Ah, here we are! Funny thing is, I was originally intending for this to be a bit more serious, but I ended up having so much fun writing the silly parts that it kind of carried over. I just want it to be known that I still think this is a really spooky episode, and I love it. I just...it's fun to write Duncan overreacting.
We also have a bit of story, setting up for the final two parts which will mostly be completed next chapter, but that's not important.
What is important is the fact that this episode also contains one of the many reasons why Alec Baldwin's Season 5 narration is great. Duncan's Liverpudlian accent. This is the ONLY time in the entire season that Duncan shows up, and as part of his 'not caring' routine that Baldwin goes through when he gets to Season 6, it never comes back, but by god! My brain may be hardwired to hear Duncan as a Scot, but that voice really gives it a run for it's money. Like, I don't even know why he has it. Carlin does what I think is a Scottish accent (Scottish or Irish, I can't tell) in Season 4, which means that either the voice director suggested this to Alec Baldwin for no apparent reason, or that he came up with it on his own. Either one is amazing to me. I am sad that this is the only time I get to hear it, and I've included a little shout out to it in the story proper.
REVIEW TIME.
MattPrice01: That was so much fun to write! I'm glad you liked it (And by the way, Sherlock Season 4's finale was...OH. So cool! And I'm glad that you enjoyed reading this). James is basically on the verge of a nervous breakdown at this point.
UGX7: He'll get his day. Eventually. That's what I wanted to surprise everyone with! Hope I did!
Radical-sandwiches: Not at all! It means I'm doing my job right! Truro's working his own angle. He's not 'technically' a bad guy in the vein of the Other Railway, he's more a well intentioned extremist. But we'll get into that more as we go along. And I'd like to thank you for reminding me about Sir Handel, that gave me a perfect segway into both the story and a little subplot I had planned.
TrainManiac: It's definitely one of the best episodes of the season, I agree with you on that! The constant memory wipes are not from the series, but it's actually a way to cover my own ass. Basically, I realized that no one, not even a spy, can stay in cover for twelve years (In story) and not want to get out. Every year or so, Duck would apply to be transferred, or to have surveillance removed from the Island, and each time Truro erased his memory so as to keep the facade up! There is a very specific reason, however, why I had Diesel trapped on the Other Railway and why Truro's face hasn't been revealed yet. I can promise that the latter will be revealed in Magic Railroad. Can't wait to get that out of the way!
Game Watch: That's deep. Deep, deep stuff.
AaronCottrel97: Perhaps, perhaps. I don't want to reveal my hand just yet.
Reality Rejection Service: He would, actually. I am just...so damned tempted to write an actual rap battle between the engines sometimes. I think it'd be great fun! BoCo's body is being used to create Diesel 10. The Juggernaut's are essentially playing Truro like a fiddle.
Bronze-Shield: Ha! Pretty much!
trestonfortson2016: Hope you continue to enjoy! Glad everyone liked the twist.
CUE THE THEME.
Sir Handel was dragged into the works by the diesel who worked there. The latter looked at the little engine and tutted audibly, before letting the workmen do their thing. Duke was there too, getting his usual selection of vitamins, shots and craziness-dampening cream. Sir Handel, not for the first time, wondered why he was stuck down here with the senile old engine while the others got to have all the fun at the new quarry.
"The hell happened to you?" asked Toby, who was taking Bertram back to the Skarloey railway so that he could get a bit of interaction for once.
"Erm, bad rails! That's it! Terrible stuff, really! The Fat Controller should-" There was a loud ping, and the Works Diesel raised an eyebrow as he looked at some results on the computer.
"What's that?" Toby glanced over. "So, that's alcohol intake?" A nod. "And the blue stuff is how much alcohol he's drunk?" A second nod. "So that would mean that Sir Handel is apparently 45% alcohol at this point in time!?" A very angry nod made Toby crack up. "God, you're somehow worse than Gordon!"
"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not!"
Toby chuckled. "All right. Bertram, I'll be back tomorrow, got it? We'll go and watch the game if you fancy, get some beers!"
"You're buying."
"Heh. Bloody stingy bastard." Toby left in a good mood, as Sir Handel was hoisted up to be properly looked at.
Bertram and Duke's eyes met.
There was silence. Nothing stirred.
Bertram swallowed and tried to wet his lips. Duke's eyes narrowed, sensing that there was...something there to be recognized.
But neither engine made a move.
...
The other little engines, by the by, were cleaning up the railway of all the refuse that had been left there, such as leaves or branches. Rusty had finally snapped and told them all that if they wanted a nice clean railway, then a certain little diesel engine would need a lot more help than they were currently getting. On top of that, there was still work to be done at the Quarry with a Penis in the Mountain, as it was now being called unofficially.
And unfortunately, most of the camera men suffered from vertigo, so all those wonderful adventures aren't getting recorded for prosperity. Blame them for the lack of Narrow Gauge in your life!
Peter Sam and Rusty, as they were good friends, often worked together in cleaning away the mess. This was because Rusty had been designated Peter Sam's handler, for lack of a better term, while Sir Handel was consigned to working in the yard and getting drunk. It was hard work, for Peter Sam had somehow managed to become friends with each individual stick and given them names, but Rusty was confident that they could handle him.
On this day, the little diesel helped him to a water tower. "Okay, so I'll be back later, all right? Try not to die." And they whistled- I mean, honked their horn goodbye.
Peter Sam felt much better after his long drink (Only orange juice for him! No one wanted to take chances. If Skarloey could crash into a lake despite usually being quite sane, no one wanted to see what Peter Sam could do drunk) but the trucks once again began to do their thing.
"Let's break away!"
"Yeah, that's never backfired before, Steve!"
"Shut it, Perry!"
The couplings were, you guessed it, old. Really, this railway is going downhill because they don't constnatly refresh the couplings of the trucks. Then, as Perry once again blew a slide whistle, the one closest to Peter Sam snapped.
"HURRAH!" shouted the trucks.
"Oh that's not good!" said the driver.
"Why yes, Mr Panda, I will have another glass!" said Peter Sam, in his own little world.
The trucks rattled down the hill, going faster and faster. Unfortunately, only one truck could read the sign ahead. 'SLOW. STEEP BENDS AND RAVINE AHEAD'. And even more unfortunately, that was the truck up front who had no brakes and no way to stop his idiot friends from pushing him on and on and on. "OHHHHH WHY DO WE DO THESE THINGS!?" He wailed.
They got about three quarters of the way across the old bridge before they smashed into an awkward part of the track. The trucks stopped laughing and started screaming as they were swung over the other side into the nasty quagmire below.
"So, Steve-" said Perry "-you ever wonder why we keep seeming to die?"
"Oh, piss off, Perry." remarked Steve.
As Peter Sam arrived on the scene of the accident, the driver groaned. "This was our fault! We didn't secure them properly! We'll have to get help to pull them out, and the Fat Controller is going to be very annoyed!"
"Yes, but is it really our fault?" The fireman asked. "I mean, if you think about it, the shunter is the one who fastened the couplings, and he knows more about it than we do. And, for that matter, it's not as if all those sticks and such were going to be doing anything apart from helping IKEA out a bit more, were they? So in a way, he should be thanking us for all the good work we've done in removing these sticks from the path of engines and returning them to mother nature!"
He did not, in case you are wondering. Later that night, Peter Sam (Having shrunken down miraculously during that time) had to listen to a long lecture from Hatt, as both Rusty and Duncan wondered if perhaps Sir Handel wasn't lucky.
"You will shunt trucks in the yard until I can trust you again!"
"Sir, aren't you overreacting just a tad-?"
"PISS OFF, RUSTY!" And off Hatt stormed. Peter Sam was very sad. He had lost all of his friends in one day, to the merciless tyrant that was water. Duncan, of course, had no sympathy for anyone's feelings, as per usual.
"Fancy no' securing yon trucks on tha hill! Ye pleb! They'll back and haunt ye and that special bleedin funnel til yer dying day! OOOOOOOOOOH!"
"You're an idiot." Rusty said, bluntly.
"Eh? Well, at least my face doesn't keep swelling up!"
"That's...a side-effect!" Rusty was rather touchy on that particular subject, but it was true. They had been having some refits done to make sure that they were in optimal working condition. What that resulted it was their face occasionally expanding past that of it's original frame work, to a size that sometimes seemed to be similar to that of a standard gauge engine. Driver had promised that this would even out in a few years, but it was a constant source of embarrassment for the little diesel. "Anyway, who says that you're not afraid of ghosts?!"
"PAH!"
"How original."
"Ghosts!? Things that go bump in the night?! Rubbish! Ye'll be telling me to believe that a grassy knoll shot JFK next!"
"That's certainly an unique theory. But I shall tell you a story that shall make your funnel quiver! And other bits that are unmentionable!"
"Ye don't have to."
"Tough, I'm doing it.
A long time ago-"
"How long?!"
"Hush, Peter Sam. A long time ago, a little engine was returning home to...wherever the hell home was, I guess. Twas a misty and moonlit night, as they often are for some reason on this Island. As the engine crossed the old bridge, he lost control and fell off the side into the swamps below-"
"I swear this is what happened to Sir Handel a wee few days ago!"
"He was NEVER found again!" Rusty insisted. "And even to this day, workmen say that on a misty night when the moon is full, you can see his ghost, trying to reach home, but never succeeding! So, what do you think of THAT, Duncan?"
There was a pause. Then Peter Sam started screaming in terror, while Duncan loudly scoffed. "PAH! PAH I SAY, AND ONCE MORE, PAH! These are the same workmen who take a barrel of diesel oil up the mountains just ta get high! I dinnae trust what ye're saying, ye silly old diesel!" And off he puffed.
"Oh dearie. Never mind Peter Sam, he'd be frightened if he saw a ghost...please stop crying. Oh this is just great. How is that when Skarloey tells these kinds of stories he gets away with it!"
The driver saw an opportunity to bring 'Let's Make Duncan Suffer' Day even closer. "Let's play a trick on Duncan!"
The next morning, Rusty's driver spoke to the crew of the Yellow Peril, who agreed. "Sounds like a blast! And it'll save us from actually having to be responsible for him! We'll scare him straight tonight!"
...
1955.
"What are we doing?"
"Have you never given away a f**king bride before?"
"No. Have you?"
"No. But I've seen it enough times, so it can't be that hard, now can it?" Carlin sighed. "It's the f**king suit that I don't get! I mean, you can work it! You practically wear a suit all the time, it's like it's molded to your body!"
"How do you know it isn't?"
"You better be joking. Because I don't want to think about how much it must f**king stink under there."
Benn smirked, before they headed inside. They were here at Ulfstead Chapel, where the aisles were filling up rather fast for the wedding of Burnett and Tasha. They had jumped around quite a bit. Carlin wondered how long it had been since he had entered the shop that had transported him here. Bizarrely, to him it only felt like a few days had passed, but outside, back where he belonged.
"-I don't get why Tasha chose you."
"Hey, what can I say? I'm just so popular with all the ladies." He glanced back. Pete was standing right next to Burnett, who was chatting away with him enthusiastically. He didn't notice the slight shadow that was cast upon Pete's face. Nor how tightly he was clenching his fist.
"You look fantastic." he heard Jock say to the bride.
"Thank you, Jock. You do too!"
"You think so? The bow tie suits me, I think."
"God, next you'll have an engine with comically over-sized glasses!" Mike muttered.
"I didn't realize your astigmatism was that bad, Mike."
"Rex, I shall-"
"Oh calm down, both of you!" Bert cut in. Tasha laughed, and with a jaunty wave, headed over to join Carlin and Benn. She offered her arm, and Carlin took it, suddenly feeling far more nervous.
"Ready?" he muttered.
"As I'll ever be. Thank you, by the way. Dad's not here, so I'll take the closest oldest person I can get."
"I'm so flattered."
The opening notes played, the crowd drew an expectant breath and the doors opened.
And they walked down the aisle.
...
Throughout the day, Duncan was put on slate duty. This meant taking the slate trucks to the quarry, and then bringing them back again to the QIP (Quarry in Progress). Now, normally such a job would make Duncan happy, as he was out of the way of any passengers or people to make him angry. But he had slept badly, and the idea of crossing the old bridge was not one he faced with glee. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself.
"Haunted bridge?! PAH! It's as tame as a pet rabbit!" Duncan had never owned a rabbit, so he didn't know what he was missing out on.
Even so, he couldn't help thinking o Rusty's story. And how perhaps he should attempt a Liverpudlian accent from time to time, just to see the reactions on the faces of the other engines.
Dusk soon fell, and he was keen to leave. "If we don't leave soon, Skarloey'll get mah best shed, and I'll have ta deal with Rheneas's snoring ALL NIGHT. Man, can he snore!"
"We can't go back until we've collected all the trucks. Hehehehehe." laughed his driver. Duncan didn't see anything wrong with this. After all, his driver always laughed madly after dealing with him for a few hours. But the driver saw that the plan was working. Duncan was growing more and more nervous. He wondered briefly if this was a nice thing to do. Then he dismissed those ideas. Clearly this would fix Duncan's problems once and for all!
Elsewhere, Bertram and Duke's intense staring matched intensified even more so.
When night fell, Duncan set off with a line of slate trucks. For some reason, they lacked a brake van. Some say that was because the guards had sodded off back to the safety of Crovan's Gate, where all they had to put up with was a high on pain-meds Sir Handel and Bertram scaring the crap out of Duke with his furious staring.
Luckily, the moon was full that night, and the mist was once again pouring in. This was incredible luck, and no one was quite sure if the plan worked as well if those things were removed.
Duncan whistled, and the sound echoed everywhere. There was nothing else, nobody else around, except for him, the trucks and his crew. It was at this point that the yellow engine wondered if perhaps his favorite spot in the shed wasn't worth this hassle.
He was halfway across when suddenly, he veered sharply to a stop. It was as if the very marrow in his 'bones' had frozen him to the spot. He stared in horror as strange lights flickered and danced together. His driver knew that these were just the expertly choreographed fireflies that made the shape of an engine, but to Duncan, they looked like that of one of his own kin.
Then, his driver dropped a rock that he had been keeping for just such an occasion into the swamp below.
...
Somewhere in Crovan's Gate, the three engines were sleeping peacefully. Bertram and Duke had temporarily forgotten trying to suss the other out, and were now just gratefully getting some kip.
And then a bellowing awoke them up.
"OH MY LORD IT'S THE GHOST IT'S THE GHOST AAAAAAARGH IT'S THE GHOST TAKE ME BACK PLEASE OH GOD I HAVE LIVED A LIFE OF SIN THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I BREAK HANDEL'S PAGER ISN'T IT I HAVE SO MANY REGRETS!"
The three of them stared at each other in bafflement.
"The hell was that?" Bertram remarked, at last.
"You're new here, give it a few months and this will seem like second nature to you." Sir Handel grunted.
...
Duncan backed off to the slate quarry and shut himself in the shed, refusing to come out.
"Spooked, are you, Duncan?"
"NO YE BASTARD I'M ASLEEP!" And he refused to open his eyes for the rest of the night.
He did once though, when he thought no one was looking.
Just to make sure that he was still there.
...
The wedding was lush. The bride was beautiful. The groom was handsome. The vows were heartfelt and Carlin wept like a baby, while an embarrassed Benn lightly patted him on the back.
The reception was even better. Carlin headed straight for the bar, whereupon he got into a contest with Willo and Benn about who could drink the most before passing out. In retrospect, challenging a ghost was not the best idea Carlin had ever had, but by that point he was too happy to care. As he slumped over the bar and Benn drunkenly headed to sing a rather odd rendition of 'My Funny Valentine', Burnett and Tasha took to the dance floor for their first dance as a married couple.
"Ever fallen in love, Bert?"
"Except when I look in the mirror, Jock, no."
"Pfft. Egotist."
"Coming from you, Rex? Means a lot." Mike grinned as the green engine knocked into him, mock anger on his face.
Pete watched for a moment, livid. A camera flashed, catching the dancers mid-swing. This was his cue to leave. He started out the door as fast as could. He ran and he ran and he ran, as fast as he could, up the hill. And with every step and every curse towards his former friend, he imagined punching Burnett's face, ripping his teeth out, slitting his throat-
Finally, he reached the ruins of the old castle. For a moment, he was content to just light a cigarette up. Then, he noticed the blood from where his fist had clenched tightly. And that set him off once again.
But, as he ranted and raved, he failed to notice the various ruins that lit up and glowed, dancing around in the darkness. He failed to hear the soft sound of whispering, gentle whispering, like that of the rustling leaves. And he failed to notice that the small drops of blood seemed to turn to steam the second that they landed on the ground. But there was no way he could miss what happened next.
"I understand where you are coming from."
Boom jumped a mile in the air. He looked around, his hands already glowing and crackling with his magic. "W-who's there!?"
"Do not be alarmed, my friend. I mean you no harm." The voice was soft, gentle...very persuasive. Every syllable seemed to be drenched in honey and sprinkled with sugar. Pete seemed to suddenly relax, though he wasn't sure why. "There now, do not fear. I merely wish to talk to you...Mr Boomer. Oh yes, I know your name. Or what it will be. Would it surprise you the things I know?"
"Try me."
The thing laughed. It was a somewhat unpleasant sensation, but Boomer was by this point far too interested to notice. "I know that you are a pupil of the one they call 'Lady'. She has taught you the ways of magic, has she not? Ah, I see by the expression that she has. But I imagine that you...well, you're looking to go to the next level. And perhaps she doesn't want you to surpass her. Because you could. All humans can."
Boomer shook himself. "Show yourself."
"Would that I could. Alas, I am trapped down here, beneath the rock of this pitiful and pathetic castle. No, for that, I wish for your help. You will notice the way that your blood just reacted with the ground. I just need a little bit more of it, and then I can teach you things Lady could never do."
"Oh yeah? Giving my blood up doesn't sound great."
"No, I agree. That doesn't get a good rep, do people say that yet? But regardless, that is the only way for you to rise above the path that Lady has set out for you. Because I've seen where it ends. Dead end, hitting the buffers, nowhere to go to but back. But with me, I can give you all the power you need. You can rewrite the entire world if you wish."
"...The entire world?" Pete looked backwards to the sounds of the chapel. "Anything I want?"
"Anything your heart desires. That's it, just place your hands on the runes. And I'll take all the blood i need."
Boomer smirked. "I can't wait."
"And there...we...go!"
...
The roar was louder than that of twelve jet engines going off at the same time. The sound barrier shattered, glass exploded out of every frame and everyone froze in terror. In the grotto, Lady's eyes snapped open in horror, and she quickly rushed forward.
And at the chapel, everyone ran outside, and stared as from the ruins of Ulfstead, stood a massive jet black dragon.
Carlin, Benn and Willo stared at each other, before they took off, followed by the bride, groom and the small engines.
The battle was about to commence.