HOLY SHIT WHY IS THERE OVER 4,000 WORDS OF THIS CHAPTER?
I swear I didn't mean for this to turn out that way! I was originally going to make it a calmer chapter, but this just ended up allowing me to get rid of some loose plot-threads dangling, and to get things moving for the two part climax (Two part in that Rusty and the Boulder will end most of the dramatic battle stuff, and Snow will set up Magic Railroad).
Oh, and review time!
MK: Ha! I'm actually not sure. I'm pretty sure that he's one of the people in the vehicle that first triggers the war on Mars. But who knows?
Game-Watch: You'll never know what insidious plot the sheep have planned! They and the chickens are in league! Those devious so and so's.
Train-Maniac: Oh yeah. We're going to be revisiting it, very soon.
Bronze Shield: Thank you! There appears to be quite a lot of random piles of it lying about, especially in later seasons!
AaronCottrel97: I agree! While this episode is a fun one, not least because it continues the great Micheal Angelis's performance as angry Gordon, there are some very telling plotholes in it. And it's always fun to write Thomas being sane for once.
Reality Rejection Service: Inch is the key word. It's a constant battle at the moment to get some free time for myself to write.
Radical sandwiches: Yep! Thank you very much! Something that I love about the model series, and something that I feel the Nitrogen era lost a little bit, is the sense of background characters. Part of the reason that the humans we get named have their own little personality quirks as well is because they appear in the background a lot.
MattPrice01: Yep! Thank you very much, man!
CUE THE THEME.
Oliver was being a whiny little shit again.
Oh, I'm sorry, you want some picturesque opening? Tough. You've met Oliver before, and you know that he has a big fat mouth on him that regularly gets him into trouble, and also that he's never satisfied with anything.
"The narrator seems incredibly angry today, Mr Oliver." Toad looked around, grimly. "I wonder if he's had his meds yet."
The answer to that question, Toad, is that I'm not credited in the opening credits anymore! What is that all about?! WHERE'S MY RECOGNITION DAMN IT!?
Ugh. Anyway. Oliver and his brakevan love working in the big yard because why not. On this particular morning, Toad noticed that Oliver was very unhappy, probably because he hadn't gotten to speak properly for seventeen episodes and being left in the dust. Toad decided to confront Oliver on this.
"Anyway, do excuse me, Mr Oliver, but things are, how to say this, not well at all with you? I mean, you've barely mentioned that you were once saved from scrap at all for a good few months now, and that's not like you." Toad didn't add that he was secretly rather happy that Oliver hadn't mentioned that, as he felt that would rather upset the applecart, so to speak. "If you forgive me for mentioning it, and if you don't, well then bully for you."
"Does he always speak like that?" asked Mavis, to Henry and James. The two bigger engines looked at each other and shook their...heads, faces? I don't know. "God, Oliver's whining about not being in an episode this season, when's the last time I got a spotlight in any of the episodes!? Huh!? What about that, Miss Allcroft!? Sexism, I cry, sexism!"
"How long before the press get a hold of that comment and blow the thing out of the water?" muttered James to Henry.
Oliver meanwhile was confessing. "You're quite right Toad! All I do is shunt these trucks onto the turntable-"
"OH WHAT A UNDERPRIVILEGED LIFE YOU MUST LEAD!" shouted Mavis from the farthest side of the yard.
"-And I long for a nice long run. It's what an engine really needs. Aside from coal, water and not being scrapped. Which I nearly was."
"Yes, Mr Oliver, I was there- ANYWAY-" said Toad, sensing that Oliver was about to go off on one. "-I quite understand, Mr Oliver, so why don't you go and speak to the Fat Controller about your problems?" He silently added in his head that this would hopefully get him out of the yard as well, for he was having several questions relating to why he even bothered.
"I give him a day before he screws up." Henry remarked to James as Oliver stormed off to shunt some trucks.
"I give him half a day." James looked to Mavis. "How about you, Mave, want to get in on the action?"
"Huh? Oh, an hour."
"Right! Closest one gets a free drink at the Sidings!"
Oliver stormed about the yard in a foul mood. The trucks, whipped up by Rickety and Fred Pelhay, decided to make themselves known.
"You're no good Oliver!" called Rickety.
"You're dangerous!" hissed U.L.P.
"We want Percy! Which is the first time I've ever said that!" Fred mocked.
Oliver decided he had had enough. "PAH! Percy is far too bloody busy to bother with the likes of you! Bloody shites!" And he bumped them so aggressively that they sailed merrily down the tracks and into the turntable well. Oliver's eyes rolled around in shock, as Toad slowly groaned.
"Nice job, Pelhay!" cheered Rickety.
"HALF PAST TWELVE!" said a concussed Fred.
"YOU BLOODY SILLY SOD!" shouted a workman. "What is your problem with turntable wells!? This is going to take ages to fix! Confusion and delay will ensue! CONFUSION AND DELAY!"
Reluctantly, Henry and James headed off to get Mavis's drink for her.
...
It had been a long time for Gotch. Hargreaves's gorillas came in every so often, insisting that he would tell them everything if they merely applied a bit of leverage. All the usual things were used against him. Family, friends, acquaintances, a complete stripping of all finances and mention of his name stricken from the record...all of which was quite wasted on Gotch. He'd been doing this a long time now.
And every so often, Hargreaves would come in and talk to him about his killings.
The Reverend Teddy. Sir Handel Brown. Peter Sam, formerly the Thin Controller. Mr Hugh the repairman. And many others whom he had long since forgotten about.
If it was a ploy to try and make him beg, he had another think coming. He had already confirmed this with them. It was just a matter of saying why he had done so. And that was something he was not prepared to do.
On this particular day...or night, it was rather hard to tell in the cell he was in, Hargreaves came in and sat down opposite him once more. For the longest time, they simply sat there, looking at each other.
Hargreaves spoke first. "Well, Mr Gotch, it's been a long time for you in here, hasn't it/ Now, I've been thinking-"
"Terrible habit for a civil servant to do."
"Ha. No, but I'm here to make a deal with you. Give me the name of your employer and his associates. I'll let you go, and what is more, I will make sure that you stay free from jail for the next four to five years. I'll set you up with a new life somewhere, personally."
Gotch was silent. "I'll need time to think on it."
"Of course. A day will suffice."
As he walked away, Gotch suddenly spoke up again. "Does your brother know what you're doing here, Sir Norramby?"
Hargreaves didn't react, outwardly at least, but Gotch felt distinctly that he had touched a nerve. "See you tomorrow, Mr Gotch."
As the door shut, Gotch lay back and sighed.
"Did you get all that?"
Marklin materialized in a somewhat mistier form than usual. "Yes...clear...work..." He seemed to be flickering in and out of the room. With a shrill whistle, he vanished, leaving Gotch to wonder what the hell was going on.
...
"GOD DAMN IT OLIVER!"
"But sit-"
"DON'T BUT SIR ME! YOU HAVE CAUSED CONFUSION!"
"...And delay-"
"AND DELAY- I WAS GETTING TO THAT!" Hatt was madder than a March Hare. "Why is it that every time we take a step forward, we leapfrog back five! You think you can control trucks?! Well you're taking over the mail train tonight, maybe the night air will clear your smokebox! And maybe reactivate whatever lump of fat is in your head in place of your brain!" And so saying, he stormed off, ranting into the night.
"Cheer up, old chap! Mail run's a great run for a engine like you!" The driver crossed his fingers as he stated this. Oliver smiled, but he still felt he had let everyone down.
Which he had.
They headed along the coastal route, now repaired thankfully, which gave Oliver no small amount of joy as he finally felt the fresh air of the ocean. And then he got smacked in the face by a massive wave, which put a literal and figurative dampener on things.
At last, they arrived at Callan. They had to collect some important mail from Harold the Helicopter, and they were making good time. That soon changed. They waited and waited as the massive Countdown clock ticked down, and Henry rushed by with the Flying Kipper, whistling mockingly. That was until he promptly crashed headfirst into Edward, whose misery at being separated by BoCo promptly expanded even further.
"COME ON HAROLD!" Oliver paused. "Oh shit we left Toad behind!"
Toad was having the best night of all of them, as he was cheerfully having a chat with Mavis. The two of them were merrily watching Last of the Summer Wine while talking in a disparaging manner about some of the idiots they had to work with.
Three years later, for that was what it felt like, Harold finally touched down in a rather bumpy fashion. He ended up nearly decapitating poor Tom Tipper, who sought comfort in his mail van the only way he could.
"Sorry I am late Great Western! Bally bad luck at the club, doncha know! And then a bloody problem with one of my arms, keeping me down when I was meant to be up, you know how it is!"
James let out a high pitched cackle as he hurried past the green twit. The driver saw that Oliver might seriously harm himself trying to kill Harold in a minute, and so responded only with a grim "We know we'll be late for our first run!" and quickly began slinging the mail bags in.
Soon they were on their way, randomly puffing this way and that, along the same line that Stepney and Henry had puffed when they had had a few nasty incidents. And once again, it led them to a completely different place than the last time. Oliver didn't know this, of course, but the Island itself was actually in a great state of agitation recently. Not only had this been responsible for the spate of paranoia not too long ago, but therefore, the Island was trying to keep...something a secret.
But anyhow, they saw a red signal-light up ahead, and Oliver braked hard. The fireman banged his shin on the side of the cab, and was in a foul mood. Another thing neither of them realized was that yet another bloody dozy signalman was on duty tonight, and was currently dreaming of a rather lewd threeway between himself, Felicity Kendal and Denise Richards.
"We're going to be here forever!" snarled the fireman. He barged the driver aside and blew Oliver's whistle several times, but again to no avail.
The driver took matters into his own hands. "Bloody signalman must be off his rocker again. We'll head on slowly, stop by the signalbox. I don't care if Fatty tears us a new one, we're not risking death." They started onwards, but they never reached it. Instead, they reached a set of points, which were switched to an old set of tracks that hadn't been used in a long time. Yep. Another one of those.
As they headed on the wrong way, Oliver's fireman stared in worry at the water level. "Better find a stop for a drink soon! Hang about, I swear that's Old Bailey's station! ...Or that one that got tarmacked by George the Steamroller a while back...or one of the other million lost station- OH SHIT A SHED!"
One minute later, a very baffled Oliver looked around and spat out some spare sawdust. "THE HELL HAPPENED?!" he asked. No one had any answer.
...
Sand and Heaver had met Carlin on the road to the Wellsworth sheds. They had insisted on accompanying him to wherever it was that he was going. Carlin was rather worried by this, as he really didn't want a testimony to how lost he was.
They arrived at Callan station and climbed aboard an open topped carriage. No one else was there. With a strange whistle, the engine pulled off and set along it's way to Wellsworth. Both Sand and Heaver couldn't see anything with the mist being so thick, much to Carlin's relief. He did not want awkward questions when he arrived back from this time period. He was a little worried about the way Sand kept playing with a knife, though. They chatted a bit about nothing in particular, before Carlin broached a topic he was curious about.
"So, what are you boys doing after the war?"
"Hopefully Sid here will shave off his Hitler mustache!"
"IT'S NOT A HITLER MUSTACHE! It is a Charlie Chaplin one, thank you very kindly!" Heaver was in a sulk.
"But yeah, seriously, I don't know what I'll do once this lot is all over. Can't see myself becoming one of the rank and file drivers or fireman of this railway...and if I did, I'd have to find a pretty damn good engine to work with."
"Here here!"
And thus the conversation went on for a bit in this vein. Until at last, they stopped a little way off from Wellsworth. Sand and Heaver got off to inspect, while Carlin stayed onboard. He walked forward and tapped at the cab.
There was no one in there.
Carlin grabbed hold of Sand's knife and looked around.
And now the entire carriage seemed to be filled with figures. All of them were pale, scared, baffled looking people, of all shapes, sizes, genders, races and ages. All of them looked as though they'd been through hell. Carlin rushed for the doors, but they were locked. He tried to clear the carriage and jump, but hit only a solid and invisible wall. He glanced back along the train and saw the carriages filled with all kinds of people, and even a few ghostly engines at the back. He looked at the engine, properly for the first time.
It was a little green engine, not like Percy, but a tank engine. It had two wheels on either side, bright red ones they were too, and moving aside, one could make out the writing on the side. At the top, it read 'M&L' and beneath it 'R.T.C.L' in solid black lettering. It's dome and funnel were adorned with gold, but it's whistle was the most curious thing of all. It wasn't a normal whistle, rather it appeared to be three organ pipes attached together, accounting for the peculiar whistle.
No, scratch that, the most curious thing was the engine's face, attached to a red bufferbeam.
It didn't have one.
Carlin felt a little sick. "LET ME OFF!" he wailed.
The engine whistled, and inside Carlin's head, he felt the engine speak. ALL IN GOOD TIME, DON'T WORRY, it said in a way that indicated that it was completely unpertrubed by all of this. WE JUST NEED TO HAVE A LITTLE CHAT FIRST, AND THEN WE WILL BE ON OUR WAY.
"What are you!?"
A pause, and then a second whistle. I AM THAT WHICH IS THE ULTIMATE JUSTICE. THE ULTIMATE JUDGE. THE ULTIMATE JURY. THE ULTIMATE DELIVER AND DESTROYER. ...BUT YOU CAN CALL ME DEATH.
"...You're Ivor the Engine."
THAT IS WHO I AM, YES.
"Ivor the Engine is the train grim reaper."
YOU CATCH ON QUICK. I AM THE OTHER. I WAS THERE WHEN PROTEUS AND LADY DESCENDED FROM THE HEAVENS AND GAVE LIFE TO MY BRETHREN. I WAS THE ONLY STEAM ENGINE THERE FOR YEARS UNTIL THE CREATION OF THE FOUR SMALL ENGINES. AND IN TIME I LEARNED THAT MY DUTY WAS NOT IN THE BATTLE AGAINST THE MALEVOLENCE, BUT WHAT CAME AFTERWARDS. I TAKE THE SOULS OF THOSE PASSED ON. EVERYTHING HAS A TIME. EVERYTHING HAS A BEGINNING AND A END. JUST AS LADY IS LIFE, SO TOO MUST THERE BE A DEATH.
"But why Ivor?"
I WOULDN'T HAVE BLOODY CHOSEN IVOR AS A NAME, I ASSURE YOU. HOWEVER, MY RAILWAY, IN THE AFTERLIFE, WHERE ALL GOOD ENGINES GET TO GO, GAVE IT TO ME. THAT IS WHAT THE WRITING MEANS, SEE. THE MERIONETH AND LLANTISILLY RAILWAY TRACTION COMPANY LIMITED. HEAVEN FOR ENGINES. NO MORE PAIN OR SUFFERING, AND WHERE EVERYTHING IS ALL RIGHT. I COME HERE SOMETIMES, TO COLLECT. MY DRIVER, JONES, TOLD ME THAT TONIGHT WAS THE NIGHT THAT FOUR ENGINES DIE. AND YOU ARE GOING TO TRY AND STOP ME.
Carlin was a little put off by the calmness of Ivor. First of all because it was Ivor the Engine and he was somewhat different to what he had thought. Very different. And secondly, he was running out of time. "I need to-"
YOU WISH TO SAVE THEM. Ivor sounded sad. I UNDERSTAND, I WISH I COULD SAVE THEM ALL TOO.
Carlin feebly struggled to get free of the carrage. Again, to no avail. In the distance, he heard the sound of gunfire, the sound of screaming...the sound of Edward's screams rising above the horror...and the pattering of feet.
"COME ON!" shouted Charlie Sand, as he wrenched the carriage door open. Carlin ran blindly after them.
Edward was a complete wreck when they arrived. He was covered in massive quantities of engine blood, his eyes were wild and unfocused and his screams were so loud that no one could hear anything. They fired off shots and hit each Nazi straight in the chest, killing them instantly. As Charlie and Sidney rushed to drive Edward out of the way, and comforting him as best as he could, Carlin's shoulder was grabbed. He turned around, spotted a sorrowful looking Benn...
And through the portal they went.
In the silence, Thistle, Biggles and Eagle looked at each other, baffled. "What...what was-"
IT IS TIME TO GO...YOU WILL SEE YOUR FRIEND SOON ENOUGH.
...
Back at home, the Fat Controller was having a right mare. "OLIVER IS MISSING! I AM A TERRIBLE CONTROLLER! DAD WAS RIGHT ABOUT ME!" He rushed out from Kirk Ronan to his car, urging his driver on to Dryaw. Soon he was high...and also in the sky, with Harold. "COCAINE IS A HELL OF A DRUG!" he declared to the pilot, who didn't have the heart to tell him that he was in fact drunk on cough syrup. They swung over the entire Island, until at last-
"THERE HE IS!"
Oliver blinked and tried to remove the splinters from his eyes. His driver and fireman had backed him up somewhat, but he was still feeling a bit rough.
"It wasn't, for once, Oliver's fault!" said the driver.
"I am aware of that. Still, how many abandoned stations are there-"
And then Sir Topham Hatt went silent. For a moment he appeared to have turned to stone. He didn't move, or speak, or react. The guards rushed forward, as if to try and steady him, but he suddenly started forward. He had noticed an old house, and went to inspect.
He stared in awe at it. He gently took hold of the rusty gate, feeling the curves and the bumps and dents. He walked forward towards the door, gingerly wiped the dust off of it and felt the brass door knob with something approaching reverence. He twisted it, and with a creak, the door slowly opened up. He stepped inside and, almost as a muscle memory, wiped his feet on the mat. He stared at the old picture of his father hanging in the passage, standing there, proud and tall with the board of directors besides him. He strode into the living room, and closed his eyes...it took him back.
"Glynn's working, dad! He's going to be great! We can set up a museum of sorts!"
"You're a idiot, Topham! Always have been, and always will be! This is why Lowham, for the joke that he is, is a far better controller than you'll ever be! Glynn is going in the siding at the end of that shite old branchline, and you will be grateful that I do not have him torn apart!"
"If anyone is the idiot here, it's you! You're the one who has trapped this railway in a sinking quagmire when it comes to finances! You were the one who supported Moseley and his poxy Black Shirts! Look how well that got us! We're hated by every aristocratic family there is, except the Norramby's, and even that's debatable! You're a fat bastard who sits around doing nothing but stuffing your face full of cream buns and doesn't do anything of worth! You're a horrible businessman and you're a horrible excuse for a father!"
Hatt looked in the mirror sadly, and patted his sizable girth wearily. He headed on into the kitchen. It was falling down, so he just stood on the outskirts, wearily looking in.
"Lowham, why are you doing this?"
"Brother, the rubber chicken market is so flexible right now! I can't miss out on my calling! No more than you can miss out on running this stupid railway!"
"It's not stupid!"
"See! You get passionate about this when I can't even care about it! It's more than money to you! It's a family! Can't think of anyone better to run this while Dad is, um, indisposed."
When he returned, he spoke as if in a dream to Oliver "You've just found another attraction for our Island that we'll probably never see again! Once we make this house as good as new, visitors can have tea and crumpets there while they...i don't know, wait for death!"
"Mmmmmmm-" said Oliver, who was hungry "-getting lost is interesting, but getting found is far more exciting, especially when it makes an engine feel happy. Reminds me of the time I was rescued from-"
He paused. Everyone had gone home.
"Well screw you too!"
...
"...Am I dead?"
"That...is unconfirmed." Benn sounded flustered. As Carlin opened his eyes, he helped him to stand up and brushed him down. "Are you okay? You appear rather pale. Surely you're used to time travel by now?"
"...I just saw one of my friends suffering. And I met the Grim Reaper of trains, who looks like a beloved cultural icon. Okay is not a word that I'd use right now. You were right by the way. Didn't even get a chance."
"If it helps, Sand and Heaver are going to stick by Edward for life. You've saved his life in a different way, tis all. And...well, after we get out of this, we're heading back to 1945, to see Lady again."
"Really? Why?"
"Because once again, we have unfinished business...but first, we appear to have been thrown a little far into the future. For whatever reason."
Carlin finally gave where he was a proper look around. He appeared, according to the large amount of hippies congregating around the steps holding placards and shouting various sayings of words, to be in the 60's. "Why...why are we here/"
"I have no idea. Probably some loose ends to tie up." Benn sighed. "Look, here's some period accurate cash, never leave home without it. Go and buy yourself something if you want. And...you know, here you go." He handed him the bag with the blueprints that Catweazle had given him. "It might help you...or it might not." He shrugged. "I...I think we need a bit of fresh air."
"Yeah. All right."
So saying, they parted ways temporarily. As he headed off, Carlin noticed a gift shop. He quickly bought a second whistle and a shoebox, before crossing to the other side of the road and heading into a familiar looking shop. He smiled as he saw the little girl tending to the counter, and the familiar saggy old cloth cat at the front.
"Hello sir? Can I help you?"
"Yeah. Listen, I'm going to need to leave these here for a bit." He opened the shoebox, and placed in it Sand's knife, his conductor's cap, a freshly cleaned whistle that he had just bought from the shop and a slightly musty and damp photo of he and the other engines. Then he got out a pen, and wrote on a piece of paper the girl provided for him the word: TRANSYLVANIA.
Then he tied the shoebox up, and handed it to the girl. "When someone called Mr Carlin comes to call for it, please give it to him!"
"Yes sir!" Emily grinned, and as Carlin left her, he gave a jaunty wave backwards to Bagpuss.
By a stroke of luck, he ended up bumping into a very familiar figure. "CATWEAZLE!"
"I don't know you!"
"I know, but...you will."
One long explanation later, Catweazle stumbled away from the crazy looking American soldier with the blueprints for the Old Ones in hand. Carlin dusted his hands and bought a newspaper. He skipped a few of the dodgier stories (Trumptonshire Area Afflicted With Devastating Disease, Boffins Baffled As to Existence of Soup Dragon On Moon, Spottiswood and Company Unveil Sentient Conveyer Belt Line) and sighed. Clearly nothing in the news was good even back then.
Then he headed back, wearily, to join Carlin as they went through the portal to 1945. Unaware of what was about to happen.
...
"Hello there, can I help you?"
"Ah, hello. Yes, I believe I have a appointment with a Mr Hargreaves?"
"Let me just check." The receptionist pressed the panic button, and continued to examine the computer in an attempt to look like he was doing something. The man in the motorcycle gear grinned wolfishly at him. "What is your name, sir?"
"Boomer. But you can call me whatever the hell you like."
Then Boomer shot the receptionist. As the guards hurried downstairs, and raised their guns, he smiled and held up his left hand. They had just enough time to see, carved into his wrist, the symbol of the Other Railway glowing bright blue, before their lives ended.
Ivor watched angrily, as instead of appearing in the ghostly forms that he was used to, the souls immediately shot towards Boomer's arm. With shrieks, they were absorbed by the glowing blue symbol. Boomer grinned, his body seeming to crackle with some new magic, before advancing onwards, guns at the ready. Behind him, his gang advanced.
THIS IS NOT GOING TO END WELL.
All right, a lot of shit to mention!
First off, Ivor the Engine. I am aware that what I've done is basically gone incredibly out of left field with him, but I think it kind of works. I like the idea of the somewhat rosy and peaceful setting of Ivor the Engine being a place where dead engines can go and rest in peace. It's a completely innocent and safe show. Plus, it also gave me the chance to introduce him as a more powerful figure.
His mode of speech is based off of Death from the Discworld books, who speaks in all caps and no speech marks, just like Ivor. In fact, the character of Death as a whole was an inspiration for him. I wanted someone to contrast Lady and Proteus's more godly attitudes with someone who clearly cares and has to do this unfortunate job.
The references here are a-plenty. I wrote back in Passengers and Polish that Sand and Heaver were the soldiers responsible for saving Edward's life, but I hadn't had much chance to expand upon that, so I used it here. Likewise, the scenes with Emily and Catweazle were to effectively tie up everything there for the future, so that I don't kick myself later on when I realize what I need to do. Likewise, the three references were to events I had previously alluded to. The Trumptonshire incident being one that I mentioned a while back in Mavis, whereupon the Fat Director and Captain Zero used the gas that accounted for the stop-motion appearances. The Soup Dragon is a character from the Clangers, linking back to the previous chapter. And Spottiswood and Co was the company in Bertha, which I alluded to in Tugs Abridged (On the subject of which, work on the second part of the third episode is progressing. Updates on that are sporadic) and I felt it would be nice to tie it together.
Oh, and the Topham stuff was because I felt the music that accompanied the scene where Hatt looks around the house felt much more bittersweet than what the scene was in canon. I mean it's such a beautiful and odd theme that never gets used again. And I always felt that his recognition of the house was not just because he saw it as another tourist attraction.
Hope you enjoy! Next time, we make someone happy!