So we've reached the point where we're actually introducing the villain proper into the story now. And if the explanation for what Zero has to do to free him doesn't make sense now...basically, give it a few chapters, hopefully I'll explain it better when we get there. Also, brief bits with the Pack. I'm not going to spend too much time on them, but hopefully you can see where I'm aiming for with their scenes here.
AaronCottrell97: I am considering that scene, we'll work it out as we get closer to it.
Reality Rejection Service: There is an explanation for how stupid that is, which you'll see over the next few episodes.
Game-Watch: I mean he was like that in the episode itself, and it's meant to be a little bit nuts, so...yeah? *shrugs*
MattPrice01: And now you know why I did the Pack episodes first. Such a collection of quirks does not occur naturally after all. It's probably the name.
JD145: Glad you like my approach to Season 8 and beyond.
Radical Sandwiches: Season 7 is, more than anything, the season of the average, more towards the positive end to contrast Season 8's slant towards the bad, but average nonetheless. And as for that subplot idea...sit on that for a season or two. ;D
UGX7: And it's juuuuuust the beginning. ...Huh. That makes sense.
Bronze Shield: That's fair, he is a very cartoony character, but I have a bit of affection for the silly beggar.
Australian Guest: NO PUNS ARE BAD PUNS. XD. And yes, I am glad that you find the Clown freaky, that was definitely what I had intended people to feel towards the character.
JSW: Eh, I actually left the JFK stuff fairly ambiguous, but if you want to read it that way, then sure.
Guest: Last time in episode, sure, there's a bit left on the storyline front.
GreatWestern1522: Denial is GREAT.
CUE THE THEME!
"Mr Duck, if I may be so bold as to suggest this, maybe you should take the time to sleep once or twice a month, it does wonders for you."
"I'LL SLEEP WHEN I'M DEAD, TOAD!"
"Which given you've worked out that the enemy's plan involves incredibly precise crates that they will somehow hide you under while they sneak you off the Island without anyone noticing, might be sooner than you might expect. ...Sir, please, I've got enough trouble with Mr Oliver, begging your pardon, as it is."
Duck's interest, focused squarely upon the problem at hand, was piqued. "Problem? What problem?"
"NO ONE RECOGNISES ME, DUCK!" wailed Oliver as he began to sob into an empty crisp packet. "They think I'm just a stunt engine!"
"For gods sake, Oliver!" hissed Duck, veins throbbing on his forehead. "I wasn't in the last series that much either, or in the movie at all! And maybe it would help if you weren't neon green right now, and you'd made the effort to clean your wheels up a little bit-"
"YOU WERE THERE, THOUGH! You got a nice speaking part! No one looooooooves me! Why?! I, who was saved from scrap by Douglas, consigned to the scrapheap of TIME! I MIGHT AS WELL BE DEAD!"
Duck privately thought that death was something that would improve Oliver's character something fierce.
And so, as Oliver rambled on and wept, and Duck tried to focus on something other than his shedmate and the future, the first snowfall of the year began.
And it wasn't even winter yet.
...
Oliver and Duck are Great Western engines, relatively close friends and constantly on the verge of murdering each other. All of these things are things that you should know by this point.
This rather explains a lot about their mood on the week following Duck's discovery of the itinerary, where the skies threw a massive fit and pelted down snow at the Island in an attempt to get them to pack it in. It was the annual 'Put The Christmas Lights Up Even Though It Is Not Christmas' time of year, and as the two engines were forced out to clear the lines and various other places, they grew colder and crosser.
More so than usual, anyway.
Deliveries were needed, not least to the small towns that were closed off to the rest of the Island.
Oliver thinks that snow is messy and cold.
"I think snow is messy and cold, Toad!"
"Do you, Mr Oliver?" Toad's sense of allegiance to Oliver was waning in recent years, things were beginning to get rather tiresome. How long can one engine milk being nearly scrapped for, anyway?
"I'm a Great Western engine-!"
"Are you, Mr Oliver? Are you?"
"I should not have to shiver! Let the storm rage on, the cold shouldn't bother me anyway! ...As I'm sure a future song will sing about!"
"Begging your...pardon, I guess, Mr Oliver, but I think snow is splendid!"
"And this is why no one lets you have an episode, Toad."
"...Sir, I've had two, technically."
"HARRUMPH!" said Oliver. As in literally said it, he didn't just make the noise. What kind of freak does that? I'll tell you what kind of freak does that, Oliver the Great Western Prat does!
Then he moved off and crashed into a tar wagon, as he was wont to do being a complete idiot.
Duck had to clean it up, and the amount of 'DONENESS' began to rise significantly.
...
Later, the prat and his brake-van butler embarked throughout a jaunt through the countryside, passing through a village where a group of children were pestering their parents to make a giant snowman.
Unless you lived up in the mountains, the amount of snow gathered was quite frankly an impossible amount. And that was just for the body.
It was a particularly busy day, where Oliver had to pass several times to deliver all the important stuff that was needed. And each time he passed, it grew bigger and bigger and bigger, so much so that if it had fallen on anyone important, it might have crushed them to death. Oliver's reaction changed as he passed by.
First pass "Oh, that's cute, I guess. UGH, COLD!"
Second pass "Holy shit, that's big. UGH, COLD!"
Third pass. "The hell is all that snow coming from- SHIT! COW ON THE LI-"
Fourth pass. "Bloody cow and bloody cold and bloody bloody bloody frigging frig on a Christmas tree- Oh wow, that's one biiiiiiig snowman.
Fifth pass "DO THESE PEOPLE HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH THEIR LIVES?!"
"Just an observation, Mr Oliver-"
"With you, Toad? Never!"
"Snow is MAGICAL!"
"Oh save the hippie dippie love thy neighbour crap for church, Toad! Pah!"
And on the sixth pass, Oliver was enraged for no apparent reason regarding the completion of said snowman.
"HOW THE PISSING HELL-" he raged to Duck that night "-DID THEY GET A HAT THAT BIG?! It is UNFEASIBLE!"
"Oliver." growled Duck. "Please, I'm trying to concentrate, I just have to finish off a few notes, and then I can send this off to whoever it is who is running the Iron Circle and we will be saved!"
"And then they wrapped a...what was it, a scarf? Toad thought it might be a mayor's chain, which goes to show you what a FOOL HE IS REGARDING SNOWMEN AND SNOW IN GENERAL!"
"You are not even listening to me, are you?"
"But WHAT HAT SHOP MAKES HATS THAT BIG?! It is INSANE!"
Duck's levels of annoyance reached heights never before reached by human or engine, and he resolved to move sheds tomorrow night if Oliver wasn't shut up by that time.
...
After Oliver attempted to stop the rapidly fleeing Duck the next morning, he returned to his shed to see the Angel of Death standing besides his shed.
"SIR!?"
"Me, Oliver! You must return to the mountain village! ...Whichever one that is. There are goods needed for the annual 'festival' whatever that means."
"But...But sir! IT'S SNOWING!"
"...Yes. It is. And your point being?"
"It makes MY WHEELS ALL CHILLY!"
"...And this is my problem how? Really useful engines don't argue."
"Yeah?! The evidence says otherwise, fat man!" Oliver would have stamped his feet, had he any. Instead, he settled for a rather rude blow of the whistle as he stormed off to pick up his trucks.
He did, however, leave Duck a rather rude present in the form of yet another dirty novel, slipped this time in-between the pages of a hardback he was reading. He only wished he could be there to see the GWE's reaction.
Soon he was on his way through the tunnels and bridges towards the mountain village. The snow was cold (As opposed to all that warm snow that you see everywhere nowadays) and the lines were frozen.
There was worse to come.
"Ohhhh the points are frozen, aren't they? WHY DOES NO ONE WARN ME OF THESE THINGS-Ohhhhhh shit here we go!" Oliver wailed as he hit the points and skidded into the sidings. "SHIVER MY BOILER!"
Brakes were applied, but they might as well have not been, for all the good it did.
"Problem, Mr Oliver?"
"THERE IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS-"
There was a loud thwump as Oliver hit the snow and stumbled down the slope. He realised in horror that he was going to be entering the snowman's arse three seconds before it happened (Yeah, I've only got myself to blame for this one), and he had barely time to shut his eyes before his entire world went white.
Toad somehow went on his side and slid up besides Oliver. "That could have been a little smoother!" And the audience laugh track began to snicker, until it burnt out and died a painful death.
At which point, the snowman caved in on Oliver. Thankfully, he wasn't important, so he wasn't crushed to death. He felt awful though, this had nothing to do with the snowman dying on him. He thought the children would be upset.
And he cared not one jot.
"Right, well, screw you lot!" said the driver, and went for help. Hatt was just finishing up for the night when he heard the phone ring. He swore, spun around-
"MROW!"
-and trod on his cat. How the poor thing wasn't killed or severely paralysed we'll never know. "Duck will bring the breakdown train first thing in the morning. Now piss off, I want to go to bed."
...
"Night Oliver!"
"Wait, you're not sticking it out here with me!?"
"And freeze our balls off? You must be joking!" The fireman and driver hurried over to the village inn, The Stuffed Boar, and found a nice, cozy room to spend the night in. And also preparations for the 'festival'. Neither were sure what the term 'blood sacrifice' had to do with said ritual, but they were tired, so they didn't question it.
Toad, meanwhile, had frozen solid. His face was kept in the same place for the rest of the night.
"I was right all along, Toad! Nothing magical about snow! OHHHHHH why are there so many icicles in places where there shouldn't be icicles!? OH THE PAIN! OH THE- Toad are you ignoring me?! ME?!"
Toad privately thought that Oliver had a point, unfortunately he no longer had a mouth to express this with, so he had to settle for a rather pained "BRRRRRR!" that didn't help Oliver's mood at all.
On the plus side, Duck, after grabbing a large stack of papers and sending it off to the Iron Circle, got a good night of kip.
The next morning, the townsfolk saw the situation.
"OUR SNOWMAN HAS EYES IN IT'S TUMMY! THE ANCIENT RITUAL TO END THE ACCURSED WEATHER HAS FINALLY WORKED!"
"No you fool, it's Oliver!"
The cult leader, after tying the driver and fireman down for the sacrifice, assisted the children in doing...something to Oliver.
"OH GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" He screamed as he woke up, to discover that most of the stuff on the snowman had been moved to his.
"OUR SNOW ENGINE." droned the townsfolk. "HE SHALL END THE BLIGHT OF WINTER'S BANE!"
Oliver was just happy to the centre of the attention, and suddenly found that the snow wasn't so bad after all. He was quite enjoying himself, right up until the mayor pulled out a sacrificial knife.
By the time Duck arrived, Oliver was in deep shit, and the older Great Western engine had to help out quite a bit in order to save the idiot and his butler. The Winter Festival, as it turned out, was a way to try and bring back something approaching normal weather to the Island. This involved a complex Wicker Man style torture where sacrifices were hidden inside the giant snowman until they froze to death. It was a crazy plan, but not the craziest anyone had heard on this Island.
"Some magical things about snow!" sneered Oliver as he was dragged backwards.
"PERHAPS. MR OLIVER." Toad was in agony at the moment, and would have gladly clipped Oliver across the face in any other circumstance.
"Definitely! LIKE NEARLY BEING MURDERED."
...
As they arrived back at the sheds, Edward and Toby looked anxiously at Duck. "I thought you said that you'd sent the inventory off."
"I have!"
"Then what's this massive binder with the words 'ITINERARY/INVENTORY' on it doing here?"
Duck paused, and then with dawning horror, remarked "Where the hell's my book?!"
"..."
"..."
"...Oliver. WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
...
THE PAST.
It had taken Zero far longer than he had anticipated to move things along, and so by the time he was halfway through the digging, he was constantly getting calls from his wife regarding the rapidly growing up Jenny.
"Why the feck aren't ye coming home any time soon?! Yer daughter's going ta be entering the business soon, ye're at least going to see her off, right?"
"I'll consider it!" Zero nearly snarled. "It's a VERRA important job we're doing at the moment, so if ye don't mind, I have BUSINESS TO ATTEND TA!" And with that, he slammed the phone down, completely ignoring the slight cracking noise from the rest of the landline. Reginald knocked the door cautiously, and then slid across a file with the information that was needed, before taking his leave rather quickly.
Zero looked outside. The Pack was doing the job well, most of the ground right besides the makeshift office was being dug up nicely. For a moment, he considered buying a front-loader, or perhaps a excavator, but he dismissed the ideas for now. He wasn't going to be holding onto these for much longer-
There was a loud thwack as the roof promptly hit the top of his head and he fell to the ground. He glared up at Ned, who looked at him in embarrassment. "Oops!" said he. Zero was this close to sending the idiot to the scrapyard when Nigel revved up.
"Captain! Captain! We think we've found something!"
Zero's eyes widened, and he staggered to his feet, leaping onto the side of Nigel cab, he urged him on to the dig site. There, Oliver and Byron were staring in surprise at whatever it was that they had unearthed. The human jumped down and walked as casually as he could over, he didn't want to give too much indication as to what it was that they had found.
It wasn't the gate that he had been looking for. It was far odder than that.
At a glance, it appeared to be a rather old, battered looking chest, the kind that pirates, if they were stereotypical, hid their treasure in, except clearly much, much older than the days of pirates. A massive series of golden chains, strangely not touched by rust or any signs of aging, linked in the grooves and all lead to a rather significantly sized gold lock. On it, burned into the wood, were images.
Zero was about to dismiss this, when suddenly something in his mind clicked.
"Good job, lads." It was always best to offer praise, kept them on their toes and most importantly, loyal. "I'll take a look at it, now get back to work!" As they headed off, Zero bent down and looked at the images. There was one that seemed to show an old fashioned candle standing before something that looked an awful lot like the gate he had been sent to find. Another showed some sort of angelic figure hovering over a large mass of huddled engines. The third, much larger this time, was that of four crudely created towers, each connected to each other (The chains had been used to show this), and sparks flying off.
The fourth appeared to have been blotted out.
Zero was about to stand up when he heard a voice.
"Help me."
"God, ye really need ta get yer lungs looked at-" But there was no one behind him. Zero paused. He looked up and down, and then all around, just in case it was one of those weird things where the person was somewhere he didn't expect.
He was right. He just wasn't looking in the right place.
"Help me...please..."
Zero paused. And then he looked at the chest.
Putting his hand on the lid, he rapped it, sharply. "Are ye in there?"
"In a manner of speaking." said the voice. It was raspy, with a faint high note that made it seem a little bit...odd. Well, even odder than the fact that it was a voice coming from the chest. "...You seem intelligent. ...Where am I?"
"Trumpton." Something at the forefront of Zero's mind made him ask the question he had been considering for some time since seeing the chest. "Are ye the Malevolence?"
"...No."
"...The Malignance, then?"
"...Oh. So that is what they have called me." The voice didn't sound surprised or insulted, more grimly amused than anything else. "I imagine she didn't exactly help clearing that matter up. ...The year. What year is it?" Zero told him. A bitter laugh escaped from the Malignance. "That is...a long time to be away." There was a pause, and then slightly sharper. "How do you know me?"
"Some...well, I'd call them friends but they seemed more like worshippers to me...some creatures that claim that you created them asked me to find you."
"...The...The Mysterons, correct? That is quite a way in the distance in this timeline."
"This timeline-?"
"Do you know what I am?" The Malignance sounded more cognisant now, more aware of everything going on around him.
"...I think ye are incredibly strong. Yer not human, that's for sure. I dinnae think yer a God in the sense that ye've got a long white beard and ye sit about all day watching us, but ye're definitely powerful in that sense."
"Smart. As I have said. And tell me, what do you know of the Malevolence?"
"It's bad. Really really really bad. It's powerful and insane and evil to the core, and my boss thinks he can harness it to bend the world to his will and all the rest of that crap."
"Then he is a fool. Not like you." The voice sounded scornful now. "The Malevolence is overpowering, vicious, rotten to the core. And yet it is also incredibly predicable. All evil is, in the end. Even chaos, for all it's perks, grows boring and recognisable."
"So then, is this the part where I open up the chest and ye kill me?"
"No. This is the part where we make a deal. I don't want the Malevolence to take this world, I have plans to make it far better than any of them could. And I need help to get out of my prison fully. Even opening the chest will not achieve that, though it will give me...breathing space, as it was. And you must obviously want something aside from serving your pathetic master."
"...Ye're not so stupid to think I'll believe ye? I read books, I know what happens ta the wee twit who opens up the cursed relic!"
There was a pause. And then a slight chuckle arose.
"You make a fair point. You would be a fool to trust me at this point, and for all your...humanness, you do not strike me as a fool. Very well then. ...Are those your vehicles?"
"They are."
"How about then, you get an idea of what I can do? Wouldn't that be useful? Two things. One, we can do it at night, and two...fetch me a lantern."
...
Meanwhile, at the Pack's tent, the vehicles were having a whale of a time, playing cards against each other (Oliver won, but then again, having a helping hand certainly didn't hurt him in that regard) and the occasional race (Buster, despite his best efforts, were beaten by Max and/or Monty every time, though the three of them had a good laugh about it). Eventually, however, they had to turn in, especially with the fast approaching storm on its way.
"Can't wait for tomorrow!" enthused Patrick. "Where are we off to next, d'you reckon?"
"Somewhere quiet, no doubt." murmured Buster to himself. Suddenly, two banksmen hurried up and whispered something to Isabella. "Problem?
"We're being called to do some late night stuff tonight!" Isabella grinned. "Can't wait to get stuck in! You up for it Kelly?"
"Nah, think I'm going to catch some kip. Might come out if it gets better!" Kelly smiled cheerfully, he was in a good mood tonight. He glanced over. "Byron, you up for it?"
"I guess." said the bulldozer. And they idled off together, ready for whatever Mr Packard wanted them to do. The others were already fast asleep, but Kelly couldn't help but wonder why it was that he was still awake.
So he sat, and waited to drift off.
The other member of the Pack currently unable to sleep, slipped out the back and went to see if he could give an extra wheel or two.
...
By the time they had reached the field that their banksmen had been told to approach, it was too dark for any work. Isabella was just about to see if they could head back, when they heard a loud shout.
"That came from the middle!" Byron moved forwards, his front already preparing to dig someone out if need-be. After a moment of hesitation, Isabella raced onto the field with him.
The voice grew louder and louder as they approached the edge of a thick wood. At last, they reached where it should have been, had there been a person actually there. But there was not.
"What the-"
And then Isabella began to sink.
Just a moment ago, the ground had been muddy, but firm as mud could be. It certainly wasn't quicksand, as it appeared to be now. Isabella screamed, and revved her tires, but she might as well have been standing still for all the good it gave her. Byron raced forwards, his tracks giving him more of an advantage in avoiding sinking as fast. He reached out his blade to try and tip Isabella onto dry land.
And then, slowly, as if time had slowed, the nearest tree tipped over.
The old oak tree slammed into Byron with such force that his engine cut out completely, and in some places, began to crack. With a horrified wheeze, the weight of the tree shoved Byron under the mud completely. Said tree followed soon after, it's branches and roots having become entangled amongst the dozer's innards.
Isabella, meanwhile, was having a far slower and far, far more horrifying descent. By now the mud had reached her nose, and though she continued to scream, it was far quieter now.
"Not a bad demonstration." Zero admitted, as from a safe distance, he and the Malignance watched the two sink from sight. "Good thing I remember how ta throw me voice. ...So are ye killing them?"
"No. Merely giving them some more amusing...ah, what's the word I'm looking for? Quirks, that's it! Disgusting as they are in their servitude to humans, there is amusement to be found from their dysfunction. You need their help to find the gate. It is important for us, myself and the Malevolence, that you find it and begin to work out how it works. Otherwise, I will nt have a way out of my prison."
"Tell me how it works."
"The chest you see before you is...essentially handcuffs, if I am using the words correctly. I am conscious, I am able to preform some basic motor actions, like what you have just seen here. I can use some magic, in the same way that one can, if they struggle very hard, manage to get around being cuffed. So by removing me from the chest, you are essentially taking the cuffs off...but I am still in prison. What will come out of the chest is a pale shadow of what I could be."
"...I...think I get it?"
"...Anyway, we can work it out when we find the gate. ...The others, do you want me to give them 'quirks' as well?"
Zero grinned. "Might be funny. Make them interesting at long last!"
"Sir, wh-what are you doing?"
Zero didn't even need to turn around to realise it was Nigel speaking. And then, he had a very brilliant idea. A very nasty idea. A very brilliantly nasty idea.
...
Ten seconds later, Nigel began to scream.