A little show at our dungeon. It's full and we want some of those - well. Everyone's begging for invitations to watch, but we only want you and Genny there.”
Lady Evelyne laughed heartily. “Oh, we're very honored! Thank you! No wonder everyone wants to go. I'm sure Genny will be delighted too. And reason 2?”
Kitana looked determined: “I want to take lessons! In baking cakes! With you!”
Lady Evelyne burst out laughing. “This is the first time anyone has ever wanted to learn something from me! I'm very flattered!”
Kitana looked a little uncertain. “You know, everyone here wants cake now too... they're always reading about it in your book... everyone's always hungry... will you do it, will you teach me?”
“Of course,” said Lady Evelyne gleefully, ”it's not that difficult. If you manage to sneak across the city limits regularly, we'll manage. Just make sure no one catches you!”
“I will,” Kitana promised. “And you and Genny take good care when you visit us, okay? I'll come to the first lesson tomorrow evening, if it's convenient for you too!”
And just as stealthily as the visitor had arrived, she disappeared again.
__________________________________________
In the White House on 642, Mr. Trump had happily signed his first decrees.
This day had gone much better than all the others, because the cake bowls had finally fallen off the heads at TTH, and most had failed to replace them in time. As a result, TTH was on fire. Almost all of them. And their cries in the distance were music to Mr. Trump's ears.
Now he was tinkering with a large banner himself. It was important to create a kind of corporate identity for his city. The fact that he had entered into an alliance with the 641 had great advantages for him. Nevertheless, it could not be denied that 641 was the stronger and therefore superior alliance partner. That didn't suit Mr. Trump. It was high time to counter this.
Mr. Trump had to admit that 641 had not done a bad job. The founding of a sect at the beginning of GW had enormously strengthened the city's corporate identity, which was primarily based on the aspects of love, friendship and family. The city's personality was unique, the recognition effect was high and the success was impressive. The triad “Light! Love! Peace!”, with which the triple raids of the Synergetics were introduced was also brilliant. The whole thing was communicatively and medially accompanied by the visually powerful missionary magazines. Then there was the cult leader's image change and his inimitable “DOINK!” sound, which was now heard throughout the entire bracket whenever someone lost his UB. Damn! The 641 must have had an incredibly good image consultant to pull it off like that.
He thought of his own image consultants and sighed. His R4 team worried him anyway. He suspected that they were secretly writing fan mail to the enemy. Unfortunately, you couldn't really trust anyone in this turmoil of war. Except himself, of course!
He finished the work on his banner. He took one last look and then nodded with satisfaction.
It was ready to be presented to the public!
He made his way to the upper floor and stepped out onto the front balcony. Downstairs, his supporters were already waiting, rounded up by faction message, holding their breath to cheer at just the right time.
“Ready?” he asked his two R4s, who were holding the banner on either side. MightGuySensei and The Alpha Dragon nodded. Then, with a grand gesture, they unfurled the banner, which spanned the entire width of the balcony.
“Make 642 grate again!” the supporters read in confusion.
“What on earth does he mean by that? What are we supposed to do?” they whispered to each other in confusion, while they all cheered as loudly as they could as ordered.
Mr. Trump smiled with satisfaction. He spread his arms. “Yes, my dear people, my friends, this is our slogan for the coming period: Make 642 great again! - That's mine, that's why it's so brilliant. It expresses everything I want from you and from this GW.” He was beaming all over his face.
MightGuySensei coughed. “Boss, it doesn't say great, it says grate!”
“What, how, where?” Trump stared headlong down at his banner.
Stolen story; please report.
“Oh, such a stupid spelling mistake! I made a mistake! Damn it! Quick, bring me the color again... I have to fix that right away!”
“Maybe he should practise that again!” whispered The Alpha Dragon, ”or take a few hours of writing lessons with a specialist...”
The burning TTH-ers in the distance laughed their heads off.
______________________________________
“You're such a goddamn striver!” roared Captain Zax, “it's not fair! I feel bad all the time when I see your scorecards!”
“Oh yeah? Then I could also feel bad when I see your battle results!” Lady Evelyne scolded back, ”you know, my problem is: I have no skills! Of course, I'll at least try to perform good in the other areas!”
“You call that good? GOOD? I saw your result at the FCU, Miss All-Front-With-Me! And look at your house, Miss Five-Star! Four was the target, damn it! Why do you have five?”
“I'm a perfectionist and an overachiever!”
“You're a goddamn striver!”
“Yes, because of me! That's even true somewhere! But now I have to go to class!”
“Oh, you're taking lessons too?” Zax scoffed and had to hold on to the doorframe because he couldn't walk completely straight.
“Yes, and you're drunk!”
“I'm sure you sit at the front of the class, you're always reporting, you always know everything better and you bring the teacher an apple for every lesson!”
“A piece of cake!” hissed Lady Evelyne, who had packed up her books and exercise books and was now reaching for the prepared plate with the piece of cake, ”and now let me through, damn it, or I'll be late for my class!”
“Why does the teacher get a piece of cake and I don't?” protested Zax.
“Because you're the captain and not the teacher! When I come back, you can have a slice for all I care, but for now it's class time!”
The lady energetically pushed Zax aside and hurried off so as not to be late.
__________________________________________
In the Church of Synergy, they had just finished their morning circle of chairs and breakfast together with mate tea and millet cookies when three younger members had the idea that they could sneak over to the clan castle of the 652.
The night had not gone well. Thunder had executed Co1inga from [SY3], and two of A0L's underbosses, Christ and EvilKermit, had also been killed. And it wasn't even massacre day at the moment. High time to see if there was anything they could do to stop these bastards! It was enough just to manage to eavesdrop on them or play a nasty trick on them.
And so the three young synergetics set off secretly and without telling anyone.
The newly constructed flat building on the side of the 652 clan castle immediately caught their attention and they stalked towards it as carefully as possible. Voices could be heard from inside, someone was lecturing.
What was that, a classroom? The three of them put their heads together in anticipation. This promised to be a lot of fun!
___________________________________________
Meanwhile, the class was sitting in the newly built classroom.
Lady Evelyne had just managed to enter the room before the teacher. She placed the plate with the piece of cake on the teacher's desk at the front and scurried to her seat in the front row. Zax had not been wrong in his suspicions. He had known her for a while now.
Then the teacher had appeared and had first asked them to do the tasks from the previous day and wanted to see their progress. As they presented their results one by one, several of them became aware of the rustling outside the window and the giggling that was only suppressed with difficulty.
As she was sitting at the front and closest to the door anyway, Lady Evelyne jumped up and pulled it open.
Just in time. Outside, three Synergetics she didn't know had positioned themselves and were trying to take photos of the class through the windows with their cell phones.
Teachers and pupils immediately pulled scarves or masks over their faces, Lady Evelyne held her position in the doorway. “Hey, you three, what are you doing? What are you doing here?” she shouted indignantly.
“Hihihihi, RxW has a school class!” the three of them railed, ”you can do so little that you have to be sent to remedial classes! And at this stage of the game!”
The three of them were almost rolling on the floor laughing.
“Yes, and?” asked Lady Evelyne irritably, pushing herself into the doorway so that she could cleverly block the view of the rest of the class, ”it's no secret that I can't do anything, everyone can know that. And everything else is none of your business!”
“You're the noobs from RxW, hahaha!”
“And you're the schoolyard bullies, or what?”
“We will make you all public! But only after we've smacked you a few!” the largest of the Synergetics roared gleefully and stood up in front of Lady Evelyne. His two cronies eagerly closed in on his left and right.
A hand placed itself on Lady Evelyne's shoulder from behind. It was the teacher, who was now wearing a mask.
“Leave it to me,” he said calmly.
Lady Evelyne moved aside with a smile.
The teacher stepped out onto the small forecourt. He squinted into the still low morning sun and looked small and inconspicuous against the three tall guys.
The rest of the class had gathered at the windows and were holding their breath.
The two parties stood opposite each other, and at first it seemed as if nothing was happening at all. Then there was a tiny, barely perceptible movement from the master. He seemed to turn slightly to the side and stretch out the flat of his hand a little, but nothing more could be seen. He stood still in complete silence and squinted into the sun. The three synergists swayed, then buckled and simply fell over where they had just been standing. Silence.
The teacher turned around and re-entered the classroom. He had simply left the three of them outside.
“Oh my God, sensei, how did you do that?” the students whispered in fascination, staring back and forth between the three unconscious Synergetics and their master.
“Oh, it's nothing. Just a little thing. Nothing of importance,” said the teacher, who was visibly uncomfortable with all the attention, ”and please, don't keep calling me sensei. I don't like that at all. Just say my name. I'm just a normal player like you, nothing special or even a master.”
“Are we going to learn that too?”
“Sure, it's not that difficult. But today we want to continue with the formations first. Tomorrow I'm planning a practical exercise so that you can apply it yourself. You'll learn best if you can test the theory in a practical exercise.”
“And if we make mistakes? Are you angry with us then?”
The teacher shook his head in annoyance.
“You're all here for a reason - you're self-reflective, you know where your shortcomings are, and you all want to learn and are willing to listen. This class is handpicked. I don't teach everyone. I don't teach anyone who isn't willing to listen and learn. I don't teach guys like those out there who think they don't need to learn anything at this stage of the game. And I will never be angry with you if you make mistakes, have questions or can't do something yet. But I will be very angry with anyone who dares to laugh at you for it.”
“It was noticeable!” whispered Lady Evelyne to the person sitting next to her after a sideways glance at the Synergetics lying outside.
“Now please come up to me one by one with your exercise books. I would like to check that you have correctly completed the exercises on the different applications of the formations in the manor and in the building fights.”
_______________________________________________
YoungDKZ had retired to his new room in the 641 clan castle with a pile of mission magazines. He enthusiastically read page after page. Light! Love! Peace! And, of course, the true value of friendship. That was what it was all about. And that wasn't enough for him on the 652. This cold, harsh city... this ruthless dictator as boss... the constant primacy of money and credit cards... no, that wasn't for him! That's why he had quietly and discreetly changed cities.
He felt like a newborn. Away from the financial aristocracy at last. Into what this game was really all about. Family! He immersed himself in the missionary magazines again.
_______________________________________________
Mr. Trump's corrected banner was finally hanging on the balcony of the White House. Still aggrieved that a stupid spelling mistake had almost ruined one of the most beautiful and uplifting moments of this GW, Mr. Trump left the white house through the front door without turning around for the time being and decided to look at his work from a distance.
He walked briskly along the driveway to the wrought-iron gate and turned around.
He froze.
His banner hanging from the balcony now correctly read “Make 642 great again!”.
But down below, across the front door, someone had sprayed “Make 642 to a grate again!” in huge letters with horrible pink spray paint. It was easy to tell who had done it from the ash flakes blowing down the driveway.
Mr. Trump threw a tantrum.
