Midnight at London, a certain black K12 had wandered into Mallard's yard where she found the blue A4 in his shed right as he groaned and shuddered from a self-induced release, bathed in the light of the Milky Way. She puffed in bemusement and approached the panting male. He looked up at her with dark, wild eyes and her amusement only intensified.

"You know, I don't recall you being the type to freely masturbate like that." Ellis teased with a mischievous grin. She drew closer to him, his heavy breathing in that moment was more arousing than any dirty talk she'd heard. "In fact, I recall you just going on a hunt for a hungry valve to slam into until you felt a little less… starved."

Mallard looked at Ellis, still non-verbal, he watched her slither towards him and as she came within a reasonable distance his rod dropped to the ground with a solid thud before he lifted it up and shoved it inside her with familiar ease. The female gasped and giggled with excitement as their buffers locked and her old flame went nuts on her without so much as a kiss or foreplay. It had been too long since Ellis had a lay and her nerves were screaming with pleasure, her body jolted involuntarily in reaction to Mallard's rough movements and she groaned deep in her throat right in his face which made him pound her even harder.

"Fuck… I missed you…" she breathed dreamily.

Mallard broke his silence to laugh but didn't at all ease up. "You only missed my cock, whore."

Ellis growled and chomped at Mallard's face. He lashed back, biting down hard on her lip, drawing blood and then lapping it up sensually. Ellis quickly went after his tongue, tasting her blood all over his mouth as they engaged in a hateful makeout. Nothing about their intimacy suggested love, only the starved, spiteful lust of two individuals who tolerated each other's existence for wholly selfish reasons. Ellis never cried Mallard's name and Mallard's kisses were just to shut her up when she became too noisy for his liking. He liked Meredith's vocalizations, her voice was like fine sugar in his firebox, but Ellis' voice grated him like nails in chalkboard, he did what he could to keep her moans at a minimum just so he wouldn't lose his momentum.

"You're riding like it's been a while," Mallard said with a cruel smirk, slicking his pace back up after another jarring orgasm. "No other private engines want to look at that mug of yours?"

"I thought you liked it," Ellis breathed, she began to roll her body hard to try and make her partner wince. "You said it was 'sexy.'"

Mallard chortled. "You know I'd say anything to get you to fuck."

Ellis frowned and stopped her movements then slammed her weight down onto Mallard's rod. He snarled in pain and yanked himself out, tucking his sex away quickly. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid bitch?!"

"You!" Ellis screamed back. "You have not an ounce of respect for me, even after I stared death in the eye and lived!"

Mallard scoffed. "You know how many times I've come back from the edges of death myself, dear? Briefly I was impressed given the very thorough work my brother did on you, but do you expect me to grovel? You got lucky, you lived, get over it."

The black female howled in anger and backed away shooting off steam from every valve along her body. The tingling in her undercarriage was gone, she was furious and wanted to rip Mallard a new one. "I had forgotten just how crass and miserable you are."

"Awwh," he mocked Ellis, tilting his body to the side and giving her a faux smile of sympathy, the softest his face would ever appear and it wasn't even genuine. "What did you expect? That I had gone limp-dicked on you? That I actually gave a shit about how you felt?"

"Maybe!" Ellis hissed then looked away. "You actually seemed happy to see me that first night, then we talked at Aberdeen but you never laid a fender on me, and just now we fucked like we used to. You're toying with me and I don't appreciate it."

"Just keeping things interesting for ya."

"Well stop it!"

Mallard growled, he didn't like the tone she was taking with him. "Since when do you give the orders? I can send you back to that scrap heap if you'd like!"

"Then who else would you stick that slimy rod of yours into, hm?" Ellis knew the best way through Mallard's psyche was through sex and while she hated him and he her, they at least had the intimacy in common.

Mallard smirked and glided over to his female companion with an air of mocking. "No, once little Meredith gets back I'll have her and she's much more enjoyable to fuck."

"What?!" Ellis put herself back in Mallard's face, her eyes dilated and full of fury. "You're lying, you're just trying to rile me up you psycho! She'd never willingly have sex with you!"

"Oh but she does," Mallard purred, his rod pulsed against his panel just thinking about the last time he soaked it deep inside Meredith's tight little valve. "And with very welcome enthusiasm." He inched back towards Ellis and she of course moved away, still bristling. Mallard continued with his verbal torture of her. "She'll sing my name like I'm the love of her life, ride me like she owns me," he managed to back Ellis onto a siding at the west corner of his yard; he licked his lips when she yelped after knocking the stops. "And she tastes so sweet and feels so tight I about shut down. The only thing I can focus on—" he buffered up to Ellis and put himself back inside her despite her thrashing and cursing at him. "Is fucking her senseless."

Ellis' face flushed as he began to move in and out of her slowly and with premeditated intent. Her anger melted into rapture, her eyes rolled back and she exhaled deeply as he picked up the pace. He managed to distract her, at least for the moment.

Emerson woke with a wide yawn and a rush of steam from his throat. Alastair had already left their shed for the work day and the blue A3 didn't mind. At one point he used to enjoy his shedmate's company, but in recent months he'd become more reclusive, sticking to the low-life when not in service. The only socializing he did was to bang out Kjell or be banged out by Edgar. Otherwise, he contented in being completely isolated. Mallard had sought him out on occasion, they would speak briefly on matters of mutiny, then depart as if their paths never crossed. His silence was met with suspicion from Flying Scotsman's horde of supporting A4's, Bittern was the most put-off by the young engine's new vow to reticence. He often found himself watching the one-off A3 with added scrutiny; he, like everyone else, just knew Emerson's newfound solitude had everything to do with Mallard, and that foggy morning fate decided to step in and give him his chance to confront the sneaky locomotive.

Bittern had just retrieved his coaches from King's Cross when he spotted yet another of his blue siblings on the opposite side of the platform— Gannet. He huffed and debated leaving without acknowledging his hot-headed baby brother, but then decided he might could use the quick wit and uninhibited strength his counterpart possessed, no matter how much of a cocky pain he was.

"Gannet!" Bittern called from across the terminal. "You're not coupled to a train so move your sorry ass over here and talk to me!"

"And why the fuck would I do that?!" Gannet spat back.

Bittern growled. "Because if you don't I'll spank you like the whiny little baby you are!"

Gannet huffed but relented. He was quick to place himself beside his brother while wearing a juvenile glare. "What do you want?"

"I need you to help me confront someone," Bittern said, keeping his voice low as the morning passenger crowd was beginning to build.

Gannet raised his brow, his glare scaled back a bit. "This have anything to do with Mallard?"

Bittern snorted and shook his head. "Why do you even ask?"

The younger A4 curled his lip and bit his tongue for a moment. Gannet was a more solitudinous sort, once mixed up with Mallard's nonsense as well, he'd since put a wedge between himself and his contentious brother and did well to focus on his duties. He was seen often on the mainline with coaches and a common glare that did nothing to hide his own good looks. Even with his brow wrinkled and nose scrunched, Gannet still had an appeal about him that made many of the railway's ladies swoon, though his personality did well to chase them off once they let him talk for too long after fucking. Of course in that moment Bittern grew weary of his little brother's silence.

"My god, did you forget how to speak?!" He snapped, knocking Gannet in the fender to snap him out of his trance.

"You know my feelings when it comes to dealing with Mallard," Gannet said, shoving Bittern away. "I'm not going to put myself in the position to be influenced by him again!"

"You aren't dealing directly with Mallard this time, just someone under him."

Gannet narrowed his gaze. "Who?"

"Emerson."

"Ah, that A3 with our paint scheme," he made a face and followed Bittern as he departed the platform onto the mainline. "He's an odd one, yes?"

"Very," Bittern stated, relaxing his lungs that had filled with steam as his pressures rose too high. "He's always been a bit of a recluse, but as of late hardly anyone has heard a word spoken by that lad. Edgar fucks him on the regular, but he says he doesn't speak to him on matters outside their own lust. I suspect he's scheming something with Mallard and I plan to confront him."

"And you need me because?"

Bittern smirked, casting his brother a sideways glance without saying a word. Gannet frowned for a brief moment, then it turned up once the realization hit him, he chuckled darkly. "So where is he?"

Further on down the line sat the very engine the A4 brothers discussed. He was in a bit of a mental fog, one that matched the cool mist that surrounded Newark station and its little town. The A3 continued to click his headlamps on and off, watching how the condensation in the air would sparkle and dance as it was hit by the warm, golden light. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed one particular puff tumble over the tracks, he saw her smiling face but it disappeared as the tracks began to rumble. Emerson clicked his lamps off and looked up, he didn't think there was another train due. The vibrations stopped and he was once again left in uncanny, early morning silence. The station was dead, the stationmaster was inside his office and there were no passengers due for another hour. It was just him and the rising sun while his crew ventured out for breakfast. Then he rolled up.

"Uncouple and follow me." Bittern hissed quietly. "Quickly now."

"And why would I—"

"Because if you don't I'll peel that pretty face clean off your smoke box."

Emerson huffed stubbornly and unhooked himself from his coaches to follow Bittern towards a bumpy and beaten branch line. They traveled in silence until they were well enough into an open field and away from the human populace for Bittern to turn around on a second track. The wind whipped across the countryside, the engines were surrounded by a seemingly endless field of beautifully golden wheat. The wind died down, the interrogation began.

"What have you and Mallard been up to?" He inquired calmly.

Emerson snorted. "You dragged me all the way out here for a half-hearted interview?"

"No," Bittern made a gesture with his eyes and before Emerson could even see what the A4 was looking at he was bashed by a heavy weight, his drivers sparked and slipped off the track and he thrashed about trying to right himself until he was grabbed by another.

"Alright you little shit stain," Gannet growled in Emerson's face, his eyes black with a demented smile. "You better spill exactly what it is you and that hell spawn have been plotting or gods by my side I'll become extremely intimate with your internal workings!"

"Who the hell are you?!" Emerson struggled to move himself, but the more he fought the deeper his wheels sunk into the dirt and ballast.

Gannet chuckled, it was a thick sound that made Emerson's blood run cold. "Kiddo, I'm the one who taught Mallard everything he knows." He dragged the edge of his buffer across Emerson's cheek, drawing blood. "Such a handsome engine, did Mallard cause these scars?"

"Flying Scotsman did," Emerson winced, his cheek hot from the new wound. "And now it seems you, mystery engine."

"Call me Gannet," the A4 declared. "So you've managed to piss off our railway's alpha? I heard at one point you two were fuckin', what happened to that? You manage to break through Mallard's homophobia and get you a taste of somethin' better?"

Emerson snarled and tried even harder to get back up on the rails though Gannet held him fast. "Fuck! Let me go!"

"Not until you give me what I want."

Bittern sat quietly as he watched Gannet begin to twist Emerson's body, his boiler popped and bent, the frame of his footboards creaked, threatening to snap at the welds. He watched the young A3 as his eyes watered, the tears mixed with the blood on his face and dripped to stain the ground beneath. He was always impressed by Gannet's champion strength and it was in full display by the way he was effortlessly warping Emerson's frame.

"I suggest you start talking," Bittern warned, his expression unreadable. "Before your whole boiler detaches."

"Ohh… kill me… for all I c—care!" Emerson's voice was strained, he kept his teeth clenched and sweat beaded down his face from the pain. "I'm… so fucking tired of living under the wheels of someone too… weak to stand up to humans."

"You aren't exactly the most rebellious," Bittern pointed out, trying not to smile.

Emerson heaved a laugh, his dome started to rattle. "I'm just biding my time! Keep my nose clean, or whatever stupid bullshit it is humans say…"

"Biding your time until what?" Gannet tightened his grip, Emerson laughed again, the pain made him delirious, he was as well nauseous, even a tad aroused.

"Until we kill him!" Emerson spat with an insane giggle. "He won't know what hit him!"

Gannet's throat lit up in fire, he twisted Emerson's fenders all the way, but they didn't break, instead his smoke box cracked from the force and blood rushed out, splattering both A4's. The color drained instantly from the young engine's face and he fell limp and silent as his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Fuck, Gannet, you knob! You weren't supposed to actually kill him!" Bittern cried, he knocked his little brother who quickly bashed him back.

"I didn't mean to!" Gannet inched closer to Emerson's body and put his face near the A3's drooping mouth. Despite the breeze he was able to feel a pattern of warmth continually flow past his lips. "Thank gods, he's breathing!"

"Fuck… "

"What so now you're mad I didn't kill him?!"

"No, no," Bittern had begun to pace the tracks along the field as he debated their next step. "I'm just trying to figure out how to explain this to Quicksilver and Edgar."

"Oh ho! You did this without daddy Scot's permission?" Gannet teased, he had coupled himself to Emerson and started to gently pull him back onto the track. "Augh! Son of a bitch is heavy!"

"Well he's still trying to come to terms with Ellis' unexpected revival," Bittern placed himself behind Emerson and started to push until his drivers were locked back into place, though they were warped and wouldn't roll. "I was wanting to keep this low-key…"

"So you involved me? What about me is ever 'low-key'?" If Gannet could've done air quotes in that moment he would have, but instead he settled for a weird bounce that was similar in its intent.

Bittern shrugged. He suddenly became very sullen and sighed. "It's just been a while since you and I had done anything like this."

"Ugh, don't get sentimental on me."

Bittern laughed and assured there was not an ounce of sentiment in his statement and the two departed together to locate a breakdown crane. Luckily they didn't have to look far, there was one with its crew settled outside Liverpool. Bittern coupled up to the crane and Gannet took the flatbed and they were quickly back on site to Emerson who had finally come to after being unconscious for the time they were gone. Of course nothing he said made sense, Gannet did a number on him without hardly breaking a sweat, his speech was slurred and after several minutes of struggling to communicate the mangled A3 simply started sobbing, which made both Bittern and Gannet visibly cringe.

Once at Doncaster, Emerson was unloaded, still unrelenting in his cries, the dried blood on his face and twisted footboards once again dripped to the ground as tears flowed steadily from his bloodshot eyes. The men went to work assessing the totality of his damage and didn't even notice the two responsible slip out and away from the noisy repair yard, but someone did.

Gannet and Bittern thought they were home free once out on the mainline, but after a few minutes of idly chatting and laughing they both felt a chill run down the middle of their boilers. They rounded a bend and screeched to a halt at the sight of both Quicksilver and Edgar waiting on the line facing them. Neither of whom looked happy to see them.

"Look, it's not as bad as it—"

"Shut up!" Quicksilver barked. Gannet bit his lip and recoiled, looking to Bittern for some sort of backup, but his older brother remained stoic.

Edgar took a deep breath, making note of Gannet's mildly bent fender. "Let's take this off the mainline, shall we?"

The blue A4's reluctantly followed their dominant siblings down towards Boston and through the quaint little coastal town until they reached a section of the track which overlooked the pale eastern coast. There waited Flying Scotsman, his back to the sibling group as they approached with Quicksilver and Edgar at the head. Steam leaked steadily from his valves only to be promptly whisked away by the chilling sea breeze. Everyone sat silently as they waited for their alpha to speak, Bittern and Gannet however began to stir uncomfortably as the pause dragged on. Of course Gannet couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Listen, we fucked up, okay? It's been some time since I interrogated someone, I'd forgotten my own strength, but Bittern—"

"One more word and I'll throw you right off this cliff."

Gannet fumbled and threw heavy steam while Bittern groaned and rolled his eyes. Still young enough to be considered a juvenile, Gannet wasn't exactly the best at practicing restraint and his mouth often betrayed him. Bittern should've known better than to drag his baby brother into his dumb schemes.

"So," Scotsman began with a deep exhale. "You two decided to take it upon yourselves and interrogate Emerson. While I admire the initiative it was… poorly thought out. Given present company I can't exactly say I'm surprised." He reversed and swung around to look at the pair he was addressing, his focus on a visibly irate Gannet. "Do you have something to say?"

Gannet's jaw stiffened but he remained quiet. He knew Scotsman was just trying to test him to say something stupid. Bittern shook his head and approached after Quicksilver and Edgar moved out of the way.

"It was my idea," he admitted firmly. "I don't like how reserved Emerson has been recently, and since fucking doesn't work in getting information from him," a sideways glance to Edgar. "I figured a more forceful approach would be worth a shot."

"You two nearly decapitated the boy!" Quicksilver snarled while Edgar continued to process Bittern's scathing remarks.

"It was an accident!" Gannet cried desperately. "I was just trying to take off his buffer beam but whoever welded it last did too good of a job! The damn thing held fast!"

"You shouldn't have confronted him in the first place!" Quicksilver retorted. "Not without proper instruction!"

Bittern huffed and rolled past his brothers towards his dominant cousin. He lowered his voice. "I'm tired of waiting around! The more we wait the stronger he gets and now with Ellis back things are not stacking in your favor!" He then whispered. "I think he's going to try and nab Sam."

Scotsman furrowed his brow, a growl rumbled from deep in his boiler. "What makes you so certain?"

"He knows your son detests you, and Sam is strong for a youngling which means he'll only bulk up with age, why wouldn't he?"

The dominant A3 considered his subordinate's words carefully. Bittern was right, it made perfect sense for Mallard to think he could manipulate Sam, though it would be a task. That boy hated being told what to do, his bull-headed personality would certainly clash with Mallard's. Then Scotsman nodded. "I'll see to Sam," he then raised his voice to make sure Gannet could hear. "But as far as this incident with Emerson is concerned, if you two act like that without my go-head again I won't be as understanding."

"So are we going to ignore Emerson mentioning killing someone?" Gannet replied.

Scotsman looked to Bittern who nodded in confirmation. "He didn't say who."

"We just know it's a he," Gannet added, casting a wary glance to Quicksilver who would not stop glaring at him. "I think he was referring to you, Scotty."

Scotsman frowned but before he could say anything Bittern spoke up. "I don't."

"Then who would he be referring to, genius?!"

"Do it."

"Tonight?"

"You don't think it's too soon?"

"Not anymore."

That evening was different, the air was comfortably warm, the noise of the cities and towns less of a pollutant to the natural silence. Wispy clouds broke up the burning sky. In beautiful splashes of violet and gold. Marilyn's sleek outline could be seen traveling along a farm-laden branch line outside Lincoln, her smoke like a dark veil puffing behind her. She was headed to meet Kestrel in one of their usual spots that sat in an old barn-style shed at the edge of a cute little fishing pond. Her heart fluttered, ready to see her lover again. After their first encounter the pair were inseparable, even during working hours they had difficulty staying apart. They were obsessed with each other— and Marilyn was ready to tell Kestrel she loved him. The thought made her sick, he's the first engine she ever had intimacy with, but the way he made her laugh, made her smile, made her feel beautiful, there was no denying her feelings had blossomed. It didn't help he was also a top-notch lover.

When Marilyn arrived at their shed she was surprised to see it empty, she looked up at the setting sun and frowned. He should've been there, she was even late. She went ahead and backed into her spot as usual and waited a few minutes. The worry set in quickly, but a familiar sound of pistons laid that worry to rest and she popped out of the shed to see his smiling face coming towards her from the fence line. "Oh you! You about gave me a heart attack showing up so late!"

Kestrel chuckled. "I'm sorry, baby. I got held up at York." He was quick to engage his lips with hers and push her back into the shed, the two playfully giggled through their make out up until Kestrel made his move. Then the two fucked until the moon was well up in the sky and they were both more than sated.

Marilyn cuddled into Kestrel as he tucked away his rod, she watched in amusement at the weird faces he made trying to lock up his sore member. She kissed his cheek which made him smile.

"Kestrel," she began, he made a bit of a humph noise as he had begun to doze off and his eyes were shut. "…I— I love you."

He opened his eyes immediately to look at Marilyn, his breath caught in his throat at the way she was looking at him. Her eyes wide with only a speck of light reflecting off their dark surface. His heart raced, breathing quickened, and he smiled wider than he ever had before. "I love you too."

"You're not just saying that?"

"I'm not just saying it." Kestrel assured quietly and he kissed her. She pushed back, their mouths opened to fully embrace each other and the whole time they kissed Marilyn could feel Kestrel was smiling.

When Marilyn woke up the next morning her face was wet where she had been nuzzled up to Kestrel. She blinked a few times, assuming she had a bad dream and cried in her sleep or maybe Kestrel drooled on her as he had done in the past. She backed away and the more she woke up the more suspicious she became of the strange liquid. It was sticky. "Hey, Kestrel, honey," she could see the sunlight behind him, but the position to it made the rest of him dark. He kept still and Marilyn groaned. "My love, now isn't the time to play hooky. We have to go!" She giggled playfully and bumped him, he rolled back and the light from the window revealed his sleeping face covered in blood from a single perfectly round hole right between his eyes.

Marilyn cried out, she tried to shake him awake and when she did he woke with a painful start, he tried to speak but his body shuddered and his eyes rolled back. With another violent tremble his weight sagged down and the last remaining air in his lungs rushed out with a hauntingly hollow rattle— then silence.

"Kestrel?!" Marilyn tried shaking him again, but got nothing. She began to cry loudly, desperately. "Kestrel! No— NO! Please!—"

"Kestrel!"