Unfortunately, I do not own any of the characters in this story, aside from my own creations, the rest all belong to their respective owners. Now that we've got that out of the way, enjoy!

The primroses were in full bloom that summer morning. Errant mayflies and bumblebees flew around with the speed of a glacier, bobbing and weaving with not a care in the world. The river, slowly babbling it's way along the thin banks in no real hurry to reach the sea, was tranquil and disturbed only by the occasional fish blowing bubbles and upsetting it.

It was, all in all, a beautiful morning on the Island of Sodor.

Then, echoing across the peaceful scene, came the distant sound of a sharp whistle. All the animals looked up, and scarpered from the tracks. They'd done this before. They watched, mildly interested, as a flash of blue raced on by them. Then they returned to their work.

That flash of blue belonged to a tank engine, painted blue with red stripes, and moving at a faster pace than usual. His paint sparkled in the sunshine, shining brighter even than the river itself. He blew his whistle once more, so in the moment that he was quite unable to stop himself. He laughed to hear his two coaches, Annie and Clarabel, tutting at him disapprovingly. He was feeling very pleased with himself.

At last, he rounded the bend towards the little station of Elsbridge, and slowed down a bit, so that he would stop on time. Sure enough, he came to a gentle halt, right next to the platform. "Peep, peep!" He whistled. "We've arrived!"

Everyone got off, in a good mood. They'd made good time that day, and were eager to set off on wherever it was they needed to be. Some were heading back to the docks, to head for their homes and their families. Some were looking forward to being at home on the Island itself. And some...well, they merely wanted to enjoy the journey. So, as they milled about, settling on benches and buying food and magazines from the stand, they continued in good spirits. The fireman made sure they were stacked up on coal, the driver headed off to get tea, the guard checked his flag and whistle, and Thomas...

Well, Thomas the Tank Engine just closed his eyes and settled into a contemplative mood. A peaceful one at that. He drowned out the bustling noise of the passengers and the chatting coaches, and simply concentrated on being.

That was, until he heard a familiar whistle, and the clanging of a bell.

He looked up, and smiled as he saw his friends approach. Percy and Toby were also in cheerful moods, although perhaps the strain of their work had a bit more of an effect on Toby. His brow was creased with thought, in contrast to Percy's more relaxed expression. "Morning you two!"

"Morning Thomas!" The engines replied.

"You're early." noted Toby, glancing at the clock on the station. "You're usually either right on time, or.-"

"Or nothing, Toby!" Thomas said, heating up at the sound of an old argument. "I am always on time!"

"Except for that one incident, where you left the train behind." remarked Percy, innocently.

"All right, always was a bit of a stretch-"

"And that time after I scared you into thinking I was a ghost."

"You've made your point, Percy!"

"And-"

"Have you heard about Gordon?" asked Toby, sensing an argument and wishing to bypass all of that, just in case said argument lasted for the next few weeks, and made life on the branchline unbearable for all. "He's stuck on the hill."

"Again!?" said Thomas and Percy as one, the quarrel forgotten.

"And he wonders why we named it after him." mused Thomas.

"What's he blaming this time? The weather? The fitters? Edward?"

"This time, I believe his excuse is that the coaches are being a bit flighty this morning."

"Flighty?!" Percy laughed "Gordon's so flighty I'm surprised he hasn't sprung wings!" At the sound of two separate whistles, he glanced backwards and laughed. "Speak of the devil!"

Said devil was being pushed in by a rather tired looking Edward. "It's the coaches!" He grumbled to all and sundry. "So flighty and nervous! It wasn't like that back in my day, let me assure you!"

"Of course it wasn't, Gordon!" Edward reassured. He was aware that the big engine was rather...sensitive about his hill problem, and outside of some light teasing, had remained quiet for the most part. "But, er, breaking down at the station?"

"Bah! High spirits! It would happen to any engine!"

"Of course, of course, why didn't I think of that?"

"You don't get paid to be sarcastic, Edward!"

"I don't get paid period, Gordon." The smaller engine smiled warmly to the three engines. "Morning all! You're looking well! Say hello, Gordon, don't be rude!" Gordon grunted. "Ah well. Best you'll get out of him for now."

"So, what happened, Gordon?" Percy asked, looking as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Gordon gritted his teeth and said nothing, just making noises of anger and annoyance.

Edward looked at the clock. "I hope the driver hurries up with his tea. I want to get Gordon to Crovan's Gate in time to hear the speech."

"Speech?" Thomas frowned. "What speech?"

"Oh, that's right, you had to head out early this morning! The Fat Controller told us at the sheds that there's some sort of big announcement that he has to make at Crovan's Gate at four. Very important, so all of the engines have to gather there. Or so he says."

"Huh." sniffed the sixth newcomer. "It's just a new engine, I should think." James had crept into the yard unannounced. Thomas's passengers were milling about and entering his coaches as he lounged in the sun, watching with amusement as his new paint gleamed and dazzled all who looked at him for too long. "What's wrong, Gordon? Another hill?"

"You shut up, James!"

"Make me!" James laughed as Gordon spluttered and growled impotently at him.

"Come on, you two, there's no need to fight." Edward looked at James. "So, where are you off to now?"

"Tidmouth Hault's my last stop, then I'll be heading back up to see what's going on."

...

All of the engines were gathered there. It was quite a sight to see. Thomas puffed up rather close to the podium which had been set up atop the station, and looked around. There was no sign of Sir Topham Hatt at all. He saw Duck and Oliver, hurrying down from the Little Western, pull in next to the Scottish twins, both of whom appeared to be in rather glum spirits. After leaving Annie and Clarabel besides Henrietta, Toad and the two Breakdown Cranes, he backed up to join the other engines. He found himself next to the trio of Rosie, Stanley and Ryan, who were all in animated discussion about what the announcement was.

"Hello, Thomas!" Rosie shouted, enthusiastically. "You look happy!"

"Uh, thank you, Rosie?" Did he not look happy whenever she saw him most of the other times? "You, er, look happy too!"

"I've just been told that I get to help out with Ryan and Daisy on their branchline! Isn't that great?" Rosie was so happy and so desperate for Thomas to say yes that he could hardly let her down.

"It's great, Rosie." He looked around, wondering where the railcar in question was. Ah, there! Right next to BoCo. They appeared to be looking after Bill and Ben. They were clearly already up to their tricks, as could be seen from both diesels's reactions. Speaking of diesels, he could already see Dennis, Norman and Sidney, right next to Iron Arry and Bert. He hadn't expected the Dieselworks gang to come out in full force, whatever it was must be serious indeed. Especially considering that Den and Dart were also there, right next to Devious Diesel and, of all engines, Diesel 10.

He looked for his friends, surprised he didn't see more of them. He spotted Percy and Toby backing down towards him, and then spotted Henry, Gordon and James gathered up with Molly, Hank, Neville, Murdoch, Caitlin, Conner and a very impatient Spencer. He glanced to his right, surprised to see Emily there, talking with Stafford the electric engine.

"So, do you know what this is about?"

"Nay, I havnae a clue!"

"Oh. That's interesting then."

Percy drew level with him. "My my, Thomas, you are on a roll today, aren't you? Early to the station, and early to the meeting! Someone's trying to impress Hatt today! There'll be a promotion for you, mark my words!"

"Oh shut up!" scowled Thomas.

In the corner, many of the Narrow Gauge engines watched from their sheds. Duncan and Sir Handel were arguing with each other about trying to get the best view, Peter Sam, Luke and Rusty were casually talking about something or nothing, while at the front, Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke craned their heads to see if they could spot anyone they recognized. Millie was also atop a small flatbed truck being pulled by Paxton, and her fellow Ulfstead mainstays Glynn and Stephen were also parked right next to her.

"Salty and Porter, Timothy and Marion, Whiff and Scruff, Harvey and Mavis...they're all here!"

"It's pretty important, whatever it is." whispered Toby. "Flora's here. She never comes off the tramway unless she needs to. Belle and Flynn are here too! I didn't think the Rescue Center Manager would let them off like this!"

"Judging by the crowd-" Edward remarked as he backed up "-we may need an emergency team. Look at how tightly they're all packed in!"

At last, with a rather painful series of bangs and things that sounded like the crunching of a gear stick, the Fat Controller drove Winston towards the station. "EARLY-" He panted "-DAYS!"

"Yes sir, early days." With a loud crunch, Winston came to a stop, nearly throwing Hatt out. Struggling to maintain his composure, the Fat Controller stood up, wiped himself down and approached the podium with solemnity and calm.

"Hello there, ladies, gentlemen and engines of all shapes and sizes!"

"HOORAH!"

"You shush, James." A polite laugh rippled through the crowd. "Now, I would like to preface this speech by thanking all of you for turning up so promptly, and in the case of the crowd, uninvited. I appreciate that you've humored me. And I, I want to start with that because I wish to just tell you all how proud and honored I am to be the director of this railway. To be the proud manager of the greatest railway in the world. To be the owner of the finest fleet of steam and diesel locomotives that ever was, is or will be. And yes, even to be called the Fat Controller." Another polite laugh. "My father said to me when I took over for him that I would have a lot of problems running the railway, and that they would be vastly outnumbered by all the positive experiences. And he was right. I have loved every moment being the Fat Controller."

He paused for effect.

"And why I am somewhat sad to be announcing that I am officially retiring."

In the silence that followed, one could have heard the world's smallest pin hit the ground with a deafening bang.

"I understand that for many, this will seem sudden. Out of the blue. But from the new year, i have been questioning myself repeatedly on what happens next, after I inevitably step down. And I would rather go out on my own terms, with my head held high, than be carried out on my shield. Or in this case, my top hat." No polite laugh this time, his audience was still stunned beyond words. "I have also my family to consider. One of the things that cursed my father to an early retirement was that his father couldn't let go of the railway when he had the chance. I do not want my son, Richard, to think me someone who cannot let go of power. And finally there is the fact that I want the best for this railway. And let us be frank, my driving skills have not improved that much."

Thomas felt as though his body and mind were two seperate things. He looked around, desperate for any sign of a joke. Percy was staring open mouthed in shock, Toby had an expression of surprise etched on his face. Edward's face was blank, as if the news hadn't quite registered yet.

"I have loved...every moment being the Fat Controller. And I will not be gone in any meaningful sense. You shall still see me every day for the next fortnight ,as I hope to guide my successor, be it my son or anyone else deserving of the title, through the ins and outs of those first painful weeks. And I shall still be seeing all of you as I catch the train from Knapford at 9:00 in the morning. I'll still be here. It's just time to move on." He coughed. "Thank you."

As he left, the crowd seemed to stir into life, and applauded furiously. A few of the younger engines (Charlie, Phillip, Ryan) whistled and honked their horns loudly, joining the chorus. But the majority were still stunned beyond belief. A few engines were even sobbing.

One by one, they all headed for home.

...

"Well-" said Marion that night, at the China Clay Pits "-that was certainly something, wasn't it?"

"How are the twins taking it?" asked Mavis, curiously. She and Toby were spending the nights with Timothy and Marion as neither of them were really in a mood to be sleeping on their own. And besides, they had stuff to collect tomorrow from the Clay Pits anyway, so there was no point in leaving.

"They seem to be doing all right. But then again, they're Bill and Ben. They're surprisingly good actors!" Timothy said. "I mean, the amount of times they've tricked us-"

"Tricked you, you mean." Toby said, jokingly. Timothy turned red and looked away.

Marion raised her shovel high. "To Sir Topham Hatt!" She declared, enunciating every word with pride. "The best Controller we've ever had!"

"Keep it down, Marion." whispered Mavis, yawning. "I want to get some kip tonight."

...

The sheds at Wellsworth were full as well. Many of the tender engines who tended to not have any real sheds to sleep the night away were gathered there, each with their own thoughts.

Neville wondered whether or not the new Controller would prefer steam engines or diesel engines. He often felt that he was trapped between the two sometimes. Running on steam, but looking like a diesel. Either way, he hoped that he was still in with a chance of getting some work done.

Hank thought about the various other engines, the ones imported from other countries to help out with the work. He was an American by nature, and he knew that many others of his background were employed on the railway. He wondered if that would stop, or worse still, if he was to be sent back as a cost cutting measure. He had heard of things like that happening.

Hiro tried to recall what age he was. It felt like such a long time ago now that someone had once called him Master of the Railway. But he knew he was old, that much was certain. And he couldn't help but wonder if, perhaps Hatt had been one of the last great romantics, and whether the new Controller would see the older engines as novelties at best and downright threats at worse.

Murdoch realized how happy he was to finally get some peace and quiet for once in his life.

"Be quiet! Please!" Spencer winced as Caitlin and Conner began talking faster and louder now, just on spite alone.

And there it goes, thought Murdoch, glumly.

...

"Did you know?"

"No. Of course not, Thomas."

Edward was pale. Gordon had remained remarkably silent. James's remarks had lost a bit of their bluster. Percy seemed to be on the verge of crying. Henry had a train to pull, but that was just as much an excuse to think things through as a job. Even Emily and BoCo, who had taken the place of Henry for tonight, were talking in lower tones.

"Do you think everything'll be okay?" Percy asked, nervously.

"Course it will!" snapped James, sounding a bit more harried than usual. "When hasn't it been?"

"Still...he's really gone."

"Didn't you hear, little Thomas? We're going to see him every day!" Gordon didn't sound nearly as certain as he said that as he should have been. "I don't even know why we're so sad for!"

"Things'll never be the same." Percy lamented.

"Come on, it'll be fine." Emily said, trying to be comforting. "It'll just take some getting used to, that's all."

They lapsed into silence, each one preoccupied with their own thoughts.

...

The night came. The dock's lights flickered and swayed, as flecks of seawater met them with a soft hissing sound. Workmen, wearing large overcoats and huddling under umbrellas whenever they had a spare minute, hurried around making the last few adjustments. Couplings were connected, the doors slammed, one last sweep of the area revealed there to be no more boxes left out, and at last, they were ready. The Flying Kipper was ready to start off.

The fireman looked back, and saw the guard's green lantern glowing. "Right away, mate!"

Henry started with a jerk and a gasp of shock, he'd not been concentrating. The vans chattered and giggled behind him, but a rather harsh bump settled them down. The green engine began to gather speed as he left the docks, and moved out into the countryside. Usually, he would marvel at all the beautiful scenery around him, and how still everything appeared in the cold crisp light of night. But not tonight.

No, tonight, his thoughts were very much preoccupied with the events of the day. He had been here a long time. Or at least, he felt like he had been. At this point, years felt more like decades. But he had been here since the time when Gordon had been the biggest engine of the lot, which wasn't worth much now considering just how bigger these new engines were. There had always been a Fat Controller. Or perhaps it was merely that they were all so similar, that they just replaced them without notifying anyone. It felt as though at times the idea of the Fat Controller was immortal.

He knew that one day, people would just...stop coming to see them. It was fine. Sometimes they even insisted that their last journey be made on one of their own trains. Porters, guards, workmen, fitters...even his driver and fireman had changed quite a few times. But the Fat Controller had always been there, and now-

He shook himself. What was wrong with him? Topham Hatt wasn't going to die, for goodness sake! He was just taking an early and well earned retirement. And the last thing he'd want was for Henry to be sloppy on his Kipper run. He came to a stop at Edward's station, and waited, patiently for his back engine.

At last, she arrived, full of apologies. "Uh, sorry, uh, Henry! I didn't, um, see the time, and the empties-"

"I understand!" Henry said, more to forestall the continued rambling apologies than out of any real magnanimity. "Just, if you could, the top of the hill, please."

"Oh, r-r-right." And buffering up, Molly waited until the guard had made quite sure that the lamp was firmly attached to the back of the van before starting off.

Soon, Gordon's Hill loomed over them. Molly's driver added more coal to the fire, and she began to push harder and harder. Henry puffed and panted and growled up the hill as best he could, but it was hard work, and without Molly's help, he doubted he'd get up the hill. Not that he'd admit that, of course.

Then, all of a sudden, through the relatively quiet night air, he heard a piercing whistle. This in and of itself wasn't strange, but the fact that he couldn't immediately place it was. They were about halfway up the hill, and the train was growing heavier and heavier. The last thing they needed was some new engine trying to show them up.

"Faster!"

"I'm trying!" Molly shouted back. "But there's-"

She didn't get a chance to finish, before something hit her tender, hard. With a cry of shock, she shot forward, breaking through the back of the brake van. The unexpected shove had sent Henry up the hill and over the brow of it, but Henry was more concerned with what was behind than what was in front. The vans had been jolted so severely that some of them were coming off the tracks.

Henry braked, hard. But going down Gordon's Hill meant that this didn't do anything. He rattled down, the last remaining vans groaning and wailing as they bounced along the track. He shut his eyes and put every ounce of steam against the trucks, praying to any deity out there that he didn't come screeching off the rails at the bend.

Whoever out there was listening, as at last, he came to a slow, undignified stop.

The fireman scrambled out of his cab and hurried to the top of the hill, while the driver pulled Henry into a siding, uncoupled the shaken and worse for wear vans and then drove Henry onto the loop line to turn him around

Molly had inadvertently saved the guard's life, he had jumped clear as soon as she had let out her cry. He had watched in horror as Molly plowed through his van, and the last four or five trucks. Her tender was off to the side, near a copse of trees, where several of the remaining vans had shattered or been run off by the sudden boost in momentum. Molly herself was on her side, trying hard not to cry as her wheels spun up bits of gravel and pebbles.

Henry was white. There was no way this was an accident. His fireman, after checking on the guard and Molly's own crew, had rushed off to the nearest phone to get help. Henry hurried down. "Molly! Listen, don't worry, help's on it's way, don't go anywhere!"

Molly shot him a look that screamed 'Are you kidding me right now?' and Henry wondered if perhaps he should have phrased that differently.

"What hit you?"

"I d-d-don't k-k-know! It-It was a...an engine, I t-t-t-think!" Molly appeared to be on the verge of going into hysterics, and Henry wasn't quite sure how to handle this. He was not, it must be said, the most sensitive of engines. So he sat and waited for Oliver to arrive with Judy and Jerome, the breakdown train.

"An engine?" he muttered to himself. "How unusual!"

...

The next morning dawned bright and cheerful. Gordon waited at the station for a good five minutes. He looked around nervously, but the passengers had yet to start grumbling that much. Which was unusual, given that the coaches weren't ready yet.

"Where has that silly little tank engine gotten to?!" He muttered angrily, and backed down into the yard. He was about to give all of the shunting engines a good piece of his mind when he saw the state of it. "Great fires of London! What happened here?!"

"No one's sure, Gordon." Edward looked grim. "Whoever it was managed to do a right number on the trucks. Most of them are fine, but there are few that in pretty scruffy condition." The yard was filled to the brim with the scattered remains of the truck's cargo: coal, wood, china clay, quarry rock, anything and everything that the Island supplied. Not only that, but many of the trucks had been thrown up in the air or shattered. "Sorry Gordon, we'll get your coaches in a minute, we just...need to clean the situation up."

"Of course. I'll make something up to keep the passengers happy."

"That's reasonable of you."

"Don't sound so surprised. This isn't a human's doing, is it?"

"If it were just the loads that the trucks were carrying, I'd be inclined to say that it could be. But look at the way they've scattered all of this about. No, this is an engine's work. And a powerful one at that." He looked up, sharply. "Did you hear what happened last night?"

"No." Edward told him about Henry and Molly's little adventure. Gordon was open mouthed in shock. "My word. What's happened?"

"Well, Oliver took them to the Steamworks. Victor's sent Henry back out, mostly it was just nerves and a few battered areas, but Molly's in pretty rough shape. Bruising to the front, injuries to the side, dents, and so forth. She's out of action, for quite a while."

"The last thing we need when it comes to having to deal with a new controller."

"I'm sure Molly didn't mean to get attacked and rammed off the rails last night."

"Don't be funny with me!"

...

Gordon returned five minutes later, still fuming. He hated being made to wait, even though the clock said that he still had another ten minutes to go before complaints with any actual substance could be made. He glanced once more at the passengers, who were still all gathered around the office of the Fat Controller.

Inside, the man himself was sitting at his desk, nostalgically looking over the old map of the Island. It was one that took far more liberties with the actual geography (Hatt was pretty sure that mermaids did not live off of Bluff's Cove) but it was a nice reminder. There was a knock at the door, and Hatt looked up. "Come in!" The door opened, and there stood-

"Giles, glad you could make it!"

"I apologize for being late, but the traffic out there is a nightmare. Lovely to see you, Topham!" Giles shook the Fat Controller's hand vigorously, before taking a seat on the other side of a rather nice plush looking desk. He idly ran his hand over it, and wondered how much it cost to get made.

"No problem, no problem whatsoever. Well, I'll get straight down to it, and afterwards, perhaps we can head off to get a drink or something, talk each other's ears off!" Hatt laughed, and Giles flashed a brief smile.

"Ahem. So, my retirement. I wasn't surprised to see your name come up on the list of potential successors. You've been a good friend to me, and you have the right attitude when it comes to business. Last night, myself and Lady Hatt stayed up and began trimming the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. We were left with four names overall. Firstly, my son, Richard. Normally he would be my first choice, as the railway always passed down from one son to another, but I don't want to appear biased. Then there was Peregine Percival, but he's already got his hands full with the Skarloey Railway, and he's a bit of...well, he was in finances before this, so he's not the kind who interacts with people well. Thirdly, we had the Earl of Sodor's brother, but he's suddenly come down with a bad case of something or other. Which just leaves you."

Giles smiled. "So, what happens now?"

"I've been thinking a lot about this. It's rather hard to make a decision such as this, when so many depend upon the result being correct, without seeing some evidence for how the railway will be run." Hatt leaned over, confidentially. "So, both you and Richard will have a trial period of one week to run the railway however you see fit. You'll organize the trains, balance the books, and so on and so forth. Best person at the end of this fortnight will be made the new Controller of the North Western Railway. Does that sound fair?"

Outside, the passengers were finally getting impatient. Edward hurried in with the coaches, and watched as Gordon backed down on them somewhat rougher than usual. Both engines watched as the source of the interest exited the office.

He was a tall, dapper looking man in a plush red suit, with ruffles and a bowtie. He was a very striking figure to look at, with black curly hair, teeth that shone like torches and eyes that seemed to be laser focused on whatever he was looking at. "Good morning!" He said, in a genial voice. "Ladies, gentlemen, I would advise you to get aboard the express! After all, we do not wish for you to be late!"

The crowd dispersed onto the train. Edward raised an eyebrow. "Well, he's certainly smooth."

"My name-" the man announced "-is Giles Middleton, and I shall be assisting Sir Topham Hatt in the running of this beautiful railway for the next week or so! I wish you all a good day." He turned and walked back towards the office.

The guard, briefly stunned, shook himself and blew the whistle. As he clambered aboard, Gordon started off, relieved.

"Don't you have somewhere to be, Number 2?"

"Oh, er, yes. Of course. My mistake." And as Edward backed away,, he wondered why Giles had been so...formal with him.

...

As Thomas puffed along to Dryaw, he kept a look out for Bertie the Bus. Usually the two of them met up before heading off to work for the day, to talk about something or other. But this time, there was no sign of him.

"Where is he/" he wondered aloud. "It's not like him to be late. Usually it's me who's late, and he's usually there to jeer at me!"

"I never thought I'd hear the day when you complained about not being teased!" Annie said, laughing.

"Indeed!" agreed Clarabel, and then in a kinder voice, continued "He's probably just fine, Thomas."

Thomas tried to smile. They reached Dryaw in good time, and as the passengers got out, he happened to glance over to see Harold the Helicopter. "Morning, Harold!"

"Good to see you, old chap! Just stopping to refuel before I head back to the Search and Rescue Center! Why the glum face? It's not the Fat Controller, is it?"

"It is partly that, but also, I was wondering. Have you heard anything about Bertie? He wasn't at the station this morning, and no one seems to know where he's gotten to-" Thomas suddenly spotted Harold's change in expression "What's wrong?"

"Ah, you, er, haven't heard then? Oh, oh I do not want to be the one to have to bear this bad news, but...there was an accident last night. Bertie was crossing through Lower Suddery, when this great engine rushed past and slammed into him!" Harold shuddered. "It was a fair bit of luck that his driver got out with only a few scrapes. Luckily he wasn't carrying any passengers, or there'd be far worse to think about. But yes, Bertie's laid up at the bus station awaiting repairs."

"Poor Bertie!" Thomas gasped. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'll pass on your sympathies to him if I'm in the area!"

Thomas whistled a thank you and started back on his way. As the coaches made vague sounds of sympathy and nattered on about what kind of monster would deliberately ram a bus, Thomas was lost in his own thoughts.

Everything's changing, he thought, and not for the better.

...

Meanwhile, somewhere else entirely, three strangers sat down at points and talked to each other. They were all steam engines. To an average eye, they would appear to be very similar to the most famous talking engine in all the world.

The first, Cliff, spoke in a cold, stoic tone. "Last night did not go well. In any sense of the word."

"Oh I dunno about that." said his brother, Peter. "I thought the APT went quite well, all things considered. Yards trashed, confusion and delay caused...if it wasn't for that foolish girl-"

"You promised that no one would get hurt!" shouted the final of the trio. Anne looked pale, worried. It had not been an easy night. "You promised that the worst we'd do was make a little mess!"

"Hey, it's okay, no one caught us!"

"That's not the problem, Pete!"

"Both of you, just...stop. All right, now she'll be moving over to the Island soon. We better make sure that this time, the APT gets what it's going for, instead of just drawing attention to us unduly!" Cliff turned to Anne. "You'll have to lure him out, of course. And Peter, don't try anything foolish with APT. Tonight, we just want the one."

"Yes, yes, obviously."

"...It's time to bring our brother home."

...

"Good evening, and welcome to Trainspotters, the show that brings you the latest up to date news on steam, diesel and electric engines from around the world! I'm Stan!"

"And I'm Nigel! Today, a quick update from us as to the situation on the Mainland. According to sources close to the Prime Minister, Harold Wilson is planning to introduce measures to prevent the unnecessary cruelty shown towards steam engines as a result of the proposed Beeching Cuts. Mr Wilson has promised us that no steam engines currently showing signs of life will be destroyed, but instead relocated."

"Interesting news, Nigel! But that rather leads me into a story of the opposite nature! While British Rail has been, for the most part, compliant with the wish to make sure that all living engines are kept safe, the infamously loud splinter faction known simply as 'Tomorrow's Children' have stepped up their campaign for a complete elimination of all steam. We have been unable to reach the leader for comment, but it is known that the opposition by both Mr Wilson and the Opposition's Mr Heath has had a rather bad effect on public opinion of Tomorrow's Children."

"In related news, temporary controller of the railway Giles Middleton has denied rumors that security on the Island of Sodor is lax. This comes after several engines have been placed into the steamworks following strange attacks, and with several of the yards having been left in a state of disarray. Again, we were unable to reach Mr Middleton for comment, but more on that story at a further time..."

...

"Hello friend! You look a little cold, would you like to come in for a bit?"

"Thank you, that is most kind of you."

BoCo looked the newcomer over with a slightly critical eye, masked by a genial expression on his face. "You're new here, I think. Haven't seen you on the yard before. Where are you from?"

"Oh, here and there. Most recently, I was stationed at St Pancreas."

"I'd be careful throwing those words around, friend. Some argue it's still King's Cross, and others say it's Eustace, and still others Paddington. We have quite the debates, let me tell you."

The stranger laughed, a genuine one, but one that sounded a little bit...loose. It wasn't so much madness that BoCo could detect, rather it was as if this diesel was one step slightly behind reality. "Yes, it's the same all over the place! But, my apologies, I have yet to introduce myself. I am Penny."

"BoCo, a pleasure once again. Are you a-"

"A Class 31? Yes. I was here because I was told that Thomas the Tank Engine lives here?"

"He does. I can take him to you tomorrow, if you wish."

"That would be wonderful, thank you. But I would like to rest now." They chattered idly for a bit before BoCo fell into a pleasant sleep. Penny sighed, and tried herself to drop off.

But no such luck.

Tomorrow was going to be...interesting, to say the least.

Author's Notes: Welcome to something not Abridged related!

Something I have been thinking of since I started doing the Abridged series is what I'd do if I tried my hand at writing a straight, not-mocking piece of Thomas fiction. And as I am currently on the Magic Railroad, I have also been thinking a lot about where the movie went wrong, and what I'd do if I could create a movie of my own. And from that, this was born.

Here I'll essentially be answering any questions from reviews that I have, clarifying some things and just giving some general thoughts about why I made certain choices. So, yeah, have at me!