The arsenals were incredibly boring, RxW agreed. Not a single enemy had appeared! Not at any arsenal! In the general emptiness, they had even considered persuading RXD to come to Arsenal II.

  "We could test those adult diapers again from that guy who used to be at Synergy. The one with the post-traumatic burn syndrome he has from various burns from RxW," JiMM reasoned.

  “We can't keep testing diapers!” grumbled Devi, "we could have enemies again, couldn't we? Where are they all anyway?"

  RXD had much better luck. SY0 fought exciting battles with two arsenals and even won. This resulted in a whole series of congratulations from RXD and they were at least prepared to take two boxes of mission magazines home with them.

  And, of course, there were again encounters with the one whose name must not be mentioned. This time it was the raid master himself, who took a seat at the kitchen table, gloomily stuffed his face with raspberry and cream cake and grumpily explained that he didn't want to talk about Maximilian. As expected, the duel between the Raid Master and the Raid Eater had led to a violent outcome. And Ghost needed a lot of raspberry cream pie to cope with it.

  Otherwise, the day was characterized by a lot of waiting and sitting around. The Thunder brothers sat in the basement of the Arsenale, the RxW girls with popcorn in the raid teams and waited for the bubbles to fall as fast as their bubblegum bubbles and for the enemy to be raided. And the Synergetics were waiting for Kir Bear, who was excused for once.

  _____________________________________

  Mr. Trump sat in his Oval Office and signed his latest decrees. Next to him, cCc Alican stood with a bored expression, chewing on his pencil as he tried at regular intervals to jot down Mr. Trump's rather confused statements on his notepad.

  “cAS and TTH must be burned at least once a day,” Mr. Trump read out one of his decrees, "write that down. The reason is that these people keep being incredibly disrespectful to me. They don't recognize my genius. I mean, I'm a good guy, right? A very good guy, in fact. I would have even made a deal with them, a great deal, if they had been willing. They would have been allowed to live within the area of the wall, for a payment of course, say 1B diamonds a day. And I would have demanded that they build and pay for the wall I wanted on their own. But were they grateful to me and did they accept the deal? - No, of course not! They made paper airplanes out of it and threw them through the windows of the White House, it was outrageous, with inscriptions: “Make 642 grate again” and “Make 642 crate again” and all that nonsense, just because I made one mistake! I hate these people, they're not good people. Make a note of that."

  Mr. Trump turned to the next decree, but was disturbed by considerable noise outside the door. “What's that?” he was about to shout angrily when the door was ripped open and a whole bunch of Thunderbrothers stormed into the Oval Office, jeering.

  Mr. Trump jumped from his chair with a cry of horror. "What are you doing? Who let you in? Where is Miss Laura, where is my Secret Service?"

  “Your Secret Service is in the hallway sleeping - or doing something that looks like that, we don't know where Miss Laura is, and we just walked in!” Bobo hooted, jumping enthusiastically onto the small sofa in front of the fireplace and bouncing around on it like a trampoline.

  "You've trespassed here! What are you doing here?"

  “We want to apply to be interns at the White House!” shouted Lipsyte, throwing the vases off the mantelpiece, "it's supposed to be totally fun! We've heard!"

  "Yes, because you get a blow job there! From the one under the table!" jeered BigBoss.

  "That was during Bill's term of office! I had nothing to do with it! Besides, I don't want to get a blow job from you, it's disgusting!"

  “No, we'll do it the other way round, we thought!” roared Bomjerry, "You're the one who gets under the table, of course! We're the interns, we want to see how you do it first!"

  “You're all gay!” roared Mr. Trump with growing horror.

  “My speech!” brayed the donkey in front of the house, who had been following the raid team and was now either eating or peeing all over the carefully tended flower beds in front of the White House, “now you can all see for yourselves!”

  "Get out of here! Go away! Get out!" Mr. Trump shouted in panic, trying to use the Oval Office desk as a shield against the Thunder brothers who were closing in relentlessly. Mr. Trump looked around desperately. “I can't help you, boss!” said Alican hastily, "I have to take down everything you say, you ordered me to. I can't fight for you at the same time, there are too many tasks, it's not in my contract."

  “Under the table, put him under the table!” the Thunder brothers jeered and all started grabbing and reaching for Mr. Trump at the same time.

  “You didn't understand that whole story with the intern back then!” Mr. Trump desperately tried to buy time, “You're getting it all mixed up and twisted!”

  “We don't care!” roared Bowersky, "We don't have a brain cell! The raid leader has it! Ask the raid leader, he has to think for all of us! All we can do is follow orders and hit it!"

  “Under the table, put him under the table!” everyone else sang happily, getting closer and closer to Mr. Trump.

  He suddenly saw his chance, dropped to the floor, somersaulted quickly between the Thunder brothers' legs and then ran like lightning through the open door out into the corridor.

  There were indeed the lifeless bodies of his Secret Service agents lying around outside, but Miss Laura was nowhere to be seen. Mr. Trump ran as fast as he could. Just then, the next raid team turned the corner: “Wahoo, Adam!”

  Mr. Trump screamed and wanted to turn back, but the next team was already there. “Wahoo, Adam!”

  “Bloody hell, how many raids have you sent at me?” shouted Mr. Trump desperately and ran up the stairs to the top floor.

  “I don't know!” yelled Muslim Cat, "ask the raid leader! He's got the brain cell! We can't count!"

  “Who's the raid leader?” cried Mr. Adam desperately.

  “I don't know!” jeered Lipsyte, "I can't remember the name right now. But that's the guy who gives the orders. He's downstairs in the entrance hall!"

  At the top of the landing, Mr. Trump was waiting for the fourth raid team. “Wahoo, Adam!”

  Mr. Trump turned on his heel and ran back down the stairs while the raid team above him set the top floor on fire, roaring happily. Suddenly, the slim figure of Vegeance2 appeared in the corner of his eye at the same height, sliding down the banister next to him. “Wahoo, Adam!”

  Mr. Trump hardly knew where to run to in horror. Fortunately, at the foot of the stairs in the entrance hall, Lenebell, the good soul of the Raid, had asked Underground Zero to devote a moment to Mr. Trump.

  “Mr. Trump,” said Lenebell, as helpful as ever, "this is Underground Zero, the raid leader. You can ask him your questions. He has the brain cell."

  “Those lunatics set fire to the White House!” complained Mr. Trump.

  “That's vandalism,” Lene said helpfully, “you don't need a brain cell for vandalism.”

  “Your people hit me!” cried Mr. Trump.

  “That's brute force,” said Lene helpfully, “you don't need a brain cell for brute force.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “You've all gone completely mad!” shouted Mr. Trump, “how many raids have you sent on me and how many more are coming?”

  “I can't tell you the exact number of raids yet,” Underground Zero replied kindly to the completely deranged Mr. Trump. "But we've decided to set you to 0 today. And to conquer the White House. So there's a lot more to come now."

  “And then you're going under the table!” roared the troop of Thunder brothers who had followed Mr. Trump down the stairs.

  Mr. Trump fled screaming out into the garden. “Do you want me to make a note of that too?” asked Alican, who was running alongside his boss and trying to take notes. “So the thing with the table?"

  “No, of course not,” gasped Mr. Trump, "we can't publish the fact that a bunch of wild-eyed interns stormed the White House and took it over! It's outrageous to storm a government building anyway, it should be banned and severely punished!"

  “Just like at the Capitol, boss?”

  Mr. Trump ignored this question and gasped: "Write: The President personally defended the White House at the risk of his life to the last drop of blood. Oh, that sounds very good, downright great, but I'm not surprised, that's from me too. And then you write: RxW stole the victory from the rightful president. Because actually Mr. Trump was the winner, as always. Make a note of that!"

  “Wahoo, Adam!” The fifth raid team had been lurking behind a bush of azaleas and now jumped out happily.

  Mr. Trump turned on his heel and ran in the opposite direction, always closely followed by his employee who was eagerly taking notes in the race.

  The sixth raid team emerged from behind a rose hedge. “Wahoo, Adam!”

  “Don't mess around, get him already!” shouted Neigh, who was getting impatient, “I want to start the internship!”

  “Me too!” “Me too!” “Me too!” shouted FirstofAll, Wolf gangs and Tomorin in chorus.

  “He's finished anyway,” DmenAce said with a professional look, "we'll have him down to 0. Can you give me the brain cell already, Underground? I need it for my own raids right afterward."

  Underground Zero nodded and handed DmenAce the brain cell.

  The next moment, he slapped his forehead angrily. "Crap! Now I've sent the UB off without the main forces! What a shit, I should have kept the brain cell until the end! Now I'm already pressing the wrong buttons!"

  “Who gives a shit, he's still going under the table!” Darkevil jeered and chased Mr. Trump to the far corner of the garden.

  But something strange happened there. Mr. Trump simply disappeared. In a flash, he had shaken off the UB from Underground, grabbed a cake bowl and then disappeared through the hedge. When the last raid team searched the area, they couldn't find Adam anywhere. He had disappeared off the face of the earth.

  DmenAce made himself useful by zeroing the rest of the White House. Neither E Musk nor ChrislAm nor xKiLLswitcH nor Llexy escaped him. And the entire roof of the White House was already on fire.

  “Mr. Trump has 250 million less influence,” noted Raid Leader Underground Zero with satisfaction, who had made himself comfortable in the Oval Office and put his feet up on the President's desk while it was still not on fire. "That was really worth it today. And he'll be under the table next time. We'll get him as soon as we find him."

  A short time later, DmenAce stepped in front of the press gathered in the driveway. A press conference had been hastily called to report on current events at the White House, and since DmenAce had the brain cell at his disposal, he had been chosen to answer the questions.

  "We have experienced an incredible sequence of raids. Was that planned?" asked the first journalist.

  "Nothing is planned here. We can't plan anything. The raid leader's orders were: Burn everything, destroy everything, zero Mr. Trump. We were able to memorize that. Nothing more."

  "Do you know where Mr. Trump and his head of security are now? They're both supposed to have disappeared," shouted the second journalist.

  "No idea where they are, but we'll find them. By the next MD at the latest," smiled DmenAce wolfishly.

  “Mister DmenAce!” shouted the third journalist and was immediately nudged by the colleague next to him, who tapped on the press documents, the lists of names in them and a change of title.

  “Oh, excuse me - Lord DmenAce - could you tell us something else about your motivation for raiding the White House today and nuking Mr. Trump?”

  "Well, RxW's motivation was that we wanted to do an internship at the White House. We are perverted, mentally degenerate deranged people..." - “... and gay!” the donkey yelled in between - "... and we wanted to have a bit of fun with Mr. Trump. However, he seems to have a different idea of fun than we do. My personal motivation was: I did it for my country. Mr. Trump wanted to take over my country. Please note the national flag next to my house. That here - “ he gestured to the burning White House behind him, ”is for Canada."

  ___________________________________

  But where was Mr. Trump? To find out, we have to go back a bit, to the place where the horde of would-be interns stormed the White House.

  Miss Laura recognized the impending danger immediately and had just managed to save herself in the broom closet. With hurried fingers, she dialed the last number she had called on her cell phone.

  On the other end of the line was Stabbyunicorn from the city of 641. “Church of Synergy, light, love and peace for you, what can we do for you?”

  “Miss Laura here from the White House, it's urgent.”

  “Oh, is it about the wedding date with Adam that you booked with us and need our church for?” asked Stabby delightedly. “Would you like to get married sooner, or on a different day?”

  “No,” Miss Laura whispered frantically, "so yes, we do want to get married. But first we need asylum. Church asylum. The situation here is escalating. Can we come to you?"

  Stabby didn't hesitate for a second. "Come as quickly as you can. Do without the limousine and the entourage. The wedding carriage is already waiting for you behind the house - use it to escape. No one will recognize you in it."

  And so Laura had sneaked out of the White House, swung herself onto the trestle of the wedding carriage and saved her Adam at the last second in the back corner of the garden with a quick, courageous grab through the hedge before this gang of perverts and deranged people did something terrible to him.

  And while the Thunder Brothers searched the White House and garden for their victim to no avail, the wedding carriage sped towards the border of the two cities 642 and 641, and then Miss Laura and Mr. Trump disappeared from the radar of city 642.

  Cheers erupted in the White House garden as members of the cAS and TTH factions showed up and showered the Thunder Brothers with gifts and gratitude.

  They burned all of Mr. Trump's decrees in huge bonfires and roasted marshmallows in them.

  “You have freed us from these tyrants!” said Voodoo, deeply moved, and squeezed the hands of all the members of the raid teams, “We will never forget you!”

  “At last I am once again the one and only true Trump in the city of 642,” said Papa Trump with satisfaction, "that charlatan has fled to 641, very good. Now peace and quiet can finally return here. Thank you, RxW."

  ___________________________________________

  Late at night, Lady Evelyne received a visitor in her kitchen.

  Wrapped in a wide black cloak, his hood pulled low over his face, an R4 from the town of 642 had ventured to her, driven by despair.

  “I don't know what else to do,” he complained unhappily, barely seated at the kitchen table. Lady Evelyne looked at him thoughtfully and then pushed him a piece of cake and a cup of tea.

  "The situation has become completely confusing and hopeless. I'd love to make a huge fortune and save us all! I have plans, but I don't know how to go about them. I've been thinking about maybe getting into share trading."

  He made a hopeful face.

  Lady Evelyne looked at him critically. "Well, if you haven't had any experience yet, maybe you should start with ETFs. There's not much that can go wrong."

  “What are ETFs?” asked the R4 from 642.

  “And to be on the safe side, work with a stop-loss-order to hedge it.”

  “What's stop-loss-order?” asked the R4 from 642.

  Lady Evelyne smiled and patted him on the hand. "My boy, if you don't know that, perhaps you'd better not gamble with your credit card or get involved in stock trading. I'm afraid you're more likely to lose money than gain it."

  “Yes, but maybe you can explain it to me?” the R4 asked hopefully, "You always explain everything to me. And you always know what to do. You're always kind when people come to you when they're feeling bad. That's absolutely extraordinary, especially in this game."

  Lady Evelyne smiled. "Well, admittedly, I feel sorry for anyone who comes here because he's unwell. Of course, I then try to put things back into perspective a little. This is just a game."

  The R4 from city 642 sighed. "We've learned that we have to show respect for RxW. That happened very quickly. And the ones who couldn't, left."

  Lady Evelyne had put the dishes to one side and rolled out the GW map on the table. It was easy to see how far each city's sphere of influence extended.

  “Look,” she said, tapping on the map, "a very clever friend of mine, Aglid, once told me that in his eyes, RxW had a higher purpose. RxW had come to teach the entire bracket humility. That works both internally and externally." She took a small bowl from the rack and placed it on the map. "But then he also explained that this must not remain the only aspect. Mercy and gratitude are just as important." She placed two more small bowls on the card. "And now see where you find yourself. What suits you best. And how you combine your ‘bowls’."

  The R4 of City 642 stared intently at the map. "It sounds very philosophical. I'm afraid I'll have to think about it longer. I don't understand everything at the moment."

  “Do that,” smiled the lady, “you still have some time.”

  “May I say something?” asked the R4 from the city of 642 shyly, “You remind me of someone.”

  "Oh, who do I remind you of?"

  "Have you seen the Matrix movie? You remind me of a character from the movie. The oracle. She's good and helps people."

  “Ah, I know who you mean.” Lady Evelyne nodded. "And she bakes cookies. And I bake cakes, so that fits."

  The R4 laughed. "Exactly. You're just like the Oracle. I think that every time I visit you. And when I read the first book, I always think you could see into the future, even back then."

  Lady Evelyne pushed the card aside and handed the cake plate and teacup back to her visitor: "There's one thing you should remember, though - or watch the movie again: The Oracle is also part of the Matrix. She helps people, yes, but ultimately to keep the system stable. The Oracle's loyalty will always be to the Matrix." She smiled at her visitor. "No matter how comfortable you feel in my presence, ultimately the Oracle will ensure the continuation of the Matrix. Don't forget that."