Bert slammed aside the grasping tentacles and buried his axe in the thing’s face. It squealed briefly, but a burst of mana through the axe took care of it for good. Spinning to Bell, Bert opened his mouth to warn her about a strike from behind her when he found himself frozen in place.

Panic flared in him as he stared at a world frozen mid-battle. Only his eyes were free to move. As he scanned for the source of the spell, or whatever it was keeping everyone frozen, Bert was able to see Slothy; her claws dug deep into a massive monstrosity as Bud stood on her shoulders, an arrow drawn back and about to fire into the thing’s twisted visage.

Something was very wrong here, and worse than anything else, he didn’t seem able to break free. No matter how much mana he cycled through the tides, he was completely and utterly frozen.

“Mister Hudson,” A man-shaped hole in the world nodded to him. “It seems like only a few minutes since we last spoke.”

Bert grimaced internally. He remembered this…thing. It was not a man. It was not even anything he could classify, really. But it was familiar. He had spoken with this thing just once. An office made of shaped blackness and the end of his troubles with Felicia. None of that explained this….

“My kind is famous for our lack of interest; did you know that?” The man shifted shape slightly, and a distinguished-looking man in a completely black suit emerged from the change. He was bald and indeed hairless. Not even an eyelash marked his skin. The skin was the same black as his suit, as were the eyes and even the teeth. It was extremely disturbing. “We don’t take an interest, not in individuals, ever. Imagine my surprise then when I have to deal with you not once but twice?” The man in black walked calmly between the frozen fighters, occasionally gently pushing a blade or spell out of his path with a single finger. “It has engendered something in me that I thought long behind me, Mister Hudson; I am curious.” He circled Bert, a slow and careful examination from all sides. “To be entirely frank with you, I don’t see it.”

Bert tried to speak but found it impossible. Every muscle in his body was locked down.

“Why do I need to intervene in your life, not once, but twice?” The man in black said with a weary sigh. “There are whole worlds where I have never needed to even know their name. Entire civilizations have risen and fallen without my ever having to notice, yet you, Mister Hudson, I have to see twice in a single year?” He arrived back in front of Bert and clasped his hands behind his back. “Do you have any idea when that last happened, Mister Hudson?”

Again, Bert tried to speak.

“No, I don’t think you have anything worthwhile to say,” The man in black said with a mournful shake of his head. “I prefer you like this, quiet, controlled.” He grinned slightly, “Walk with me, will you?” He turned and walked away.

Bert felt himself moving in a lurching step along behind like a puppet controlled by an incompetent puppeteer. They walked through the center of the battle, passing underneath the frozen tentacles of the attacking behemoths and the still razor vines striking from the Waystation. The man in black stopped and held one hand on the Waystation for a moment, his brows raising in surprise.

“This is almost awake; I would have assumed that was impossible, yet…” He glanced over his shoulder again and scowled briefly. “Many impossible things are happening at the moment.” He moved on, stopping occasionally to examine one of the cultists or Slothy before leading the way into the keep and pushing open the door to the tower. A massive amount of rubble had been piled on the other side, but it moved away with a casual flick of his fingers as if it was made of paper.

“This lifeform has departed its body,” the man in black stared up at the ball of dried vine, stone, and metal that had once been Martha's. “It slipped from its own body and took possession of another. Possession is not unusual, but for one to do it while still alive is almost unheard of.”

Bert barely heard the man; his eyes fixed on a message written in blood on the wall opposite the remains of Martha…

By the time you see this, I will have taken my revenge on your offspring.

The man in black noted his lack of attention and looked at the writing. “Oh, I see. Revenge. Such a messy and wasteful emotion, don’t you think? She hasn’t made it there yet, of course. I tell you this merely because I require your attention, Mister Hudson. It is important that we understand one another,” He smiled another tiny smile, “As much as one such as yourself could understand something like me, anyway.”

Bert glared at the man in black, forced to be silent.

“Ahh, I see there is resistance to the idea,” The man in black sighed. “How about this… listen to what I have to say, and I promise none of your people will be harmed while we talk.”

Bert tried to nod, immobile as he had been since the man appeared, but somehow, the thing knew.

“Splendid. I shall release you now, but be aware that any attempt to attack me will not only be pointless, but I shall take punitive action against everyone you care about.” He clicked his fingers, and Bert collapsed to the ground.

“I’m listening,” Bert spat. “But I will remember you threatened my family.”

“See that you do,” the man in black said, looking pleased with himself. “Tell me, Mister Hudson, what did you hope to accomplish here?”

“Martha was killing people; I came to stop that,” Bert said simply.

“Why would you care? You created her, after all.” The man asked.

“I tried to help her; all the rest is on her,” Bert said angrily. “But I still had to stop it.”

“Yes, you did,” The man in black nodded. “Cleaning up your own mistakes is an admirable trait.” He stepped forward, uncomfortably close suddenly. “What did you do that made her into this?”

Bert explained the story of Martha and her condition when he found her. He told the man in black about the village and how he had tried to help again, only to realize something was very wrong. He didn’t hide his part in all of it; simply told the truth, warts and all.

“What else could I have done?” Bert asked when he finished.

“Kill her, obviously,” The man in black shook his head.

“There was no way to know what she would become,” Bert knew he sounded defensive, and he was. He had only wanted to help, after all. Still, a part of all of this suffering was on him; he felt that.

“So you did not intend this,” The man in black nodded. “I often wondered, but how does a species so blind to the future ever manage to act?”

“We just do,” Bert said angrily. “What other option is there? We try and make the best choice we can. That’s all.”

“Is it?” The man in black cocked his head to one side. “The rest of your species are a nameless mass to me, but I have to meet you not once but twice.”

“Why are you even here now?” Bert asked. “Is this all another of Felicia’s plots?”

“You don’t know about her?” The man in black frowned. “Ahh, I forgot you are so limited. Come with me.”

Bert found himself standing in the center of a vast and strange city, fires burning all around. The man in black walked ahead, and Bert followed, seeing no other option.

The buildings were all strange; some were giant trees, others seemed to be crystals, and there were even a few stone towers. There were frozen figures here as well. Some were insect-like, others human or humanoid at least. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for how they looked. In fact, he barely saw two that seemed to come from the same species. The only thing they had in common was that they were fighting.

As they passed through the frozen city, they came to a temple of a size that Bert had never even thought of. It stretched into the clouds, and the steps alone stretched on for miles. The man in black led him up the steps and past the battle lines before circling back and pointing.

“Is that Felicia?” Bert asked. “What the hell is she doing now?”

“I believe the term in your world would be civil war?” The man in black offered. “She is attempting to overthrow the First Generation and end the Watcher’s immortality.”

“Why?” Bert asked.

“You.” The man in black said simply. “To a greater or lesser extent anyway.”

“No way you can blame this on me!” Bert yelled, “That woman has nothing to do with me! You saw to that, remember?”

“I could hardly forget,” The man in black frowned. “Still, you must see the pattern?”

“What?” Bert asked. “Immortals coming and fucking with my life? Yeah, I noticed that as well.”

“Quite so,” The man in black turned away. “Follow.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“Wait,” Bert said, “Aren’t you going to do anything about this?” He pointed to the fighting. “They are under your power, aren’t they?”

“Not anymore,” The man in black said. “Felicia and her followers are mortal now. Their affairs are their own.”

“Where the hell are we now?” Bert asked as he looked around at the shining golden towers.

“The deities of your adopted world are not immune from your influence,” The man in black said with clear irritation. “See?”

Bert grumbled to himself as he was led toward a group of three frozen gods. Death, War, and another he didn’t know. They were talking, that was all.

“So, what is this about?” Bert asked. “They are talking, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are,” The man in black said, “And do you recognize this one?” He pointed to the third god, a thin man with a gaunt look and plain clothes.

“No,” Bert said simply.

“This, Mister Hudson, is a new God.” The man in black said with anger in his voice. “They call him the Reclaimer. Note his arm.”

Bert looked closer and saw the man had an arm just like this.

“Huh?” Bert said. “Looks like this isn’t unique after all.”

“Wrong,” The man in black said. “This god, Mister Hudson, was formed after people began to worship YOU!”

“Bullshit!” Bert laughed. “Who would worship me?”

“You wander around and collect the forgotten people and expect others like them to NOT notice that? That stories would not spread?” The man in black shook his head. “In a few years, I imagine this God would become defunct, absorbed into you, and you would be forcibly ascended to Godhood.” He saw Bert’s gaping mouth and reached out, snapping it closed. “Was this not your plan?”

“No!” Bert laughed. It was such a ridiculous idea that he couldn’t quite take it seriously. “I just helped people that needed it. That’s not godhood; that’s just not being an asshole.”

“So you do not claim this as your plan?” The man in black asked again.

“No, for fuck sake,” Bert snapped. “No one becomes a god just from helping people.”

“A pattern continues,” The man in black huffed and yanked them again to another place with barely a hint of warning.

“Okay, now this is somewhere I recognize,” Bert said, “My daughter is here.” The familiar surroundings of Rose Briar were a welcome sight. With any luck, he could warn Wendy somehow.

“See these?” The man in black pointed to some demons who were apparently fighting in some kind of mock battle, “Why are they even here?”

“I found their temple, or whatever,” Bert huffed. “But you can’t put that on me; that was all Dagon’s doing.”

“Who?” The man in black spun and grabbed Bert. “How do you know that name?”

“Hello, Brother!” Dagon laughed as he stepped out of the air, “It is a surprise to see me here, yes!”

“Wait, brother?” Bert snapped. “Dagon, what the fuck?”

“I told you I would come when you needed me! Yes!” Dagon roared with laughter. “Here I am!”

===============

Bert found himself sitting at a table in the palace. On one side was the Man in Black, and on the other was Dagon.

“What have you done, Brother?” The Man in Black shook his head sadly.

“What I had to, Brother! Yes!” Dagon grinned.

“Why him?” The Man in Black gestured to Bert.

“He is the core of it, yes!” Dagon winked at Bert. “One of mine, I think!”

“No, he is one of mine,” The Man in Black said solemnly. “At least partly.”

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Bert demanded. “And who or what the hell are you?”

“We can not both claim him,” The Man in Black said with a frown. “It is impossible.”

“Then we should let him decide. Yes!” Dagon grinned across the table.

“He is not smart enough to choose,” The Man in Black said thoughtfully.

“Fuck you too!” Bert said through gritted teeth.

Dagon just laughed.

“We fight then?” Dagon asked his brother.

“Over one being?” The Man in Black asked.

“Over this one,” Dagon grinned. “YES!”

“Hello? You two can hear me, right?” Bert waved his hands in between the two.

“You have had time to influence him,” The Man in Black sighed. “It is not even.”

“It never is,” Dagon said with another booming laugh.

“Very well, but I must explain things,” The Man in Black snapped.

“Agreed!” Dagon laughed.

“What the hell are you two on about?” Bert was considering actually getting on the table at this point. It had been a long time since he was completely ignored.

It was just as irritating as he remembered.

“Listen, and I will explain,” The Man in Black sighed and waved his hands. “I will use pictures to aid in understanding.”

“Prick,” Bert muttered as images began to form on the table, and the Man in Black began his tale.

A long time ago, the great tree was the center of all things. It was not the beginning of things. If there even was a beginning, nothing alive now knew how it began.

But as far as Bert was concerned, the tree was as good a beginning as any. It was the first form of order in the vast collection of universes and worlds. From it, all the things known to be had come. Establishing order was the first task, and it was created as the embodiment of order.

Order went into the universes of the tree and made everything function as it should. Nothing changed, varied, or strayed from its path under his watchful gaze. It should have been a paradise, yet life began to fade from the worlds and, as such, from the tree.

The Caretaker was made to tend the tree and keep it healthy, yet life still began to flee as Order choked out all variation. Thus, the tree acted again. Order needed a balancing force. Chaos was thus created and sent into the universes.

Chaos and Order soon came to blows, and war raged. Yet again, life was lost, and the tree began to die.

The Caretaker drew Order and Chaos back to the tree, and peace was agreed upon. After a thousand years of haggling, the rules for Order and Chaos to both exist were laid down, and peace reigned. Life began to flourish again, and the tree grew, the Caretaker placing seeds of new life forms into the worlds as it saw fit.

And so it was until a new event caused the balance to shift. The event was difficult to watch, as it involved his head being ripped from his body. Order seemed to enjoy that part, letting it play twice before moving on…

“Since you were transported to your new world, there have been ripples from it that destabilize the delicate balance we have. New species were created, the Fae returning to the worlds they had left long ago. Demon forces on a dying world, the Watcher civil war, and more!” Order was almost shouting now in his agitation. “It can not continue! You must learn to control yourself!”

“I’m mortal, sort of; how am I even in your power?” Bert asked archly.

“You will return from the Summerlands if killed. We know that, and with that, your ripples will start again and again. I can not have it!” Order slammed his fist on the table.

“Those are not ripples!” Dagon, also known as Chaos, grinned. “That is the chaotic soul at work! Yes!” He stood and thumped the table as well. “He is my kind and will spread chaos amongst your ordered worlds! All will be change; all will be new!” He roared with laughter. “It will be joyous!”

“It will be death and fire, and… and….” Order collapsed in his chair. “He must choose Order. He must choose me! I will guide him into perfect balance!”

“Whoa,” Bert held out his hands to both of them, “I have to choose?”

“Yes!” Chaos grinned. “You are just mortal enough to have the choice!” He grinned at Order.

“He is right, Mister Hudson,” Order slumped. “The choice is yours, although there is no possible way for you to know enough to choose right.”

“I agree,” Bert nodded, feeling a surge of glee at their stunned faces. “So I choose neither of you.”

“You can’t do that!” Chaos roared.

“You just said I could.” Bert pointed out.

“You choose neither of us?” Order frowned. “Why?”

“Because you’re right,” Bert said firmly. “I don’t know enough to choose one or the other, so I choose neither. I’ll take option number three.”

“No!” Dagon roared. “After all I invested in you?”

“Get fucked, Dagon,” Bert grinned. “I never trusted you anyway.”

Chaos leaped for him, only to freeze in place, eyes going wide as a powerful presence flooded the room. Even Order looked frozen.

“Then you have chosen,” A voice shook the room. “If you are not for them, you are for me, the Caretaker.”

“Uh,” Bert tried to think of what to say.

“You are not where I planted you,” The voice said calmly. “A transplanted species can often cause problems.”

“Wait a minute,” Bert protested as everything faded away around him.

“Your family, your friends, all you have affected, I will bring back with you, have no fear.”

“Wait, back where?” Bert protested feebly. “I don’t want to go anywhere!”

“I don’t care, Bert,” The voice said with absolute detachment. “The infection will be excised.”

The light around him grew blinding as he felt the ground under his feet again.

===============

“What did you do!” Bell accused the moment the light faded.

“I didn’t do it!” Bert growled. “It was some immortal shit again!”

“You can’t just say that every time!” Bell grumped.

Bert blinked his eyes, seeing Bell, Bud, and Slothy all giving him accusing glares.

They were on the bridge of the Waystation as it plowed through empty white space. He could see what looked like Rose Briar, complete with giant crab monster underneath flying next to them.

Before he could process everything, the whiteness parted, and the Waystation plowed through a building and slid to a stop…on a tarmac road.

“Where the hells are we?” Bell dashed for the exit, Bert and the others following along behind.

They piled out of the Waystation, and Bert found himself looking at a bungalow, slightly overgrown and untended but very familiar nonetheless.

“Fuck me, I’m back.” Bert groaned.

“What?” Bell asked. “Where are we?”

“Bell, everyone, welcome to Earth,” Bert said, his mind spinning.

“What did you do!” Bell accused again.

Bert was filling everyone in when a massive crunch sounded, and a tremor passed through the street.

Bert turned and looked up into the massive eyes of a nightmare crab-like creature topped with a disk of earth. A vine lowered, and Wendy slid down it and landed with a little bounce.

“Dad! Dad!” She ran over to him. “This is Earth, right?”

“Yup,” He sighed and sat on the curb.

“What did you do?” Wendy asked, hands on her hips.

“It wasn’t me!” Bert snapped.

How can the same shit happen to the same guy twice? The line ran round and round in his head as he looked up at his stunned family.

Thanks for reading The Waystation Volume 4!

The story will continue in Volume 5:

The Express! The continuing adventures of Scruff and Wendy

Or…

Adventure with Sloth and Bow: The Bud Chronicles

Or…

Growing Pain: How a Gardener took over the world

Or…

Bert & Bell: Hotel Hell

Stay tuned!