I'm so glad everyone liked what I did with Spencer! It was a ton of fun writing him and we're...coming down somewhat from that to do this. So let be honest here. This episode is a bit of a mess. As is my attempts to get something funny out of it, in all honesty. I've gone over this as best as I can, so I apologize if it's not as good as you were hoping. The scene at the end is legitimately one of the funnest ones to writes for me, at least given the callbacks to Season 2 that I decided to throw in there for the hell of it. Nothing is ever going to be the same again after that scene. And don't forget, the next chapter takes place simultaneously alongside this one (Namely, the episode portion in the day, the story portion in the night). So enjoy that!
And now, reviews!
AaronCottrell97: Thank you! Yes, I've always had a fixed idea of what Spencer was going to be, so I had a lot of fun with that. I think it's the best episode I've come out with for a while.
Reality Rejection Service: That means a lot, making you laugh! Yeah, Theodore is a real throwback, used primarily to get across the idea of an age ending and because I've been referencing it since at least Season 3.
Game-Watch: Thanks! God it was fun to do!
MattPrice01: Ah, nay bother, nay bother. I get it, Doctor Who can be quite draining, especially the serial stuff! Hope you had a fun time watching it!
Streakofscarlet: It's fine! I like guesses like that!
Radical Sandwiches: I'm glad you enjoyed it! And yes, the die is rolling!
UGX7: It's fine about the errors, at this point I decided to just leave them for the time being, but I appreciate you noticing them. I imagine that the rest of the tugs have been doing other jobs in the interim as well, just that Theodore is the most obvious one to draw a comparison to given the existence of an actual ship.
Hughie99: I won't ask for your theory yet, but as we've only got one season between this and the big reveal, I will be interested to see if it's correct! And yes, Arthur and Murdoch should have been used more, but I'm glad they pop up a few times in the New Series so I can keep on using them.
jsw: They're not barbarians, after all! Just stupid!
T501: She's kinda all sorts isn't she? A lot of that has to do with the fact that really, the series for the next four seasons have equally about as much clue as I do, so I've been trying new things. I'm on a good thing thus far, I think, but that could change as we go along, so *shrugs*.
Acehoneycomb: It's a mixture of a few things at this point. Firstly, this last season is not nearly as good as the ones preceding it, but nowhere near as awful as the show gets in the following years. Therefore, writing this has been less fun this time around when there's not a massive character involved that I can make say ridiculous things. Secondly, I've also been working on a fanfiction for another work that requires a LOT of stuff to make it work, so I've been focusing on that. So I am hard at work, it's just that there's a lot of things happening at present. And WHO knows with the Red Balloon and Norris...though perhaps it might! The TUGS characters will be coming into action AT SOME POINT. I haven't worked out where because I've got a lot of things to be doing in the next few seasons, but they will make a return.
CUE THE THEME
ONE DAY EARLIER.
It was Christmas time on the Island of Sodor. Technically speaking, it had been since mid-October, but such was the state of things that it was only now being declared as such. It was a grim Christmas, with overcast skies that looked as though they'd either chuck down snow or, shudder, hail at any given moment.
The engines were all engaged in hard work, as per the norm, with Henry being forced into taking the Flying Kipper AGAIN. Luckily, this time he only suffered third degree burns on his tender due to the unfortunate incident with the stork and the flamethrower, of which not much needs to be said.
The Fat Controller's engines were working themselves to the wheel, as it was, given that the fat man himself wanted to lock up the railway and go to sleep for a month once the twenty fifth came around. The lazy git. In theory this made them all feel really reliable, but in truth, it made them feel really riled up! That's wordplay there, that is.
Also, yes that is Duck moving about in the foreground. Look, what do you want from me? I've got LITERALLY nothing to justify this, I'm running out of excuses. Maybe it's his long lost brother GOOSE. Stock footage was once again the saviour, and creator, of many continuity issues!
…..
"Ugh!" declared Thomas, in a such a manner that indicated he wanted people to look at him and comment. "UGH!" He paused. "UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGH!"
No one listened.
"Today cannot get any wor-"
"OI! YOU!"
"Oh sweet salty shit no."
Elizabeth had arrived, looking her usual cheerful self (I.E. Like someone had shoved thirteen lemons into her mouth all at once), with Thomas's snowplough. Grinding his teeth, the tank engine waited for her to make her usual stop.
Once the pain of her noggin coming into contact with the bottom half of his face subsided, and the driver had apologized for not checking the brakes, the two of them glared at each other in an angry and unwieldy fashion. The other engines decided to double down on ignoring this.
"I don't need THAT silly old thing any more." Thomas said. "It's the twenty first century, I'm sure they make fashionable snowploughs! I want one with glitter!"
"Stuff and nonsense!" snapped Elizabeth. "You're not one anyway, but if you want to be a reliable engine, you have to get through the snow, little bugger!"
"YOU WOULDN'T BE HEAR RIGHT NOW IF I WEREN'T RELIABLE!" fumed Thomas, throwing a tantrum.
"You mean when you broke down outside of my shed?"
"SCREW YOU GRANDMA!"
"On the contrary, whippersnapper, if anyone is doing the screwing around here, IT'S ME!"
"I'd screw you so BLOODY HARD!" There was an audible pause, as the three big engines turned to look at Thomas in silent judgement. "You know what I mean!" He protested, weakly.
"It's okay, Thomas." Gordon said, in a way that sounded too Gordon-y to be comforting. "If you fancy the older birds-"
"I HATE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH!"
…..
"Stupid Liz, stupid Gordon, stupid old people, STUPID SNOWPLOUGH! This is the worst Christmas EVER!"
"Thomas, it's been an hour, let it go!"
"I WILL NOT, CLARABEL! She is rude and vile and OLD, and this snowplough makes my buffers ache, it can kiss my arse and did I mention she's OLD!"
"Typical!" said Annie "We go silent for a few years and he resets back to his old ways!"
"And you can pipe down and all! You're not paid to be speaking characters any more!" Thomas was in a foul mood as he pulled into Maithwaite. Thr Fat Controller was there, and he was passionately talking to Elizabeth.
"TRAGEDY! WOE! A POX UPON OUR HOUSES! IT IS THE END, IS IT NOT?" He threw himself upon the ground and began to cry, slamming his fists upon the ground. Thomas felt a bit embarrassed, tell the truth, and Elizabeth just looked tired.
"Spit it out, chubs! What's going on, eh?"
"It's…It's….THE PUDDING FACTORY!"
And the world's equilibrium is restored, thought Thomas.
"It's been snowed in and the Christmas Puddings have been left without HOMES to go to! God those starving kids in Africa have no idea how good they've got it! The poor puddings! They must be removed to the dock, and to my stomach, before the ship sails for the mainland!"
"We have a pudding factory?"
"News to me, Clarabel."
Thomas didn't want this job. He didn't want to do anything other than crawl back to his shed and never move again. But, making sure Elizabeth wasn't getting extra-pay was good by him. "I can go and do the job!"
Hatt glared at him. "I'm not stupid you know. You have an unfortunate track record with snow, that plough and your own confidence separately. Put all three together and-" He shuddered. "I daren't take that chance! What if the puddings were harmed?! Oh, and I guess you're needed on the line. She knows the roads better than most, AND she's not going to throw a wobbly and kill my babies- I mean, damage the puddings just because they see a little eeny-teeny-weenie snowflake."
"You have a problem." Thomas said, bluntly.
"She's also reliable."
"I'M RELIABLE TOO!" wailed Thomas.
"Not enough, apparently, eh?"
Thomas nearly threw off his shackles and began to consider if a tank engine could body slam…well, anything. It ended up being the case that as he ranted, Toby would have to follow the blue engine around, making sure that all of his deliveries were made right on time and not in the middle of next May, as had happened six Christmases ago in an event which must never be spoken of.
….
"Ohhhhh I should not have had that whiskey!"
Elizabeth was having a rough old time of it. Her wheels slipped on the icy road, which should have been foreseen given that she could give Methuselah a run for his money in the old age department.
The fact that Bulgy had apparently gone missing, and therefore meant that she had to briefly drop off his load of vegetables didn't help matters.
Terrance was in what appeared to be a pensive mood, even as he continued to smile at everything, as Thomas arrived to pick him up. "Where's the old bat?" He asked as it became clear that Elizabeth had not returned.
"Edward's right here!"
"SCREW YOU GORDON!" shouted Edward, who was currently trying and failing to get drunk.
"Whole lot of screwing going around." Emily remarked to no one in particular.
"THE SHIP WILL MISS THE TIDE!" droned one of the…drones representing the Railway Board, who was technically the dock manager. Technically in the sense that the actual dock manager was floating in the briny sea about five miles away on the verge of drowning.
"I WON'T GET A CHRISTMAS PUDDING! …Also, the children. No puddings for them!" Hatt backtracked. "Go, look for her, and also make sure she takes her inhaler, her asthma is killing her!"
"I didn't know she had asthma."
"You don't know a lot about her!"
"No, I don't care to. Perhaps she isn't so reliable after all!"
"Oh you are just wonderful, aren't you?! Get to work, Tommy!"
….
"Here we are, the very important-"
"How are we going to edit the sign, Britt?"
"What, David?"
"The sign. Apparently the yanks don't have puddings, so we've got to call them 'cakes' for whatever reason."
"David, we're leaving in like, a month, let the new lot handle that. …Sorry, continue!"
"….These are the very important puddings that the Fat Controller informed us were needed for the children and also his belly." The manager of the pudding factory, unaffectionate nicknamed Mr Wobbly Man, drew himself to his full, unimpressive height and glanced at Elizabeth. "Deliver them well!"
"Those look like bowling balls painted in the colours of a pudding."
"SHUSH!"
"Ah well, Hatt will be disappointed and he's relying on me. Also, I want to see the expression on his face when he tries to eat one of these!"
"You're a sadist, Elizabeth."
She headed onto the icy road with a lot more confidence than she had been when approaching the pudding factory. And then she passed out. When she awoke, she was somehow on a hill. "How the hell did that hap-OH BUGGER!"
The driver applied the brakes.
As per usual, it did not help. She smacked straight into a snowdrift and concussed herself. The driver decided to enjoy this rare moment of peace by leaving Elizabeth to freeze. If it were anyone else, it would be a crime. It was Elizabeth, though, so it was not.
Thomas and Terrance chuffed through the snow. Well, Terrance didn't chuff, he sort of sat there and looked cheerfully on as Thomas got battered with snowfall after snowfall.
They spotted her driver making his escape. "She's buried under the snow! You'll need help to dig her out! And you won't get it from me! FREEDOM!"
"What a charming man." Terrance remarked as the driver rushed away, straight into a frozen lake. "All right, it's time for my music!"
"Oooh, we're actually running out of film, so we can't actually afford to put Don't Judge a Book By It's Cover on…sorry."
"Typical."
Terrance rescued her in literally no time. It was quite anti-climatic, all things being considered.
"We need to get a move on, you old bat!" Thomas stared in horror as his driver and fireman held up large cards with a script on it. "Never mind, it was not your fault at all, you elderly darling, it was the slippery snow. The CGI slippery snow. Wow we went downhill very fast! Just like you, eh? AHAHAHAHA….This episode sucks."
"Tell me about it." Elizabeth seethed. As they departed, Thomas wondered if he had forgotten something.
Terrance watched as his free ride vanished out of sight. "Hmm." He said. "He will be spared. For now."
…
"MINE!" screamed the Fat Controller. "Oh, and I'm glad you're safe Elizabeth and we'll get you unlaoded, but PUDDINGS!"
"Now the kids get Christmas pud, I guess?" Thomas just really wanted to get this episode over with.
"WELL DONE NOW LET ME EAT MY FOOD!"
He grabbed a fork and stabbed it into the 'pudding'. It broke. The fork, that is, not the pudding. "IT'S FROZEN!"
"It's not a pudding."
"What? NO PUDDING!?".
"Both reliable then, I guess. Not reliable enough to deal with this shit though."
Thomas, for once, agreed. Sir Topham Hatt wailed as he was dragged off to subside upon subpar fruitcake instead.
….
THE PAST.
"So that's it, pretty much." Zero glanced up at the sky. "Hang on, was it night when we started?"
"You have been talking for near fifteen hours telling me every little detail, ye barnacle covered sod! I had to take a whizz on Davy Jones's head before me bladder burst!" John sat down. "So, why now? Why after all this time? What do ye want from me?"
"Aren't you bored of the pirate life?"
"No. Better than being in the navy. Moral codes me arse!"
"All right. I can make you very rich. Richer than you can possible imagine."
"Oh aye?" John drained the last bottle of scotch and tossed it in the water. "Listen Pa, you could offer me a lot of treasure and it still wouldn't be-" He paused as a large drawing was placed upon his lap. "-enough."
"This right here is what I know as King Godred's Crown. I was one of the group who manipulated the foolish king into an early and very wet grave, so I've got a fair understanding of where the crown might be. it's worth billions, literally. Every antique dealer and historian will be fighting tooth and claw for this thing. And then there's this little beauty." Another picture, this time of a large pirate ship and treasure chest. "This right here once belonged to a man by the name of Captain Calles, by all accounts he'd be your type of man. He marooned his ship and buried his treasure on the Island of Sodor, and then sailed off with a map in hand. Then he was killed, as pirates tend to, by a rival by the name of Pugwash. He took the map, and then after a few incidents where things just all went to pot for him and his barely animated crew, he was hung, leaving the map to fall to various people over time, until it came to my possession. Now-" He handed a map over to John. "-this is yours. Thing is, the Island itself shifts constantly, so you can't rely on that until we've fully taken control. You're smart, you're navy trained before you got thrown out, and you're my son. We both want to survive and get rich doing so."
Captain Zero leaned in and looked at Sailor John.
"Now-" he said "-let me tell you what's happening as I speak."
….
THE PRESENT.
Duck sighed. "Okay, so…plan A to get out of here has failed. Who knew that a bedsheet ladder out of the window wouldn't work when there are no bedsheets for an engine? Or, for that matter, a window. So Plan B."
He paused.
There was a loud roar of gunfire.
"Oh." He said, quietly.
Duck's driver raced around the corner. "I think it's time-"
The gunshot blew his chest out straight away, and he collapsed forward, lurching out one last breath before he hit the floor, dead as a doornail. The fireman followed not too long afterwards, still alive, but with a massive shiner upon his face.
"It's up to you now, Duck!" cried the fireman.
Then a bullet to the head put paid to that.
The gunmen raised their weapons at Duck, who having most of his gadgets removed and stuck in a siding, had nowhere to go. He stared at them, and said what he hoped would be some very cool last words.
"To hell with you!"
Unfortunately, they didn't sound nearly as cool out loud when compared to in his head.
Then…something happened. The world went white for a moment, and the entire front area of the prison seemed to vanish, gunmen and bodies and all.
Then seconds later, the unsmiling face of Terence the Tractor, currently wearing a very in-season hat that had once been Bulgy the Double Decker Bus, arrived, glaring at Duck and uttering one word and one word alone, with freedom now in front of him.
"Run."
And Duck did.
Behind him, he heard loud curses and screams and varying levels of hysteria, as Terence presumably cleaned house. He didn't want to ask what Terrance was doing, and he was happy to keep it that way. But as he launched forward, he became aware that he was being followed.
"Chase him!"
"Bump him!"
"THROW HIM FROM THE RAILS!"
With a sense of déjà vu, Duck realised that the chase was, once again, on. Five diesels, , were after him, and unlike the last few times he had had to fight the diesels off, he had nothing but his wits and a boundless amount of energy from being still in the jail.
He raced through Edward's station, but the attackers were catching up.
I can go as fast as I can, but they'll catch me, gradually, Duck thought as hooting and hollering, the hounds slowly gained.
And then, as if answering a prayer he hadn't been aware he had said, the diesels screeched like engines possessed and left the rails entirely of someone else's volition, smashing to the sides and hurtling into trees or into a ravine. Duck didn't look back as he raced across the viaduct, but he heard two very familiar accents.
"YER CLEAR!"
"GO IT, YE WEE SOD!"
Thank you, twins, Duck thought in relief, as he regained control. A clear mile through Crosby and hopefully I can find a way to get to Vicarstown. That should do it. Then, as he approached, he realized in horror that there was someone up ahead blocking the track. And not just anyone.
"Oh glory, look at that!" He found himself whispering, almost as nostalgia took over for whatever reason.
The Juggernaut was standing on the points straight ahead. Any minute and there would be one hell of a fatal crash.
He put every ounce of weight and steam into charging ahead, sparks flying from his wheels and the sleepers, his brake-blocks burning up and his side rods buckling under the sheer pressure.
Ah well, he thought pragmatically, it's not a barber shop at least.
And then, salvation. From the side of the tracks, a very bloodied and angry tractor roared towards the Juggernaut. The latter, shocked, staggering backwards just enough for Duck to cross the points and urge himself onwards.
He veered, sharply, around bend after bend, aware rather painfully that he had no chance of going it alone in the mainland with everything that was going on.
It was a good thing then, he thought as he saw two delightfully familiar figures draw up alongside him, that he was not alone.
Duck, Donald and Douglas charged over the Vicarstown Bridge and straight into the mainland. Duck wondered if they'd miss him. Because, and he would never admit this to anyone except maybe Percy-
He was going to miss them a hell of a lot.
But what of the Malignance?
Well, that's another story.