Tugs Abridged has begun! I shall alternate between the two stories for the most part, but I feel the need to get back to the Island of Sodor for now. Also, we're going to be trying something new. Instead of narrator notes or the Fat Controller's letter, I'll be feeding more into the overarching story a bit. at the end.
Cue the theme!
...
Mavis is a diesel engine. She is one of the few female engines that worked on the Island in what could be considered a full time capacity, unlike most of hte tohers who only worked part time because they thought that working with James was not worth the price.
Her main job appears to be shunting trucks in their sidings, and fending off ambitious flirts in James and Douglas. She has six small wheels hidden by sideplates, similar to Toby. Some of the more sarcastic engines suggested that the reason that they were flirting with her was because they had crushes on Toby.
Mavis is young and full of her own ideas. Toby had originally made a joking comment about not wanting women with ideas there, in mirth, because he was actually looking forward to escaping the work at the Quarry and getting back to other things. Mavis and he had never gotten on after that, despite how often he apologized.
Because of this, or because of her fascination with shunting trucks around, she liked putting Toby's trucks in a different position everyday. This had the unfortunate effect of making Toby somewhat annoyed.
It made him cross, and he would tell her so. "Trucks!" he grumbled. "They should be where you want them, when you want them. I'm not trying to tell you your place, but it would be helpful if you could maybe leave them in a certain place so I don't have to go around searching the quarry top to bottom?"
"Fiddlesticks!" said Mavis firmly, and bustled away. Toby swore under his breath. She had a unfortunate habit of flouncing away quite at random.
At last, even Toby's patience ran out. "I can't waste time playing hunt the trucks with you!"
"Why not? You put up with it from that blue showoff!"
"Thomas is different. I know what to expect from him!" Toby sighed. He hated how he was talking. He felt like he looked like the bad guy in this situation. "Look, you take them yourself today. Maybe that way both of us can be happy."
And with a ring of his bell, he headed off to the Sidings for a cold pint and a complaint to Percy. Mavis was pleased. In her last job, taking trucks had helped contribute to making her feel useful. Hence the sabotage.
Anything to not be sent back...there.
...
At the quarry station, she was greeted by Diesel. He oiled up to her and gave her a look over. Diesel was still trapped on the Island until the release papers for the Other Railway came through. He had spent this time avoiding everyone who wasn't a diesel, and mocking those that weren't.
Mavis had complained often to Diesel, sensing a kindred spirit. "Toby is a old fusspot! And he has a bad attitude!"
She did not see the irony. Diesel saw the chance to pour oil on flaming waters. "Oh really?"
"Toby says only steam engines can manage trucks!" This was a blatant lie fed to Mavis by the trucks themselves, but she was young. She had yet to learn better.
"How absurd. Depend upon it Mavis, anything that those steam engines can do, we diesels can do better." Diesel knew nothing about trucks except how to get them to sing mocking songs about this, but Mavis realized none of this.
...
Toby's line through the quarry crosses with a main road behind the station. For a short time too, it also runs side by side with a farm lane. Bertie the Bus often used it in his travels, while Terrance used it nearly every day to get to and fro his jobs. The entire section of line here is protected by a brick wall, save for the level crossing. The muddy lane often gains frost during the winter, and stays this way until at least February. It was January now, and the frost was at it's worst. Toby takes the chance before crossing the lane to stop, while his fireman pops over, grabs a cup of cocoa and warns traffic to halt. Then he sets off again.
He was a expert at using the trucks as a boost to get him across the frost and the small hill he had to climb. It was a technique he shared with few others, mainly because they'd probably get it wrong and require him to have to bail them out.
In this kind of weather, it is considered by himself to be the only safe thing to do.
So he decided to break his rule and tell Mavis about it. He was aware that trying to tell her what do to was a bit like waving a red cloth in front of a bull, but he had to try.
"I can manage, thank you." Mavis said coldly. "I'm not a old fuss pot, like you."
"Kids." Toby growled as she set off. "What are they coming to?"
The trucks were tired of being pushed around by Mavis, and even more tired of having her voice grate on their nerves.
"It's slippery!"
"Let's push her around instead!"
"ON! ON! ON!"
Mavis was not aware of the truck etiquette, so this did not make her panic.
This was something she needed to learn.
She brought them down the lane instead at stopping at the top just in case, stopping at the level crossing. As Terrance and Bertie pulled up, they spotted the driver and came to a stop. Terrance, of course, was smiling away. All traffic halted.
"One in the headlamp for fusspot Toby!" chortled Mavis, bragging to herself. As previous mentioned, however, she had stopped in the wrong place. Because the idiot gene is a equal opportunities striker. She had given the trucks the chance that they had wanted. Well, they wanted a lot of chances, but this was currently in the top ten.
"Hold back! Hold back!" They cried, and they slammed their brakes on.
"Grrrr...UP!"
This incredibly eloquent argument failed to move the trucks, who merely grinned and held Mavis in place.
...
Workmen arrived quickly, and began throwing sand on the rails. Whether or not this was to melt the frost or have a beach party was never ascertained, but Mavis's wheels slipped on the ice and she remained trapped. Everyone was impatient.
Mavis took it well.
"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH I'M GOING TO MURDER SOMEONE!"
...
News reached Toby back at the quarry, and he practically crowed about it for the next minute or so. "I warned her!"
"She's young yet." soothed his driver. "Come on, and-"
"She can manage her trucks herself! I'm a old fusspot according to her! Well, let's see how SHE LIKES IT!"
"They're your trucks really. Mavis is supposed to stay at the quarry, she's not cleared to go outside here yet. If the Fat Controller found out..."
"Hmm...yes." admitted Toby. He bit back his pride and decided to go and help Mavis despite himself.
He arrived in the midst of a emotional argument, where Sam the Farmer had just finished telling Mavis where she could shove her trucks. Toby rounded the bend, chortling. "So, you having trouble, Mavis? Thought you could handle this."
"GRRROSH!" said Mavis, who had lost the ability to use coherent sentences a long time ago. Toby smiled and was coupled up to Mavis. With much puffing and spinning of wheels, Toby pushed Mavis and the trucks back. The hard work made his fire burn fiercely, while his fireman dropped cinders to unfreeze the mud. At last, he made it to the top, and whooped with joy.
"Bye Mavis!" He said cheerfully. "You'll manage now, I expect!"
She said nothing until he was out of sight. She left the trucks in the shed and scuttled home to the quarry as quickly as she could.
She wanted to have a word with Diesel the next time she saw him.
...
1963
"The experiments were a success?"
The Fat Director removed his goggles and took a look. "The entire Trumptonshire county's been affected. I doubt so much as a bird noticed the gas." He turned to the doctor. "Doctor Mopp, I must admit, your willingness to test this gives me faith."
"Ah, thank you." Mopp was a tall, stately gentleman, who looked somewhta like Rasputin if he had combed his hair and beard a bit more. "I must admit, when your company approached me, I wasn't sure but now-"
"Clean bill of health for everyone there! Camberwick Green, Chigley, Trumpton. All will be healthy thanks to you, Doctor."
Mopp smiled. "If you say so. Now, I must join my friends!" He hurried out, the Captain walking in as he did so.
"What's got a bee in his bonnet?"
"The results."
"Ah." The Captain frowned. "I must say, even by our standards this is a little...barbaric. I'm a soldier, but this...even the wars never produced anything quite so deadly. An entire county? And for what?"
"Simple." The Fat Director pulled out a map. "Firstly, it shows that the gas works. If nothing else, it'll prevent any attackers from getting to the Other Railway. And secondly, it gave us a chance to search the entire county. Wherever that package went, we can trace it from the office records. My suspicion is that it was shipped somewhere to The Merioneth and Llantisilly Railway Traction Company Limited in Wales-"
"Mouthful."
"-but I doubt we'll find it there. I have a suspicion that it is somewhere near the Silver Hatch area at present. There's some tycoon there planning to build a racing stadium there, so we must hurry."
"What about yon friend?"
"Who, Doctor Mopp?" The Fat Director rolled up the map. "He won't remember us. He's infected as well. I give this entire area a minimum of three years. Maximum five. Then everyone here will be forgotten, cast aside by the government. But not by the public. Better to make examples out of them." He pointed. "My car awaits. We must hurry!"
"Aye. That clown of yours?"
"He shall watch over it. I've already given him the music box."
Of the Trumptonshire county, the Fat Director was right. The government quickly covered up the existence of one, already quite isolated area. The inhabitants, what was left of them, were quietly bundled into white vans and taken to top secret laboratories to be studied. Whatever the gas was, it had done it's job. All pores had sealed up, aside from hair color or certain characteristics, no way to tell age or gender. Their mouths had seemingly vanished, and their eyes were now glassy, unblinking. The one known simply as Doctor Mopp informed the government about the mysterious man from the massive corporation, but for whatever reason, he could not remember the name of either.
The Fat Director was also correct in assuming that the public would be informed. Cameras had been left all over the three main locations, recording the slow descent. Someone released them to the BBC, where a narrator was dispatched to record new narration to the three new shows, Trumpton, Chigley and Camberwick Green. The government went into panic, for there was no way to find out who had leaked the tapes, but there was little they could do, save make sure that the inhabitants were cared for. For they did not die. The one side effect of the gas meant that these poor souls were trapped in agony for the next twenty or so years.
There was one other thing to note.
The BBC had received a great amount of footage.
No one was sure where the music box had come from.
Nor the clown guarding it.