A/N: So, as a little gift to you, here is LTL2 Ch. 2! 😊 I decided to take a break from the quarry and shift the story elsewhere… and this idea had been in my head forever. Plus, I was asked by a previous reviewer if I can bring a certain someone back…
Also, to address a recent reviewer, I would like to apologize for the confusion in the timeline. It was supposed to be a few days between the beginning and Smudger's rescue. I'm notorious at establishing timelines. The whole LTL trilogy are all supposed to take place over the 15-16 years Luke has in hiding. (my headcanon,) but the first two stories were not thoroughly planned. Completely my fault on that one. Hope it makes sense. I'll make sure it makes sense. But thank you for pointing it out. It's reviews like this that help me brainstorm ideas and fix discrepancies or bring events back to the plot. (But the encouragement always makes my day and motivates me to update for you lovely people.)
If you got through this ramble, well done! If not, never mind. I understand you're all here for the update 😉
P.S. I was supposed to update this yesterday, but I did not. My apologies. So, to make up for it, and to celebrate the three-year anniversary of the publication of Loyalty to Luke 2- the Sequel, I will give you all the final two chapters!
I'll be doing other projects once I finish this, before I work on LTL 3- but I also have an idea featuring Skarloey in the works, so I'd be interested to hear what you guys think 😊 But I swear it won't go on for eternity- I just keep coming up with ideas, particularly since I haven't had exams to worry about for the moment! But 'On the Other Side of The Mountain' will be out very soon, so keep your eyes peeled.
Disclaimer: Everyone mentioned in this chapter belongs to their respective creators/owners. I only own Winston Otto Farquhar-Barston, Goose and Gazelle.
Enjoy!
Meanwhile, several hours later, Smudger stared listlessly out of the window at the setting sun.
"How are you doing, my friend?" Asked Victor quietly, chuffing up alongside him. The Steamworks was quieter this evening, so he could afford to rest. Plus, Kevin's clumsiness had been getting on his nerves all day, and he wanted a moment's peace; lest he snap something regrettable in poor Kevin's direction.
"Meh," Replied Smudger dully, not bothering to look at Victor.
"Smudger…" the Cuban engine warned.
"Alright, alright. I'm just bored." His companion sighed. "It's been so long since I've been out of that damned shed… And even when I'm free, I still feel cooped up."
Victor was not pleased with Smudger's pessimistic attitude. "I understand you're fed up of waiting, my friend, and my men are doing what they can to fix you; considering none of us have ever had to restore an engine from a"- here, he let his eyes run critically over the old engine's boiler before glancing back at Smudger. "-generator."
Smudger shuddered at the word. "Yeah, sorry," he said. "I guess I need to rethink my attitude now that I'm out. After all, I don't want to go back to living as a generator."
"That would be a welcome change, my friend." Victor said, his tone softening. "I don't suppose you'd like to talk, would you?" he offered.
"No."
The little works engine didn't even know why he offered to listen to Smudger talk about a traumatic experience; when he wouldn't even tell anyone about his own. Even now, nightmares of that incident still left him gasping for breath and shaking violently in the night; but he told a worried Kevin the nightmares were just about something that happened a long time ago, back home.
….
Victor was suddenly startled out of his reverie when he heard the sound of a car pulling up outside the Steamworks; and automatically assumed that it was the Fat Controller; until he saw Kevin dart towards them, gnawing on his lip. "Hey, Boss? Were you expecting someone?" the little crane asked nervously.
"No… why?" Asked Victor. He was concerned, for Kevin sounded frightened, and the Fat Controller gave neither of them any reason to be scared… so it couldn't possibly be the Fat Controller at all; and Mr. Percival didn't even own a car at all…. Ergo, someone else had arrived… but who would come to the Steamworks at this hour?
"There's a black car outside… it doesn't look like the Fat Controller's car at all." He explained, looking at his boss for a sign of recognition.
"Strange… I thought for a moment that it would be him." The Cuban engine mused, his eyebrows knotted together. "Unless it is him, just with a"-
The words died on his lips.
A short man dressed in a bottle green stripe suit and matching fedora, was suddenly standing in front of Victor, smiling in a snake like manner. He held a lit cigar in his pale, chubby fingers, which was adorned with jewelled rings, and his other hand had two leashes entwined around his clammy palm. On the other end of the leashes were two panting Dobermanns, their pointed ears and shiny coats reflecting in the sun, causing their coats to almost glow.
Victor gulped, but nonetheless managed to retain his cool; despite the unusual, and blatantly, terrifying, situation.
"Kevin, my friend, would you mind tidying up the back, please?" He asked politely, turning his attention momentarily to the young crane beside him. "I'll talk to this gentleman here."
The man lifted the cigar to his mouth, took a puff, and then lowered his hand again; all whilst watching Victor as though he were a cat eyeing up the movements of a mouse.
"Why, where does he think he's going?" He asked silkily, gesturing to Kevin with the cigar. The little crane squeaked in fright.
"Well, I, that is boss-I mean, sir, I"- he stammered, his face going pale.
"Kevin, to the back, please." Victor repeated, sternly but not unkindly. Kevin, unwilling to argue, obeyed, slinking along to the back, trying to pretend the creepy guy wasn't watching his every move.
"Whatever was that for?" The man purred, turning his focus back to Victor once Kevin was safely out of range.
"I do not know why you're here, sir," Victor replied coolly. "But I don't want my assistant in harm's way. That is all."
"Harm? I wish you and your friends no harm, dear boy." Victor bristled at the tone, but he said nothing; just glared.
"So why are you here?" Asked Smudger bluntly.
"Ah, wherever are my manners?" the man realized, with a cold smile. He took another puff of his cigar (which caused Victor to scrunch up his face in disgust) before he readjusted the leashes of his dogs in his other hand. "I am Winston Otto James Farquhar-Barston." He continued, grinning wilfully. "I am a businessman. And you might be?" He asked, eyeing up Victor, with all the monetary greed only a shark could master.
To his shame and mortification, Victor suddenly felt that everything, even his pressure gauges, were exposed- if that was even possible for an engine to feel so. He didn't like that feeling. But, determined not to let this man win, he coughed politely. "I am Victor, and I am in charge of these workshops." He replied courageously, watching as Mr. Farquhar-Barston eyed him down his aquiline, wart covered nose.
"In charge, are you?" He said, sounding very surprised. "My, my, what a world we live in!"
"Yes; I am not the only engine- steam or diesel- to operate in a locomotive repair works." Victor acknowledged. "But I am the only steam engine to run one." He added boldly.
"I see. And who is your unfortunate companion here?" Farquhar-Barston added, nodding to the dark green engine beside Victor.
"Smudger." Growled the former MSR engine, still feeling as unnerved as Kevin and Victor about the presence of the stranger- especially one as uncanny and wily as this guy. But he was also very angry, so this naturally overrode his caution.
"Well, Victor, I am hoping you might be able to assist me with a little… business problem, I have." Farquhar- Barston continued smoothly, turning his focus back to the little red Hispanic engine.
Victor already knew what his answer would be; but he knew letting him go without obtaining information would be unwise; so, he decided to find out more before informing the Fat Controller. So, he said nothing, which allowed the 'businessman' to rally.
"You see, my dear Victor, it seems that I am running short of an engine." Mr. Barston continued, examining his nails as though they were of more interest than his seething companions. "I was so hoping I could acquire one from here for my operations."
"CERTAINLY NOT!" Victor exploded, outraged at the proposal. He could not believe that this man thought he could just stroll in here and buy an engine for whatever purposes he had in mind. Besides, he didn't trust him one iota. Steam engines obviously needed care and maintenance, and he had a niggling feeling that this guy, should he have his way, would deliberately remain negligent about the health and wellbeing of his engine… or engines; for the sake of scraping back a few extra pennies for himself.
"Sir, I am afraid that your request is quite impossible." The little red engine continued, his voice calmer and more controlled this time. "The engines I fix within these four walls either belong to Sir Topham Hatt or to Mr. Percival, and they will never consider selling one of their own fleet." 'and especially not to the likes of yourself.' He added under his breath.
But he was very surprised when the man only chuckled darkly.
"Why, you're a fiery one." Barston commented, and Victor once more noticed the calculating, devaluing look on Mr. Barston's face. "Tis a pity that. You would have been the sort of engine I need and would value." He smiled, as if to say, 'Oh, I would enjoy tearing you up and spitting you out.'
Or perhaps it was Victor's imagination.
"I only need a little narrow-gauge engine," the businessman wheedled, his hazel brown eyes glinting with greed.
"I belong to Sir Topham, and the other narrow-gauge engines belong to Mr. Percival," Victor repeated calmly but firmly. "I can assure you that none of us are up for sale."
It was then that realization flashed through Smudger's funnel like lightening. He remembered that the only two narrow gauge engines who wouldn't be under either controller's protection was both himself and Luke; that was because Luke mentioned at some point that he was hiding from Mr. Percival, lest his secret be found out.
And Smudger lacked protection because Luke was the one who rescued him. Should Mr. Percival find this out, then Luke would be sent away in disgrace- possibly forever.
And where Duke had done nothing to spare Smudger from his purgatory as a generator, the little Irish tank engine had boldly rescued him, ignoring the potential consequences of exposure.
Smudger was no good engine himself, but he recognized that an angel like Luke deserved better than what he was currently living through… though from when he last saw Luke, the little Irish engine seemed to be more surviving at this point.
Nibbling his lip, he looked at Farquhar-Barston with uncertainty. "Alright, mate, how many engines do you need?" He asked gruffly.
Farquhar-Barston looked startled; even more so when he found out about Victor owning the Steamworks. His eyebrows shot so high that Smudger was convinced that they disappeared behind the strands of greasy, straggly black hair sticking out from under his fedora.
"Smudger, you can't be serious!" Victor protested. "What about Mr. Percival? Surely he'd intervene!"
"I ain't in a hurry to see ol' Dukie again." Smudger informed him. He turned back to Farquhar-Barston. "I'm not owned by him, sir." He added, as means of explanation.
Farquhar-Barston's face lit up. "Why, this is most unexpected news." He said in an oily voice, lifting his cigar for another smoke. "But not unwelcome." He suddenly cursed under his breath when he realised it had extinguished, so he rummaged around in his pocket for a lighter.
"While I've got you, you should really not be smoking in here." Victor said determinedly. "And those dogs aren't allowed, either." He continued, glaring at the two Dobermanns.
"Why, Goose and Gazelle would hardly touch a soul." The 'businessman' assured them brazenly. "Unless of course, I ask them nicely."
"Sir, I really must ask you to reconsider"-
"Why, surely no one here will miss this engine. Especially not this 'Dukie' or Mr. Percival." Farquhar-Barston interrupted silkily, leaning down to rub the ear of one of his ferocious-looking dogs; who began wagging its tail delightedly. "You, my dear Smudger, would fit the bill nicely. I haven't need for another engine."
'Another engine?' Thought Victor, feeling his smokebox sink. This meant that that creep owned more engines… only Lady knew what state they were being kept in right now.
Smudger gulped in fright. His wheels were quaking, and his smokebox felt as though it was shrinking inside his cab. But he thought of Luke, and his determination to save him kicked in.
"When do I start, sir?" He finally asked, his tone clipped.
"Tonight. You will be transported by lorry to where I need you to be." Replied Winston Otto Farquhar-Barston, and with that, Victor found he could say no more.
