So, this chapter might not be that good. The episode it's based off of is fine, but it's not got much happening in there. So, I hope you enjoy, but next time should be a good episode for introducing yet another new character. Also, at the end of this chapter, you're going to hear the first rumblings of the new storyline that links the seasons together, so...there's that!

Kamen Rider Necrom: Answers on a postcard, please!

AaronCottrell97: So am I! Already got my plan for Season 7 in mind. ...Actually, that is a point, does anyone have a reason for the insane amount of stock footage? I wouldn't usually ask, but it's so obvious that it does raise questions.

Reality Rejection Service: It's a very complicated family tree.

TrainManiac: Writing it made me rethink my entire attitude up until now. Glad it had a similar effect!

Game-Watch: Very possibly.

UGX7: Absolutely. He just comes across as so pathetically sympathetic that it's both parts comedic and tragic.

Radical sandwiches: Yeah, this one was meant to be a bit sadistic. Poor Cranky, he never gets an inch.

MattPrice01: That's fine, I'm glad you got your work done on time. Still struggling with finishing up my stuff for college on time, so I feel your pain. The Baldrick poem was definitely a intro, but another one was Rik Mayall's 'poetry' sketch.

Hughie96: That sounds about right!

Reid007: Sums up pretty much my entire idea of what Cranky is going to be from this point on.

CUE THE THEME!

"All right, who did I piss off?"

Mavis laughed. "Come on Toby. You were all smiles when you told me I was taking care of Bill and Ben for the foreseeable future!" Toby growled at this, and angrily biffed the trucks forward. Bill and Ben were currently singing aloud a song they had learnt from Salty.

For taste's sake, I won't print it here.

"WHAT HO, CHAPS?!" The four engines threw themselves to the ground (As much as they could do, anyway) as Harold swung over them, gaily rushing by with not a care in the world.

"Is he STILL riding the high from that Shining Time incident?" Mavis scoffed as she got her breath back. Toby nodded, for he was currently coughing up quarry dust, and had no chance to speak.

...

Harold the Helicopter loves to fly. This would have been very awkward had he been made a steamroller instead, but as luck would have it, he was not. High up in the blue sky, high on the altitude and on his own smug attitude, he was often seen making an nuisance of himself. Such was the case here, as he appeared to be rattling around for no reason whatsoever.

He swooped down over James. "Hallo James!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

James was quite jumpy, in case you couldn't tell. Harold, anyway, looks out for anyone in distress. Except for those that he causes distress to. As he circled around, he headed towards Toby once more.

"Hi Harold. Again."

"Hallo old chap! Anything I can do!"

Toby hoped that Percy would forgive him for what he was about to say. "Well...the thing is, that while you can't do anything for me, personally, I think that Percy is in need of your help!"

"Capital thinking, old chap!" And off he went. Sometimes he helped Percy with the mail. That had to be what Percy wanted him for. He failed to notice Toby picking up speed and racing away in the opposite direction, with Henrietta complaining fiercely.

...

"I'm walking on sunshine! WOAH! I'm walking on- Oh, it's you."

"Percy, my good man!" said Harold, quite immune to the death glare of the little tank engine. He looked around and raised an eyebrow up. "The mail run is done!? Already!? Is there any more? I can take it! That's what friends are for, doncha know!?"

"I hope you drown in a slurry pit!" snarled Carlin.

"Delivering the mail is an engine's job!" snapped Percy. Duck, who was passing by, gave the little green engine a look that screamed 'Seriously? This again?' to all who saw it. Percy stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry.

Unfortunately, someone screwed up the timing, and so Percy was shoved out into the cold light of dawn to deliver the mail once more. He has many jobs, but carrying the mail is now his schtick, so he has to enjoy it the most. One of the downsides of not having had much sleep was that Carlin was being even worse at his job than usual. It was the only reason to explain why he was travelling along the coastal path. Unless the fish wanted a parcel to be delivered.

"Must be on time, must be on time!" Percy muttered to himself. His head injury was acting up, and he felt as though his brain was about to burst. Up ahead, there was trouble with the signalbox.

"Oh look, Percy, it's a f**king backing signal!"

"Shut up, Carlin! Oi, Norris, how long is this going to take?"

The signal-engineers didn't have a clue as to that. Then again, this was the Island of Sodor. It was quite impressive that anyone had even bothered to come to the scene of the confusion. It wasn't safe to run without a signal, but Percy was still being a whiny little baby.

"I'm going to be late!" he declared.

"So am I! Mr Daniels and I have an intense date with each other at the Smokey Joe Inn!"

"And it's not even my fault! It'll get blamed on me though-"

...

To cut a long bout of whining short, we return to the Fat Controller's office. He was enjoying his toast and marmalade when he heard the news. "Yeh whot iz icht?" He spoke into the telephone.

"Pardon me, have I accidentally connected to Germany again?"

The Fat Controller swallowed. "I said "Yeah, who is it?" you dope."

"Oh. Hi sir. Signal's down. And the mail train's running through it."

"PERCY IS STUCK AT A BROKEN SIGNAL!"

"Yes. Yes, I know that, sir, that's what I just told you. Look, shall I call the doctor, sounds like you're coming down with a bad case of the Expositions! It's terrible this time of year!"

"Send Harold to fetch the mail! And don't bother me again! It's toast and marmalade o'clock!"

...

The last time that Percy had been held up (At gunpoint. A long story) Harold had taken the mail and been even smugger than usual about it. It was quite an embarrassing situation to say the least. "It made me feel like a really useless engine!" He declared.

"Oh, more so than usual."

"God, I liked you better when you were far away, Carlin."

"Yeah, f**k you too. Mail's gotta arrive on time, or else there'll be hell to pay. Well, for me, anyway. You can just stand there staring blandly into space for the rest of your life if you feel like it."

Then, they heard a familiar sound coming from above. The orchestra were busy blasting them with their Harold theme. And sure enough,Harold hovered into view, currently a nine on the Smug-o'meter.

"Hallo, you poor chap! It's a rum job and no mistake! Fat Controller says that I'm needed to take the mail! That's what friends are for, eh, wot?"

"Ohhhhh hoooooooo!" wailed Percy, acting his little heart out. But Fat Hatt had made his mind up, and there was nothing that Percy could do about it. Save for killing Harold, and that was a bit extreme even by Sodor standards. The pilot enlisted Carlin to load the mail bags into Harold's cargo net. Carlin was quite blunt about how much he hated doing this. He was allergic, he claimed, to hard work.

"We'll take the mailbags a few at a time! They're very heavy, and honestly, I like getting to rub Carlin's failure in his face."

"Thanks for that, Reece." snarled Carlin. The two of them had been at school together. Reece had many jobs, pilot for Harold, bartender, assistant to Cyril the Fogman...and constant thorn in the grey-haired driver's side.

Harold scoffed at this. "I'd have to make too many trips! I'd be as slow as Percy! And besides, look at the chap! There's only so many times one can gaze upon Percy and not weep, eh? Hahaha! Oh, chin up, Perce!

"PISS OFF!"

Carlin suddenly got a very wicked idea. "Okay Reece! Your helicopter wants all the mailbags? He gets all the mailbags!" And so he loaded every single bag into the net, and stepped back, gleefully rubbing his hands and cackling to himself. And all the while, the engineer continued to work on the signal.

Harold pulled the bags up, wheezing as he did so. "By Agatha Christie's hairnet, this is heavy!" He gasped.

"IT'S FIXED!" cried the signal-engineer, as the signal snapped back into place.

"WAIT HAROLD!"

It was too late.

Percy groaned, and began imagining all the mocking things that the others would say when he got back to the sheds. As you can imagine, there were a lot of possibilities with that thought process. He was a bit uspet.

And then, he heard the distinct sound of an engine stalling. Everyone watched, open mouthed in surprise, as Harold began to stagger about like a drunk after a tilt-a-whirl. They also heard Reece bellow. "WATCH OUT HAROLD! And then a loud- "OH BUGGER!" as he jumped from the cockpit to safety.

"Too heavy!" wheezed Harold. The net smacked right into a clump of trees, ripping itself free from Harold and sending the helicopter flopping down to the ground.

"Harold's in trouble! And if you don't want to go to jail, Carlin, you'll help save him!" And Percy started off, passing a rather amused James. They soon saw why he was amused. Harold was currently buried in a large pile of hay, spitting and cursing everyone and everything. "Are you all right?" asked Percy, aware of how redundant this was.

"SOMEONE. GET ME OUT OF THIS BLOODY HAYSTACK!" sputtered Harold. "On the plus side, I've found a few needles in here!"

And Percy set off, as fast as his wheels would let him. Carlin tried to look guilty, and failed. He had no regrets whatsoever.

...

The next day, Harold's engine was fixed and he was flying again. The other engines grinned at him, causing him to self-consciously avert his gaze towards Percy. IF he was hoping for some sympathy, he wasn't getting any.

"Fancy taking the mail again? I'll stand by with the rescue team! And also a trampoline!"

Amidst the laughter, Harold hovered closer, so low that only Percy could hear him. "Thanks for getting me out of that haystack, old chap."

Percy decided to throw him a bone. "That's all right. What are friends for?"

Then Harold's blades nicked the side of Percy, ruining the moment somewhat.

...

"Britt?"

"David! You got the footage we wanted, right?"

"Yes, yes, it all looks good. I mean, I wish we could do something a bit more challenging artistically, but still...look, there's someone on the phone who says it's urgent that he talks to you."

"Oh, that could be anybody!" Britt focused on making sure that her wellies were on securely. "There's some muddy area that we're supposed to go to, I've got a feeling that there's a story there!"

"He said it was about Gullane. And...I don't know, it was weird." David looked a little put out. Britt frowned, and reluctantly held out a hand to take the phone. David shrugged, and turned around to get his coat on.

"Hello? ...HIT Entertainment? Oh, lovely to meet you. So, erm, why are you calling me?"