Much thanks to the many good readers and reviewers out there!
And now, the theme!
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Fascinating Miss Allcroft! And then what happened!?
...
Diesel, the new engine, was sulking something fierce. His work mostly took him back and forth the three main goods yards, Knapford, Tidmouth and Brendan. And in every yard, the trucks would not stop singing that GODDAMN song at him.
In fact, Diesel had already decided that they must have a secret underground network. He'd go off to do some work, begrudgingly at Knapford yards, and then get a blast of the first two lines of the song, then head off to Tidmouth and receive the rest.
No amount of threats offered by the black diesel could get the trucks to stop. They had smelt blood and they were on it like a pack of rabid hounds.
Hounds with suspiciously high voices. Apparently the procedure that gave them faces had been rather akin to neutering a certain other...aspect of truck life.
Duck, for his part, was horrified at how the trucks had united against Diesel. It was true that he didn't like Diesel very much, but he also knew that for most times, it was all engines verses the trucks. They needed to rely on each other, despite Diesel's potentially dangerous information. And if he could win him over...well, that would get rid of a major problem.
"SHUT UP!" He ordered and bumped several of them hard.
It was a cold day at Brendan when the most recent of these incidents occurred. Gordon, Henry and James had arrived at Brendan to see the show, and to cheer on Diesel. Despite how utterly slimy he was, he clearly had a hold over these three through a number of compliments and subtle presses to the ego.
Diesel, having just finished his latest work, backed up, growling.
"I'm sorry our trucks are so rude to you Diesel!" Duck said politely. Diesel was still furious though.
"It's all your fault." he hissed. "You made them laugh at me!" He seemed to be trying to get the three big engines on his side.
"Rubbish-"
"Don't you mean Rabbish?" Gordon cut in. James glared at Gordon.
"Ahem. Nonsense." said Henry. "He may be a absolute arse, but Duck would never do that." He glared at Duck, and Duck stared back, bold as brass. "We engines have our differences, but we never talk about them to the trucks." He shuddered. "That would be dis...dis- Help me out, Gordon."
"Disgraceful." said Gordon.
"Disgusting." put in James.
"Despicable." finished Henry.
All three big engines stared at each other.
"That was nice, the way you did that." James admitted.
"You think? You know, maybe that should be our thing, you know, Gordon says Disgraceful, and then you say-"
Diesel toned out the inane ramblings of the three main engines and began to think hard. Already, he was calling upon the many incidents that he could recall happening in the week or so since his arrival, and together with what he knew from the three engines of old. But he didn't want them to be rid, no, he wanted Duck gone.
He hated Duck. Hated how Duck rarely lost his cool and always seemed to be on top of things mostly. Hated the fact that his supposed big news had not affected him in the slightest. Hated how easily Duck had managed to convince a few other engines not to trust him. More than anything, he wanted Duck to be sent away, out of reach for what he was planning. So he made a plan.
He cackled under his breath.
"Something wrong with your throat, Diesel?"
"Ah, er, nothing!" Diesel sidled away so he could cackle in private. He had already decided that he should tell lies about Duck.
...
"Old up, 'ere e comes!" The trucks braced themselves for a good old fashioned sing song, when they did a double take. Diesel was smiling. Normally, he had a face like a storm cloud. This was new.
"I see you like jokes." Diesel's smile seemed so...natural, to the trucks. This, they thought, was a engine they could truly understand. "You made a good joke about me yesterday, and the days before that. I laughed and laughed."
"Oh, well-" Some of the trucks blushed. The various different types of trucks, such as cattle, open topped or vans, were rather dependent on their leaders, a group of trucks who were supposedly deadly to any engine who pulled them. And here Diesel had been sly, in going to the leaders of the Truck Families, he had integrated himself into their trust. Already the word was being passed down among the ranks, listen to this one, he's different.
"You know-" Diesel applied a voice so sweet it was like it was drenched in honey. "Duck told me one about Gordon recently." He smiled. "I'll whisper it, if you wish to hear it."
It could be said that every truck in Brendam leaned in close as Diesel whispered the joke. He then muttered "And that Duck, such a prankster, said something about Henry and James that would make your ears burn-" and once again he whispered.
"Now, don't tell Gordon I told you." And he quickly oiled out, sniggering to himself as he did so.
The jokes sank in, and laughter echoed across the yards.
"Ho Ho Ho!" chuckled the trucks.
The leaders of the trucks looked to each other with a glint in their eye. The leader of the Open trucks and his deputy were already snickering to themselves as a idea occurred to them.
"Gordon will be very cross when he knows." said the leader of the Vans, a Old Box Van with a tendency to laugh out loud.
"Let's tell him." guffawed the leader of the Cattle trucks.
"Yes!" cackled the Salt Wagon, leader of all the various wagons. "That'll pay Duck out for bumping us."
And Diesel, listening to them cackle away, smiled to himself.
...
All trucks laughed rudely at the engines when they went by. And soon, the rumors spread out across the Island, thanks in no small part to the manipulation of the Leaders of the Trucks.
It was even worse when all three engines had to pass the trucks as a convoy, and then the mocking reached a fever pitch.
...
"I can't take it!" Gordon was in the midst of a nervous breakdown. His paint seemed to be molting off him, and he had taken up Thomas's lamentable habit of smoking cigarettes in a attempt to stop his buffers from shaking. "It's spreading to the coaches now! I can't even take the bloody express!"
"Oh you think that's bad!" James snapped back. He had begun to drink a lot more than used to, and had taken to wearing a hideous blue tarpaulin as a makeshift coat, hence he stank of whiskey and shame. "I'm getting ODD looks from the people at the Works, and apparently there's rumors that they think I may need to be retired!"
At that moment, Henry steamed in. For the most part, he had taken it better than them, with only a minor tic in the corner of his eye to show that he was even being adversely affected by the news. But his face was grim. "You would not believe what I've found out!"
And soon Gordon, James and Henry found out why what had happened, happened. There was a complete silence for all of two seconds before the three of them roared with anger.
"DISGRACEFUL!" snarled Gordon.
"DISGUSTING!" screamed James.
"DESPICABLE!" growled Henry. "We can't allow this! There have been worse insults, but coming from him-"
Gordon froze. "Listen you two." he said urgently. "How empty will the shed be?"
"Edward's at his branch, Thomas at his, Percy at the harbor and Toby's doing some work for Hatt." James recited.
"Right! That leaves us, Diesel and...him. Henry, where did you get the news?"
Henry growled. "One of the bloody brake vans! The ones with faces. He's the supposed leader, trying to get the other brake vans to care about taking the fight to us or some such. But from what I gather, that traitor only started the rumors to those lot at Brendam. I think the more widespread allegations have come about because of the trucks spreading them."
"Well then." Gordon smiled. "He did it to us. We'll do it to him. Let's see how he likes it."
...
It had been a long day, and Duck was tired out. He was so tired, that even as he made his way through Tidmouth, he didn't see the expressions on the other engines's faces. He pulled his last train of trucks into the yard and took a deep breath.
He had spent the previous few days doing a lot of hard work, which had piled up mysteriously. If he hadn't been so tired, he would have found that suspicious, but the trucks had been cheeky and noisy, and all Duck wanted was to rest in the sheds.
He pulled out of the yard and moved back around to the sheds proper. He got on the turntable back first and waited as it turned slowly around. And he was greeted by the three engines.
And this time, they were barring his way.
"Weeeeeeeeeeesh!" they hissed menacingly at him, and this time Duck felt genuinely confused.
"Keep. Out." snarled James with genuine malice.
"Stop fooling you lot." said Duck wearily. "I'm tired."
"So are we." growled the engines.
"Then you'll understand why I wish to sleep."
"We're tired of you!" All three drew strength from the other's presence. "We like Diesel. We DON'T like you. You've told terrible tales about us to the trucks!"
Duck snapped back at that statement. "I don't!"
"You do."
"I DON'T!"
"You do!" Henry bellowed, taking aback even Diesel. At this, the Fat Controller raced (So much as he could race) across to stop the noise.
"What's going on!" he snapped irritably.
"Duck called me a Galloping Sausage!" grunted Gordon. Hatt raised his eyebrow in bafflement at this seeming odd statement.
"Rusty Red Scrap Iron!" hissed James.
"I'm Old Square Wheels!" fumed Henry, trying hard not to cry.
"Well Duck?" The Fat Controller asked, trying not to make any snarky comments back to the other three engines.
Duck considered his next words very carefully. Normally, this would come easily to him, but at the moment, his tiredness was weighing on him heavily. "Well, I only wish sir-" he said at last gravely. "-that I had come up with those names myself. He who has should congratulate themselves. If the dome fits-"
Hatt suddenly came down with a very large coughing fit at the exact moment that all three engines began to hurl threats at the other engine.
"And he made trucks laugh at us!" The engines protested. The Fat Controller recovered, having been trying not to laugh himself. "Did you Duck?"
"Certainly not sir! No steam engine would nor should be as mean as that! These three should know by now that if I have a problem with them, I make it clear on the spot!"
Hatt looked at Duck for the longest time. And then Diesel slowly lurked up, having a feeling he would have been called on.
"Now Diesel, you've heard what Duck has said."
Diesel affected the air of a saddened and shocked friend of the family. "I can't understand it sir! Duck of all engines. But I'm dreadfully grieved sir, but I know nothing." And then he looked directly at Duck. Duck started back in horror.
"I see." said the Fat Controller, with a neutral tone. Diesel squirmed and hoped he hadn't. Duck was still staring at Diesel in horror.
"You." he whispered under his breath, too quiet for anyone to hear. "You sneaky-"
"Well Duck." Hatt sighed sadly. "I think it would be best if you left the sheds for a while."
Duck stared. "But-But sir! You can't believe-"
"You must go to Edward's station for a while. I know he would be glad to see you."
Duck struggled internally, his desire to pound Diesel's face into the wall conflicting with the orders. "As you...wish, sir." he ground out as the turntable was winched around.
Duck trundled sadly away out of sight of the sheds.
And all the while, Diesel smirked in triumph.
...
It was later at night, and the yards were mostly silent.
Mostly.
For in the corner of Brendam, a special train was being put together for one, last purpose.
"Now." said Diesel calmly to the leaders of the trucks. "You understand what it is I'm thinking."
"Oh yes." said Open Top. "We know."
"Good." Diesel shunted the Renegades Brake-Van, Open Top, the Deputy, Salt, Cattle and the Old Box Van in that order. "Now...Edward will wish for Duck to do his work. You are experts at this, so I expect you know what to do. And while that happens, I believe you have instructed the other trucks to cause general panic?."
"Oh yes." hissed the trucks.
"Oh." Diesel said calmly as they reached Wellsworth. "And one last thing...when you kill Duck, when you kill that poxy little Great Western Engine...tell him that the rest of this miserable island will fall soon enough!"
Following behind, Toby stared in shock at this. Hidden, he puffed off towards Knapford.
...
TO. BE. CONCLUDED.