13/13/13
Chapter 6

My Friend Morse Liked Porridge.

Ptolomey listened patiently as his dad went on yet another tirade on how the young generation had messed things up AGAIN and how things were better back in the ‘good old days’.

And what exactly was so ‘good’ about burning witches and starting up the slave trade? Thought Ptolomey for the umpteenth time.

Now in all fairness, Ptolomey knew that the current generation of Templars were far from paragons of virtue. Still, they were no longer the Templars who created/spread the ‘black death’ or the diseases that devastated the American natives so long ago. To him, that was something to take pride in.

“-No good namby pamby hippies! The lot of you!” Rambled Alistaire.

Oh, there were some days Ptolomey could just kiss the arrogantly moronic Serbian Templar sub-sect who unwittingly killed the Templar oligarchy back in 1914(Back in those days, the Templars were a military dictatorship/meritocracy/oligarchy-with strong emphasis on the ‘oligarchy’. Officially, it was possible for a sub-sect to rise to the highest caste, but all the big families: The British Templars, The Habsburg Templars, The Romanov Templars, the Kaiser Templars, and the Ottoman Templars- had a tight monopoly on the highest tier and made it difficult, if not out rightly impossible, for any of the other sub-sects to gain any real power. Then, the Serbian Templars had the ‘brilliant’ idea to trick their Mundane population to go to war in order to cause problems with the Habsburg Templars. In the hopes of taking advantage of the minor power vacuum and loopholes to go up several castes, what was supposed to be a simple ‘minor skirmish,’ turned into World War I. It became quickly apparent that whoever devised the Templar government never took into account a world war. As bloody as World War I was for the Mundane’s, it was even worse for the Templars. The whole Templar organization almost collapsed in bloody Civil War. Pent up frustration, anger, and resentment that had been building up between the lower-caste and the high-caste Templars for centuries had finally exploded in revolution. When the dust settled, all the big families -except the British- were wiped out. Many Former Templar Fringe groups- Such as the Aztecs, Romans, Maori, aboriginal, and North Americans- were finally able to cast aside their ‘Protectorate’ status and be promoted to ‘proper’ sub-sects. The war spelled out the flaws in the current system, leaving many disillusioned, and unhappy. Progressive Templars took advantage of this to do away with Oligarchy parts of their government entirely, and reinforce the ‘Meritocracy’ aspects. They also began to allow ’newblood’(people who aren’t related to long-lasting aritocratic families of Templars) into the organization. Letting this ‘newblood’ in would eventually force the Templars to mostly shed their aristocratic ways and put them on the path to the- somewhat-more Enlightened and modernized Templars that are the currently antagonist to our protagonist’s father today...YAY! Yes, truly, the Serbian Templars were the unsung heroes who created a (comparatively) better world for all. Which makes it all the more tragic that they were made the scapegoats for the whole thing, and were wiped out in the early days of the war- But hey, that’s politics for you).

-”But you’ve done fracked the pooch now! Me and the other Arch-Echelons will have all you whippersnappers hides for this debacle! Just you wait!” Bragged Alistaire.

Ptolomey’s mind raced furiously with this new piece of information. “Curses! The ‘old guard’ might just be a minority these days, but the Skraggards still have influence! This fiasco could be just the thing those crusty old fossils need to get back on top! This could be the ‘Third Reich flop’ all over again! I have to work fast-

-Honestly don’t know why I didn’t see this coming! You fools will ruin us, just like you ruined things with your son-

CRACK!

They are few things that can stop the blowhards ranting, a fist to the head was thankfully still one of them.

Ptolomey glared at his father’s unconscious form. “Never mention Simon.” He snarled.

He quickly activated a special function in his ring before using it as a syringe, injecting the old man with alcohol and then spraying his clothes with it.

He turns to some gawking Cherubim’s. “The good Arch-Ecehlon has taken a nasty spill from overindulging in his flask. Take him to the medical hut. Repeat that story word for word, any deviation will see you in the Dung mines!”

The men quickly saluted and did just that. Ptolomey sighed. “The wife is right. I need to get my ‘Beserk button’ under control. I can’t keep pulling the ‘he got drunk’ excuse every time he talks about Simon.”

It’s at that point the Echelon considers indulging in a flask himself…

“Ho! Ho! Ho! What have we here!?” Shouts a voice maniacally.

Red and Tyrone looked up and beheld a strange sight: a man in a trench coat wearing a monocle. His face-

Does he have freckles? No! A pug nose? No, that’s not right! A brunette? No! That’s not right either... or is it? Gah! How is this possible? It’s like I’m forgetting and getting his features mixed up even when I’m looking at him! Thought both kids, confused.

The strange man hovering above them tsked. “Naughty tentacles! The last thing that ‘trope’ needs is more memes!” He shouts as he zaps them-

BOOM!

Both kids screamed as the ensuing explosion throws them up into the air-

ZAP!

Only for the monocled man to summon a portal to suck them in mid-air!

“Tally-ho!” He shouts as he jumps in after them!

....

Ptolemy groaned as he helped coordinate communications from the various Templar districts(The Templars have the world divided into districts, each district has sovereignty over how it handles the Mundane’s and maintaining the Masquerade- Creator help me, that name is still idiotic- legally, they can only be made to change their domestic policy if the high council unanimously decrees it.)from all over the world.

Even though this had caught them completely off guard, they HAD trained for this kind of disaster(Mostly due to boredom...it was rather dull at the top of the world.). They had had hundreds of scenario’s like this all planned out(Something to keep the creepy think-tank ‘enthusiasts’ busy so everyone else had an excuse to not invite them to parties.).

Step 1: gather intel, assess situation and be absolutely certain that the ‘Masquerade’ -seriously, who names this stuff?- had indeed been broken beyond all attempts to restore it.

Potolemy sighed as he crossed that out. Done and done, putting aside the mass hysteria caused by people turning into monsters or gaining magic, some idiot had also emailed incriminating evidence exposing the Templars and their mission to every digital device in the world.

Worse, whatever technology had been used to do it was on par with theirs! It had taken them hours to delete everything, and by then, too many people had seen it. Worse, they hadn’t been able to track it to the source.

Step 2: If the ‘globalization Project’(As in the plan to globalize everything … Yes, you crackpots were right. Whoop-de-fracking-do for you! Now how about celebrate by getting out of your moms basement and get a life already?!) hasn’t yet reached optimal fruition, shut down all ‘official’ world governments, and publicly assume control.

They were in the middle of doing just that, but what Ptolemy was mainly concerned about was the next step.

Step 3: Each district will pacify and maintain order following their own individual protocols.

Yes, he was not looking forward to that, and not for the reasons you’d think.

He was almost happy to take a break and walk to the room Alax was in, helping Templar CSI track down his father.

“We’ve tracked them. We’ve confirmed that they landed in a manure truck in New Jersey. Unfortunately, the contamination from the feces is making it hard to track them. I’ll let you know when we replace something else.” Said Ptolemy as he gave surprised Alax a file collaborating all of this.

Tyrone and Red groan as they hit the ground in the new location. “Ah! Ah! No dawdling! It’s time for the tutorial level!” Shouts the monocled man.

Tyrone looks at him dazed. “Wha- Tutorial- What are you- “Tutorial! Yes! Don’t you play videogames? How else will be ready for your big adventure if you don’t warm up your skills first?”

“I- adventure? What are you-” Babbled an equally disoriented Red.

“Now! Now! All questions, well they won’t be answered. What kind of story would this be if all the mysteries were solved in the first couple of chapters?”

Needless to say; both kids were already scooting away from the clearly mentally disturbed man with super powers.

In any case, it’s all quite simple: Use this- He throws a strange pouch at them that they reluctantly catch- to figure out the story needed to help you escape the building before it collapses in a couple of hours! Your prize is waiting for you outside! Guard your thoughts and lives! Toodles!”

And with that, the strange man vanishes, leaving the two confused, frightened, naked kids on the top of a crumbling office building.

....

Now I know what you’re all thinking, SO STOP IT, AND PAY ATTENTION TO THE STORY!... sickos…

....

There was no time for awkwardness, questions, or talk, only fear and survival.

CRASH!

The two of them quickly scrambled away from the wall as it crumbled and fell to the floor below-

THIS WAY TO THE FUN!

Says a sign painted in blood as it pointed down to the hole in the floor that the collapsed wall had created.

The two quickly looked around; there was literally nothing else on this floor. So without anything else to do, they climbed down the hole to the next level-

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Both kids swiftly threw themselves flat on the ground as the unmistakable sound of gunfire assulted their ears-

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Neither moved, both were paralyzed with fear.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Finally, they mustered the courage to look up, and saw that there were no bullets raining down on them, only on a portion of the wall halfway down the hall.

Tyrone angled a mirror shard on the ground to see a weird machine gun turret placed on the far side of the perpendicular hallway. It was creating a bulletstorm that was in front of the only exit from the hallway.

Tyrone angled it around more. ”Darn, the hallway is too narrow. There’s no way either one of us can run through it without getting gunned down!”

Red Tapped his shoulder. “Uh, Tyrone? We got more writing here.” Tyrone looked over to where she pointed.

STEP ONE: Remember the ‘Wedgie incident’

STEP TWO: Compare and contrast the two types of spankings Tyrone has received.

STEP THREE: Take a page from Leeroy Jenkins Red!

The cryptic bloodstained warnings both baffled and flustered them.

The last one they recognized from internet slang, but the other two brought up awkward memories.

When Red had initially realized Tyrone’s feelings toward her, she did what most teenagers did with sensitive information. She used it to mess with him.

First she just ate bananas, popsicles -any phallic shaped food really- In a provocative manner in front of him and enjoy his flustered embarrassment.

Then, well looking back, she admits that she started going too far. She started commenting on his underwear everytime he bent over.

That was humiliating enough for him, but she also snapped the elastic waistband everytime he wore briefs, this eventually culminated in ‘the wedgie incident’. Where Red decided to snap his waistband while he tried out a new spy glass at his window. She snapped it so hard, he fell out of the window onto the fire-escape, or at least, that had been her plan.

Sadly, she learned too late that an amature-parkour idiot had destroyed the fire-escape, and most of his bones, over the weekend, thus causing Tyrone to nearly fall to his death.

Fortunately, Red was able to catch him just in time- with a flying wedgie (What? It was the only thing she could grab in time!). Red felt so bad for the whole thing, she risked Alax’s wrath to sneak Tyrone his first, and second through tenth, margarita- and hers, not that she’ll ever tell Tyrone that.

As for the second one, well, Red got drunk from the margarita, and became delirious, enough to think she was Tyrone’s babysitter, and spank him hard. After which she made it up to him by sneaking him into multiple R-rated movies, her treat.

Needless to say, Red stopped teasing him after that. Well, at least she limited herself from 12 to 1-3 playful, non-lethal, teasing’s per day in any case.

“Wow, we’ve been through a lot.” Thought a flustered Red.

RUMBLE!

The shake of the building snapped Red out of her nostalgia, reminding her that she was about to die.

Also reminded of his imminent death, Tyrone banished his mortification, gathered his bearings, and began to talk his way through it. “Okay, I’ve only been spanked by two people: Dad and you. Dad’s hurt, yours didn’t-

“Wait, what!?” Exclaimed Red confused.

Tyrone suddenly felt awkward. “Uh, yeah I MAY have exaggerated the pain I felt during the spanking, and the wedgie to guilt you into giving me more stuff.” He admitted ashamed.

Red glared. “Dude, you played me!? I’m torn between angry... and impressed.” She reluctantly admitted with a smirk.

RUMBLE!

Both paled as they once more flopped about, before regaining their bearings. “Right, survive now. Sort out feelings later!” Shouts Red.

Tyrone nods and looks back at the instructions. ”No time left. So what does it mean? I can’t feel pain as long as I’m with Red? How would that wor- No, worry about that later, but what does the third line mean, have Red make a suicide run? That’s idioti- wait...