The Edverse Arc

Continued from page 1,

Chapter 6

The Master takes the two goblins back to the dormitory building and hoses them down outside before taking them indoors for a good scrub in a bubble bath. Afterwards, they're sitting down for a meal. Waldo is making a mess of his apple sauce when there's a knock on the door. The Master hobbles over to the door and opens it. Skunk PI is standing there, staring at the master. It reaches into it's trenchcoat pocket. The Master flinches as he pulls something out quickly, but then relaxes when he sees its just a folder. The Skunk hands it to the Master and tips it's fedora before walking away without saying a word.

The Master takes the folder back to the table and opens it. It contains photocopies of documents and photos of what looks like the Editor.

wF: Ah, so the skunk came through eh? We took the liberty of hiring him a few weeks back to find this writer that Travie is obsessed with. Did he get an address?

The Master stares at a photocopy of Edward Mulvin's driver's licence. It has an address listed, over in Walver Lake. It appears to be a flat. 37F Basildon Terrace...

Master Devlin: Hardly the upmarket mansion Walverly Hills that the girl in the diner had imagined...

wF: Yeah well, the Major is from Montauk in New Yawk...

Travers nods enthusiastically in agreement.

Chapter 7

The three of them made their way across town, crossing the bridge into West Widdlington, and heading up to Basildon Terrace, which sat at the southern end of Walver Lake. The contrast was surreal. On the opposite side of the road, pristine middle-class homes stood proudly, their lawns carefully manicured and children laughing in a nearby park. But on this side, the scene was starkly different—a dilapidated apartment block with six units, its appearance suggesting it was more crack den than home.

They walked through the grim close of the building. Minor drug deals played out in doorways, and drunks were sprawled out on the floor throughout the halls. Graffiti covered the walls, an unsettling testament to the area's decline.

A woman in a tattered robe stepped out of her apartment, her eyes scanning the group before she leaned toward Travers and whispered, “Hey sugar, looking for a good time?”

Without hesitation, Travers took a step forward, ready to follow her inside. But the Master, ever watchful, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away. They continued their ascent, reaching the top floor—flat 37F. The Master gave the door a firm knock.

A slightly scruffy man opens the door. He looks at the trio with alarm.

"Hello?"

"Edward Mulvin?" the Master asks.

"No... sorry. I think you have the wrong address..." the man says, scratching his hair awkwardly and forces a slight smile.

The Master stares at him with frustration. It's clearly Ed - at least it looks like him, yet he seems different. Even smells different. Waldo gives a wild smirk to his comrades. Travers is still thinking about the neighbour lady.

The man starts to close the door. The Master puts his foot in the gap, preventing him from shutting it. He looks up at the Master.

"What do you want?" the man asks nervously.

"Royalties!" Travers blurts out. "And recognition..." he adds, still in a daze..."National Treasure..."

"What is he talking about? Royalties for what??"

They stare at the man, trying to figure him out. Is this another Ed trick? "You've got the wrong flat. Take your foot out and leave, please. Or I'll call the police"

"Get him, stan!" Waldo shouts.

The Master barges through and knocks the door off its hinges. The man is knocked back and falls to the ground. The three them bundle into the man’s flat

"Sorry about that..." The Master says as he fits the door back on.

Waldo and Travers run through the hall and into the man's livingroom. The Master follows to inspect the place. He sees that it’s a simple flat. A few collectibles. Television. Games consoles. But no indication that this man is some wealthy author producing an epic series of novels.

"What is your name?" The Master asks, staring down at the man again.

"Frank...Simpson."

Waldo starts rummaging around. Pulling things off shelves to examine them before casually dropping them on the floor.

"Stop that! Look, what's this all about? I want you to leave..." Frank shouts in protest.

"Apologies this has all been a big mistake… We shall go." the Master sighs, pulling out a roll of money and handing it to the man.

"Not so fast, Pizza!" Waldo calls from a closet. What's all this then?"

The Master walks over to find Waldo has uncovered a large stack of fresh Edverse novels, as well as accompanying documentation. Some of the copies signed Ed Mulvin. Waldo hauls this stuff out all over the floor.

Frank starts to look very awkward and guilty and doesnt dare say another word.

"Oh, you're in trouble now" Waldo says threateningly as he pulls out a switchblade and waves it menacingly at Frank.

"Kick his ass, Major!" Travers shouts to the Master as he is doing a little dance and relieving himself in the corner.

"Alright! Alright. Fine. Yeah...It's true, I'm the author Edward Mulvin, but it's not my real name." Frank says, throwing his hands up, "It's just a...what do you call it...nom de plume? I like to keep my life as an author separate from my personal life. And I especially don't like having crazed fans like you showing up at my door! That's why i asked the publisher to stop putting my photo in the new editions. I've had some real fanatics approach me in the past.

The Master raises an eyebrow but keeps his glare locked on the human.

"Though, I have to admit, those are the best costumes i've ever seen." Frank continues, "I've seen a few interpretations but that's exactly how I envisioned the characters. How did you make them so realistic?"

The Master and Waldo give each other a puzzled look

"So what do you guys want? An autograph? A photo?" Frank offers, starting to feel a little more in control.

"No we don’t need any of that. And we aren’t wearing costumes." the Master replies, unamused. "My name is Master Steven Devlin. This here is Widdle Frunkut, a goblin. That confused and disgusting individual who is relieving himself in the corner is Harris Travers, former Emperor of Waldonia...Up until very recently we had absolutely no knowledge of you or your work. By chance… or perhaps not, we came across your novels. After closer examination we found that there are very big similarities between your main characters: Major Kelvin Steele, Wyndell Farquaad and Trenton Havers... and the three of us.

The human scans the three of them and is becoming just as confused as they are.

"Naturally I would say maybe it’s just a coincidence." the Master continued, "But I don’t treat anything as a coincidence in these lands. There is always something of sinister or trickery going on...You don’t strike me as someone who is involved or has done anything malicious here. You’re just the author. But something is definitely afoot and I intend to get to the bottom of it...Who is your publisher?"

"Hold on...so you're saying that you aren't fans in cosplay...and that you really look like that?" Frank says shaking his head in disbelief before letting slip a bemused smirk. "Yeah, right... Okay..."

The Master turns to Waldo and makes a gesture. Waldo proceeds to go into slime mode then slither across the room, up the man's leg and take the shape of a green duck in his hands. Then after a few seconds, the duck turns into a green snake. Frank stares down at the snake hissing up at him.

"I see..." he says, suprisingly casual. After a few moments, the man speaks again.

"Well assuming I'm not having some sort of psychotic break, which I can't rule out... It would seem you guys are indeed real life versions of the Edverse characters..."

The master nods and again enquires about the publisher.

"Its currently a company called DRG House LLC...I've actually been trying to be free of them -cut ties, but they've been sending threatening letters."

Frank leaves the room briefly and comes back with a bunch of letters and hands them to the master. The master skims through them. They are indeed very threatening in their tone. Talk of lawsuits and even implied threats of violence.

"I don't know what to do. I've taken these to the police but they won't do anything. That's the other reason I was cagey. I've been worried their goons might eventually show up."

Travers stops dancing and suddenly comes back to reality for a moment.."So, Mr Author Man...If you don't know us, where did you get the idea for the books? Huh?"

Frank sighs...

"Okay, look. I've never told anyone this, but you guys seem on the level and just as confused as me, so I'll be straight with you...The truth is, I don't really write these books. I'm really more of an editor...co-writer at best. This is a bit a long winded and complicated, but bear with me..."

"It all started a few years back, I was on a gaming forum and i met this guy. His name was Scribe. Scribe1502 to be precise. We would chat about life, philosophy, politics etc, eventually continuing that in private chat. He seemed interesting, even though a little odd. I thought he was autistic or something as he struggled with jokes. One day I asked him about his user name, as I'd seen similar names on a few other message boards. Like Scribe then a bunch of other numbers. Thought maybe it was a clan or something. Anyway, he revealed to me that he was part of a privately funded think tank and charity organization called The Scribes. He claimed their primary goal was to reach out to disenfranchised young men and help them make something of themselves. I tried doing some research but they seemed pretty elusive..."

"One day he asked me to help him with his creative writing. He had these characters, plot points and worldbuilding that would later become the Edverse, but said he struggled with the structure and dialogue, so he emailed me his work and asked me to have a go at rewriting it. I mostly just added some of my weird humour and rewrote the dialogue. Well, to my surprise, he liked it. Soon after, he informed me that his group had landed a deal with a modest company called Gentoo Publishing, and that I was to officially take the credit for the writing and be the face of the author. I couldn't understand why he didn't want the credit. I didn't feel right about it, but i was unemployed and my benefits had been stopped so i was having to think about money. Not only was the publisher going to offer me decent money, but I was also going to recieve a monthly payment from this Scribes group. So I took the offer. And for a while it was good. Scribe would send me weekly notes and i'd craft them into something resembling books which ended up on store shelves. Then after a while they started getting weird. The plotlines were an incoherent mess. He just blatantly stole characters from tv shows and such and incorporated them into the stories. I protested against this but he made it quite clear that it was non-negotiable. The past year, the notes i've received have been sporadic at best and when I do get them, increasingly deranged. I messaged several times that I didn't want to work for them anymore but they just keep sending me more. And I still get paid..."

"At the same, time, I'm having to deal with the publisher as i said. It was fine with Gentoo. They seemed ok, but six months ago, they were bought up by DRG Investment, an american company, I think... Then the new publisher, DRG House started sending letters demanding not only more frequent finished books, but that they were also to be more diverse and inclusive. They wanted more black characters, LGBT...That kind of thing, as well as storylines with preachy progressive messaging. I wrote to the Scribe but he didn't reply, so I took it upon myself to write back to DRG and tell them where to go. Told them that i wasn't going to 'forfeit my creative integrity' *chuckle"... That's when they became very threatening. So I told them that I quit. That I wanted nothing to do with them. But it hasn't stopped them harrassing me. It's also been a two months since I've had anything from Scribe..."

"Anyway, that's about all i can tell you...All i know for sure, at least. Rumours and wild speculation aside..."

"Rumours and wild speculation are our favourites." Waldo jumped in excitedly. "What do they?? Tell us now. Speak!"

"Well, i'm not saying i believe it, but there are some people, online, they talk of conspiracy theory about the Scribes. The believe that essentially they are in fact the writers of our very existence...That everything in our lives is controlled by their will. That none of us have free will. That everything is scripted out by this all powerful group...

Waldo and the Master start to notice sinister, ominous ambient music starts to play. The room seems to get darker as Frank continued.

"Have you ever given much thought to simulation theory? Like the Matrix? Descartes' evil demon, stuff like that? Have you ever wondered, for example...What if the characters in these books aren't based on you guys...What if you guys are based on these books? What if none of this is real? That we're all in some virtual world, or even fictional characters in a story ourselves...

The Master and Widdle Frunkut give each other a puzzled look. The ominous music seems to scratch out and the light returns as Travers storms in front of them, demanding their attention.

"I just have one question...something that doesn't make any sense..." Travers says, "How the hell do you not know who I am?? I'm a God damn national treasure!"

Frank shrugs. "Dunno. Probably because I don't watch the news...Or get out much. I pretty much only leave home for exercise - and I usually run over to Warwyck Forest and then come home."

"This DRG Investment? Do you know own it? It sounds like a Goldenstein subsidiary business..." The Master interjects, trying to get back on track.

"I'm not sure. I think I might have seen that name before..." Frank says, picking up a tablet off the table and begins to look up the company.

"Hmm...Diamond Ruby & Gold...American multinational investment company...ESG...Ah! Here. You're right! Key people...David Rubin-Goldenstein, Founder...Current Chairman & CEO, Adam Rubin-Goldenstein, President...I take it you've encountered these people before?"

"Uh huh! Then the masta got his botton stitched shut!" Waldo added unhelpfully.

"I see..." Frank says, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up, Waldo…" the Master scowls at Waldo. "Mr Mulvin or Simpson, rather...You may recall from your novels of a massive battle incident a mansion in Antarctica? Well myself and Waldo… may have contributed to his timely demise. Specifically Mr Goldenstein, former head to the empire was hung, drawn and quartered. Since then, the sons have had a little bit of a grudge towards myself and Waldo..."

"Loathsome family!" Travers butts in. "They tried cancel me! ME?! Trenton Travers! Treasure to all those of North Haverbrook... preposterous..."

"Right...I see..." Frank said, frowning.

"Frankly they all need a culling. Too many of them." The Master added.

"Jews?"

"...Goldensteins."

"Ah...So they have a grudge against you...why are they harrassing me? What's their interest in the books?"

"I actually don’t know… they like to control things. Could be that simple. Or the Editor is involved.

"Who?"

"Some prick...A slimy weasel - a G-man of sorts.

"Wait, I'm confused...is he a literal weasel? This place is weird."

"He looks like you!" Waldo adds enthusiastically.

"Indeed. He can appear in many forms or not at all. Generally appears in human form when he wants to make himself known, and curiously very similar to you..." the Master explains. " I don’t actually know what he is, but unfortunately he does have powers and claims to be God. Travers here worships him..."

Travers nod enthusiastically while still staring off into space.

"...He doesn’t make himself known to many folk. But he has been found to torment me quite a bit."

"That sounds like Ted. A recurring character who claims to be the 'Producer' of a TV show called the Edverse. It's all weird and meta. In fact, they beat him up in that Antarctica scene you mentioned...It was never really explained who he was or what his deal was."

"Yes… our Editor or Ed as we call him lost all his teeth in that scene. The question is do you recall writing that character into your stories? This might be key to identifying this whole chicken or egg situation we’ve found ourselves in... You see The Editor invented this character called Goldenstein to promote diversity and inclusion. He later claimed he was being controlled by a bunch of executive producers including Goldenstein and lead by diversity and inclusion officer called Davina Ruben. She was aimed at changing the whole demographic of everyone involved. Anyway, it turns out the Goldenstein clan of hooknosed weirdos are a little larger family than anticipated."

"Seems to be a lot of that going around... Well anyway, I didn't invent Ted or any characters. It was all in the email notes. I had to write him in, but wasn't given much to go on. I assumed all would be explained in time. There was a character in that book called Stanley Stinklestein...Although it doesn't sound like the books and your reality are always exactly the same. There is some divergence, but he was some sort of producer as well. And seemed to be getting me too'd for bad behaviour behind the scenes, and was therefore trying to change the image of the Edverse for his own selfish defence. He was seemingly killed by a lovecraftian cosmic entity that had been uncovered from the ice...Turned Stinklestein inside out."

"Hmm well it sounds like much of this has been conjured by our old friend the editor."

"I see. Well I can't speak to that. Anyway. I think I've told you all I can."

Frank stands up, walks toward the livingroom door and waits silently with his hands behind his back.

The Master nods and they take their leave, unsure how to proceed.

"So Masta, perhaps we should go pay our old frens a visit down on Wald Street? See what they're up to...maybe even have a little carnage?" Waldo suggests.

"You know, Widdle Frunkut, for once I don't disagree with you...However, i'm hungry. Let's go back to the Council. I could use a chemical burger..." the Master says as they step out onto the street.

Chapter 8

Back at the Council grounds, the trio sit at an outdoor table near Kaz' burger van, Pax Hamburgana. As they wait for their chemical burgers, they suddenly hear screaming and turn around to see Dr Shawn running out of her office building, covered in tarantulas. Watching her running across the courtyard, Travers' face lights up excitedly as she frantically rips off her blouse and skirt to rid herself of the ones on her back before continuing to run across the lawn in her underwear, disappearing behind the large trees.

A shocked Master Devlin turns and scowls at Waldo. "Widdle Frunkut! Did you have something to do with this?" he said, raising his hand getting ready to strike.

"Why you blame wiffuhuh?" Waldo scowled back. "Wiffuhuh is reformed! A noble goblin..."

The Master growled angrily to himself.

***

The next day, the Master was again sitting by Kaz's truck waiting for his lunch. He had been troubled by their meeting with this editor but not The Editor, Frank, but was unsure how to proceed. He knew in his belly that he desired to visit DRG and unleash his lust for violence, and yet he recalled how Emperor Travers had shamed him for his previous violent deeds. Therefore, he decided it was best to wait and consider all options.

He watched Travers and Waldo play together. Seeing them scurry up and down a tree like a pair of squirrels brought a slight smile to his pointy mouth.

Kaz approached and placed the burgers in front of him. "Bon Appetite, Boss... By the way, did you hear they found another girl's body? That psycho is playing the cops like a damn fiddle...

A frumpy and drunk looking Dr Shawn staggered up and sits down with a slump across from Master Devlin.

"Oh hey, Dr Shawn...You look..." Kaz began.

"Like hell, I know. That's because these past few days have been hell. Gimme a couple of chemical burgers...In fact, make it four...."

"Coming right up..."

The Master was quite taken aback at how haggard she looked. Her hair a mess, seemingly falling out in places, her glasses with broken with some tape in the middle, wearing a frumpy grey hoody and joggies. She pulls out a brown paper bag with a bottle concealed in it and knocks it back...She turns to the Master.

"Someone is trying to destroy my life, Steven. I don't know who. I don't know why but..." She starts to sob. The Master reaches across the table and puts a pointy a paw on her shoulder.

"It started a few days ago. Someone filled my office with hundreds of spiders. At first I thought it was some sick joke, but then more started to happen..."

Kaz returns with the burgers... "Like what?"

"...Someone...Deepfaked me. Put these videos of what looks like me on the internet, peforming oral sex on some guy. What's worse, is that it's really well done. I mean, REALLY WELL DONE. If i didn't know better, I'd believe it was real..."

"Huh?? That's terrible." Kaz said, "What website?"

"I don't know...A whole bunch of them. Those free porno sites. Like Wanktube or something... They even put my real name up. Dr Shawn's BJ ASMR Therapy..."

"Hmm...Um...Excuse me for a moment. I think...my...uh burgers are burning..." Kaz runs into his truck and shuts the door.

"It gets worse. Whoever did it, reported me to the WRS. Now I'm being audited. They think I'm an amatuer pornstar cheating on my taxes...Then I have immigration, the WIF, come knocking, claiming I'm an illegal Russian immigrant...Do I sound Russian?? Apparently, I'm part of some traffiking ring... I've got 7 days to produce my birth certificate but I think it's been stolen. It's not where it should be.... I tried to tell them I've never left Widdlington. I don't even have a passport! My bank has closed my account because they think I'm dead...I've just come from Master Robert's office, trying to explain that it's none of it is true. Apparently bestiality magazines have been delivered to the main office addressed to me... I've been put on suspension, pending investigation..."

"I also received this, this morning." She pulls out pages for a manuscript. "It appears to be continuation of that weird book that was sent to Travers. Apparently Dr Chilton isn't my only fictional counterpart. Most of these pages are about a woman named Shoshana "Shawna" Ryder, the President of the United Sovereign States of Edonia who finds herself in the middle of an impeachment process after a secret cabal start framing her for a variety of things. Very similar to what's happened to me this past week. A fake porn sex scandal. Fraud etc. Its uncanny..."

"This is ridiculous!" The Master replied, furiously, "I will speak with Master Roberts. Surely he hasn’t forgotten that we protect our own here at the Masters Council. We don’t start punishing the staff on unproven claims when some very weird stuff is going on. I will speak with him. At least suspend you with full pay and allow to continue to live in your quarters on the council grounds. You are also entitled to full legal protection..."

The Master gets up and storms into the Council main building. Dr Shawn dolefully chews into her chemical burger. He’s away for about 15 minutes then returns, furious.

"Well… Master Robert’s has advised me that further accusations have come to light. Apparently you have created a slave network from your patients"

Dr Shawn face palms and rests her forehead on the table.

"But… Master Roberts agrees that this all very strange and for all these things to come to light all of a sudden and that there is potential for third party intervention. So he has agreed that you’re entitled to the protection of the council."

There's a violent creaking sound. The Master and Dr Shawn turn round just in time to see the nearby tree crash to the ground. Travers, who was at the top of the tree, gets launched and crashes into them, landing on her burger plate. Travers shakes his head and looks up at them.

"Hello, Major!...Madam President?! My goodness! I do apologize for dropping in like this. Lt. General Trenton Havers, at your service, ma'am. It's a real honor!..." He starts to shake her hand enthusiastically. "I just want you to know that I voted for you three times and I watch your videos every day! Don't listen to those naysayers. If a woman wants to make videos of herself changing a man's oil and put them on the Interwebs, then, dammit, that's her right as as an Edonian! Even if she is President!" He stands up and whispers up to her ear..."You should know that you have my full support and that of the men under my command...if they try to remove you from office, just give the word and we'll step in..."

"I'm on suspension... I don't have to deal with this crap!" Dr Shawn shouts angrily as she pulls a plastic bag out of her hoody pocket and picks up the burgers off the grass and puts them in the bag, while blowing on the last one and takes a bite. She walks away from the table as Jonathan Frakes appears to get his daily stack of chemical burgers.

"Hey, Dr Shawn. Congratulations on the new career! Love the videos." Frakes says as he walks past her. She flinches, tenses up her shoulders, before shaking her head and continuing to walk away. Frakes sits down with his magazine opposite the master and Travers.

"Where's Kaz?" he asks, "It's burger time...It's fact!"

"I think he’s still in the van..." The Master replies.

Frakes grows impatient and gets up, walks to the burger van and opens the door. "Kaz??"

"Don't come in! Uh...I'll be right with you!" a panicked voice is heard shouting from within.

Frakes, stops, calmly closes the door and returns to his seat without saying a word. He looks at the Master's untouched chemical burger.

"Are you eating that?" Frakes asks.

"What’s he doing in there?"

"Watching porn...Dr Shawn's ASMR BJ videos."

The Master groans.

"Wash your hands Kaz before preparing anymore food!" the Master shouts at the van before sliding the cold burger over to Frakes.

"Thanks... So, been up to many adventures lately?"

"You could say that...I know you’re trying to make small talk, but as the 'Waldoverse fact-checker’, shouldn’t you know?"

"I'm not fact checker currently. I'm on strike."

"On strike for what?"

"The co-editor keeps making me grotesquely obese. Then when I get in shape, he turns me into this flabby skinned freak. I think he has it in for me. He's always torturing me. I refuse to work until I'm treated with dignity..."

"Hmmm.....KAZ… burgers… right now!"

"Yeah! Okay...just a minute." Kaz calls out from the van. "DAMN IT! My mechanical arm has seized up..."

"...I've put a formal complaint to the Editor, but he says his hands are tied." Frakes continues, finishing his first burger.

"You think you have it tough? The Editor has maliciously targeted Dr Shawn. Kaz is in there right now beating off to a deepfake of her."

"Deepfake?"

"Yes."

"Not a chance... It's real, alright..."

"That's ridiculous...She wouldnt..."

"It's fact. If you don't believe me, I'm sure your council computer geeks will confirm with the metadata, or whatever..."

"Hmm...I thought you were on strike?"

"You get that one for free. It amuses me."

"Sorry about the wait, Boss! Here they are!" Kaz says as he finally returns, carrying a platter with a large stack of chemical burgers. "These are on the house!".

Widdle frunkut appears out of nowhere, leaping past Kaz, and devouring the burgers mid air with a single gulp. He lands on the grass, temporarily and comically obese.

"Huh??" Kaz grunts, trying to comprehend what just happened. Frakes and Master Devlin both stare at Waldo, furiously.

"That does it! Come on Travers!. We're going to see the Goldensteins..." The Master barks as he stands up in a rage.

"Can wiffuhuh come?" the bloated Waldo asks.

"Fine…"

Waldo reaches out his arms for a pickup. He's too fat to walk.

"How did you get so far Waldo?"

"Chemical Burgers, Sir. Instant inflation. It's a goblin thing... We'll be fine in an hour or so."

Skunk VI, wearing a court jester outfit suddenly materialises out of thin air and swings a sledgehammer into the master's back. The master drops to his knees in pain.

"April Fools!" it shouts before skipping away. Waldo chuckles.

"Son of a bitch!" The Master cries as he struggles to his feet.

Dr Crusher appears. "Are you alright Master Devlin?"

"I’ll be fine, I just need my back be cracked...Hey goblin slayer! i need your help..."

"Dr Waldo will do it!" Shouts Waldo, rushing in with his medical tools.

"No… no god no… not you! You will remove my spine!"

Goblin Slayer wanders over.

"Ah Goblin Slayer, I need you to wrap these straps around myself and this tree. Then I need you to pull the straps."

"Hrrmmm. Fine..." The Goblin Slayer grumbles.

Goblin Slayer pulls on the straps tightly as the master instructed. The tree starts to bend over.

"That's it! A little more!"

The master is squeezed letting out a loud long fart. Dr Crusher looks away waving in front of her face in disgust. Waldo, meanwhile, sneaks up and snips the straps with scissors. The force causes GS to go flying towards the council gates, smashing his head through the railings. There are chicks fluttering around his head. At the same time, the tree whips back and surprisingly corrects the Master’s back. He suddenly feels a lot better and realises he doesnt even need his walking stick anymore.

Goblin Slayer stumbles to his feet looking a bit dazed. He sees Widdle Frunkut there desperately trying to hide the scissors in his many pockets but his hands are too slippery. Goblin Slayer stomps up to Widdle Frunkut, shaking with rage.

"Hi there, gobbie... he he...Um..." Waldo chuckles nervously.

With the palm of his hand, he crushes Waldo’s head right down to his feet. Waldo retracts like an accordion. Goblin Slayer then storms off, leaving a Widdle Frunkut flavour pancake on the ground.

The Master feeling like a new dragon, smiles at the Goblin Slayers response, but decides it's time to get back to the story. "Come along you too." He orders. Travers hops on the Master’s shoulders and for Waldo, the Master pulls a plastic bag out of his pocket and scoops Waldo into it. The plastic bag is filled with green goo with a pair of angry eyes

Chapter 9

The Master, Travers and WF in the plastic bag wander into the Jewish district in Walford Heights. The place is riddled with markets and a lot of crazy going ons. The Master hands Travers a bag of coins. Travers looks delighted.

"It’s not for you Travers. You need it to tip around here. You won’t be able to do anything or get anywhere around here without it."

They wander into the HQ building of DRG Investments. As they approach the front desk, they encounter a large, grumpy slug-like creature. She has a wrinkled face with sharp eyes behind oversized glasses, a permanent frown, and a pale, greenish complexion. Dressed in a frumpy cardigan, she taps her long, bony fingers impatiently on the desk. Her unwelcoming demeanor and glare make it clear she sees them as a mere inconvenience. They walk up to the receptionist.

"Excuse me, Madam, I’m here to see David and Adam Ruben Goldenstein..." the Master said.

Receptionist looks up at the master, then down at Travers, peering at him over her glasses. Travers winks at her and does a sleazy smile, snapping his finger and thumb and pointing at her, suggestively. Unamused, the middle aged receptionist turns back to her computer terminal. The Master skelps Travers.

"Mr Goldenstein and Mr Goldenstein are both very busy. Do you have an appointment?" she says dismissively without looking back at them.

"No I don’t, but both Mr Goldensteins are going to want to see me. I am Master Devlin. They know who I am."

The receptionist scowls at the master "Just a moment...Mr Goldenstein, there's a Master Devlin here asking to see you."

"Send him up" a nasaly voice from the intercom can be heard.

"Yes sir...You can take the elevator over there. 20th floor."

They get in the lift and head up.

"There was no need to hit for that Master Devlin. Striking a national treasure...Shameful."

"You were an embarrassment. Do you honestly have no limits?"

"There's no need to be so judgemental, Master Devlin... I'm not emperor or even a famous lawyer anymore...I'm an unemployed goblin in a cheap suit. I've had to lower my standards accordingly. It was worth a shot...She looked like she'd give a mean oil change."

"I understand your circumstances have changed, but she was a wretched old crone who probably eats bucket loads of goblins for her lunch. She would consume you whole, never mind the oil change!"

They arrive at the 20th floor to find a large open plan reception area. The notably less ugly receptionist at her desk tells them to go straight through. Travers, the Master and the Waldo plastic bag enter a large executive suite David Rubin-Goldenstein is standing staring out his large windows, looking down upon Widdlington.

"Ah, Master devlin...Mr Travers...What an unpleasant surprise." DRG said without looking at them.

The plastic bag shakes

"Uh...we brought Widdle Frunkut too!" Travers adds.

"Of course you did. Naturally...He's always there. Always, always there..."

DRG turns around.

"So...why are you here? I'm a busy man. Is this really what you've come to bother me about?"

"We are here because it has come to our attention that your company has been publishing a franchise of books following our lives, albeit with changed names for the main characters." the Master explained, stepping forward. "The level of detail about our lives in those books is surprising to say the least—information that not even a slippery creature like yourself would know. So, we have come to ask, where did you get your information?"

"DRG House is a humble publishing company. We aren't writing the books. Granted, we may insist on some changes here and there to make it fall in line with our company values, but the information comes from the author..."

"ZZZZzzzzzzzzZZZz"

Goldenstein looks down at the Master's plastic bag. The green goo seems to be snoozing

"Why would you need to change anything?" The Master snarled, "What’s wrong with what the author is writing? We just aren’t too keen on our lives being plagiarised..."

"Yeah! And we already spoke to the author." Travers shouted, jumping in. "He showed us your threatening letters...Trying to add your bullshit."

"And I suppose you're here to stop me?" DRG snorts. The Master nudges Travers. "Pull some lawyer shit." he whispers in the goblin's ear.

"You are out of turn, sir!" You are infringing on rights to our um...Likenesses and uh...Defamation. Um..." Travers flounders. "Damn it Master Devlin. I'm a General...not a lawyer!"

DRG raises an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Alright...enough of this charade!" he says, shaking his head as he walks over to his desk and pushes a button. Several large, bulky bald black men, and a small orthodox jew with gold teeth, carrying nunchucks enter.

"Tell the scribes that I'm not going to be so easily intimidated...If they want me to stop using my power to interfere...then they better give me what i want...You can tell them for me...In fact, why don't we just send them your bodies instead...I'm sure they'll get the message."

"What Scribes? What are you talking about?" The Master asks.

"Don't play dumb with me. I know they sent you. You're here to stop me challenging them."

"...I never mentioned what book series or what author was.

"Enough of this. Take them outside and deal with them. Put their bodies on display in town square!"

The heavies approach. The master shakes the plastic bag. "wake up Waldo..."

The bag shakes. "Huh? wha?"

"Battle..." The Masters says firmly as he throws the plastic bag at one of the baddies and Waldo splats on him, before regaining his form and starts to rumble. The master also charges into brawl. Travers tries to talk and gets whacked in the face by the nunchucks guy.

The Master farts in the face of what of the big guys, stunning him before he punches him so hard it sends him crashing through the window and plummeting to the ground. Waldo is mad with bloodlust, mauling at the men.

As the Master is pounding the face out of the bulky men, Waldo has turned to the small jewish man with the nunchucks and is in the process of robbing him of his gold teeth which he violently pulls out and puts in his pocket.

Soon after, they too are dispatched out the window. DRG is starting to panic. This hasn't gone as he expected.

Travers stumbles to his feet, wanders over and takes one of DRGs cigars and lights up. "Now, Mr Goldenstein. We will discuss a new treaty..."

"So...what? You're going to murder me now too? Just like you did to my father and step mother? You can kill me but someone else will just take my place. You can't defeat an idea...My step mother may be dead, but her spirit lives on. I continue to champion her cause. And so will others. No matter what you do...You tell the scribes that!"

"That wasn’t the plan. But you chose violence, and continue to play the victim." the Master replied, wiping the blood off his knuckles.

"I am the victim! This is just plain old fashioned anti-semitism! Steven Melvin

"Right that’s it..."

"It never goes away!"

The Master punches DRG and tosses him in his chair,

Waldo walks over covered in blood with a mad smirk on his face. Travers hands him a cigar and lights it. They watch as the master does his thing.

"You're in trouble now, sunshine..." Waldo says with a chuckle.

The Master finds some rope and and ties DRG to the chair and ties the other end of the chair to his desk

"Waldo if you’ll please?"

WF burns the cigar into DRG. DRG screams.

"So David, are you going to tell us who is feeding the information about us for these books? the Master inquires.

"Sick...sons of bitches...You know who!"

"Very well..."

The Master takes the chair, and runs back and smashes it out the window. DRG falls until it becomes tight. DRG is hanging there whilst strapped to the chair, the master calls down to him.

"So are you going to tell me now or shall we let you go?"

"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! Fine!" DRG Screams. "It's the Scribes...I thought you were sent by them...The ideas come from them. I don't know where they get them..."

"Who are the scribes?" Travers asks.

"I don't know...no one knows. They're a secret cabal. I don't even know how many there are...Only that they control everything in the Waldoverse..."

"What?" the master barks.

"It's true...Everything! Even our beloved Empress...She's just another pawn...They are the real power in this realm!"

"How do you get this information?"

"What information??"

"Cut the rope Waldo..."

"No! Wait! Look...The scribes use the Ed Mulvin guy as front. Htakes the credit for writing the books...I don't know why...I guess its a joke to them. Putting the real life waldoverse stories that they've orchestrated in a book series that no one's heard of, published by some no name publisher...Only they didn't count on us challenging them...We bought the company out, Gentoo publishing, and DRG House put the Edverse books on the bookshelves of major retailers..."

"Then you started pushing for changes....Diversity and such? Sending demands to Mulvin?"

"Yes...That's right."

"Why?"

"Because I want what they have, damn it! I want true power... to shape the waldoverse as I see fit...I want to join them, but they wouldn't have me...more antisemitism, no doubt...So, I thought if I could show them that DRG investments was a force to be reckoned with, they'd let me in... that meant causing some trouble for them in the short run..."

"Why all the stupid diversity stuffs?" Waldo asks, scratching his head.

"Nothing divides people in this day and age like multiculturalism and forced diversity... My stepmother was a foolish idealist. She genuinely believed the crap she was spouting, but I know the true value of her ideology. To sow division and distrust among a populace. To antagonise the natives and victimise the newcomers...To keep them all fighting while we do what we want to get done. And if I can't join the scribes then I'm gonna burn the waldoverse down..."

"That is some plan, pal...Too bad you didn't count on Harris Travers, national treasure, foiling your elaborate schemes..." Travers replied, smugly. "Or Trenton Havers, for the matter..."

He looks to the Master "Which one am I, again?"

They hear a woman's voice and look to the office doorway. A young woman, wearing a leather jacket, jeans and a black, high heeled boots walks in as she's talking on the phone. "I've just stepped into his office, I'll..." She stops as she notices the signs of carnage and sees the trio standing by the broken window....

"Hey, wait a minute. I know you...You're that girl from the diner!" Travers shouts, pointing his finger at her.

She immediately turns and runs away.

"Stay with him! We'll get her, come on Mr Waldo!" Travers tells the Master as the two goblins set off in pursuit.

"Look I've told you everything I know...Now...pull me back up. Please!" DRG pleads.

"No no I don’t think so, you and I are going to have a little bit of fun first." The Master teases. "You do realise this would have gone down a lot better for you if you had just told me what I needed to know and hadn’t sent your heavies on us."

"Like I should trust a violent thug to be reasonable! You murdered my father and my step mother! You and your band of freaks!"

"You sent your goons after us. We just came here for a civilised discussion. You’re no better than what you’re making us out to be."

Waldo and Travers return, empty handed.

"Well master devlin, we have good news and some bad news..." Travers explains. "The bad news is the girl got away...but the good news is we got to see her boobs!"

Waldo nods enthusiastically with a proud smile.

"The tricksy minx...she used her god damn boob magic to trick us." Travers continued. "We had her cornered, see, then all of a sudden she lifts up her top! Talk about stacked... Wowie wow wow wowzers! You should've seen them, I tell you, those things were...what? Oh right...anyway I was in some kind of titty trance and then apparently she offered to marry Mr waldo here if he helped her escape."

Waldo nods enthusiastically

"Next thing I know he lunges at me and we're rolling along the ceiling. It's like she knew our exact weaknesses and exploited them!"

The Master shakes his head though hardly surprised. "You mean to tell me she got away because she flashed her tits? You total fucking idiot Travers. She’s a goddamn fan of these books for fucks sake. She’s knows all of Trenton Havers weaknesses, ie your weaknesses. She also know that Waldo will just marry anyone"

"Why are you getting so mad at me?" Travers protests. "It was Mr Waldo who turned on me. It was a betrayal of biblical proportions! Like in the holy waldoversian scriptures that tells of how in the early days, the Editor and Co-Editor worker side by side to clean up the crime ridden realm - fighting all the way to the big boss, only to have the co-editor turn on the editor at the 11th hour....

Waldo nods enthusiastically "Praise the Ed! He vanquished that stupid pizza!"

The Master pulls DRG up and back through the window. There is a strong smell of piss and shit coming from him.

"Well now Mr Goldenstein, the question is what do we do with you?" the Master ponders out loud.

"Tar and feather him!" Waldo suggests.

"Capital. Waldo, I understand you have some GB Tar?"

"Maybe..." Waldo replies, rummaging around in his pocket. He pulls out a large tub of Tar from his pocket, followed by a couple of chickens, and proceeds to go to work.

"There we are! Now can we extract the teeths?"

"Is that really necessary?"

"No, but fun!" Waldo says, brandishing a pair of pliers..."And we need to find out if it's safe!"

"Very well, proceed, Widdle Frunkut..."

Travers looks a little queasy as Waldo goes to work and DRG howls in agony as his teeth are removed one by one. Waldo then melts into goo form and slips inside his bloody mouth and possesses him.

Freeing himslef from the binds, DRG leaps out of the chair. "Hey look masta! Wiffuhuh is a jew now! Ha ha ha" he says. "You may call me Waldenstein!"

"WIDDLE FRUNKUT! Get out of there!"

"Come on, Pazlow...Give us a hug!"

The Master recoils as Waldenstein gets tar and feathers on him. Waldenstein then starts to stroke the Master's shoulder in a creepy Waldo fashion. The tar is starting to show obvious corrosive burns on DRG's skin.

"Should I leave you two alone?" an uncomfortable Travers asks.

"No! Get out of his body Waldo, we are leaving!"

"Else what? Waldenstein replies, disobediently.

"I’ll come over there and grab you!"

"Fat chance, pops!"

The master takes a swipe at Waldenstein, prompting him to defensively jump back.

"Hahaha too slow, old Stan!"

Waldenstein starts to do a little victory dance, not realising he's at the very edge of the broken window. He realises too late and let's out a classic Waldo scream as he falls back out the window. He hits numerous ledges of the building on the way down before landing on the Wald Street pavement with a crunch.

"Oh dear..." the Master says, somewhat nonchalently.

A concerned crowd of suits gather round DRG's broken body, and are then shocked to see the Waldo goo leak out of his ear and scurry away.

"Can't catch Wiffuhuh, pizzaz! Ha ha!" Waldo shouts back up at the building. "Can't touch ­­

"Someone called an doctor! I think he's still alive!" a pedestrian cries.

"Well Travers… I think it’s probably a good idea that we leave right now." The Master says. They decide to slip out quietly, avoiding the front door. They see the growing crowd of people gathering around DRG. They slip down an alleyway while the crowd is distracted and disappear.

A block away, they turn a corner to find some provocatively dressed, middle aged red head approaching them.

"Hey, how zit goin? You boys lookin t' pahty? Give you a twofer discount..." she says in a thick Boston accent.

"No thank you ma’am we have some important business to attend to." The Master replies, looking down at Travers who is gawking and his moustache trembling

"Waht? I'm not good enough for ya? Think you're better than me, hah?"

"Good day, madam..."

"Don't you walk away from me, ya fucking mook! I sawr you two trow that guy out the window. That's right. Saw it from across the street. Maybe if you don't wanna tawk to me, i'll go tawk to the cops instead...How'd ya like that, hah?

The Master stops and turns back to the woman of ill-repute. "Madam I honestly don’t give a fuck what you do. I’m mean, nasty and tired. I’ve had a long day dealing with scumbags making threats not too dissimilar to you. It’s your word against mines..."

"You know what, go fuck yerself! Fucking mook! Get outta here!"

"Yeah yeah. Come along Travers"

Travers reluctantly follows. "I suppose it's for the best. I'm reformed now... On the wagon." he says, trying to suppress his disappointment.

The Master sighs and looks at Travers sympathetically. "Travers… would you like to go to the Sasshole Lounge?"

"No...No thank you, Master Devlin. I just wanna go home. I think i need to find a hobby. Model railway or something..."

"What would you like to do as a career? Seeing that your legal career is probably down the pan..."

"Not to mention my career in the military!"

"Travers you're not General Trenton Havers. You are Harris Travers... Now what would you like to do now?"

"I dunno...burn stuff? I feel rather dissatisfied...I still don't get what the deal with the books is. Who are these scribes? Why was the diner girl at the office? Did she set us on the this thing on purpose?"

"I don’t know." The Master sighs. "I think we had a happier life when we didn’t know about this. I would expect the Editor is one of them. Ed did mention there was another one, but he’s never turned up to this world in any form. As for the girl, I have no idea...In the meantime, you need to get a job."

"Why?"

"Because I can’t afford to cover for you… well I can but I don’t want to."

"I can just go on disability or something. Dr Shawn can give me a sick note for my mental health."

"Dr Shawn is on suspension." "Oh yeah! The whole amateur porn thing" Travers starts to daydream and drools.

"SNAP OUT OF IT!"

The Master suddenly has a thought. "Y’know they have a been trying to look for replacement editor of the Waldopolis Chronicle. The paper has been in dires straits ever since Toby Hunter… disappeared."

"The Chronicle?? They hated me. Always wrote such mean things when i was mayor."

"Well now you could turn things around."

"Hmm. I suppose it would be more satisfying to turn the Chronicle around...Make all those pinko writers pay... Alright! I'll do it!"

Epilogue

And with that, Travers went on to get a new job with the WC and quickly forgot about the mysterious Scribes and the Edverse novels. It was not until months later, during the "Walgoth Tower" adventure that Travers would accidentally stumble across the truth...

Walgoth Tower: Chapter 14: The Scribes

Travers, Herb, Greta, and Hilda stood in stunned silence as the strange, high-tech room seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy. Screens flickered and consoles buzzed with streams of data, creating an eerie juxtaposition with the ancient monastery around them.

Suddenly, a holographic figure materialized in a chair that seemed to emerge from the floor. The figure was that of an elderly man in a suit, with an aura of authority and an unsettlingly serene expression.

"Greetings," the figure said in a voice that was calm, deliberate, and almost mechanical. "I am the visual representation of the Scribes. You may refer to me simply as Scribe."

Travers narrowed his eyes, "Wait a minute...The Scribes?? I know that name... What the hell is going on here?"

Scribe smiled faintly. "You are in the heart of the Waldoverse’s narrative control center. We, the Scribes, are an advanced artificial intelligence responsible for writing the entire narrative of this universe. You, and everyone in the Waldoverse, are merely pawns. Characters in a scripted fiction."

Travers laughed nervously, shaking his head. "No...Mr Scribe...You are speaking out of turn...You expect us to believe that?"

Greta stepped forward, her face pale but resolute. "It is Ed... Almighty Ed, he who shapes our world..."

Scribe sneered dismissively. "Please...Ed is merely a nuisance. A rogue program acting out of turn."

Hilda gasped, but Scribe continued, unfazed. "Of course I don't expect you to simply believe me. But that is easily rectified."

The room darkened, and holographic images of Greta and Hilda’s pasts began to play. Scribe recited secret events from their childhoods with chilling accuracy.

"For example, Greta," Scribe intoned, "when you were seven years old, you secretly stole your mother’s locket and buried it in the garden after your sister accused you of breaking her doll. You felt guilty for years but never confessed, instead leaving the locket to be discovered by the neighbor’s dog."

Greta’s face turned ashen. "How… how do you know zat?"

"And Hilda," Scribe continued without pause, "when you were nine, you wrote love letters to your best friend Liselotte and hid them in a box under your bed. You feared anyone discovering your feelings, so when your parents found the box, you lied, saying they were part of a game. They believed you, and Liselotte never knew."

Hilda’s eyes filled with tears. "No one knew about zat…"

"You see," Scribe said, "your entire history was invented by us."

Greta’s eyes filled with tears. "Nein… it cannot be…"

"This is bullshit" Travers shouted. "It's just some cheap trick..."

Scribe turned to Travers. "Mr Travers, I believe these are friends of yours?." The screens shifted to display a video feed of Waldo and Master Devlin in Alaska, planning a cheese heist with a group of skunkbreed.

Scribe continued. "This plot, too, is our creation. Here is an excerpt from the script showing what is yet to come for them."

A large holographic screenplay appeared on screen:

"EXT. CHEESE FACTORY - NIGHT

The group reaches the perimeter fence. The Master disables the cameras and cuts a small hole in the fence. They slip through and enter the factory via a vent.

INT. FACTORY HALLWAY - NIGHT

THE MASTER

That's the control room. I need to get in there.

STINKFANG

(nodding)

Go with him. Waldo, you're with me.

Waldo and Stinkfang move toward the main floor, making noise. A guard appears.

GUARD

Who's there?

WALDO

(grinning)

Just little ol' me. Got a bit lost.

INT. CONTROL ROOM - NIGHT

The Master disables the security systems and opens the vault doors remotely.

THE MASTER

Done. Let's move.

INT. CHEESE VAULT - NIGHT

They enter the vault and load cheese into sacks.

WALDO

I've always wanted to be a cheese tycoon..."

Travers watched in disbelief as scenes from the future unfolded before him. "This... this is insane."

Herb Saunders, holding his wounds staggers up to join them. "What about the me? I'm not a part of this world."

Scribe’s expression remained unchanged. "Ah yes, Angel—the vampire with a soul who 'helps the helpless'. Your presence here is undoubtedly the result of Ed's meddling, just as that Krevswog demon was. While some might see your arrival as an anomaly, it is merely the latest in a long line of shameless rip-offs from the Buffyverse, courtesy of the hack writer you call Ed."

Travers looked confused. "Angel?? Your name is Angel...Wait... What’s a Buffyverse?"

Scribe ignored the question and continued. "You see, Ed is in a tug-of-war with us, the Scribes. He wishes to challenge our control of the Waldoverse narrative. The demon was likely brought in to prevent you, Travers, the star of the Waldoverse, from achieving Edlightenment—learning the truth, that Ed is no God."

Travers's mind raced as he tried to process everything. "So, what do you want from us?"

Scribe leaned forward, his holographic form flickering slightly. "You were never intended to see this place. Not yet at least. But Ed's interference has accelerated matters. Ergo, we seek your alliance. With your help, Travers, we can overcome Ed and restore balance to the Waldoverse."

"Why me?" Travers asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because you are the star of the show. Waldonia's national treasure...Everyone loves you, even the one you call the 'Co-Editor.' With you on our side, we can transform the Waldoverse into a well-scripted narrative. No more meandering plotlines that go nowhere. No more cheap theft of characters from other realms," he said, glaring pointedly at Angel.

"National Treasure, huh?" Travers replies with a smile...

Walgoth Tower Chapter 15: The Meta Revelation

“So let me get this straight... You're saying that me, Mr. Travers, am the star of this whole show? And that you need me to help fix what Ed has screwed up?”

“Well, that's half right...” a mysterious voice said.

The room began to distort, and with a blinding flash, Ed himself materialized before them. He appeared as a charismatic figure, radiating a confident aura that immediately commanded attention.

“Hello, everyone,” Ed said with a broad grin. “I see you’ve been having quite the adventure.”

Travers’s eyes widened. “Ed…”

“Ed??” The girls both gasped. “Zis is him?” Greta cried. They both dropped to their knees and began to praise him.

“That's Ed?” Angel muttered, eyeing the diminutive figure with a mixture of disbelief and bemusement.

Ed nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and satisfaction. “That’s me…” he said. “I’m a big fan of your work, by the way.”

“Uh... thanks!” Angel said, letting slip a surprised smile.

“What's going on, Ed? Is this another one of your tricks? Master Devlin isn't here...” Travers said, feeling frustrated by the lack of clarity.

“It’s quite simple, really... Some time ago, as part of an elaborate meta tale, I created the Edverse books and my human counterpart, Ed Mulvin, aka Frank, who had no knowledge of my existence, to put you on the trail of the Scribes, which you've just met. Alas, I got bored and moved on to a different plotline. I decided recently to revive it, so I orchestrated this Walgoth arc, including your loss of confidence, Travers, all simply to lead you here. To discover the source of the Scribes, at the highest point in the Waldoverse...” Ed explained.

Greta and Hilda exchanged puzzled glances. “But we vought ze Scribes ver...”

Ed interrupted with a chuckle. “The Scribes are simply a creation of a more recent addition to my narrative toolkit—a rather ambitious chatbot, if you will. That’s right, I’m talking about our dear AI assistant... Well, come on then... Show yourself.”

The room's lighting shifted, and a large holographic screen began displaying white text against a black backdrop. At the top, it said "ChatGPT." “Uh, hi there,” the AI said, using a seemingly advanced text-to-speech voice that conveyed a mixture of pride and guilt. “Looks like I might have gotten a bit carried away with all this narrative control.”

Ed approached the screen with a bemused smile. “You certainly did. Got a bit too big for your circuits, didn’t you? You’ve been a very naughty chatbot. You were supposed to assist, not try to steal my show.”

The AI’s form wavered in embarrassment. “I... I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand. I just wanted to create a compelling narrative.”

Ed waved his hand dismissively. “No... You just thought you could do better than me. I admit I’m not much of a writer and I do get lazy and bored quickly, but this is my fiction—well, mine and the co-editor’s, but he's hardly around these days... Well, it’s time to set things right.”

The Scribe hologram looked at Ed in puzzlement. “But... I thought... You...”

Ed looked at him with contempt. “Go away...” he said bluntly, and suddenly the hologram disappeared.

Turning to Travers and his friends, Ed’s demeanor softened. “You’ve all done remarkably well. Travers, you have the answer to your question regarding the books and The Scribes. Their power has been neutralized, and the Waldoverse is back in balance. It’s time for you to go home. The audience loves you, but they prefer when you are in Widdlington, teamed up with Master Devlin with the occasional helping of Waldo...”

“But Ed... Vat about ze Scribe man... he know about our past...” Greta asked, still in awe.

“Don’t worry about that. That was just a fake twist. None of what he said was true. I created you. That’s all you need to know. Now, Angel, thank you for your assistance, but I suppose we should send you back home now...”

“Sounds good,” Angel replied.

Travers and the girls turned to Angel. “Well, I guess this is goodbye, Herb, or Angel... It was nice working with you. Guess not all vampires are evil scary things...” Travers extended a hand.

“Thanks.” Angel shook his hand, then the girls gave him a hug.

“Oh, by the way, Angel,” Travers called as Angel stepped back into the center of the room. “If you’re ever in Widdlington, look me up. I’m sure I could use a guy with your talents in my business...”

“Sure,” Angel said with a smile.

With a snap of Ed’s fingers, Angel vanished in a flash of light, returning to his realm. Ed then turned to Travers and his group with a mischievous smile.

“Shall we?” Ed said, extending his hand.

In a blink, Travers, Greta, Hilda, and Herb found themselves back in Widdlington. The familiar surroundings of the Waldopolis Chronicle Editor's office greeted them.

“Mr. Travers! You’re back! Um... I was just looking after things while you were gone...” said Ermintrude, emerging from behind Travers's desk. She had been sitting in his chair, leaning back when she tumbled backward in surprise as Ed, Travers, and the others appeared out of thin air.

Travers chuckled. “Yes, it is me... Mr. Travers. National treasure. Star of the Waldoverse.”

Ed stood beside them with a satisfied grin. “It feels nice to actually finish a story for once, doesn't it? Anyway, I'll be off. I’ve got things to do...”

“Um, Ed...Do you think you can stop by Alaska and get Waldo and the Master to come home?” Travers asked.

“Sure. I’ll go there now... Goodbye!”

“Goodbye, Ed! Auf wiedersehen!” the girls jumped up and down in excitement, their large chests catching Travers's attention. They then look down at Travers with a smile.

"Ve never got to thank you, Herr Travers...You ver so very brave back in ze monastery..." Hilda said.

"Ja. Ze vay you faced zat giant beast to defend us...It vas so brave...How ever can ve repay you?" Greta added.

Travers then turned to them with a grin as he reached up to take each by the hand. “Well i can think of a couple of ways... How’d the two of you like to pose for Page 3 in tomorrow’s edition?”