So, this one basically flowed out of me! Especially the chase scene! Hopefully you'll all enjoy this one. That's all I have to say, aside from this one being a bit more exposition heavy and it's also the end of the Truro arc...for now.
REVIEW TIME.
MattPrice01: Ranty James is the best kind of James! Oh yeah, Carlin's having a blast. We're taking a break from him for this chapter, but he'll be there in the final three to round off his storyline.
UGX7: Yep. Calm before the storm. This one picks up a bit, but it really goes to shit in the last three episodes. Richard Briers did not narrate Thomas the Tank Engine (Though I wish he did, his work on Roobarb is actually a big inspiration for the writing style). Regarding Sir Handel...I'm not sure. Best I can think of is that maybe they didn't have time to write Narrow Gauge episodes in this season, and they forgot about him. Or, alternatively, they felt he was too similar to Duncan. But yeah, it is weird. Not to worry though! I have an explanation for that too!
Radical-sandwiches: You're right, that's what's been missing from this season! Not nearly enough swearing!
TrainManiac: I'm glad someone got that joke! Hands down the filthiest joke I've made thus far, and I have no regrets! Yeah, I'm aware of that. I just wanted to get that explanation over with, I really want to start Season 6 with something of a clean slate, in many respects.
Game Watch: A fair point. Pretty sure there's a time loop on Sodor. And honestly, you might not be that far off when it comes to the Misty Island Locos. I have...plans for them. *spends next five minutes maniacally laughing to self*
AaronCottrel97: Half of it is cobblers. And half of it sounds like cobblers, but is actually the truth. It's a fine line.
Reality Rejection Service: Eh, figured I'd throw him a bone. It's not going to be easy, though. Yyyyyep, I am not being subtle at all with how Boomer's reacting. I'm just going off the original script for Magic Railroad for that.
Bronze-Shield: I agree! The scene at the end is a wonderfully shot one. It's times like that that really make the model era lovely to witness.
CUE THE THEME.
Toad the brakevan was sad.
Oh no, I hear all of you sigh. Not Toad, our faithful character who has spoken in a grand total of two episodes prior to this, at least to the public's eyes. You're all cynical bastards, is what I say to you, in return.
Everywhere this brake-van looked, he saw engines and coaches moving forward. Well, the coaches were being pulled along, so they really had no choice in the matter, but still, it was a damn sight better than most of the other rolling stock. He heard Thomas and Percy call out to each other, both looking forward to their rap-off with James and Edward that night. Yes, rap off. No, you read that right the first time. And the second. Henry was just as baffled as you are about it.
They all looked...relatively, confident and cheerful.
Toad was depressed. It felt like, as nice as it was to spend some quality time catching up on Last of the Summer Wine, he was often forgotten about. He often wondered why he, and his counterpart, the Spiteful Brake Van, were the only ones of their kind on Sodor.
So, later on, he spoke of his concerns to Oliver, who was in a decent enough mood. He'd been exercised by his driver in the same way an owner would a dog, so he was feeling refreshed. "I'm always going backwards, Mr Oliver! And I, with my forward thinking views!"
"Yes, some claptrap about how we have a goddess who battles an ancient demon every so often to protect us! Those are antiquated views, you silly old sod! Besides, I can always arrange for you to be...I don't know, turned round for a day. That shouldn't be too hard, even for this railway."
"I could be a leader, if you know what I mean!"
"PAH!" said Gordon, once again enjoying his catchphrase. "You can't be a leader without a train to follow you, and you don't have a train! Silly prat! Do you not know how trains work!?"
"Wow, have you really sunk so low, Gordon, to dash the hopes of old and clapped out brake-vans?"
"OI! I am still here, Mr Oliver!"
"Sorry, I kid, really. You're a really useful brake-van, Toad, and I'd not know what to do without you! And that's honest, I'm not just saying this as a lie! You help me keep the trucks in order wonderfully...aside from those brief issues that anger management haven't stopped from happening."
"I know, Mr Oliver. It would just be nice, I suppose, to be seeing things forward for a change, instead of either staring at a truck's backside or watching as they slide away from me. Just another dream of mine I'll have to squander, I suppose!"
The trucks were getting rather tired of dealing with Toad, who was usually the sanest of all of the rolling stock and ruined their fun and revolutions against the 'enginarchiary' as they referred to the engines. They had no idea that this was not a real word. They are not the brightest tools in the shed, it is fair to say.
"Who is he to complain?!"
"He's lucky to be able to look after us! He's not getting a divorce that easily!"
"Er, Rickety, you're going off topic a little bit there, aren't you?"
They decided to teach him a lesson. As you can imagine, the trucks are not great teachers.
...
"Duck, how wonderful, do come in!" City of Truro's 'smile' faltered a little, but recovered, as soon as he saw Diesel "And you've brought a friend!"
Diesel growled, and was about to say something rather rude, before Duck cut across. "Hello there, sir, sorry to call on you unexpected like, but there was something rather important I had to discuss with you. And with the communications difficulties, I felt it was best that I arrived here in person."
"Ah." Truro looked this way and that. Or least, Duck thought he did, with his lack of face, it was rather hard to tell. "Is it regarding the Juggernaut?"
"Yes. And about what it is that I'm doing on the Island of Sodor."
"And you've brought this...diesel here because...?"
"Back up. Just on chance."
And so Duck told him everything that they had discovered over the period of time since Duck had left the Island of Sodor. All the while, he looked to the left and to the right, ready on the off chance that Truro had backup to fight his way out.
At last, they finished. There was silence for a time. Then Truro let out a long sigh.
"I see."
Another silence.
"...I see. So, what are you going to do?"
"Report you, if you will not do so yourself, to Scotsman and the rest. St Eustace was not a nice engine by any means, but he was a good one, and he tried his damndest to do the right thing. So, here's what I think happened. The convoy sends the message to you and Scotsman, the only two others who know about where St Eustace is heading to. Now you are, I am assuming, somewhere close to the Vicarstown Bridge. It was a dark and stormy night, the night that the ship crashed into Brendam and nearly crushed me under a roof. So, you can't go alone, not against all those engines. So you use the Juggernaut, a personal assassin who has ties to the Other Railway. Another spy, perhaps? So, he goes in. Takes out all the ones who would cause you trouble, and then fights St Eustace.
Now, St Eustace is tough. Very tough, as a matter of fact. After all, he got his name from a time when he was set on fire during a Nazi air raid and kept going through it all. He is older now, but he has not lost his strength and grit and endurance. Not one bit. So he fights the Juggernaut. Now, from what the Juggernaut told me, it sounded like he arrived just after the battle. I don't know if I believe that, but what I do believe was that Eustace was far tougher than the Juggernaut originally thought. And then you arrive, and you use the old technique from the war to take him out. Cripple him. And then the Juggernaut finishes it off. Then you head back over, with everyone either dead or severely injured, no one there's going to remember seeing you. You don't stand out. And if they do, well, you can merely claim you were there at the scene of the accident. Am I right?"
"Mostly. All the important bits. You'd make a very good detective, Duck."
"I just can't figure out why you did it."
"Because he was getting in my way. Straight after the mayoral race, he was sent off on another mission. When he returned, he refused to give us any information regarding that until you were removed from the Island, or at the very least, cut loose from our group. He had this belief that it was no longer fair to keep you on the Island, and what was more, that our goals were no longer the same. I can assure you, it was he who no longer got it."
Truro smiled. "The things you got wrong are...well, let's just say that the Juggernaut is not a spy for the Other Railway. No, no, why would I need to do that? Everyone needs a bogeyman, Duck. Everyone. The Juggernaut is not allied with the Other Railway, quite simply, because it would do little to enhance or diminish their reputation. And now? I am safer than I ever have been in my life. Round the clock security. My ideas are listened to more. Ironically, the best thing that St Eustace did was die. He'll go down in history a hero."
"Diesel. Get him."
"Yeah, you bet!" Diesel moved forward...and stopped.
"W-what? Diesel, what's going on?"
"Look!" he hissed. Duck looked in the direction that Diesel was facing, right in the corner of the yard...and his heart stopped beating.
There was the Juggernaut.
There had to be another way out, thought Duck, so he turned back to look towards the opposite side of the yard.
And at the second Juggernaut.
...
Oliver headed through Wellsworth with a train of trucks, Toad coupled at the back. James whistled to him, full of confidence that he would not see anything strange on this particular day. Foolish, foolish James.
As they reached the hill, Oliver waited for the guard to apply the brakes gently. This was done, and slowly, they climbed to the top as best they could. And then it happened.
"Ready! Steady!"
"Cook!"
"SHUT UP, RICKETY! GO!"
The trucks had been so quiet up until this point that Oliver should had noticed and taken proper precautions. But being a twit and a bit of a stuck up idiot, he didn't, and so it came as a surprise when they jerked back as one. The coupling of the first truck shattered, and they were cut free.
"Oh shit!" Oliver shouted as he shot up the hill, free of the heavy load.
"OH SHIT!" Toad shouted as all the weight was put upon him, as they began to roll backwards down the hill.
"Oh shit." remarked one of the trucks in the middle, as he realized he wasn't getting a paycheck tonight. He shrugged, and began humming the William Tell Overture at the top of his lungs, a tune which the trucks picked up on immediately.
"We're granting you your wish, Toad! Follow the leader!"
"You look nothing like my fairy godmother! You're a lot smellier to start with!" Toad's sarcasm was to hide the massive amount of fear that he was feeling. He was hurtling along the track at a tremendous pace, and he wondered if it was even possible for brake-vans to go this fast. "Also you are taking my words WAY OUT OF CONTEXT!"
"We're trucks! Context is for idiots!"
"Which rather sums up my point- OH BLOOMING HELL!" He swung sharply around the bend and tilted up onto two wheels for a horrifying few seconds. "OHHHHH MARY AND JOSEPH IN THE SKY! Guard, what do we do?!"
There was a conspicuous silence.
"Mr Guard?!"
Mr Guard pulled himself from the bush into which he had jumped into, and watched the train vanish into the distance. "Oh shit." he remarked to no one in particular. "There goes my spotless record. I wonder if I should have been responsible and stay on the train and prevent any further casualties...NAH!" And off he popped to the local pub.
Toad was beginning to regret several things in life. For example, getting up this morning. For another, not asking for a transfer to work with Douglas. And for a third, existing at all seemed like a bad mistake.
Oliver had one central regret. "Next time, I'm not doing anything in this stupid TV series!" He could hear the trucks braying even as he hurried down the other side of the hill.
"FASTER! FASTER! AS FAST AS YOU LIKE!"
"I DON'T LIKE! STOP!" And then, despite himself, Toad found himself really enjoying it. The speed was unlike anything else he had experienced, and while that had disturbed him at first, it was a unique experience. He rushed through the countryside faster than nearly any engine ever had. But his fun soon stopped.
Ahead, there was a crossing, which appeared to be obstinately remaining closed for some reason. He saw Bertie freeze, and then, in an act of defiance, hurry across to the other side.
"YOINKS!" For a moment, he wondered if he was in a Scooby Doo cartoon. "Stop!"
"Why are you asking me for?!" screamed Bertie as he drove onto the grass and spun out. Toad thundered through the gates, shattering them to smithereens and leaving part of it stuck to his face.
The second that it fell off, Toad realized he was in even deeper than he had thought. He was on the wrong track.
Impressively, things got worse. Gordon was facing him, taking on water. This alone would have made it the wrong track, but being on the same track as Gordon was even worse.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" screamed Toad.
"IS THIS WHAT DEATH LOOKS LIKE?!" said Gordon, who wasn't overreacting in the slightest, oh no. The signalman, the only competent one of his kind, jumped for the lever and diverted the points just in the nick of time. Toad swerved and continued down the track, somehow gathering more and more speed.
Gordon decided to go home and think about his life choices.
"ON! ON! FASTER, FASTER!" called the trucks. They shot through Wellsworth like a cork out of a bottle, baffling Bill and Ben, who wondered if they had been on the sauce.
Then things, impressively, got worse. Ahead, they saw James, making his return journey with a long slow goods train. "OHHHHHHH GOD ALIVE! YOINKS! SAVE ME! ANYONE!" wailed the griefstricken brake van. A quick thinking shunter (This is why the Fat Controller pays them, dear viewers) switched the points AGAIN, diverting Toad onto yet another siding.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" exclaimed James, having decided that he had officially filled his quota for 'things that are strange' for this season at the very least. He decided to go home and have a long think about his life.
Toad, meanwhile, was praying to every God and diety he knew (And quite a few that he didn't) that at the very least, when he did stop, it was in a nice field where there were few cows. He would have been gratified to know that the signalman at Wellsworth had already phoned the Crosby station master to warn of the runaway.
"We'll put him onto the sidings! Because that's always worked!"
"Don't get sarcastic with me, Mr Norris!"
"OH GOD HE'S COMING!"
"Help!" sobbed Toad, beginning to wonder if perhaps being a henhouse was really so bad after all. Then he screamed once more, as he veered so sharply to the left that he went up on one side again. As he progressed through the laberyinthine sidings, he spotted in the distance a pair of buffers. "Oh thank the lord! Those will stop me!" He braced himself for a hard stop-
-which didn't come, as he swerved once more, slamming all four wheels back on solid rails. "OH NO! I'M BACK ON THE MAIN LINE! I HAVE SO MANY REGRETS!"
The stationmaster glared at the sheepish workers. "Someone's head will ROLL for this!"
Elsewhere, Oliver had finally managed to turn himself around (Having had to go all the way to the bloody docks and back for some reason) and was now racing after the runaway, determined to get his buffers on the idiotic trucks. He shambled through the remains of the level crossing, and the remains of Bertie's calm facade. Ignoring the now hyperventilating bus, he stormed on. "Hold on Toad, I'm coming!"
"COME FASTER!" screamed the driver, while the fireman shoveled and pumped for dear life. Oliver rounded the bend faster than he had ever rounded anything, even when escaping from scrap.
"Hiya Edward! Did you-"
"That way!"
"Thank you! Sorry about the mess!" And as Oliver raced past Edward with the breakdown train, he wondered vaguely if this was due to become a trend, engines rushing around all over the place out of control. "I must catch Toad! I must!"
"DON'T TELL US THAT!" screamed the fireman, by now nursing bleeding hands.
Henry sighed as he took in the gentle sounds of nature. The chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, the screams of an out of control brake-van, the pattering of little animals across the ground, the gentle blowing of wind-
He frowned. One of those was not quite right.
"HI HENRY SORRY HENRY BYE HENRY!"
Henry was so surprised that he ended up inhaling some of his herbal tea through his nose and out of his whistle. One coughing fit later, he watched as Oliver rushed through, not even offering an apology.
"No wonder we're all bloody alcoholics!" muttered the big green engine.
Impressively, things proceeded to get damnably worse. Ahead was a bridge being repaired, but the men had been prepared for this by quick thinking signalmen. They had blocked off the points to the dangerous area, and left only one place for the runaway to head towards.
In retrospect, perhaps leaving something to stop said runaway would have been more helpful.
By this point, the hapless brake-van would have taken sweet death or maybe even an hour listening to James talking about the very specific shade of red he was rocking this season, just so long as he could come to a stop. He saw the scaffolding and shut his eyes tight as he veered into the siding...and into the muddy pool. The trucks slammed into each other, concussing them instantly.
Toad didn't dare open his mouth. He was a very hygenic brake van, and so was trying hard not to freak out as the muddy water and seaweed gathered around his mouth and tried to get through his nose. "Stopped at last!" he gurgled to no one in particular. Someone was, however, kind enough to blow a slide whistle as he began to sink deeper and deeper into the quagmire.
Oliver arrived, nearly crushing several workmen as he came to a stop. When he saw Toad, he started to laugh like a jackass. "Well, they say the pond's the only place for a Toad!" As he continued to laugh as his stupid joke, he became aware that Toad wasn't even making bubbles anymore. "Er...Toad?" No response. "Ohhhhh shit! HE'S DROWNING!"
...
"Who...are they? What are they?!"
"Oh, these two? These are 98462 and 87546. You remember my letter?" The two moved up to join City of Truro. Duck recognized the one who had beaten him up on the night of the flood, and the one who had set him off on Truro in the first place.
"Ah. That's it." Diesel sighed. "Two of them. Both with vastly different personalities, both wearing the same armor."
"I was shocked when first they came to me. You see, Nine...or, to give him a proper name, Alfred, had been working with Davidson. During the war, he was what we would call a ARP, like Hodges from Dad's Army, and so with Davidson, he buried the explosives under the tracks and in the tunnels. Oh, that's why there's so much gunpowder whenever your engines have a crash! Leftover remnants that I 'conveniently' overlooked. But back to my story. They arrived in 1944, a few hours after myself, Scotsman and Eustace had scared off the old Beetle, with one battered set of armor in tow. I was the only one there. Scotsman was grieving for the loss of his brother, and Eustace was...busy catching alight."
"So, what? You saw potential in them?"
"If you like. You see, Alfred here is a born opportunist. He was a dirty coward when he was alive, and he put on this facade of being harder than he actually was. But oh my, what a skill for getting under the skin of people! And how brutal he could be when backed into a corner. I always think that cowards are the ones we need to watch out for. The ones who, when backed into a corner, become feral animals. And Eight...who we'll call Cecil for the time being, he was a snivelling coward, but one who believed that might made right. And so, I had a group of select scientists replicate the armor, fix the original back up and...used those two as subjects. Of course, the experience completely deadens their emotions. It has to. The procedures are so very painful."
Cecil moved forward a bit. Diesel backed away nervously. Duck looked at Diesel, and mouthed the word 'Run' to him.
"Now, tell me, Duck, something that I am rather curious about. How did you know it was me? What set you onto me?"
"...Sorry, sir, I don't feel like sharing- NOW!"
Diesel backed off like a shot. Truro sighed and shook his head. "OH, you're going to try and outrun the Juggernaut, are you? How droll. Just like a diesel." He turned, and looked at Alfred. "Try and bring him back in one piece. And if you can't dispose of him quickly."
...
Once they had finished resuciating Toad, given the signalmen many thanks and promising a pay rise and beat the guard to almost death for his cowardice and incompetence, the two Great Westerners headed back to their shed in the yards. Toad spoke to Oliver. "Er, sorry if I caused you any embarrassment, as it were, Mr Oliver."
"It's fine. I'm sorry I made a joke while you were drowning to death. What'd you think about going forwards?"
"Terrifying, nuts and fun. But I'll stick to what I know best, if you'll pardon me. Busy going backwards if you know what I mean."
"Thar'd make a killer title for an episode."
"That it would, Mr Oliver. That it would."
"...I wonder where Duck is."
...
"You see, Duck, this isn't the first time this has happened. Not even remotely. This is actually the twelfth. That's right. Every year since you've been on that Island, you've found a way off, and confront me about it. You find a loose thread at the larger tapestry. Back when you were working against Davidson, you returned with Eustace to rage against Pug and Jinty. 1991, you arrived home for a Christmas break. Right in the middle of a delicate operation put in place to make sure Stepney was never found again. And in 1986, you returned for a briefing, where...actually, that one I did just because I was bored. You see this little doodad? It's the same one you used to wipe the memories of the time travellers when the Queen came to visit Sodor. And say Cheese!"
There was a blinding white flash, and Duck slumped forward.
"By the time you wake up, Duck, this will all have been like a dream."
.
.
.
Duck the Great Western Engine was currently lying on his side, breathing heavily. He felt as though he had been through the wars, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what had happened.
He struggled for a moment, and with a tremendous effort, self-righted himself upon the tracks. His head was fuzzy, almost ridiculously so. He frowned. He recalled...something about a flood? And then a few notes about something or other from Truro...? What was he doing here?
"Ah, you're up! Sorry old chum, but you rather hit the alcohol stocks rather hard a few weeks ago. Yes, we had to talk to the Fat Controller, but don't worry, you're not in trouble. It was just that you got into an accident, and we kept you around to monitor you."
"Sorry, sir! Oh my, I'm going to have to lay off that stuff from now on."
They laughed together. The laugh of two old friends sharing a joke.
Well. Sharing is a bit of a strong word.
...
"LET ME GO!"
Diesel was slotted firmly into place inside the machine. Alfred watched apathetically, as the Fat Director strolled on up to him. "He knows nothing/"
"No. Truro is still of the opinion that I am a humble servant of the realm. He has no idea that I've been working for you since the very beginning. The other one is keeping up the pretense well. Sometimes I think he even believes that he's working for Truro."
"I noticed you talking to that Great Westerner not long ago. Why was that?"
"To be honest, I thought that if I could manipulate him enough, I could get him to turn against Trurp and cause chaos within their little group. With Hargreaves gone, that would leave two organizations in shambles."
"Smart. But you say that they've erased his memory again? Oh well. It was a good try, anyroad. Now, the doctors say that Diesel over here can be...reverted back to factory settings, you might say. Similar to what Truro did, but with a bit more magic than science. That way, we gain someone who can infiltrate their ranks should we need him to."
The Fat Director walked away as Diesel began to scream.
Whew! All right then, let's talk!
Alfred and Cecil are the two blue engines. I have taken their names from the very well done Sodor: The Dark Times series on Youtube. Considering how many people use those characters, I figured that giving them something to call them by so I don't have to keep looking up their numbers on the Wikia would be easier. I originally planned for only Alfred to be the Juggernaut, and then introduce Cecil later. However, I realized I had an opportunity when I worked out that I'd written the Juggernaut differently on separate occasions. Alfred is the aggressive one, who tried to turn Duck to his side and play everyone for fools, while Cecil is the one who nearly killed Duck but backed away because deep down he's still a coward.
The reason why this is in this episode? Because I felt that Going Backwards is what has happened by the end of it. Duck has lost his memories of all he's learnt and is once again being manipulated, and Diesel is soon to be reset back to the oily bully. It's also the last part of the story that will deal with Truro for quite some time. I want to save some stuff for Season 6 and onwards, after all. Plus, it gives me a chance to write Diesel out for the moment. He won't be appearing in Magic Railroad, aside from maybe a flashback sequence, but that's debatable, so I figured I might as well reference him here.
Next time, we return, at last, to the Narrow Gauge railway. Prepare for it to get spooky!