22 - No.4468 - Part III
Trigger warning for death(s) and graphic description of injuries/death.
"What an ugly, fat thing you are," a voice with a thick Welsh accent spoke snidely. Mallard immediately opened his eyes enraged and went to dress down whoever had spoken but was shocked to see Flying Scotsman hissing steam furiously and looking the angriest he had ever seen him.
Sitting on one of the platforms opposite Scotsman and Mallard was a Great Western with golden trim and an expression of utter distaste as he looked at both engines.
"You're not welcome here, you pathetic excuse of an engine!" Scotsman snarled at it shocking Mallard with his aggressiveness. "Maybe your designer should have put more effort into making you run better instead of dressing you in gold like some tarted-up harlot!"
"A harlot? A harlot!" The engine, with City of Truro on his nameplate, shrieked. "It's about looking presentable, not like you, you bloated galloping sausage! You look like that high-pressure monstrosity Stainer designed but even more undignified!"
"Well, you're an old rusted heap of an engine! I'm surprised that gold is even shiny the way you go about with your square wheels!" Scotsman spat back. "You sure you can even get to 60? You look like your tyres would fall off if you even tried!"
"At least I'm not a pretentious attention whore! Look at your fat face plastered all over the LNER, it's disgusting!" City of Truro sneered. "I'm surprised you don't tip over and derail, it's so fat!"
Mallard stared bewildered, unsure how to react to this argument. It was drawing attention and passengers and station staff had gathered. The Stationmaster tried to stop the two engines from arguing and disgracing themselves in front of the public.
He'd never seen Flying Scotsman of all engines, the nice, friendly, charming engine who was always kind even to the worthless shunters, acting like an angry childish teenager.
"You are an outdated piece of garbage from an inferior railway!" Scotsman shouted angrily at Truro.
"You should be melted down and turned into rails!" Truro shouted back.
"That is enough!" Pretty Polly snapped at the two arguing engines. "You are BOTH acting disgracefully! Scotsman you will uncouple from that train and another engine will take it! Truro, I'll have another engine escort you back to Swindon."
"I don't see we the both of you are arguing," Mallard spoke up, over Polly. "Your records pale in comparison to my achievement."
Polly glared at Mallard as now Scotsman and Truro suddenly glared at him.
"100mph is nothing to sneeze at you oversized green toaster!" Truro snapped at Mallard. "Regardless of who achieved it first, we paved the way for your own record. Do not disrespect it."
"Quite right!" Scotsman said, throwing a glare at the smaller engine. "Although I don't want to agree with this rusty old boiler, it is inappropriate to demean others' achievements in place of your own."
"Yet you demean each other!" Mallard snapped angrily. He was annoyed that these engines were being hypocritical with him.
"Because Truro's record is not official! And it was done at great risk to his crew!"
"Oh like you haven't done something against code you public menace!" Truro shot back to which Flying Scotsman suddenly blasted steam at the platform and Mallard who sat beside him.
"Don't you hiss steam at me, you underachiever!" Mallard shouted at him.
By this point, both Polly and the Stationmaster had had enough and ordered Scotsman's crew to take him away.
Polly rounded on Mallard. "As soon as your train comes you will take it without delay and you will not speak!" She ordered.
"I don't take orders from a woman!" Mallard snarled and Polly looked furious and Truro looked aghast.
"This engine is your superior and elder!" Truro told him shocked. "You do not question superiors no matter what gender they are. This is the Great Western Way. I assumed it was the same way on the LNER, no matter the boisterousness of the engine."
"We're not on the joke of a railway you call the Great Western you old rust bucket! An important engine such as I would never be found on such a hovel of a place!"
"Mallard!" Polly scolded.
"Well, I really!" Truro scoffed.
"Oh so Scotsman's allowed to argue and insult other engines but I'm not? I see how it is, LNER's poster boy gets all the special treatment!" Mallard scoffed. "How hypocritical!"
"That's not what-"
"Shut up Polly," Mallard snarled at her and Polly looked insulted and aghast. "You're as awful as Great Northern says you are!"
"How dare you!"
There was a loud clunk as Mallard's coaches were shunted to him. Almost immediately his crew moved to start him and the guard hurried the passengers into his train, everyone frustrated and upset.
"The directors and Sir Gresley will hear about this!" Polly snapped as Mallard pulled away.
"Like they would ever do anything to the fastest and best engine in the world!" Mallard crowed leaving his cousin and the Great Western behind without a look back.
"Mallard," Merlin's voice called to him as he pretended to be asleep. "I know you're awake. I would like to know why you've been taken off of the Flying Scotsman and put under 'maintenance leave' for the next few weeks?"
Mallard hesitantly opened his eye. Merlin had his stern voice on. Mallard didn't like it when Merlin was stern with him, he rarely ever was and it made him feel all the more ashamed when his elder brother used it.
"I don't know," Mallard said sheepishly. He felt like a little kid. He knew Merlin would see through his lies.
"Mallard-"
"Why is Flying Scotsman allowed to act insulting towards that gold stained freak and I'm not?" Mallard suddenly shouted.
"You'll be pleased to know that Scotsman was punished for his disgraceful behaviour," Merlin informed his baby brother. "He is also under 'maintenance leave.'"
Mallard snorted in mirth. At least he wasn't the only one being punished.
"But there is more to your leave than Scotsman's," Merlin continued. "Regarding Pretty Polly."
Mallard paled at Merlin's words.
"Pretty Polly?"
"Yes, you have said some very unfortunate things to her," Merlin narrowed his eyes at Mallard. "Things that she thinks Great Northern taught you, is she right?"
"I- uh- I'm not sure I understand," Mallard stammered.
Great Northern had always ranted and drilled it into Mallard that Polly wasn't a good leader of the Roundhouse because of her gender. There were probably other reasons too, but Polly never was a good replacement as leader of the King's Cross fleet in North's opinion.
"Would you say the same thing to Quicksilver?" Merlin asked. "She is one of the A4 leaders. Would you go up to her and tell her the same thing?"
"What- I- No! Of course not!" Mallard denied. "I respect Quicksilver! She taught me and supported me when I was new!"
"Then why did you think it was appropriate to say that to Polly?" Merlin demanded. "Quicksilver wanted to confront you on this herself but I managed to convince her I would deal with this behaviour in a more friendly manner. She'll confront you if she hears more from Polly however."
"I- I'm sorry," Mallard looked upset. He didn't want to face Quicksilver, she could be terrifying in her own right.
"Polly wants an apology in person," Merlin said. "You're a good engine Mallard but sometimes you need to keep quiet and not get involved with others especially when they were acting like Scotsman. Sir Gresley is furious with him right now and this is not the first time a fight with Truro has happened."
Mallard frowned.
"Truro started the fight, he insulted Scotsman," he argued. "It's the Great Western's fault."
"Regardless, Scotsman should not have reacted the way he did," Merlin chided. "You need to apologise to Polly or you will not be put back on the Flying Scotsman."
"But-"
"No buts, and or ifs," Merlin said sternly. "I care about you Mallard, I don't like to see you fail or get into trouble, so I want to give you the chance to repair things. I hope you understand that."
Mallard gave a deep sigh and looked down at his buffers with a quiet acceptance. Merlin was sheltering him from both Quicksilver and Polly's wrath.
Mallard looked back up at Merlin who looked at him expectantly. Mallard gave a heavy sigh.
He didn't like admitting fault. It meant he was fallible, a sign of weakness. But he also didn't want to upset Merlin.
"I'll apologise to Polly tomorrow," he finally said.
"I'm glad to hear that Mallard," Merlin smiled at him. "If you ever need something or want to talk, I am always here for you Mallard. You know that right?"
Mallard looked at his buffers embarrassed. He didn't want to admit it but having Merlin around had truly meant so much to him. Merlin was always there when he needed him, even if he at the time hadn't felt it.
Merlin loved him unconditionally, despite everything he had done or how boastful he was.
He was everything he wanted from Great Northern, he realised. Merlin gave him unconditional respect and love while North had just been spiteful and hateful for literally no reason. Oh how he had wished Merlin had trained him instead of that angry spiteful old man.
"Yes, I know that Merlin," Mallard mumbled to him. "Thank-you."
"You're very welcome Mallard."
Both engines looked up as Gadwell appeared in the yard and began reversing into their sheds for the night.
"Hello, Mallard! Hello Merlin!" The young engine chirped looking eagerly at his big brothers.
Mallard gave a small smile, he liked Gadwell. He was only a few months younger than himself and he was an excitable and enthusiastic engine who looked up to Mallard.
"Good evening Gadwell," Mallard said, simply happy to have a little distraction from the day's events and keep his shame at bay. He loved the attention, he loved getting recognition for his hard work. If only Great Northern had acknowledged his work, everything he had done to impress the old engine.
With a slight frown, Mallard pushed North from his mind. Although said engine was back on the LNER's main thoroughfares, he'd been kept away from the mainline and was no longer the voice of the A3 Pacific's. That honour had been given to Scotsman and Polly, although Polly regrettably did most of the talking while Scotsman was more of a 'friendly' face.
No backbone on that ridiculous engine. He'd given up his position to be Sir Gresley's personal engine to the A4 No.4498, 'Sir Nigel Gresley', saying it was more appropriate for the sterner and better named engine to be his spokesperson.
Mallard looked back at Gadwell, who now sat beside him waiting patiently for Mallard's attention.
"4498 says hello," Gadwell said happily. "He says I'm doing well, but I need to stop pretending to be Mallard."
Mallard chuckled. "No offence Gadwell but I doubt Sir Gresley would allow another record attempt."
Gadwell took it well.
"Oh I know, I just like pretending I'm you," Gadwell said with an embarrassed blush. "It's nice to believe for a second that I'm the best engine on the rails."
Mallard grinned widely. At first, he had hated Gadwell, not understanding the need for new engines like himself and feeling threatened by them.
However, Gadwell never showed any interest in beating his record. He was more interested in impressing his big brother. Indeed, it got annoying at times but Gadwell never meant harm and it was always nice to have the ego boost on a day like today. Sometimes if they met on a line, Gadwall asked Mallard to race him and Mallard would happily oblige, no matter if he got into trouble.
He looked over at Merlin who was smiling at him. Merlin liked seeing Mallard and Gadwell get along. Mallard was happy with the young engine and the two got along like a well-oiled valve gear. Mallard didn't have any other friends, so he was glad to see the famous engine have someone to confide in other than himself.
After Gadwell had appeared in his life, Mallard had calmed and become a lot more sociable and pleasant. Certainly it had taken a while but Mallard was slowly getting better. Hopefully Gadwell's presence would help Mallard for many, many years.
Mallard and Merlin were surprised to find 4498, Sir Nigel, coming into their bunker early one morning. The war had seen the engines seldom see or meet each other unless it was necessary to avoid getting the attention of German spies.
Mallard especially was a target for them and so, he was hidden away, far from London, as had many other engines. Surprisingly, Flying Scotsman still worked, disguised as just another A3 pacific working goods trains.
Mallard had laughed until Merlin had scolded him. Scotsman, his siblings and many of their own siblings now worked running goods trains to all over the country and even to other railways everything was looking bleak. The rivalry of the Big 4 Railways did not matter in such trying times. Only surviving mattered.
LNER, LMS, GWR and Southern Engines all working together, sometimes sheltering with each other just to survive the night, frightened the bombs may land on their sheds and destroy them. It was remarkable to see.
Mallard was just glad he was no where near London. His attitude upset Merlin he knew, but he just thought that Merlin didn't have any faith in their country. They'd win the war, just as Mallard had beaten the Germans at their own record. Merlin was not pleased at his dismissive attitude and always warned him against his flippant attitude towards the war.
"Good Morning Sir Nigel," Merlin greeted his brother.
4498 looked devastated and Merlin felt a horrifying feeling creep into his boiler. 4498 was usually the one to give bad news. Last year he had had to pass on the news of their designers death. He'd become an omen of bad tidings, the poor engine.
Sir Nigel recognised the realisation of Merlin's face and gave a heavy sigh.
"As you can tell I'm not here for a social visit," he said gruffly. "I have some upsetting news."
Sir Nigel glanced at Mallard, clearly worried how the young engine was going to take the news. Merlin gave a sharp intake of breath realising why 4498 had come all the way to see them.
"Is it Gadwell?" He asked and a flicker of sympathy and hurt flashed across 4498's face. "He was at Doncaster for repairs. Did, did they target the workshops?"
"An air raid over his shed happened last night at Doncaster, a bomb was dropped on to his shed and landed right next to him and 925," Sir Nigel's voice was stoic but his eyes held devastation. "The engineers say his soul was immediately severed from his engine during the impact. He was killed instantly and his engine will be scrapped. I'm so sorry."
The three engines sat in complete silence for a tense and deadly moment.
"You're lying," Mallard suddenly accused, breaking the silence. The two elder engines looked at him.
"I assure you, I am not lying young Mallard," Sir Nigel mournfully told Mallard.
"Shut up!" Mallard suddenly shouted. "This is just a stupid trick Merlin is doing to make me take the war seriously!"
"This is no trick Mallard," Merlin said quietly, understanding the young engines distress. He himself didn't want to believe it.
"I will leave you to process this," 4498 took his leave.
"No don't run away, you lair!" Mallard shouted angrily as their brother left. He looked desperately to Merlin. "Merlin! Merlin! Do something! This liar is getting away!"
"Mallard just-" Merlin tried to stop Mallard's incessant yellings of denial but he found himself getting choked up and upset. "Just stop- Don't-"
Mallard stopped his shouting as Merlin began stumbling over his words and began to freely cry. He'd never seen Merlin cry before. It hurt him in ways he'd never experienced.
Merlin was truly upset. This wasn't a trick or a joke.
Gadwell was dead.
He fell silent and quiet, not sure how to respond.
The two engines sat for hours in the bunker, still not really processing the young bright engines death. The only noises were Merlin's sniffling and crying to which Mallard did not interrupt, his mind in a cloud of mixed emotions.
He didn't feel sad or angry. He just felt numb and confused.
Gadwell would appear next to him one day, challenging Mallard to a race. This wasn't real.
This couldn't be real.
"Merlin," Mallard asked, his voice piercing through Merlin's thoughts. Merlin didn't answer, still distraught and in pain.
"Can you promise me something Merlin?" Mallard's voice came again, this time sounding like a scared child. The tone of his voice caught Merlin's attention and he looked at the famous engine. He sounded vulnerable, hurt and terrified, something that Mallard never was.
"What is it Mallard?" He said concern filling his voice. "Mallard, please tell me so I can help you."
There was a moment of silence before Mallard spoke up.
"You're, you're the only friend I have now," Mallard admitted sadly. "Please don't leave me. I don't want to be alone."
Merlin looked at Mallard, his face both terrified and deeply sad.
"Please," Mallard begged him. "Merlin please."
"I'll do my very best Mallard," Merlin gave the engine a reassuring smile. "I promise I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe and be by your side always."
Mallard gave Merlin a brave smile.
"Thank-you Merlin."
"This Mallard has become a reckless and unstable individual!" Thompson snapped at the directors. "His actions almost killed passengers and he constantly endangers his crew! It is just more idiotic ways of Gresley engines!"
Sir Nigel Gresley, 4498, glared at the little man and hissed a little bit of steam but said nothing. Beside him the Board of Directors shared his distaste.
Ever since the young Gadwell's death, Mallard had become inconsolable, reckless and even more boastful and violent.
"Then what would you propose?" Mr Sutcliffe folded his arms with a glance at the other directors. "Mallard is a world record holder. The fastest steam engine in the world, a record that is unlikely to ever be beaten. You cannot scrap him, nor can you rebuild him into one of your faulty monstrosities like you did with Great Northern."
Thompson frowned but then smiled to himself.
"Sir Gresley was a proponent for Gold Dust," he said. "He seemed to think giving engines sentience and their own thoughts would make them efficient or special somehow when in face it only makes them disobedient and reckless."
"Are you suggesting taking out the Gold Dust from Mallard?" Mr Walsworth asked shocked. "That's- that's never been done before and Sir Gresley forbade it. It's a cruel practice and no railway worth their salt would try it!"
"Sir Gresley is not here, do you understand?" Thompson shouted at the men angrily. "I am the Chief Engineer of this railway now!"
"If you keep acting the way you do you won't be for any longer!" Sir Marwood shouted at the man angrily. "You act more like an angry child than our chief engineer! You are short tempered, controlling and you have no respect for the engines! We've had nothing but constant resignations of those under your employ!"
"They're weak willed men! And the engines will all be scrapped eventually!" Thompson shouted back. "Just like the classes that came before them! You fools need to stop treating them like beings and more like machines! That's all they are! Machines!"
Sir Marwood frowned and glared at him.
"You were not our choice for engineer," He glared angrily at him. "Peppercorn should have had your role. Instead we have a petulant ill tempered fool who cares nothing about the railway, bullies his employees and only cares for disgracing the name of a brilliant man. You have destroyed the P2's and riddled them with faults. Great Northern is a shadow of his former self and does not speak to anyone. You will not lay hands on Mallard and if you do, we will have you replaced with Peppercorn."
Thompson looked completely offended, marched forward and went to start yelling at them but 4498 of his own accord, hissed a huge amount of steam and put himself between Thompson and the Directors, Gold Dust hovering around him in a clear warning. He said nothing, but he didn't have to. Thompson looked intimidated and backed away from the engine.
It would be very easy to claim that he'd been in an 'engineering accident' with the big engine and the Board of the Directors would have an easier time to get rid of him. He wasn't well liked and both engines and employees wanted him gone. Without a word he glared at the large engine staring him down before turning around and storming off in a huff.
4498 glanced at the directors.
"I apologise for my actions sirs. I am aware that threatening humans is not taken lightly," he said sincerely. "But that man has made far too many mistakes and we engines want him gone. He also threatened my brother and I will not have it."
"We agree, old friend," Sir Marwood smiled at the engine. "Unfortunately, humans have complicated ways and getting rid of him is not an easy job."
"Quite," 4498 agreed. "But I must warn you, several of the P2s are threatening to come down from Scotland and deal with him in a very uncomplicated way for making them weaker."
"We will do our best, however we cannot promise anything Sir Nigel," Mr Walsworth gave the A3 Pacific a gentle pat on his cylinder box.
"If anything happens to Mallard, the Silver's will be after him, I can tell you that," Sir Nigel warned and Sir Marwood's face took on a look of complete sincerity.
"If anything happens to Mallard WE will be after him ourselves," he assured the engine.
"Sir Nigel's memories?" The Flying Scotsman sounded confused as he rumaged around in Mallard's mind. "How is that possible?!"
Mallard dug his heels and bit back at Scotsman who immediately shoved him back.
"Excuse you I wasn't done yet!" Scotsman snapped at Mallard like an annoyed child.
"Well I'm deciding you're done!" Mallard hissed and tried to regain control of the black smoke. He looked at the long preserved bodies of the old directors. "Curse these humans and their ways! They acted too late, too late! I would have never become this monster had they not let that man touch me! They sacrificed me! Used me as an excuse to get rid of Thompson instead of acting!"
He felt sympathy from the Flying Scotsman and pushed it away angrily.
"I don't need your pity, Golden Boy," he sneered at Scotsman. The Scotsman didn't get angry, he felt only sadness come from the A3 Pacific.
He ignored it and began to draw on the Black Smoke he had used to preserve the old LNER directors, one by one the old corpses dropped until all of them were gone except for the two human he kept as his crew. He regrettably still needed them for a quick getaway if need be.
Godred wriggled free of his captors and ran over to Great Northern who still sat crumpled on the ground his leg broken. He tried to get North away but North pushed him away telling him to run, to get help.
It didn't matter, Mallard would soon be done with this.
Mallard drew the black smoke around his boiler, deeper and deeper, surrounding Scotsman's soul. The Scotsman flinched as he felt the familiar ice cold feeling of his nightmares begin to creep slowly closer to him.
Mallard smirked as he watched Scotsman panic slightly as the Black Smoke started to overwhelm his Golden Soul.
"Where's your bravado now, poster boy," he hissed and Scotsman paused, trying to calm himself and gain control. Mallard felt the Gold Dust pushing against the black smoke, trying to push through.
"I need to see what happened to Merlin," Scotsman gave Mallard a rough shove. "Something bad happened to him I know. You mind is filled with regret and sadness everytime you remember him!"
"Stop!" Mallard snapped at Scotsman, trying to suffocate the insolent pest that had plagued him almost all his life. "You gave your soul to me now just submit!"
"I need to see the whole picture!" Scotsman suddenly lashed out at Mallard, his Gold Dust flashing brilliantly and stunning Mallard slightly, enough to give Scotsman wriggle room to once again grab on to a memory and latch on to it for dear life.
"Merlin has the cold iron sleep Mallard, there is no known way to fix it I'm sorry," Arthur Peppercorn told the desperate engine. "He will most likely be scrapped once he loses sentience."
"No!" Mallard shouted furiously. "You have to do something!"
"Mr Peppercorn is right Mallard," Merlin said quietly from beside him. "I'm sorry. There's nothing they can do for me. At least my metal can be reused for future engines."
"But you promised! You promised you'd stay by my side!" Mallard said desperately. "I can't lose anyone else!"
"You will still have Sir Nigel, Bittern and a few others," Merlin tried to reassure his younger brother but Mallard wasn't having it, he was inconsolable.
"But they don't care about me!" Mallard shouted angrily. "No one cares about me accept you!"
"They do Mallard, you just need to be more open and accepting to them," Merlin urged.
They'd had this conversation a million times but still Mallard never once listened. He always fixated on Merlin or Gadwell.
Merlin sighed and looked away from Mallard. He was too exhausted, too tired. Just being around Mallard drained his energy, his very soul it seemed like.
Peppercorn frowned suddenly as he noticed the tiny flecks of gold dust floating in the air.
Gold dust was rarely seen outside an engine. It was usually anchored on tight on to it's host and held fast unless an engine was pushing past it's limits. Without a word, he darkened the workshop, confusing the two engines presence.
"Sir?" Merlin asked as Peppercorn came back with a lamp. He stood between the two engines and stood silently and carefully gazed between them.
Merlin and Mallard glanced at each other confused. After a long moment Peppercorn walked to the front of Merlin and placed a hand over his buffer.
"Merlin I want you to answer me honestly, how do you feel when you're around Mallard?"
"I-" Merlin glanced at Mallard who looked at him expectantly. "Ever since Thompson removed part of Mallard's soul, I always felt… exhausted some how. Please don't take this the wrong way Mallard it's not that I'm tired of your behaviour it's, I feel weaker in your presence."
A look of concern appeared on Peppercorn's face.
"Could you maybe explain it as if you're being drained of your very soul?" He suggested and Merlin stared at him curiously.
"Yes, I believe I could," Merlin agreed. "That's a very descriptive way of putting it."
Peppercorn gave him a slight nod before turning to walk away.
"I need to speak to the directors about something, I will be back," Peppercorn said with a sad look at them both.
"What did you mean by that?" Mallard questioned Merlin with an annoyed look upon his face. "Do you really think I'm draining your soul or something stupid like that. That's absurd!"
Mallard gave a nervous laugh but Merlin just sat their stoney faced and silent not saying a word.
Ever since Thompson and his crew had taken Mallard in the middle of the night and 'repaired' him to try an make him less reckless and more agreeable, he had noticed a drop in Mallard's ability to sympathise and to emote properly. It was almost as if they'd stripped him of any ability to show sympathy to anyone. It was unnerving and it was frightening.
He'd openly mocked engines that sat in the sidings rusting away as they waited for the cutter's torch. He'd proudly proclaimed himself the best locomotive as he was to be preserved and he went out of his way to search for certain engines to mock them or tell them they were being scrapped in a gleeful sadistic way.
Mallard certainly never had been particularly nice or warm to anyone but it was like a cruel streak had opened up and started negatively effecting everyone around him. Merlin was appalled and horrified and this sudden change in Mallard, however thankfully, the famous engine was still his kind and loving little brother to him.
"What did, what did Thompson do to you Mallard?" Merlin asked, his tone laced with fright.
"I- I don't really know, they knocked me out but when I woke up I just felt cold," Mallard explained. "Even when my firebox is lit and my boiler is running I just feel… cold."
Merlin stared at Mallard before looking away. If Mallard really was draining his soul and killing him, he shudder to think how it would effect the engine. He looked at his buffers. Mallard had begun speaking again but he felt so out of it that he didn't answer.
He felt like he was losing himself.
He only looked up when he heard Peppercorn and Mr Sutcliffe return.
"Are you certain that Mallard is draining Merlin's Gold Dust?" Mr Sutcliffe was asking the Chief Mechanical Engineer.
"I saw it myself," Peppercorn said urgently. "And Merlin is the only engine that consistently is in Mallard's company for him to really take a hold of."
"Curious," Mr Sutcliffe remarked. He looked at the two engines. "Unfortunately, our wells of Gold Dust are running out and we cannot spare much due to the new diesels being output by the works. Only a few select steam engines will be saved."
"That's alright sir," Merlin said humbly. "I understand."
"We are preserving important engines such as Rooster, Green Arrow and a K4. One of Peppercorn's A1's will also be preserved," Mr Sutcliffe explained. "I apologise Merlin but I cannot guarantee that you will join them."
"But, but you have to! Merlin is my friend! I demand that you save him!" Mallard snapped angrily.
"Mallard-" Merlin started but Mallard ignored him.
"You have to save him!" He shouted furiously. "I will not allow him to die!"
"You're the one that's killing him you ridiculous engine!" Mr Sutcliffe suddenly shouted at him. "Thompson took your Gold Dust and now you're draining your brothers!"
"Sir!" Peppercorn admonished the man. "These engines don't know about the nature of Gold dust! You cannot tell them!"
"Gold Dust? You mean our souls? Thompson took my soul and you just let him!?" Mallard shrieked angrily. "Is that why I'm cold? Is that why I can't feel anything?! How could you let them do this to me?! The most important engine in the world!"
"Who told you about that?" Peppercorn rounded on Mallard.
"4498 did, he made me promise not to tell anyone, he was concerned about me after Thompson took my Gold Dust," Mallard huffed. "But it's not my fault! I didn't know I was taking Merlin's gold dust please you have to save Merlin!"
Peppercorn and Sutcliffe looked at one another, disturbed by the revelation.
"Take Mallard away and keep him away from Merlin," Mr Sutcliffe ordered. "Keep him away from any and all engines. I will talk to the board about this."
Without another word, Mr Sutcliffe turned heel and left, leaving a very distressed Mallard and a mournful looking Peppercorn.
"Take- take Mallard away and put him in a shed away from the other engines," Peppercorn stammered as he ordered the engineers around him.
"Wait no please!" Mallard called desperately. "Merlin! I'm sorry! I didn't know I was draining your Gold Dust! This isn't fair! Merlin!"
"It's okay Mallard, I forgive you," Merlin tried to assured the now panicked and frightened engine. "This isn't your fault. Please don't blame yourself for this okay?"
"How is this not my fault?!" Mallard snapped angrily. "I literally drained your soul!"
"Mallard, this is Thompson's fault, not yours," Merlin tried to assure him. But Mallard still refused to listen, his incessant and incoherent rambling now echoing through Peppercorn's workshop.
After a while he was taken out despite his attempts to slam on his brakes or shake his crew off his footplate there was nothing he could do.
Merlin sighed to himself and looked at Mr Peppercorn who was watching him quietly, distress and pain written all over his face.
"Mr Peppercorn sir," he suddenly asked the man and the man turned to him.
"Yes Merlin?"
"I have a request," he explained. "I know, I know that Flying Scotsman has been saved from Scrap."
"That's correct, he is now owned by a Private Owner," Peppercorn smiled. "It alludes me why Flying Scotsman was not chosen to be preserved but at least now he will."
"If I may, could I speak with him please?"
Flying Scotsman sat quietly in his private shed that Pegler had given him. The man had pulled him out of the scrapyard and had given him a small private shed that was too small for him.
It was cramped and filled with other things that the entrepreneur owned.
It was nothing like the big roundhouse that was always busy, always filled with engines and people, bright lights and smelt of coal and grease.
Now their sheds were filled with diesels and his brothers and sisters… they'd gone. He'd never even got to say goodbye to most of them, only a few shunters that had raced to find him, to see if he could do something, anything to save their brothers and sisters that had been taken from their sheds never to be seen again.
He remembered Polly, dearest Polly, always arguing with her engineers or her crew. Bossing around the other engines and getting snippy and short with them.
He wanted Polly. He wanted Bittern. Or Silver Fox. Or even Great Northern.
Someone… anyone.
Maybe Gordon. Was Gordon even still alive? Was he still on Sodor?
What had happened to them? There had been so many of them but now he didn't even know where anyone was. He only knew the Mallard had been preserved.
He himself hadn't even been preserved. He'd been slated for the cutters torch, the diesels teasing him, mocking him as he sat on that siding, rusting away.
Yet this kind man, this Alan Pegler had saved him.
He had begged Pegler to save anyone of his siblings, just someone, anyone, even North but Pegler couldn't. He could only save one and that one happened to be him.
Flying Scotsman looked up as the doors to his tiny shed creaked opened.
The doors opened to reveal an A4 Pacific he'd never seen before and he perked up.
"Are they saving you too?" He asked hopefully, desperately.
The face on the other engine looked away sadly and he appeared hurt and depressed. There was a huge crack over the engine's face.
"I'm afraid not," he croaked weakly. "Peppercorn pulled some strings, so I could speak with you."
The engine seemed sickly and in terrible condition despite still 'appearing' well kept and intact. Like something was damaging it from the inside.
"What's wrong with you?" Scotsman asked. "Physically you look fine except for the crack but… I don't know."
The engine looked away sadly.
"It's cold iron sleep," he muttered weakly. "I won't survive it."
"I'm sorry," Scotsman said sadly. "That's a terrible way to go."
"I've accepted it," the engine said. "But I'm afraid Mallard has not and probably never will."
Scotsman's eyes widened in realisation.
"You're Merlin," he said and the engine, Merlin, chuckled.
"That I am," he gave a soft laugh. "A pleasure to meet the famous Flying Scotsman at long last."
Flying Scotsman gave a small smile but did nothing else. He really didn't feel strong enough to even to pretend to be happy.
"I wish, it had been in better circumstances," Scotsman said quietly. "Are all my siblings gone?"
"I don't know," Merlin said sadly. "I'd tell you if I could but I don't even know about my own siblings. I just know that all the Silver's are gone."
"Even little Fox?"
"Even little Fox."
Scotsman fell quiet, accepting the other engines words as a solemn feeling filled the air.
"What did you want to talk about dear cousin?" Scotsman asked quietly.
"Mallard is lucky to be preserved, as are you," Merlin began. "I wanted, I wanted to make sure that Mallard would be alright after I'm… gone. He, he's- his soul, it's… I can't explain but- Thompson did something to him. He, Mallard's not the same as he was. He- the Gold- it-"
Merlin sighed and looked at from Scotsman clearly frustrated.
"You're not making sense," Scotsman said. "What's wrong with Mallard's soul? What happened? What does Gold have to do with anything?"
Merlin looked away.
"It's too complicated to explain but that man Thompson and his delusions," the A4 Pacific looked distressed now. "He somehow took away part of Mallard's sentience. Like his emotions, his very soul. And now he's- he's draining the souls of others…"
Scotsman just stared at him confused.
"I don't understand," Scotsman said blankly. "I'm sorry but I just don't know what you're talking about."
Merlin stared at Scotsman. He gave a deep exhale and closed his eyes.
"4498 told me you wouldn't but I still wanted to try, for Mallard," Merlin explained. "If you ever find out about the truth of engines, well hopefully then you'll understand."
"The truth?" Scotsman asked really confused now.
"Yes," Merlin sighed. "In layman's terms, Thompson ripped Mallard's soul from his engine, leaving him unable to feel or experience anything other than sorrow, anger and pain."
Scotsman stared at the A4 Pacific bewildered. Clearly the Cold Iron Sleep had addled this poor engines mind.
"I see you don't believe me," Merlin gave a half-hearted smile. "That's okay. I just- I just want you to try and help Mallard. I promised him, I promised that I would always be there to help him but, clearly that's not going to happen now."
"I'm sorry Merlin," Scotsman said quietly. "I don't know if I'm able to do anything."
"That's okay," Merlin smiled. "Just being in the presence of your Golden Soul makes me feel better."
"I'm flattered," Scotsman said confused but otherwise grateful for Merlin's words.
"I just need someone to try to help Mallard, I know everyone else has given up on him, even 4498, with how boastful he's been. But, please, he needs at least one person to show him kindness. Maybe, maybe it will restore his soul, bring him back."
"I promise that I'll try Merlin," Scotsman said quietly. "Kindness is the only reason I'm being preserved after all. But I can't help someone who refuses my help or who won't help themselves."
A grateful expression flashed across Merlin's face.
"All I'm asking is for someone to show my little brother compassion, that's all," Merlin said with relief. "I know it's hard but-"
"You have my word Merlin," Scotsman declared. "I will help Mallard or at the very least, I will try."
"Thank-you Flying Scotsman."
"Great Northern? Great Northern!" Mallard bellowed angrily. "You chose to save Great Northern over Merlin!"
"Great Northern is one of a kind," Sir Marwood explained. "He was Sir Gresley's personal engine for a very long time and it was written into his Will that Great Northern would have his soul saved."
"And besides," Mr Berkeley said dimissively. "We have a lot of A4 Pacific's sold and saved. Merlin was just another one and given the choice we decided to save the more unique and historically significant engine."
"Significant engine! Significant!" Mallard fumed. "Merlin was significant! He was the friend of the fastest engine in the world!"
"You are not the fastest engine in the world Mallard, not any more," Mr Walsworth pointed at him. "You are only the fastest Steam Engine. Impressive certainly but nothing compared to the engines of the future!"
Mallard stared at the board shocked and in utter despair.
Merlin was gone… he'd never even gotten to say good-bye to him. Just like Gadwell. There was no closure, just emptiness.
"You- you can't do this!" Mallard shouted helplessly. "We're thinking beings with emotions! You can't just create us and then throw us away like garbage!"
"We can and we will," Sir Marwood said coldly. "This conversation is over Mallard. You've been a thorn in our side for far too long. You're the problem of British Railways now."
Sir Marwood turned his nose up at Mallard and waved to some engineers to take him away. Mallard said nothing, only watching the old LNER directors walking away as the crew prepared to return him to his shed.
He travelled in silence until a voice caught his attention.
"Mallard! Oh thank goodness a friendly face!"
Mallard looked up and saw the A1 Peppercorn, Saint Mungo, sitting in a siding quietly. He scowled at the Peppercorn deeply annoyed. An inferior engine that shouldn't be preserved, in his opinion.
"Well now that's a less friendly face," Saint Mungo remarked seeing Mallard's expression change. "Smile old man, we're the lucky few being preserved! A wonderful engine such as yourself should be grateful!"
Mallard held back the urge to shout angrily at the engine. Instead, he gave him a false smile as a plan formed in his smokebox.
"Of course," Mallard grinned. "How completely rude of me. I must be more grateful like yourself dear Mungo."
Saint Mungo laughed. "There you go! That's a lot better!"
Oh how Mallard hated the A1 Peppercorns and their overly happy, 'can do' attitudes. They all should be scrapped in his opinion.
And they soon would be.
"Isn't it just?" Mallard smiled painfully as he looked Mungo over. The A1 Peppercorn looked like he had rust and his paintwork was worn in places from years of hard work.
"I must say though, you don't look in the best condition old friend, maybe you should go and get some work done," Mallard urged the A1. "A preserved engine shouldn't look as scrappy as you do, if you pardon my crudeness."
"Ah yes well, they're planning too but they need to open up a time for me you see," Mungo explained. "The works are all doing, ah work shall we say."
Cutting up old engines, he clearly meant.
"I'm sure a famous engine like myself could convince a workshop to make some time for you my dear Peppercorn," Mallard replied smoothly. They wouldn't but that wasn't Mallard's intention.
"Ah that would be just grand!" Saint Mungo said excitedly. "No more rust and a new coat of paint! You think they'd be willing to change up my colours if I asked?"
"I'm sure they would," Mallard smiled at him.
"I think a lovely blue like the Caledonian engines don't you agree?" Saint Mungo said starting to ramble on excitedly.
"Yes quite," Mallard cut him off mid ramble. "I must get going, you understand."
"Of course, of course, don't let me keep you Mallard my friend!" Saint Mungo said apologetically. He gave Mallard a wide grin, absolutely happy with the promise of a new coat and some desperately need maintenance.
Mallard of course, had no intention of giving Mungo anything of the sort.
Convincing a crew to work with him had been a little more difficult that the naive and foolish Saint Mungo. However he did manage to convince them that an engine slated for scrapping was pretending to be one that was preserved and he promised to take them to it and return it to the scrapyard.
The light of the full moon shone down on Saint Mungo as he slept in the siding. Mallard quickly managed to buffer up to the engine and couple behind him so he couldn't see who it was that was pushing him.
"Who's that! What are you doing?" Saint Mungo yelped as he awoke as Mallard began pushing him.
Mallard remained silent as the Peppercorn began to panic.
"Who is this! Stop this at once!" Mungo shouted angrily. "Put me back in that siding!"
Mallard said nothing but he could sense one of his crew start to get nervous, a young boy, an apprentice began to panic.
"This doesn't feel right!" The boy mumbled. "I think this is Saint Mungo sir!"
Mallard's engineer paused and went to close the A4 Pacific's regulator but Mallard barked a stern 'No' into the engineer's mind and the engineer froze to Mallard's surprise. The boy saw his trainer's expression turned glassy and almost zombie like under Mallard's influence. The boy went to jump off the footplate, clearly spooked but Mallard did the same thing and ordered the boy to stop and start shoveling coal instead.
The boy resisted, but Mallard managed to retain control. He was a simple boy, not much going on in that little head of his. Nothing but fear of the huge engine now using him as a puppet. He squeaked and cried but Mallard maintained control of both the engineer and apprentice fireman.
It was sloppy work but he managed to move himself and Mungo to the scrapyard were two diesels sat awaiting Mallard.
"This the one that escaped us?" One of the diesels asked and Mallard smiled at him.
"Indeed," Mallard grinned at him.
"Ah excellent, excellent!" The other diesel grinned. "He'll be gone by morning."
"What?! No!" Saint Mungo began to panic as he stared through the gates of the scrapyard and into the furness within the sheds. "Mallard you monster! You absolute Cretin! I was saved! I'm supposed to be preserved! I am NOT for scrap you hear me! NOT FOR SCRAP!"
Mallard just laughed at the now shrieking and terrified Saint Mungo.
"Pleasure doing business with yer old Mallard," one of the Diesel's smirked at him as the other coupled up to Saint Mungo and began to drag him into the Scrapyard, terrified and screaming in horror at the sight of the molten iron barrels and the array of cutters torches that awaited him.
Scotsman withdrew from Mallard's mind, completely and utterly disturbed by what Mallard had done to Mungo.
"You… you killed Mungo!" Scotsman choked out weakly, sickened and disturbed. "You gave him hope and then you destroyed him!"
"I took the greatest pleasure in doing so, my dear Scotsman," Mallard smirked wickedly. "And oh dear me, it looks like you dropped your guard you silly old fool."
Mallard took the black smoke around him and sent it into Scotsman's mind, latching on to the terror of seeing what happened to Mungo and crushing the A3 Pacific's will and resolve in a swift strike.
Scotsman let out a terrified wail of agony and struggled desperately against the Black Smoke as it filled his mind with terror and pain. He could feel himself getting weaker, his soul getting dimmer and dimmer as Mallard drained it.
"After I've drained your soul I'm going to find your engine and I'm going to turn it into scrap!" Mallard declared boastfully. "You'll be nothing but a memory soon!"
Scotsman desperately struggled but his energy was leaving him. Clearly Mallard wasn't taking any risks and consuming his soul as quickly as he could before Scotsman could get another foothold in his mind.
Mallard still clearly though of Scotsman as a legitimate threat, despite now having him in a choke hold and near death.
With a desperate last effort, Scotsman mustered his remaining strength and peered into Mallard's mind.
"Merlin would be ashamed of what you've become Mallard," The Flying Scotsman declared and almost instantly Mallard's mind exploded in anger and a deafening shriek of pure fury erupted from the A4 Pacific.
There was a sickeningly loud crack that echoed around the walls of the Sodor Museum's exhibition walls and Flying Scotsman's limp human sending went hurtling through the air and landing with a wet thud and several loud cracks on the concrete floor.
"Flying Scotsman!" Great Northern screamed in horror as he saw the limp form of his brother ragdoll and lie still.
With an enormous effort and ignoring the searing pain from his broken leg, North managed to drag himself over to the silent and seemingly lifeless form of Flying Scotsman.
"Brother!" North desperately grasped Scotsman's body, shaking it desperately, ignoring Mallard laughing behind him.
His head was at an unnatural angle to his body, his neck was twisted in a way it should not as if it had snapped and his eyes were open and lifeless. His skin was ice cold and Scotsman's entire body was just… limp. Not like he was sleeping, just… lifeless.
Even though he already knew the truth, Great Northern desperately felt for a pulse.
He couldn't find one.
Flying Scotsman was dead.
Yeah.
A bit late on this chapter as it was rewritten many times over and I was also meeting and touching some steam engines on a 500km road trip over the weekend. Good fun, unlike this chapter.
~For updates, extra lore or to ask questions or discuss the fic, you can find me on tornadoyoungiron tumblr
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