Right To A Family Life
The following takes place following: Split Decision
The Master goes to the Waldgate Maximum Security Penitentiary. He is escorted down to the most secure wing of the prison, where Reg is kept.
The Master approaches Reg’s cell. Reg is seated, painting a picture of himself on a canvas. A withered Stanbot lies discarded, face down, in the corner of the cell.
Master Devlin: Hello… Reg.
Reg: Ah, Brutus! How nice of you to visit your old pal Reginald…
Master Devlin: Indeed.
Reg: You look well-fed.
Master Devlin: Yes, well, people can actually eat now, thanks to you no longer being able to blockade grain shipments and starve the citizens.
Reg: So, to what do I owe this pleasure?
Master Devlin: Actually, I’m just here to collect Stanbot.
Reg: …
Master Devlin: Excuse me, Warden?
The prison warden approaches.
Master Devlin: I need to retrieve the robot in Reg’s cell. I believe you’ll find it qualifies as contraband.
The Master hands the Warden a letter stating, by order of the Mayor’s Office, that the robot is to be taken into the Master’s custody. He also hands the Warden a few coins.
Warden: Well… everything seems to be in order. Guards, remove the robot from Van Der Beak’s cell.
The guards enter and begin dragging out the robot. A trail of bird semen drips onto the floor behind it. The Master and Warden recoil in disgust.
Reg: You’re wasting your time.
Master Devlin: Why is that?
Reg: I’ve excavated every orifice. It’s just an empty shell now… Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it in there.
Master Devlin: What makes you think I’m looking for something inside the robot?
Reg: I assumed. You said it had contraband.
Master Devlin: No, I said the robot is contraband. Also I’m saving it from further ill treatment.
Reg: Except the Mayor himself granted me this robot.
Warden: Well, the letter now says it’s to be removed. Sorry, Van Der Beak, it is what it is.
Reg: I doubt that letter’s even legitimate, Warden. Master Devlin here is hardly above forgery. (sighs) Very well, then. But if you’re going to rob me of my sexbot, the least you could do is satisfy my curiosity. What are you really after, Devlin? Perhaps I can be of assistance.
Master Devlin: Doubtful. But fine. I’ll dispense with the bullshit… I’m looking for an Orb of Thesulah.
Reg: Thesulah, eh? Used for summoning souls.
Master Devlin: You know of it?
Reg: One doesn’t summon a lutin from the netherrealm without knowing a thing or two about the dark arts.
Master Devlin: I see. Apparently one of the Stanbots stole one some time ago. I’m trying to track it down.
Reg: And what would a Master want with tools of gypsy witchcraft?
Master Devlin: That’s not your concern.
Reg: Well, as a matter of fact, I do recall seeing one. And again—you’re wasting your time. It’s not in there.
Master Devlin: I’m listening. Perhaps I can convince the Warden to grant you nicer quarters.
Reg: I was hoping for more than that, dear Devlin.
Master Devlin: What then? A birdcage?
Reg: My terms: First, I continue to keep my wife here in my cell—it also serves as a birdcage.
Master Devlin: Hrmm. And?
Reg: We want a child.
Master Devlin: 🤢
Warden: What?
Reg: A baby robot. We can’t make one ourselves, but you could. We’d like a son. Basically a smaller version of Stanbot 2.0.
Master Devlin: 😒 You’re pretty sick, Reg.
Warden: I’m afraid I can’t allow that.
Reg: Why? It’s only natural to want a family. How can you deny me that? I have a right to a family life. Same as anyone.
Warden: You lost those privileges when you landed in prison, Mr. Van Der Beak.
Reg: I think not. Under the ECHR, I do retain those rights, even as a prisoner. Come now... It’s hardly a big request. Just a little dragon-dictabird robot running around. Happy little Van Der Beak family…
Warden: The robot is basically a shell. You’ve raped all life out of it. A smaller version could be trained to help you escape. I won’t allow that. You’re welcome to have a child robot outside the prison, but not in my facility.
Reg: Escape? I have no interest in leaving. Warden, have I not been a model prisoner? In here, I’m treated with the respect I always craved as the former ruler of this city. I have everything I need… except a child robot. If you prefer, you can make it large enough that it can’t fit through the bars.
Master Devlin: Hrmmm.
The Master abruptly turns and walks away.
Reg: Oh dear. Was it something I said? Do come back soon!
****
An hour later, the Master returns, carrying a Smyth’s Toy Shop bag. He opens it and presents the contents to Reg. A small toy robot.
Master Devlin: There you go.
Reg inspects the toy.
Reg: Hmm… Less triangular than we'd like. But very well. It’ll do.
The Master takes the robot and slices bits into the shape of himself.
Master Devlin: Here. Now talk. Tell me what you know about the orb.
Reg: Not so fast… I’d also like better bird seed. The prison stuff is wretched. I’m quite partial to Cécile Caminades’ brand, myself. You can find it in most major retailers. I’d like it to become my regular seed. Have the Warden arrange it, please.
Master Devlin: Hold on a second, Reg. You’ve yet to convince me you even know where the orb is. Talk, and we’ll see about the bird seed.
Reg: Very well… I recall that in the infant days of Stanbot 1.0, Master Waldo had him run errands — fetching various items, including, on one occasion, a couple of Ghora demon eggs and an Orb of Thesulah. You can consult the Waldoverse archives if you don’t believe me. Our dearly departed robot friend, of course, cannot confirm it himself.
Master Devlin: …
Reg: Not long after, you launched a surprise attack on Master Waldo’s Goblin Brand empire. You destroyed most of his inventory… and murdered his great-uncle, I might add.
Master Devlin: You’re remembering it wrong. It was retaliation.
Reg: I’m sure you’ve convinced yourself of that. Nevertheless, I was able to salvage a few items — including, as it so happens, the orb you seek. I have it in storage.
Master Devlin: Hrmm.
Reg: My terms: a lifetime supply of CC seed, and the right to keep Stanbot and our child here in my cage, for as long as I remain imprisoned. Signed by a judge. The Supreme Court, in fact. Only then will I reveal its location.
Master Devlin: That’s a big ask. I’ll need the Ghora demon eggs as well. Once I have those, I’ll have the judge sign it over. But only when I receive the items. If I find you’ve been wasting my time, these requests will be revoked. And I’ll go further — solitary confinement for the rest of your natural life.
Warden: I can sign off on that.
Master Devlin: Do we have a deal?
Reg: Very well. I’ll hold you to your word. It’s nice to deal with such a compliant Master again. Why, I haven’t seen you this agreeable since you publicly kissed my talon in Town Square.
The Warden grimaces in disgust.
Master Devlin: Don’t push it, Reg.
Reg: Of course, I suppose we have Mayor Travers to thank for that… How did it taste? Did you enjoy it? Did it taste nice?
Master Devlin: I don’t recall any taste. I do recall vomiting on you, though.
Reg: Naturally. I suppose the Mayor is the reason you’re scurrying around town looking for obscure items.
Master Devlin: Sort of.
Reg: My, my. Tell me — how does it feel to have become… a flunky? A minion. A stoooooge… Whoring yourself out to your mortal enemy once again?
Master Devlin: You’re not an idiot, Reg. You know exactly what’s going on. I’m keeping an eye on my pupil.
Reg: Yes, yes… That’s why you kissed my foot. I’m sure. No, I think not. The truth is, you’ll always be a glorified sidekick. Playing second fiddle to Widdle Frunkut and his little carnival of personalities. Must be rather humiliating. You can’t even find a mate — by your own admission. You told me so. Your love life—such as it is—is at the mercy of a demented goblin. Tell you what: kiss my other foot, and I’ll grant you five minutes alone with my wife, Stanbot 2.0.
Master Devlin: Are you quite finished?
Reg: Not at all. I have all the time in the world.
Master Devlin: Don’t worry. The Mayor’s paying the bill. Right, I'm off to see the judge about your bird seed.
Reg: Yes, yes—run along, little dragon. I know how busy you are now, as the resident Julius Nicholson of the Travers administration…
Master Devlin: I’m doing this for you, Reg. The least you could do is be a little nicer.
Reg: Where’s the fun in that? I said I’d help you. I didn’t say I’d be nice.
Master Devlin: Hrmm.
The Master leaves.
****
An hour later, Master Devlin returns to the penitentiary, holding a formal letter bearing the seal of the Waldoshire Supreme Court. He presents it to Reg, who skims it with leisurely contempt.
Waldoshire Supreme Court
Order of Special Provision
Recipient: Mr. Reginald Van Der Beak Inmate No.: #787 Facility: Waldgate Maximum Security Penitentiary
This order recognises the cooperative assistance offered by Mr. Van Der Beak in support of the Masters Council and the Mayor's Office. It is hereby noted that this recognition does not constitute any pardon or mitigation of Mr. Van Der Beak’s prior convictions, including his well-documented war crimes against the sovereign State of Waldonia.
Terms of Agreement: Subject to the verified confirmation of the precise location of the following items:
Two (2) Ghora Demon Eggs
One (1) Orb of Thesulah
In exchange for said cooperation, Mr. Van Der Beak is granted:
Continued possession of Stanbot 2.0 (carcass) vCustody of one (1) Baby Robot (already supplied)
Lifetime provision of Cécile Caminades’ Brand Bird Seed for the duration of Mr. Van Der Beak’s remaining sentence (currently 800 years)
Should Master Devlin fail to obtain the aforementioned items, or should Mr. Van Der Beak withhold accurate information regarding their location, this agreement shall be rendered null and void. In such a case, the inmate’s status will be reassessed and may result in immediate relocation to solitary confinement at the discretion of the prison warden.
In addition, any future behavioural infractions may serve as grounds for full revocation of these provisions.
By order of the Waldonian Supreme Court Signed: Julius Alexander Randolph, Chief Justice
Reg: Very well. This looks acceptable.
Master Devlin: Well?
Reg: I have a private warehouse in West Widdlington — 2267 Demented Drive, in the industrial sector, just south of Waldomere Boulevard. The items you seek are stored there, along with a variety of other curiosities I’ve long ceased to care about. There's a code on the inner door: 73357. I believe I’ve told you all you need to know.
Master Devlin: Much appreciated, Reginald. Enjoy your bird seed and your family life. Try to stay out of trouble, will you?
****
The Master crosses the river at West Widdlington Bridge and arrives at the address Reg provided. The warehouse is dilapidated, seemingly abandoned, though still operational.
Inside, the space is largely empty save for a heavy industrial-grade security door with an embedded keypad. Devlin approaches with caution, inspecting for any signs of sabotage. Finding none, he punches in the code: 73357.
The door creaks, gears grinding in complaint — and then, a small nozzle pops out above the keypad. A stinging, foul-smelling vapour blasts him square in the snout.
Devlin snarls and recoils, clawing at his face like Sharptooth. As the irritation fades, he rubs his eyes and spots a single mocking symbol flashing on the keypad: 😆
He exhales sharply through his nose and enters the room.
As promised, it’s a bizarre museum of arcane relics and black-market oddities. He notes several artifacts that should be retrieved for Council custody. After a brief search, he locates the two Ghora Demon Eggs and the Orb of Thesulah, wraps them carefully, and heads off toward Larry’s practice.
The entire detour lasted roughly twenty minutes.
Season 7 continues in Freaky Frunkut