“Well, let's tell you the most important things in a nutshell so that you know how everything works here,” Lipsyte said helpfully as always. Several of the newcomers had gathered around the kitchen table, where Lippy, Neigh and Hen Solo had already taken their seats. For some reason, a few of Cat Dylan's cats had also found their way into the kitchen and were now sitting on the laps of various Thunder brothers and purring.

  Finding a suitable seat for Darth Corky had become somewhat more difficult. At first they had tried a very sturdy stool. Corky had taken a seat on it and automatically rested his stomach on the top of the kitchen table. Although it had been expertly repaired by Dylan, the kitchen table had begun to groan alarmingly and bend in the middle.

  Corky had then heaved his stomach off the tabletop and slid his stool backwards a little. This took the weight off the kitchen table, but caused the stool to collapse and Corky landed awkwardly on the floor. Now the Thunder brothers had simply dragged in several large cushions and beanbags and placed Corky on them, which had worked wonderfully. The mighty big new brother sat happily amongst his new community and looked like he had always belonged right here.

  "So the city of 652 is a dictatorship. That's probably the most important thing first," Lipsyte began. “But with a competent dictator!” added Lene, who was helping to wash up, “We don't tolerate incompetent dictators!”

  “Correct!” confirmed Lipsyte, "we're damn demanding on that point. Probably the only thing we're demanding about. Apart from that, we don't need much. As long as there's good food and beer and cake and enough brawls, it's all good."

  “You have to send feet pics to Thunder every week,” Neigh continued, "that's almost more important than turning in to the faction bank. It's obligatory. If you don't send feet pics, you get burned. If you've made a mistake and have to pay a fine, Thunder usually accepts feet pics to make up for it."

  “Then the credit card thing,” Hen Solo took the floor, "the credit card is mandatory at RxW. You always have to have it with you, even in the toilet and in the shower. The other day there was an assassination attempt on one of our girls in the shower. Luckily, she had her credit card hidden in her topknot and was able to resolve the situation quickly."

  “We're all credit card warriors here,” Marzzzz, who was leaning in the doorway, interjected with a laugh, "that's what the enemy regularly accuses us of. Never mind. Why shouldn't we use our little rectangular superweapons if we already have them?"

  “And we all share just one brain cell!” said Lipsyte meaningfully, "it may be a change for you. There are now so many of us in the city that the share of the brain cell for each of us is getting smaller and smaller. You can tell by the fact that more and more Thunderbrothers are just standing around pointlessly on the street, staring ahead of them and forgetting what they just wanted."

  “And what do you do then?” Cat Dylan asked curiously.

  "We wait for someone to come and tell us what to do. The boss, someone from the leadership or some raid leader. If no one comes and tells us what to do, we drink beer and throw popcorn and look for someone to beat up. Often we also wait until the first one of us runs off and punches someone in the face, and then we all run after him and punch that person in the face too, without knowing what it's all about. And if there's no one to beat up, then we punch each other in the face."

  “That sounds like a very successfully structured and well-organized city,” praised Born2beKing, “really, you can see the clever strategic mind behind it.”

  “Yes, isn't it?” said Lipsyte proudly, "most of the time we get on well with sharing just one brain cell. It's a kind of swarm intelligence. A sense of community, which is actually not so bad for functioning as a team. In combat situations, the current raid leader is entitled to the brain cell. If several raids are running in parallel, several of the raid leaders have to be able to function without the brain cell. This usually works. If the opponent fights back, we simply add more mass. If he still fights back, we add even more mass. And if he still struggles, then..."

  “... we pull out the credit cards!” roared the rest of the Thunder brothers at the table in chorus.

  “Very good fighting style!” praised Corky, "and very similar to what I always do. If the opponent fights back, I just sit on top of him. If he still doesn't give in, I feed him cork sauce. Then he usually gives up very quickly!"

  “Brother, you fit in with us!” said Neigh warmly, beaming at the newcomer, “that's just our style!”

  “Oh, and then there's DOINK!” exclaimed Hen Solo, "almost forgot. DOINK is the sound it makes when someone loses his UB. It goes back to Sloth, who renamed himself DOINK just before he gave up and tried one last time to save the day with two high risk attacks. The day before the Arsenal fight... Biochest just shook his head because that's exactly what he taught him NOT to do. No high-risk attacks by raid leaders the day before important fights, otherwise they'd be left without an UB. Well, and that's exactly what happened. Sloth lost his UB to us. DOINK!“

  ”Too bad I wasn't around back then,“ smacked Corky, who was already busy eating again, ”I would have drowned his UB in a tub of Corksauce and then put it on display in the SC. That would have been very funny!"

  “Irrr captured him back then, if I remember correctly,” Lipsyte mused, "Irrr is our silent samurai. He's one of those who really understands the game and has mastered it. Progamer faction. The general is one of them too."

  “Biochest?” asked Born2beKing with interest.

  Lipsyte nodded. "That's the one. And a few more, of course. But most of us just go for it. A Thunderbrother on the battlefield is like a drunken rhinoceros, the book once said. I'm afraid that pretty much sums it up."

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “I'd give all my nuts to appear in that book just once!” sighed Horny Squirrel, glancing longingly at the small spiral staircase that led up to the library and Evelyne's writing room.

  “If you play nice with the author, it should work out - so far all but two of the people who wanted to get into the book have been allowed in,” Hen Solo encouraged the squirrel, "but stay out of the way of the Muslim cat, it eats squirrels! Lippy's squirrel just ate them all back then."

  “I've already put on an extra RxW sweater!” nodded Squirrel, "I was strongly advised to do that. So that the Muslim cat sees that I'm part of the faction and doesn't eat me."

  "You really have to watch out for that. The Thunder brothers here don't pay much attention and don't ask. They just hit and kill straight away," warned Hen Solo.

  “All degenerate idiots here,” Neigh added, “that's normal.”

  “Psychopaths, perverts, bullies,” Hen Solo nodded, “that's what the SC used to say.”

  “According to the SC, we're also dogs and pigs and rats,” Lipsyte enumerated.

  “And ducks!” shouted Lene from the sink.

  “And gay!” added the donkey from outside through the open kitchen window.

  “And Kodaxx is completely useless,” added Lipsyte meticulously.

  “And Lippy's a bitch!” added Hen Solo mercilessly.

  “And he here,” grumbled Lipsyte, pointing at Hen Solo, "he thinks he's the almighty chicken. But he's just a chalk-eating moron, like everyone else here. He hasn't even managed to paint a picture that Kodaxx thought worthy of being in the top six!"

  "You want a few on the face, bro, yeah? Is that what you want?" raged Hen Solo, jumping to his feet. “You can have that right now!”

  “Calm down,” Neigh tried to mediate, which was met with an unfriendly, “Shut the fuck up, Peggy!” from both combatants in unison.

  “Anything else?” asked Cat Dylan with a grin, "I like you all so far. I totally fit in here, I think!"

  “Uh, yeah,” Neigh said in a whisper, "we have classes in good manners now. Completely bonkers, if you ask me. The boss only set this up to annoy us. So that we don't feel too good. There are now courses on it. “Murder mindfully”, “Torture sensitively”, “Insult respectfully”. You should take them soon."

  “Does that mean you can't bash anyone anymore?” asked Born2beKing, startled.

  “No, no,” Lipsyte reassured him, "it's not quite that bad. You just have to have a polite conversation with your opponent first. That will easily fit into the five minutes it takes for the raid to gather. You have to ask the opponent how his esteemed wife is doing and whether he thinks the weather will stay like this or get better. And only then do you punch him in the face. We practiced this at the final event of GW2 and it actually worked very well."

  “ Yeah,” Neigh joined in with a grin, "that was actually quite funny. DmenAce first introduced himself very politely to Insane Wayne from the Church of Synergy, welcomed him to our home and wished him a wonderful evening and pleasant company. And then he knocked all his teeth out so hard that Wayne couldn't find them all afterwards!"

  “I missed all that!” complained Corky, "hearing that, I should have joined you much earlier! I mean, my old faction really wasn't bad, and I liked them, we had good times together. But this is definitely above that. And how this is above that! OMG, I'm so looking forward to the coming war with you by my side!"

  He looked around searchingly. “Is there any bread left?”

  “You sound like a duck already,” giggled Lene.

  “Black and Underground Zero have the bread-baking shift,” Scappy explained, "all the Germans have now been divided into bread-baking shifts so we can feed you. The next loaves should be ready soon."

  Krypt entered the kitchen and looked around searchingly. Then, somewhat disoriented, he dropped onto a chair in the middle of the Thunder brothers, reached for a glass of beer and stared into space in confusion.

  Lipsyte waved his hand in front of his face. No reaction from Krypt. “You all right, bro?” asked Lippy worriedly.

  “I don't think he's getting a connection to our brain cell right now,” Neigh speculated, “hello, Earth to Krypt?”

  “Huh?” Krypt asked, confused, “I kind of forgot what I wanted just now...”

  “No connection to the brain cell, just like I said,” Neigh diagnosed with calm certainty, "it's quite normal here. The system is once again overloaded because there are simply too many people on it now." And reassuringly he said to Krypt: "Just drink your beer, brother. We'll let you know if something's going on, a raid or something. Then you just come with us!"

  Krypt smiled uncomprehendingly, but very pleased.

  ____________________________

  In the back room of the kitchen, Lady Evelyne and Ivy were sorting the mail and heaving a large parcel onto the packing table.

  “Who's that from?” asked Ivy in astonishment, “it's from far away!”

  “East Indies,” murmured Lady Evelyne, "oh, it's from Mink! Mink has sent us a parcel!"

  The two of them quickly opened the parcel and found tightly packed, beautifully printed tea packets that smelled wonderful.

  "Oh, look - it's jasmine blossom tea! Mink probably grows it in his ashram. That's so cute that he's sending it to us!“ exclaimed Lady Evelyne delightedly, ”and look, in the photo on the front... isn't that Sloth?"

  "That's right, that's him! And he looks really happy!" Ivy rejoiced, and they both looked at the colorful photo that adorned the front of each tea packet. In the middle of a beautiful, sunlit tea plantation stood Sloth, beaming with happiness. He was barefoot and wearing an orange sari.

  “They're obviously doing really well in the East Indies,” laughed Evelyne, "we should make and try the tea straight away. There must be dozens of packets in the parcel. I think that's really touching, Mink hasn't forgotten us."

  And they both went over to the kitchen to put the tea water on.

  ____________________________

  A package from the East Indies had also arrived at the Church of Synergy, which was in the process of being dissolved.

  “Jasmine blossom tea,” muttered Stabby, "what are we going to do with it? - It smells delicious."

  “Just the thing for my time out!” exclaimed DdayDaggie, snatching up a packet, “then I can finally relax after all this stress!”

  “Jasmine blossom tea sounds like a good reconciliation drink after Judgement Day,” Saint remarked in a sonorous voice, “I don't think it's a bad idea to make it and invite everyone we have left.”

  The members of the Church of Synergy who had not yet left nodded. And so they also went to the kitchen in the city of 641 to put the tea water on and hope for better times.

  ___________________________

  The hope for better times did not seem to have been answered. While the tea water was still boiling in both cities and the tea was waiting to be brewed, the next storm cloud was brewing over the city of 641.

  Black entered the kitchen in the clan castle of 652 with a grin, placed a basket of freshly baked pretzels in front of Corky and waved a piece of paper around.

  “Have you seen this yet?” she asked, chuckling with anticipation.

  The Thunder brothers bent over the piece of paper.

  “That's...” muttered Lipsyte, hardly able to believe his eyes.

  “That's...” gasped Hen Solo, barely managing to stifle a giggle.

  “This is...” said Corky in a booming voice, "the 641's nightmare. Or their death sentence. Who's responsible for the matching?"

  Black managed to look completely innocent. It was almost as if she had a halo of pretzel dough around her head.

  “You,” Krypt said, finally regaining a stable connection to the brain cell at that moment, pointing at Black, “You said you wanted to see them all again because you miss them so much!” He looked at the piece of paper and grinned at Black. "This is the match for the CVC. 652 against 641, again. God help the poor Church of Synergy!"