Cue the theme!
...
Thomas the Tank Engine was feeling very happy.
He had no choice in the matter, as he had been drinking so much coffee to stay awake on the campaign trail that he had forcefully made sure that all negative emotions were pushed aside. His maniacal grin was a warning to all who came near him. Don't f**k with Thomas, or else he will kill you painfully. With a ax. It was a interesting attitude for a politician to have, and Thomas was of the opinion that if more had this attitude, then there would be far greater success all around for many of his ilk.
Thomas was now so far gone on his own hype that he believed himself to be amongst the company of Churchill, Eisenhower, Roosevelt and so on. "I-!" He declared one bonny afternoon "-am probably the reincarnation of a famous leader of some sort! Kennedy!"
"Shot in the head." remarked Toby, casually.
"Augustus Caesar!"
"Poisoned by his own wife." Gordon drylly noted. "Careful. Annie and Clarabel might get ideas."
"King Charles the Fir-Okay, yeah, that one's probably not the best example- OOOH! CAKE!" And so saying, Thomas had made leaps and bounds over the turntable to get at a specially created cake.
But back to the present.
His coat gleamed in the sunshine (It should, considering how long James had insisted he stayed in that car wash for, though Thomas was becoming aware that it was entirely possible that James had left him halfway through the process to get drunk with Henry and Gordon), he was right on time (A rarity nowadays, considering how he had to constantly do PR work with Edward) and all around his branch-line, the countryside seemed prettier than ever before. Henry had clearly been very active here, as he could see quite a few miserable looking youths having to spend their weekend clear away rubbish.
He hurried into the Callandale area, whistling wildly and scaring some of the birds away. He came to a stop right next to Percy, who was staring off into the distance, a contemplative look on his face. "PEEP PEEP!"
"Thomas, why do you say your whistle sounds out loud?"
"You ask me this after ten years of knowing me?"
"A fair point."
"My branch-line is the pride of the line!"
"You amaze me, Thomas. From all the talk you've given me over said ten years, I assumed you were deeply ashamed of it, and wept frequently every night. I am flabbergasted to learn the truth. In fact, I dare say my ghast has never been so flabbered in all my life."
"...Are you being sarcastic?"
"What do you think?"
"What?! Do you not agree?!"
"Er, yes, Thomas, of course it is, naturally, but, er-"
"But what?! Out with it Percy! I do not have time for your pedanticness!"
"Well, there is another famous engine with a branch-line too."
"Oh, Ivor! No, much as I love his show, he cannot possibly hope to be as great and as wonderful as myself! And as for his line, PAH! It's in Wales! Do you realize that every time an American comes over here, they think that there are only three parts to the entire UK?"
"Thomas, I'm not talking about Ivor. "
"Then WHO!? WHERE!? WHY?! HOW?! I SHALL DUEL HIM!"
"His name is Stepney-"
"A STUPID NAME IF EVER I HEARD ONE!"
"-He lives far away, but the Fat Controller says he may visit us soon! Or, at least, he will. I had another one of my visions again-"
"Oh cripes, not the visions! I thought we discussed this! You predicted ONE time where I asked you to do my work and you got stuck in a flood! Anyway, last time it didn't work!"
"Thomas, it's not my fault you interpreted 'A great windfall will hit you' as 'I'm about to get stonking rich'. Especially considering that we were in hurricane season at the time!"
"When is this Stepford fellow coming?"
"Someday soon. Tarrah!" And Percy started off.
"Pah! As if!"
"I knew you'd say that."
"Shut up, Percy."
...
Meanwhile, Stepney was puffing purposefully along his line. That purpose being the search for good wine. It was a hard and ardous task, not helped by the fact that all that surrounded him was fields and flowers, and not a goddamn vineyard in sight. It wasn't very long, this stretch, anyway. It was the only one he was allowed on, unfortunately, since his return, as they wanted to build him back up to his proper strength a little more.
He complained to this to Rusty, who had arrived to drop off supplies for some of the other engines located there. The little diesel therefore had to meet most of Stepney's fellow preserved engines.
"Captain Baxter didn't really say much I understood. I mean, it was just a lot of swearing to me." Rusty started off by saying.
"Means he likes you."
"Cromford and Adams didn't say anything, and spent most of their time scoffing what they could get, I got the feeling they rather distrust diesels as a whole. And Bluebell hadn't had much time to chat, as she had to rush back to deliver water and coal to Primrose. At least that was her excuse."
"They're not bad, really" remarked Stepney. "But they're all rather sore considering the fact that I was kidnapped. I keep telling them that you're the only reason I'm here at all, but-" He shrugged.
"It's okay. If I let that get to me, I'd never work on Sodor. Yet you seem glum."
"I feel hesitant to mention it...but what the hell. Everyone's been so kind and friendly. But even so, this railway's rapidly gotten shorter than I remember. And I yearn for a good long run to stretch my wheels. Get some of the cobwebs out if you know what I mean. And the visitors and the others are beginning to get on my wick a bit, which is wrong of me."
"Well, if you tell driver, I'm sure he'll understand." Rusty sighed. "And I have to head off, sorry. We're still trying to get Rheneas to stop sniffing glue."
"...Do I want to know-"
"No. Not in the slightest."
...
Stepney soon chatted, that evening in fact, to his driver, who pretty much agreed. Spending so much time alone in the Other Railway had made him rather broody, and eager to see the rest of the world in all of it's beauty. "You know, I feel the same way. But guess what! The Fat Con- Wow, they really don't have respect, do they? He's invited us to go to his railway for a few days and meet the engines!"
"Aren't they the really drunk ones?"
"Yes."
"Well, beggars can't be choosers, I suppose."
"It'll be a long run to get there. And a even longer one back, I should imagine!"
"Oh, thanks, sir. I guess."
The next morning, they set off.
...
By now, news had spread across the island about Stepney's arrival (spread by a very eager Rusty) and all the engines were busy talking of little else. A group of them had met at Knapford to discuss this. Thomas was sulking in the corner, as per usual, while Percy was shunting some trucks together, and James, Edward and Douglas were all busy chatting about if this was going to be of any political benefit.
"Just think-" exulted James "-we get one of the famous engines on our side, to endorse us...well, it'll be a real blow to the opposition, wouldn't it?"
"I dinnae see how."
"I get what James is saying." said Edward, surprising even himself by coming to James's defense "Last I heard, Jeremiah Jobling pledged his support for the Drunken Sailor Party. That's given them a temporary boost in popularity amongst Jobling's actual fans-"
"All three of them?"
"Percy! That's unkind of you." Still, Edward couldn't hide the smirk on his face "So, if we can get Stepney to support us, then it's entirely possible that all the railway enthusiasts and so on'll start voting for us. And that's not to mention how...what's that word? Photogenic! That's it, how photogenic he looks! Engine looks like he stepped off a Hollywood red carpet. Mind you, I've heard some good things about him."
"Aye, he wasnae a fool. Fought his way through the scrapyards of Europe!"
"He runs a famous branch-line!" Percy declared. "Did you all know that?!
"YES PERCY." snapped Thomas. "You have talked of nothing else the last few hours! You don't need to rub it in! And it may be famous, but my branch-line is the first all around!" Duck passed him, and rolled his eyes. This set Thomas off, and he immediately began praising the overall superiority of his own line, travelling on a similar path to the other engines who immediately could quote the speech off by heart. "Everyone knows that, too! And if they don't, then I shall tell them! Loudly! Until their ears bleed! Now, I can't stand about lollygagging about weird looking engines and politics with you boring lot, I have a train to pull!"
"Was it something I said?" asked Percy in a faux innocent voice, as Thomas left. Then, in his normal voice, he glimpsed something on the corner of the platform "Look! The passengers! They're standing still. But there's no train here, is there?"
Percy was wrong. Not for the first time.
In the distance, there came a rather loud whistle. Gordon and Henry, who were watching a tar wagon balance atop another, watched from a siding as the signal dropped.
"Here he comes!" shouted Douglas.
"Yes, we get it" said Edward, mildly peeved that Douglas had shouted in his ear.
Stepney puffed around to a chorus of whistles. He puffed proudly along the junction, grinning and saying hello to anyone who would hear him. Someone had got wind of his arrival, and so prepared him a nice glass of wine. Stepney's grin widened. Perhaps this trip would be fine after all.
"Hope you meet Thomas!" said Edward, quietly. "You both have branch-lines to be proud of...that, and Thomas's face when he meets you is going to be priceless."
"So, James, Donald wanted me to tell ye that he's betting twenty pounds that they come to blows before the end of the night. Ye taking that bet?"
"Ah, Douglas, a kind thought, but I have already made a similar bet with Henry. He thinks the same as your twin. I, personally, have spent quite a bit of time with that tank engine, and I know for a fact that his mood'll blow over by tomorrow morning."
Elsewhere, Stepney had cleared the station, and had rolled into the yard to help Duck shunt coaches. The two got along quite well, not least because they both felt the pressure of being one of the few sane engines on lines that seemed to be filled worryingly quickly with nutjobs. They spent the rest of the afternoon happily getting the coaches ready for the big engines.
"How do you do it?" remarked Duck. "Those coaches, the red ones you're pulling just now, they're usually far harder to get out of the yard. And you come in here and-Woosh!"
"Ah, it's nothing much. A little charm, a little kindness...and, of course, sand."
"Sand?"
"Oh, it's a little trick I learnt. You have to start off rather quickish when you're on the run-"
"Were you on the run, then?" Duck asked, innocently, in the same tone he used when chatting to Oliver.
"Oh, do I mention that too much? Sorry. No, the trick is to pour down as much sand as you can get rid of. Helps give you a proper grip. You probably know that-" He looked up. "Good grief. Night already? Doesn't time fly."
Duck shrugged. "Suppose. Mind you, time's a rather odd thing on this Island."
"Oh? How so?"
"Well, no one seems to notice here, and so I don't like to point it out to them. But...well, put it bluntly, it's all wrong. See, one day, my driver brought me a calendar to...well, it doesn't matter why, but it was rather interesting. This calendar, which is supposedly new, tells me that the year is still 1950. The very latest date on the calendar year-wise is somewhere in the 60's. And yet...well, it isn't. You're living proof to that. And there's another thing. The rest of the world is passing by quite modernly. But here, the cars are still the same make as they were almost forty years ago. The technology too."
"How very odd." Stepney looked Duck in the eye. "Ah. I recognize you now. You're one of his lot, aren't you?"
"Whose lot?!" Duck said, rather sharply, for no one had told him that Stepney was...well, to put it bluntly, on his side.
"Scotsman's. Or Truro's. You're working for him- Don't worry, I won't tell the others. You seem like a nice enough fellow. But you've got that mark about you. Yes, you're definitely one of Truro's pet projects."
"I don't know-"
"Do you want to know? Do you really want to know why this Island has never moved, or breathed, or CHANGED since the fifties? Why the cranes at the docks are holdovers from a by-gone age? Why there's barely any modern technology here in any form? It's because-"
Thomas interrupted, as he rushed up, determined to rub it in Stepney's face that he had a train last minute, and Stepney didn't "Ah! Sorry, can't talk-"
"Then why did you come over here?"
"-Last train of the night! I mustn't be late, we do have a position to keep up after all, tarrah!" And so saying, he hurried off with the rest of his train, leaving both Stepney and Duck to stare after him.
"That engine-" remarked Stepney "-is very weird."
"You don't know the half of it."
"Are those neon lights that read 'I AM BETTER THAN STEPNEY, DEAL WITH IT, DON'T READ ANYTHING INTO THIS' on his back?"
"They are indeed. But, listen, what are you saying-"
There was a great deal of shouting at the station, which interrupted them again. Thomas was barely even out of sight, so he couldn't be the cause of the commotion, for once, shockingly. Doors were banged, toes were stubbed, fights were had, it was utter chaos out there. Moments later, a large and comically oversized alarm bell was rung, and a man randomly began bellowing "STOP ALL TRAINS!". This wasn't an actual official, he was just some random guy who felt like doing it. But for whatever reason (aside from the obvious one that everyone on the Island are complete morons) they listened to him.
The signalman answered the telephone. "A special is it? I see". Then he noticed that his phone wasn't connected. "Oh. Blow."
Thomas was growing crosser and crosser. Not least because some joker had shoved a big black box onto his side as a practical trick. "The hell do I even have on my side? Why are we waiting, anyway?! My passengers are being delayed! And I'm pretty sure that they'll start rioting soon, and it'll be on YOUR head!"
"Sorry Thomas-" said his driver, who wasn't "-but we're being shunted. Special train's needed to take home some bigwigs, or some such."
Thomas fumed and fizzed as he puffed onto a siding. If he had arms, they'd be crossed right now. They waited and waited, and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited- Sorry, narrator's record got stuck there.
Soon, there came a unfamiliar puffing sound, and Stepney, chuffing hard and with his face red with exertion, came round the bend pulling a long line of coaches. Gordon and Henry, who were now trapped in the siding thanks in no small part to the tar wagons being rather unfair sports, whistled to him. Stepney had no way of whistling back, so tired was he. He gathered as much speed as he could and disappeared round the bend.
"Well, bust my bloody boiler!" said Thomas the Tank Engine. "I'm going to get more caffeine. I feel like I need it."
...
The next morning, Thomas was still fuming as he waited outside Tidmouth Sheds. Henry looked at James, slyly. "Looks like you lost your bet."
"If you recall, Henry, you will remember me saying that they have til the end of the morning to make up. Oh look, here he comes now!"
"Shunted! And on my own branch-line too!"
"Technically, it was at the big station, which is part of-"
"SHUT UP, ANNIE! IT'S A BLOODY DISGRACE IT IS! I SHALL MAKE A LAW TO PREVENT SUCH A THING-"
Stepney, who had been sleeping in the works shed, hurried up alongside him. "Ah, er, Thomas, was it? I've been looking for you since I got back!"
"Come to rub it in, have you? Oh, look at me, I'm Mr Escaped From Scrap! Look at me! Everyone loves me!"
"Sorry" responded Stepney meekly. "Turns out, I was supposed to be a special, of some kind."
"Why!?"
"Well, I don't really get it, but there were a bunch of important passengers who came after you left. Something about politics and some such. They ordered us to take a special train. Duck let me take it. We enjoyed it, but-"
"But, it can make a engine nervous not knowing the line."
Stepney hadn't intended to say that at all, but he pretty much saw that this was his only chance to get Thomas on his side. "Exactly, you're such a expect, I don't know how you did it!"
James got his money from a fuming Henry, and as Thomas brightened up, the two big engines watched as Thomas began telling Stepney all about his branch-line.
The latter soon regretted his decision.
...
"Jinty."
"Duck?"
"We have a problem."