The Great Displacement
The following takes place following: Trenton Havers' Reformation's Reformation
As Master Devlin and Travers fly over Winnie Marina, approaching the bridge into Isla Waldista, they spot a small vessel on the river. On the starboard side of the boat hangs a banner that reads: “DINOSAURS ARE NOT THE PROBLEM.” On the stern, another sign reads: “DINO LIVES MATTER.”
The Master begins to hover, curious, as he watches the group on board chanting and shouting at the soldiers stationed along the Isla Waldista bridge. Even from several metres up, the Master can smell the protesters—they apparently haven’t bathed in some time.
Eventually, the crowd quiets down as a white man with dreadlocks steps forward, holding a megaphone.
Activist Man: “No more borders! End the segregation now! Exclusion is extinction!”
A heavy-set woman with pink hair, wearing oversized glasses and a clinical mask, interrupts. She holds a sign that reads: “REPARATIONS FOR PREHISTORIC INJUSTICE.”
Activist Woman: “Hold on—shouldn’t we be advocating segregation? These animals need a safe space away from the barbarism and oppression of humankind…”
A vicious disagreement breaks out among the protesters, who begin loudly bickering. Some anticipate violence, subtly pulling bike locks from their bags and brandishing them with clear intent to strike.
The Master chuckles at the ludicrous display — unaware that a pterodactyl is swooping straight toward him. The beast tries to snatch up Travers, grabbing his head in its beak. Master Devlin grabs his legs, and the two aerial beasts engage in a bizarre tug-of-war, with Travers stretched between them.
The activists stop fighting and turn their attention skyward as the Master and the pterodactyl struggle mid-air. Master Devlin seizes the creature by the neck and punches it. The pterodactyl squawks and drops slightly—but refuses to let go.
Activist Woman: “Hey! That’s an endangered species, you fascist pig!”
The activists erupt in boos directed at the Master.
Ignoring them, Master Devlin punches the pterodactyl again, this time knocking it out cold. It drops Travers and spirals downward, crashing into the protestors like a dart—its beak impaling the pink-haired woman and pinning her to the deck.
The activists rush to check if the dinosaur is okay.
Meanwhile, the Master flies over the checkpoint and fence, landing in the middle of Isla Waldista. He places Travers on the ground, who is now all stretched out and weird-looking.
Master Devlin: “Oh dear.”
The Master rolls him up and reshapes him, but he’s still flat. Spotting the valve on Travers’ back, he uncaps it and blows into it, reinflating him.
Although back to his normal shape, Travers remains dazed and drooling.
The Master slaps him across the face.
Master Devlin: “Wake up, you fool!”
Travers blinks slowly and mumbles, disoriented. He then vomits.
Travers: “Huh? What? Oh. It’s you. Hello, Master Devlin. What’s the matter? You look like you’re in a foul mood…”
Waldo slithers out of the Master's trouser pocket and hops onto the ground.
wF: "The Masta is just mad because he's been found out. After years of masquerading as an Irish-French man, it turns out he's Danish — and a member of the notoriously detestable Danish Devlinsen dynasty."
Master Devlin: "Shut up, Waldo..."
wF: "Oh, hey Isla Waldista! Can we get some pork sandwiches?"
Master Devlin: "Sure!"
The Master grabs Waldo and hurls him down the street toward the refugee camp in Castillo Park. Waldo lands in some refugee's soup.
The Master then grabs Travers and carries him toward the camp. He notices a bunch of Cuban immigrant locals standing outside their stores, looking on with suspicion at the middle-class WASP refugees from Walver Lake and greater West Widdlington who’ve crossed the river and invaded their space while waiting for relocation.
The Master and Travers head into the camp. The Master points out all the injured and hungry refugees to Travers. Waldo is already trying to sell his Goblin Brand wares to them.
Master Devlin: "There you go, Travers. There’s your story. Regular Waldonians, forced to flee their homes."
Travers: "Refugee crisis, huh? I suppose that could work... I can see the front page now..."
‘Migrant Crisis! A swarm of economic migrant criminals from West Widdlington have illegally crossed the River Waldo to invade Isla Waldista en masse... No doubt the next stop will be Wallywood, Waldford Heights — even Waldobury!’
"I like it. Good job, Master Devlin. Write it up and have the story on my desk by this evening. Now kindly take me home. I have an oil change appointment..."
Master Devlin: "Travers… we can’t print that. It’s simply not true. You know why these people are here. Their homes were destroyed because of the dinosaur invasion. Since when were West Widdlingtonians economic migrants?"
Travers: "Since the bridges closed... and you have to be economical with the truth to sell papers. People don't want the truth — they want to be alarmed. Besides, those west of the river are very different to us... lot of Californian and Floridian immigrants... Joyce Summers’ lot! Especially those up in Walver Lake... They're not our people... we should be looking out for our own... well, except Witherfieldians... they don't count, obviously."
Master Devlin: "Aren’t you supposed to be American?"
Travers: "That’s cute, Master Devlin. Real cute. Using an accident of birth against me. Well yes, technically I’m American — but I’m also Reformed! Besides, I came here to get away from other Americans... it's so tiresome. Widdlington is losing its cultural heritage to these people... Where did they all come from??"
Master Devlin: "I don’t care. You have a responsibility to these people. To tell their story."
Travers: "I'm not the Emperor anymore. I'm not even the Mayor. I'm the editor of a newspaper... I only have responsibility for me, Travers! Why am I even here anyway??"
Master Devlin: .....
Travers: "Don’t look at me like that. Since when did you become so concerned about a bunch of slack-jawed Californian yokels?? If you care so much, you do something. Besides, I thought you were supposed to be dealing with all the dinosaurs. Isn’t dealing with troublesome critters your whole thing?? And as you’re so keen to point out — I’m not a Master anymore."
Master Devlin: "You were never a Master, Travers. And what is wrong with you?"
Travers: "I don’t know. I’m bored! I hate everything... I’m sick of this town. This place..."
Without warning, Travers pulls a revolver out of his pocket, puts it in his mouth, and pulls the trigger. Green goo splats all over the Master, and Travers drops to the ground. Unbeknownst to them, a random refugee farther away is shot with the same bullet.
Travers sits up and feels the hole in the back of his head.
Travers: "Damn... forgot about that."
Waldo comes strolling in, strumming a guitar and singing a little song to himself.
wF: "What if Ed was one of us... Just a slob like one of us... Just a goblin on the bus..."
He notices Travers and the Master.
wF: "Oh, hi there! I know you guys from school!"
The Master wipes the green goo off his face and grabs hold of Travers like a naughty child.
Master Devlin: "What the hell did you do that for?"
Travers: "I don't know... Depression, maybe? I'm horribly bored."
wF: "Oh, poor Travers... How about a spot of fishing? They say there's a 600lb, 9-foot-long catfish named Ol' Francois somewhere in Lake Waldron! We should go catch it!"
Travers: "...No. Don't feel like it."
Master Devlin: "Why are you bored? You are the head of a newspaper. You live for oil changes..."
Travers: "I think I might have overindulged while you were away... I feel spiritually... empty..."
Master Devlin: "Yes, I must say you look a little dehydrated... but fine. If you insist, we can have the staff write the article on the migrant crisis. We might want to get out of here, though. These refugees look like they're upset about something..."
He points to the refugees behind them who are screaming and shouting. Some are starting to throw things.
Travers: "See what I mean? No class. No dignity... Bunch of dumb Americans..."
The Master takes off and flies above to safety with Travers and Waldo. They turn back to look down and see the refugee camp has descended into madness. Some of the Cuban locals, who find the refugees unappreciative and entitled, start to squabble with them. A brawl breaks out. Riot police and soldiers move in with water cannon.
Travers: "Savages! Widdlington used to be a nice town..."
The ruckus attracts the attention of a spinosaurus, which suddenly emerges from the river and starts eating people. The scene is one of terror and madness.
Travers: "Ha! And you said the dinosaurs showing up was a bad thing! Give that lizard a medal, I say... Well, let's go home, shall we..."
wF: "Good job, boss man! That was a riot worthy of Wiffuhuh!"
Travers: "Huh? What are you talking about?"
The Master rolls his eyes and grumbles.
****
Flying back to the Chronicle building...
Travers: "I think maybe I need to go to rehab."
Master Devlin: "Good idea. I’ll take you."
Travers: "Oh... uh, thanks... Say, you wouldn’t happen to have £170k I could borrow?"
Master Devlin: "What do you need £170k for?"
Travers: "I’m in debt to a rather scary Russian mobster. From Volkov..."
Master Devlin: "WHAT? How did this happen??"
Travers: "It’s a long story. I developed a slight habit while you were away..."
Master Devlin: "What sort of habit??"
Travers: "Umm... coke... I used to indulge every now and then. It never used to be a problem, but lately..."
Master Devlin: "I see. Well, I’ll try to help you with your problem..."
****
They return to the office to find Dr. Shawn waiting to submit her latest article.
Travers: "Hello, Dr. Shawn... why are you wearing a top? You know the dress code..."
Master Devlin: "Ah, Linda, Travers appears to be feeling the effects of his various addictions. I was wondering if you could give him some kind of therapy?"
Travers: "Yeah! Oral therapy. 😏"
The Master smacks Travers.
Dr. Shawn: "Gladly. So, Mr. Travers, what appears to be wrong with you now?"
Travers: "Well, Doc... I, uh... tried to shoot myself. I mean, I did, technically, but it didn’t work. Still here. Still bored. I miss being unemployed!"
Dr. Shawn: "Oh dear... Well, I’m interested in hearing why you miss being unemployed."
Travers: "I dunno... Being unemployed has such a stigma attached to it. But those days of living in a dumpster and having no responsibilities really appealed to me. Plus, I didn’t have any money or power, so I was forced to live a pure and noble lifestyle. Going around, spreading the word of Ed for nothing in return. Now I’ve slipped back into my hedonistic old ways..."
Ermintrude walks in.
Ermintrude: "Mr Travers, we’re running out of chairs for your service ladies. Since you went away, a backlog has formed. Some of them have been waiting nearly two hours."
Travers looks at Dr. Shawn and the Master and sighs.
Travers: "Give them each a hundred bucks and send them home, please, my dear. I won’t be requiring their service. I’m on the wagon starting now..."
Ermintrude nods and heads out to deal with the women waiting.
Dr. Shawn: "Answer me honestly, Mr. Travers — did you just do that because Master Devlin and I were present, or do you genuinely acknowledge that you have a problem? Would you prefer to return to your former life and hand this business off to someone else?"
Travers: "I don’t know what I want. I believe the almighty Editor wants me in this job, so I guess I have to obey. But I’m dissatisfied. And yeah, I probably have a bit of a problem."
Dr. Shawn: "Defy the Editor. What has he ever done for you?"
Travers: "What has he done?? Everything! He made me. He guides every move I make..."
Travers pulls a note from his pocket and hands it to her.
“Travers is depressed now. Shoot yourself in the head. — Ed”
Travers: "I received that earlier. I can’t defy the Editor... He might turn me into something... unnatural. Besides, apparently I’m the star of the show now. The studio said I was so popular that I’ve become top billed. But I didn’t mind being a background character, to tell the truth..."
Dr. Shawn: 🤨
Travers: "Now I’m constantly expected to do things. And the Editor doesn’t always give me directions. Only when he feels like it, apparently."
The Master looks at the note. 🤨
Master Devlin: "This appears to have your same very scrawny handwriting, Travers."
Travers: "I don’t care, it’s real. I have a bunch of them. LOOK!"
Travers pulls a handful of scrunched-up notes from his pockets and throws them onto his desk. The Master and Dr. Shawn reluctantly begin inspecting them.
Dr. Shawn(reading):
“Travers once again thinks he’s General Trenton Havers and has now started to act like Colonel Kurtz...”
“Travers is now prejudiced against West Widdlingtonians. Especially the American ones. If accused of hypocrisy, claim to be a reformed American...”
“Travers is now a coke addict and is in serious debt to a dangerous Volkov mobster named Alexander Pokolov.”
“Travers misses being unemployed and complains about being bored and lacking adequate direction...”
“Travers shows the Editor’s notes to the Master and Dr. Shawn, then randomly grabs Dr. Shawn’s boobs...”
Suddenly, Travers leaps onto his desk and lunges at Dr. Shawn, his hands in grabbing mode. The Master catches him just in time, grabbing him by the throat. Travers wriggles frantically. The Master then puts him down and warns him with a pointed finger.
Travers: "You have just interfered with Ed’s will... Now we could all be punished! I hope you’re happy..."
Dr. Shawn: "Do you think we should have him committed, Steven?"
Master Devlin: "Part of me says yes. He’s completely unhinged — he should be sectioned. But on the other hand... he’s not wrong. The Editor is manipulative. A troll. He does enjoy playing tricks."
Dr. Shawn, being an atheist, isn’t sure what to make of the Master’s claims about the Editor. To her, the so-called Editor is nothing more than a local superstition — folklore for madmen.
Meanwhile, Travers runs up to the corkboard in his office, frantically tearing down the images of topless women already pinned there. He starts sticking more of Ed’s notes onto the whiteboard with manic intensity.
The Master feels a tug on his trouser leg. He looks down to see wF smiling up at him, holding out a note.
The Master takes the note and reads it:
"The Masta is Moldovan."
He scowls, crushes the note in his hand, and tosses it into the bin.
Master Devlin: "Well, Dr. Shawn... what should be done with him?"
Dr. Shawn: "I don’t know about any Editor. But the fact that Mr. Travers is carrying so many handwritten notes — all in his own handwriting — is deeply concerning. Mr. Travers, how would you feel about letting me put you under observation for a while?"
Travers: "I don’t want to be institutionalised! Last time that made Travers very sick — and Traverses never get sick! I just need... something. A goal. Decent stories..."
Master Devlin: "Umm... well, there is the whole dinosaur crisis..."
Travers: "Oh, for crying out loud. Are you still going on about that??" (sighs) "Alright, fine... Let’s see... how to deal with this dinosaur menace..." (snaps his fingers) "I know! Climate change!"
Master Devlin: "Eh?"
Travers: "There was a scientist-man on WTV the other day who claimed there’s a 97% certainty that climate change and Waldonian warming brought them here..."
wF: "Yeah but they get paid to say everything is caused by climate change..."
Travers: "I know, but I think he might be onto something this time. Of course, his solution was to ban electricity and live in tepees, which is frankly ludicrous. No, it’s the opposite! Travers knows better. Travers will save this nation. After all, I was the greenest mayor Widdlington ever saw..."
Dr. Shawn: "Wait. I’m confused... what’s your plan?"
Travers: "Simple. I’m going to get on the phone and recommend to the authorities that we set up industrial-grade refrigerators all over town — drop the temperature drastically and drive the dinos out."
Master Devlin and
Dr. Shawn: .....
Travers: "This could be just the purpose I need to snap out of this funk. Now, if only we could do something about the sun... block it out, maybe?"
The Master facepalms.
Waldo suddenly pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and waves it urgently at Travers.
wF: “Hey Bossman, got that front-page news story for you!”
Travers (sighing): “Fine… let’s see it.”
wF: “We thinks you’ll find it of some relevences…”
He hands the article to Travers, who begins reading. It's several paragraphs long and, once again, covered in strange goblin hieroglyphics.
Travers (eyes widening): “What the… Master Devlin—IS THIS TRUE??”
He thrusts the paper toward the Master, still stunned.
The Master reads it.
COUNCIL DINO CONSPIRACY EXPOSED
By Wally Walchak
A shocking revelation has rocked Widdlington: sources claim the Masters Council — long shrouded in secrecy — is behind the dinosaur invasion terrorizing the west side of town. At the heart of this conspiracy? Dragons. Powerful, shape-shifting elites embedded in the Council are allegedly orchestrating the crisis for one reason — control.
According to insiders, the dinosaurs didn’t arrive by chance. The Council has been deliberately increasing Widdlington’s temperature over the past few years, using “global warming” as a convenient cover story. The rising heat created a perfect environment to lure prehistoric creatures back from extinction — a manufactured emergency designed to justify a power grab.
As the creatures spread, the Masters quickly invoked emergency powers, consolidating authority under the guise of public safety. But sources suggest this was always the plan. The longer the crisis drags on, the tighter their grip becomes — and there’s no intention of handing power back once the dinosaurs are gone.
Meanwhile, the flood of refugees from the west into the east has caused severe tension. Camps are overcrowded, resources are scarce, and local patience is running thin. But again — this chaos serves the Council. By turning Widdlingtonians against one another, they prevent any unified opposition from rising.
One source, known only as Stan, claims the Masters accelerated their plan after last month’s failed coup attempt. “They wanted to keep the east distracted,” he said. “Now everyone’s too busy fighting each other to notice who’s pulling the strings.”
As fear grips the town, one thing is clear: the dinosaurs may be dangerous — but the real threat may be the Masters who let them in.
The Master sets the paper down with a sigh.
Dr. Shawn: “What does it say?”
Master Devlin: “Typical Waldo bullshit. Baseless accusations about the Council."
Travers: “So you deny it, then?”
Master Devlin: “Yes. It’s complete rubbish. I mean, you can run this story if you want. Personally, I’d fire Waldo. It’s full of untruths and relies on so-called ‘anonymous’ sources —there’s no proof for any of these claims. What we can prove is that the Masters Council is actively risking their lives to drive the beasts out. But sure, go ahead and print this trash if you wish. Just know that if you choose to run this story, consider this my resignation. Surely the Waldopolis Chronicle can’t be associated with the Masters Council if you publish this nonsense.”
Travers eyes him for a long moment, then throws up his hands and slumps into his chair.
Travers: “Sorry, Wally. Not this time. Bring me something else.”
wF: “But we worked real hard on this, boss…”
Travers: “I know. But you heard the Master. He’s shutting it down.”
wF: “So much for freedom of the press. 😒”
The Waldoverse continues in Stan Devlin in the 22nd Century