This is a test story, hope you lot enjoy!
Anyways, if you guys wish, I'll continue the story if you'd like, as well as some snippets of other fics.
With that out of the way, I'll go watch Rosehip try and outrun the Express.
While Saint Gloriana is famous for its tank crews, another less (but not too less) famous thing about it is the railway that assists them.
Made in the 1870s to teach young men how to run a railway, the art of Railwaymanship is a club, industrial art, and job at the same time. As an occupation, it would teach boys aged 16 to 23 the value of hard work, cameraderie, and tolerance.
And tolerance was one thing needed in this situation, as at the airport, waiting at the platform was eight passenger coaches, all greyish blue trailing a slightly lighter and less grayish LNER A3, once one of the premier British express locomotives of the late 1920s. This one, 60044 "Oberon" was the express locomotive of this slightly small railway, its driver, Gresley and fireman, Peppercorn, impatiently waiting for the passengers to board.
Beside the station stood a sky-blue A15 Crusader, with its red-haired commander standing by the wayside, with her, a blonde girl with a bow on top beside her looking rather cross.
"Oi, Grezzie!" the redhead shouted." Would you wanna race? I'll give you a hundred qui-"
"Don't even, Rosehip!" snapped the blonde. "You are not racing the boys today, whether you like it or not!"
"Have a bit of fun, Assam!" Rosehip pleaded. "Seventy's easy, maybe I can go 100."
"You'd barely reach more than a quarter or third of those speeds." Assam retorted. "And as for you two, you can't go 100. This carrier's too bloody small for that speed."
Just then, the sound of doors slamming and walking rang across the platform. Rosehip then scrambled back to her tank, Assam running after her.
"No. No. Rosehip, please!" Assam cried.
"Sorry, Assam, duty calls!" Rosehip teased.
Too little, too late. Assam gulped, as the guard blew his whistle. Off they went at full speed, racing along at full power, racing ahead of the long train. Or so they thought, as the Gloriana Flyer overtook them by a hundred seventy eight metres and fifty nine centimetres, or one A3 and eight coaches.
