The Red Underground Railroad
Evening all this is SteamPunkHillbilly bringing you a dark tale from the recesses of my depraved mind. This my first attempt at a humanized story for Thomas. What happens when an unfortunate business deal puts the North Western Railway in new owners hands? One that is not a fan of the old and decides to modernize leaving the steam team without a job? This follows James in particular from once respectable career to the underground filled with both thrills and horrors. This one is rated M and will stay that way. Happy Reading!
….
"Ah unfortunately…. James is it? We will not be requiring your services on the NEW North Western Railway. You will find a check with your severance pay on the secretary's desk as you exit. Good Day." The new director of NWR dismissed him so easily. 10 Years of his life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.
James Lancashire sat at the end of the Smokey Valley bar sipping on his ninth or tenth Rum Screwdriver, he had lost count some time ago. James, 28 was of a decent build, lean muscled man from his years on the railway. He had somewhat tanned skin, medium length black hair that would sometimes come over his eyes, and a small bit of scruff due to a lack of shaving recently. Dark brown eyes sat in think dark rings underneath indicating a distinct lack of sleep.
At the time he had been terminated he held a perfect life, a home and his now x fiancé Emily. After months of searching for another job he had begun to get behind on his payments. He even tried making deals with the local gangs in exchange for cash to no avail. His stress had led to him using alcohol to ease his mind and for sleep. His house was foreclosed on the previous week and seeing the writing on the wall Emily left, afraid of being pulled down on his seemingly sinking ship.
A hand reached out gently to touch the man who jumped at the contact. "I think you've had enough for tonight old friend." James didn't need to look up to recognize Edwards's voice. "Where else have I got to go? It's not like I have much of a purpose now anyway." James said with a low tone.
Most of the others had found smaller jobs to get them by, Edward the barkeep, Thomas and Percy worked with their local mail routes delivery. Gordon had went to work as a night shift laborer for the quarry and Henry a pharmacy assistant for the local drug store. Apart from Edward who lived above the bar, the other two shared small apartments. James had been hoping from each place till he himself could get back on his feet.
Shaking his head at his friends' statement he tried to move him upstairs to sleep off this nights booze session. "Come on now you're heavy, at least try to help me." Edward groaned under his friend's weight.
The awkward pair stumbled up the stairs where James collapsed on an old pull out couch, one he had gotten to know rather well over the past from months. Edward left a few minutes later to go secure the bar for the night. James himself fell into a very deep alcohol induced sleep, not even hearing Edward come in for the night.
As he came in he looked down at his friend, broken, tired, and sick. In the beginning James had hit the job search as hard as any other only to miss out or be beat out by another. Emily was his last lifeline and it snapped violently when she left.
Letting the man indulge his cravings at his own bar had been a difficult decision on his part but resolved that if he didn't keep an eye on him then he may end up in a worse place later on where the patrons may not be as friendly. The better of two evils you could say. Silently he threw an old blanket over James and walked to his bedroom, thoughts swirling as he lay down about how he could help his destructive friend.
…
"THUD, THUD, THUD," James awoke to what felt like a hammer beating the inside of his skull out. He groaned in pain and rolled over. He lay like that for a few more minutes until he caught a whiff of eggs cooking coming from the kitchen. The smell setting off a wave on nausea the man made a fast break for the bathroom.
Emptying the contents of his nightly binge he sat back and put his forehead on the cool glass of the shower door. He sat like that for a few more minutes until he felt a presence, Edward, behind him.
'Don't you ever get tired of doing this to yourself?" Edward spoke a little louder than normal, playing on the others pounding headache. "It's about the only thing that feels normal anymore Edward. It helps me sleep, if not I just keep running over every little mistake in my mind all night." The other groaned as he lifted himself off of the tile.
"Have you ever thought that maybe things happen for a reason? Maybe…" Edward began only to be cut off. "So I was meant to lose every single thing that was important to me in the span of a couple of months. Is that it Edward? Or do you just not want me here anymore?" James snapped, he was already feeling awful, and this just made it worse.
"James, you have no home, no money, no job, and as much as I consider you my brother you have to get your act together! The others and I can't keep supporting you!" Edward decided that perhaps tough love was the best option. He had to do something to jar his friend out of this funk.
"If that's how you feel about it then I'm out of here." James huffed, hurriedly put on his clothes from the night before and left slamming the door. Leaving Edward to wonder whether he had done the right thing.
…
Outside it took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the light, he decided to go work off some steam at the local gym. Gordon had allowed him to share his membership, it was one of the few things left in his life that felt normal. Inside he found his Gordon's locker in which he stashed a change of shorts and an old tank top. Once changed after a few warm ups he made his way over to the punching bags. Carefully taking his stance he began to pound his frustrations into the bag. Slowly the effects of his hangover faded away in a fury of kicks and punches. Undenounced to James a quartet of guys watching from a corner with interest.
"Ack, He looks perfect don ya think?" One whispered in a Scottish accent. "Ay he does brother." Said another in a near identical voice. "Well, let's talk to him then, said another." A slight cockney accent to his voice. "Yes but this must be done the right way." Said another. By this time James had noticed the staring and turned around. "Is there a problem?" he bit out angrily, he didn't like to be disturbed while he was working out.
"Ackk no there laddie we were just noticing that you had a nice technique to ya hits." One of the Scotts spoke up. "What he means to say is that we are fighters ourselves, and through our observations we would like you to join our group." The leader it seemed spoke up.
This seemed a little bizarre to James as he slowly turned around to take in the strangers. "You know, introductions should come before invitations in my book, just who the hell are you guys anyway?" James growled, the group didn't seem malicious but he had never been good at reading strangers, much left these guys.
"Ah where are our manners, my name is Montague of Duck as most call Me." The man who seemed to be the leader spoke. "Those two are Donald and Douglas", he pointed a thumb at the two Scotts, and This one is Oliver." He finished. Duck was a small muscular build with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes, sporting green shorts and a gray tank top. The Scotts Brothers were long and lanky but muscular, each had on black basketball type shorts and muscle tees. With long black hair and brown eyes, their arms decorated with tattoos. Oliver had bright red hair and green eyes, short and sticky he had on gray cargo shorts and a white muscle tee.
"So, you guys are fighters, what kind, what made you invite me, and what can I get out of it?" James hit them with a barrage of questions after taking the time to digest what they had told him.
"By day we run the Great Western Fighting Systems Gym over on the west side of town, specializing in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, by night however, we are underground prize fighters among other things." Duck answered swiftly and effectively.
"When we were watching you practice on the bag, you had a lot of emotion going on, pain and rage fueling your hits, similar to when we first started." Oliver chimed in. "You could say we specialize in taking broken souls and rebuilding them."
"Ay, as fer what ye can get out of it, we win a lot of prize money in the matches, the individual keeps what they earn. " Douglas chimed in. "Ah an it's a good way to beat out your frustrations!" Donald put in hoping it was enough to sway the man.
The more James thought about it, the better it sounded, although he wasn't sure if he trusted these guys just yet. "I want a test run, a match with one of you, just to prove you are who you say you are." He finally spoke.
"But laddie, you don't have the experience that we do." Donald spoke with a bit of concern. "Yes but if the boy wants his proof to be pain then I will be the administrator." Oliver spoke out, a big smirk covering his face. Duck walked forward with a card in his hand, "here is our gym address, if you truly want your proof, meet us there at 8pm tonight.
With that the group left leaving behind a confused and somewhat regrettable James.