Ah well, might as well get this shit one over with. Fun fact, a lot of references in the last bit at the bottom are to the Trumptonshire trilogy. Some of them are references to lyrics in the very fun and rocking song 'Trumpton Riots' by Half Man Half Biscuit. I highly recommend a listen if you don't take the series too seriously. While I didn't go into too much detail here, more will be provided next time, when we hit the halfway point. Also, the character of Doctor Gurtzer doubles as a cheeky reference to Shed 17 and as a call back to Escape, the guy who 'originally' invented the Fakes.
AaronCottrell97: Yeah, pretty much.
Reality Rejection Service: ? ;D
Bronze Shield: Thanks man! Hope you did too!
Game-Watch: I am glad yucks were had! This and the next part will be the last dealing with Trumptonshire, and also the one after that will have the first crossover with the main series. Sorta.
MattPrice01: That's fair! The middle of the season is always the part where I do start to struggle a little. I think you can tell. XD.
JD145: Yeah, right?
Radical Sandwiches: Och, ye cannae be saying such things, ye wee muckle critic! Glad you enjoyed, the noo.
UGX7: It's a pretty decent episode, but it's a bit boring. Yeah, the Trumptonshire stuff is going to come to a end next time, but I had a fair bit of fun setting that up this time. Hope you enjoy it!
GreatWestern1522: Yep!
CUE THE THEME!
Across the country, the UK audience turned on their TV's to see the next episode of Thomas and Friends and reacted thusly.
Parents; Oh look, this one's about Rheneas!
Kids: Who the fuck is Rheneas, oh parent of mine?
Parents: ...Shit, you're right.
...
You sure you don't want to just skip this one? I don't think there'll be anything funny in it.
No?
Uh, all right, what can we say about Rheneas?
...Actually, what CAN we say? He's...definitely a male. And I think an engine. ...He's red? Or magenta, it depends on the toy. And also he...is on a railway- Oh I've been handed a piece of paper from the boss. Uh...
Wait, really?
This is what I'm supposed to say?
...Fine. We'll do it your way.
Rheneas is a brave engine (HA!) who enjoys working in the mountains of the Island of Sodor. Which is good because that's the only place the Skarloey Railway consists of at present. Which is great as long as you like sheep. And a lot of boredom. Which Rheneas did, so kudos.
Even though he is little, he really enjoys feeling like a really useful engine.
What being really useful has to do with being a titch I don't know, but hey, it's a Rheneas episode, right? Who the actual hell cares?
One day, the Fat Controller came to see Rheneas.
"I DID?!"
You did, Fat Man.
"But I don't even like him!"
Tough shit, this is the episode we're doing. Also, apologies for the debris of the fourth wall that we've just shattered.
"Peter Sam, do you ever notice, boyo, that every so often engines and people on this Island start talking randomly to the sky for apparent reason?"
"I do that all the time!"
"...Yes, sorry, not sure what I expected you to do about it. You're...well, you."
"Anyway, uh...Rantaro!"
"Rheneas."
"Close enough. I have an important job for you, bucko!"
Rheneas was in prime Bland mode. "Golly gee gosh gumdrops by gum goody goody greatness, an important job! Oh thank you sir buddy friend pal chum Topham Hatt!"
"You see, Simpkins! This is prime suck up material! Why aren't you like this...this engine, whatever his name is. You are to take some children up into the mountains-"
"AND MURDER THEM!" said Rheneas's newly discovered serial killer persona. Skarloey and Peter Sam took a few wheelturns backwards.
"...No, please don't. You must make sure that they have a wonderful time and that their teacher does not whine and tell me what a big fat loser I am. I got enough of that at every single one of my parents day. Also, make sure they're back in time for their tea. I really don't need whatever the hell is going on here to get even worse with a missing child case."
"Yes sir!" said Rheneas. He was worried that he wasn't special enough to make the trip, well, special.
And he was absolutely right.
Can we go home now? No? Fine. Bring on the Zero subplot, I say.
...
"Rusty! You are an engine who is interesting and knows how the minds of normal people work!"
"...Strangest conversation starter I've ever heard, but yes, that is what I do."
Rheneas watched as the teacher and the students got in, and the teacher began to drink and drink and drink away her many problems. "How do I interact with the children and make sure that they have a 'fun' and 'special' time?"
"How do you have fun?"
"I stare at paint drying, build cardboard boxes and watch old reruns of Space 1999."
"Ah. You may be in more trouble than I expected. Uh...tell them mountain facts. You know the mountains better than anyone who is currently alive. I don't know whether that's a compliment or an insult buuuuut take it as the former."
Rheneas knew his best was...adequate perhaps. He felt like a very little engine indeed. To be fair though, Gordon was the biggest engine (And dick) on the Island, and he couldn't make anything that interesting for a bunch of snotty kids.
So to help, the driver had been given a map by the Fat Controller to highlight the special and important aspects of the line. Rheneas was close to falling asleep as they stopped midway across the Causeway.
"This is the Old Castle! ...It is...old and important and special. ALL RIGHT, MOVING ON!" Rheneas's driver turned to start the little engine up again.
Then Rheneas began to sink into the mud. He personally thought that A: The mud was far too cold for his liking, and B: That the castle which he saw every day was about as interesting as...well, himself.
Once they had managed to save Rheneas from drowning and once they had managed to apply the defibrillator successfully, they set off once more on their Magical Mystery Tour De Farce.
He was sure he could think of something exciting.
...
"This is Valley View of the Skarloey Lake. It is...a view of a lake."
Rheneas welcomed the sweet embrace of death. It couldn't come soon enough for his liking.
...
"And here's the Viaduct. I once threw myself off here for a laugh. It hurt."
The children felt a little sorry for the engine and his crew, so they ooohed in an attempt to make them feel better. All this resulted in doing was making Rheneas's Serial Killer side declare war upon minors, of all forms. No amount of hard hats and pickaxes would be able to stop him. Rheneas's serial killer side was not a smart cookie, hence why he would often give back control once he saw a butterfly.
"Must be special, must be special!"
...
"Must be my bad luck." murmured Rusty, who was on the Rocky Ridge Line. It was not as delicious to eat as it sounded. The tracks had been made awkward by the heavy rain.
"Too bumpy and uneven! No one can ride on these! ...Ah just stick a bloody sign in it, it'll be fine." said Mr Hughes, who then said the worst words anyone could say on this Island. "What's the worst that can happen?"
"Much." Rusty murmured to themselves.
...
Rheneas was still trying to think of something that would make the children's trip special. All he could come up with was letting them go home early, which he felt reflected worse on him, somewhat.
As the linesmen were quite thick, they had forgotten to fix the points towards a safe track, relatively speaking. Safe tracks weren't a thing on Sodor. Suddenly he was on the wrong track. "OHHHHHHHHHH shoot that's the wrong track!" He screeched, master of stating the bloody obvious that he was. "RUSTY HELP!"
"Oh damn it." sighed Rusty. "And here comes the William Tell theme. Careful, tracks are bumpy! Time for me to go be the only competent engine here again!"
Rheneas screamed as he hit every dip, raise, bump and awkward turn with the full force of his weight. "OH AH OH AH OH AH-Oh there's my shed- OH AH OH AH!" The children cheered, and then screamed as they realised that death was imminent. The teacher curled up in the foetal position and began to sob. She had wasted most of her life. Such was the fate of all who attempted to teach higher education.
"I HAVE MANY REGRETS! Namely that I HAVEN'T LIVED ENOUGH TO REGRET!" He took the incline as hard as he could, the students oohing and aahing in a non-patronizing way this time. He took the trestle bridge and rushed through the waterfall so fast that it nearly took the teacher's head and hat off. She covered her eyes as Rheneas rounded the bend and came to a rough stop at the station.
"I...I hate everything." whimpered the teacher.
Rheneas was on her side.
"Just in time for sodding tea!" wailed the teacher, who fell out of the coach.
"BEST TRIP EVER!" said the kids, who were scared that Rheneas would do that again if they didn't appease his massively bruised ego.
"Well done, Roland, you did a grand job!"
"Sir, are you drunk?"
"YES I AM. WHAT OF IT?"
"I just want some, that's all. Ta sir!" And as Rheneas began to drink, the children cheered, and he didn't feel like a small engine any more.
Then he met Gordon on the way home and was promptly reminded of his height and low status in life.
That rather ruined his day, to be honest.
...
THE PAST. NOVEMBER 21ST.
The gang of sailors, workers, bikers and other assembled members of the Accountant's group arrived back in the Trumptonshire area two hours after leaving the citizens of the county to take in their new vaccinations. They wasted little to no time in making sure that all the relevant areas were at their disposal.
Gotch and Boomer headed off to take care of any vehicles, including the requisitioning of several tanks from the Chigley War Museum and the various fire engines from Trumpton. Messers Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grubb would not be getting their station back in time soon.
Elsewhere, Zero oversaw the construction of several barricades. There was only one entrance from the rest of the civilised world to enter into, the rest were boarded up. A few streets and the town square were also afforded room for the soldiers to hold their ground.
The airforce was not likely to be needed, but just in case it was prepped and ready to go from a nearby airfield.
Then the Trumpton clock began to chime. Steadily, sensibly, not too quickly, not too slowly, telling the time for Trumpton, as the song went. The Accountant turned his attention towards Pippin Fort, the area where Snort and Grout held the national service tryouts and, where it must be said, the best chance of the Old Guard holding out would be. He was just about to set off when all of a sudden, a bullet whizzed past him into the ground.
"GET ON YER BIKE!" he heard a rather loutish voice say.
"Shit!" Zero hissed. "Snort's back early!"
"It's fine, it's fine. The men are ready?"
"They are, but there's gonna be a wee bit more fighting than we figured upon!" Zero swore again, this time as a bullet narrowly avoided clipping his shoulder. "TO ARMS!"
Snort and the boys up at Pippin Fort had been planning on returning early any-road, seeing as the tip off they had heard about had been a total bust. Grout and Belborough were AWOL at present, but he had no intention of letting the side down. Not when they were doing such a good job of making sure that all was well! The boys, consisting of teens for the most part, opened fire on the street. No one was sure how someone had managed to get a message through to Captain Snort, or how he'd began assembling the boys from the fort.
Several of the assembled mob got into position through the many colourful houses and so on, and began to fire back. For the first ten minutes or so, the bullets were traded back and forth with nary a loss of life on either side. Zero realised quickly that they needed to turn the tide and fast. So he rushed off to make a call.
Suddenly, several of the more loyal Other Railway workers made a mad dash down the street towards the town square. Even as they did this, however, the rebels charged over the barricade, swinging and clashing and thrashing with any and all weapons they had to hand. They hit each other slap bang in the middle of the streets, slamming into each other and getting into one hell of a jam.
No one, in the chaos, noticed where the hell the Accountant had gone.
...
Elsewhere, the two remaining members of the trinity were on their way back on the nine o'clock express to Camberwick, when they felt the back-end of the train jolt.
"The hell?" hissed Grout. The Lord looked backwards and did a double take.
There, at the back end, was some kind of juggernaut, armoured to the teeth and looking (In as much as a featureless train with no facial expression can look) like he wanted very much to kill everything in his way.
"Grout, we need to leave. Now."
It was not the most graceful of exits for a politician to make, but Belborough could take comfort in knowing that it wouldn't be the least graceful by a long shot. As they took off from the train, they watched as the Juggernaut crushed the carriages and people underneath his wheels.
"The mill!" Grout growled. "We get to there, maybe we can organise some form of counterattack!"
"I've heard worse ideas! Go, quickly!"
Grout took off in the general direction of Windy Miller's mill, while the Lord prepared himself for a fight-
And was promptly shot through the ankle.
Screaming, he toppled backwards. He reached for his pocket in a blind panic, but as he did so, he felt another bullet hit his shoulder, pinning him on the ground. His hand jerked upwards, sending the gun scattering out of reach.
"Oh dear!" said the Accountant, with little real care. "That's a pity, isn't it? Come on your lordship!" He grabbed Belborough and began to drag him back towards the tracks. Already the Juggernaut was moving backwards into position. "You know what they say? Time flies by, when you're the driver of a train!"
Belborough screamed.
...
There was a loud wailing of sirens, and the men in the Fort beamed as the familiar and safe sounds of the fire brigade filled the air. No doubt those brave chaps were coming to help them!
"ELEVATE!" they heard one man shout. They barely had time to consider that if this was the Captain of the fire brigade, he had clearly become American rather quickly. As the ladder was erected, and the sound of footsteps clattered, they felt a sense of relief.
Then P.T Boomer dropped in, and began to open fire. Thanks for the message, Cap'n, he thought. Snort took one look at this...and bolted towards the general direction of the mill, pursued quickly by Zero himself.
"Can't even stick it out with your troops, Captain!?" He mockingly sneered.
The sneer was promptly taken off his face as a bullet thudded directly into his forehead.
Grout urged Snort through, and slammed the mill shut.
Zero stood up and, with some degree of effort, pulled the bullet out. That was, in his opinion, the one downside to being immortal. There really was no bloody pain relief like being dead after a shot like that.
And so he advanced on the windmill, the sounds of the battle behind him fading away.
...
And elsewhere, far above the chaos, the Clown sat and watched and smiled.
It was all going rather well, in his opinion.