Thomas Abridged

by ToonGuy

So, Thomas and Friends. You've heard of them, yes (of course you bloody have, you're browsing the Thomas fanfiction selection)? But back to the point; the history books tell you a different tale. This is an island where confusion and delay reign supreme and if anything really useful happens, it's a mistake. This is the Island of Sodor as you've never seen it before.

131. The Magic Railroad: Part 1

The engines gathered were grim, as was their purpose. All creeds, colors, nations, sexes and types were represented here, at this most important meeting. Diesels and steam regarded each other with the occasional suspicious eye, and everyone was somewhat wary of the electric engines, but no one said much of anything.

But there were some, however, who moved about and acted as the gracious party hosts.

"Ambassador! So good to see you! Yong Bao couldn't make it, could he?"

"No, he has some reservations about your alliance, Truro-"

"Yes yes, well, we'll just have to make sure that we assuage those fears, tonight, won't we? Heh! And, my word, how is Ivan, old chap? Yes, the Juggernaut case, oh, terrible, terrible."

Truth be told, the City of Truro was rather nervous. He didn't like interacting with such a variety of engines. With Britain, it was different. He knew most engines and what they did, how they did it and what it took to bring them down or to your side. But with all these cultures and types and their own agendas...it was worrying. He didn't like variables he couldn't control.

Variables like Yong Bao, Ivan, Gina, Ashima and Rajiv, Frieda, Carlos, Raul, Logan...all those engines who hadn't turned up, despite their high positions in their countries. He knew that the British weren't exactly the most popular, but it was a bit of a slap in the face. Sending your second, unless you had vitally important business in your own country, was usually a sign that those in power did not approve of what you were doing.

Still, their doubts would all be distant memories, very soon.

At last, the awkward talk died down, as the Flying Scotsman took to the main stage, coming to rest before a microphone. Not for the first time, Truro wondered whether the Scotsman was truly aware of all that was going on. Such as the Juggernaut being under his control, or the fact that he had sent two spies to a certain Island just on chance. He hoped he didn't.

"Is this on- Oh! Ladies, gentlemen, and others of various remaining genders. Steam, diesel and electric engines...welcome to our little gathering. I trust that the drink and food is to your satisfaction. And if not, it's all American tat, so blame it on them."

Polite laughter rippled out. But it was definitely restrained.

"Now, our purpose here today is twofold. Firstly, we wish to soothe any worries or concerns you have regarding our recent handling of various situations. But secondly, we have in our captivity two diesels who can be claimed to be the Arry and Bert of the USA. Captured by our dearly departed friend St Eustace before his untimely death last year, Splatter and Dodge are on trial for their lives here. I wish for your advice on how to proceed with them." Truro gave an impeccable nod to the workmen, who activated a camera showing two Class 08 shunters, one purple, one biege, sitting in a cage not too far from them.

"Aren't they fools?" asked one voice.

"They might appear it-" spoke Green Arrow, a distant cousin of Scotsman. "-but these two are nasty pieces of work. We believe the only reason that they haven't surpassed Arry or Bert in public notoriety is because America was easier on the purge."

"Eustace got incredibly lucky." added the Duchess of Hamilton, her voice ringing out across the hall. "He had the best engines that we could spare, most of whom he hand picked to be part of his personal convoy. And they only screwed up because Splatter got a little desperate and tried to rip apart Eustace's face." She looked around grimly. "So yes. Lucky."

"What are our options?" called the French representative (Etienne, was it?) "Extradition or death, I assume."

"Indeed. However, let us not rush into this. Despite their crimes, they are still sentient beings, after all. Now, I will be taking questions while we think over our options, feel free to shout out at any point-"

"How can you justify this fool's errand?!"

There was silence for a moment, then Scotsman sighed. "Okay, so, this again."

"We will continue to bring this up!" called another voice. "Every meeting we have, we get stonewalled and waved off with some bullshit excuse about how it's progressing well! It's not, trust me, we'd know if it was!"

"The Other Railway is still active." remarked Etienne, grimly. "Zat is, how you say, very very bad indeed. Most of the assembled dignitaries here agreed with financing you and the British Government because you had potential to stop the Fat Director for good. And yet here we are, three decades on, the new millennium nearly beginning, and we are still scurrying in the dark. It is beginning to grow wearisome."

Truro knew that many of them had arrived here with very closed minds indeed, but he hadn't been aware just how little faith they had. This was alarming. Time to turn on the old Truro charm. "Please, please, listen, we admit, we have had troubles here. But let us make it clear, Rome was not built in a day! We are getting closer and closer every time to making a definitive statement against the Other Railway. It's just that with one thing and another, we've had trouble. Hargreaves's death, for instance, has thrown our allies at the Home Office into a tailspin. No one wants to talk to us, quite frankly, especially not about the Fat Director. And- And the situation on Sodor-"

Too late, he realized he had given another bit of ammunition to Yong Bao's replacement. She coughed, and remarked. "We are very concerned as to why the Island of Sodor has not been put on alert regarding the multiple indications that the Fat Director have plans for it."

"It's-"

"Don't say it's because of the Lost Engine!" The Russian one laughed, a deep throaty laugh. "She's either dead, or she doesn't want to be found! Either way, it is time to stop focusing on fairy stories, and concentrate on the real world!"

"That's not even going into how much money is being spent on this venture! We've never gotten updates that satisfy us, and if we have, then it's quickly offset by the numerous mistakes that have been made thus far!"

The crowd was beginning to look like protesters at a political rally, anger and rage building up more and more. Duchess, Green Arrow and the Mallard looked at each other, quietly moving to the back. Both Scotsman and Truro began to panic.

"Listen, please, if you would just calm down-"

On which note, there was a loud explosion. As the screams started, a section of the wall suddenly grew darker for a moment, and then through it, a black blur raced towards Scotsman. Workmen hurried forward, but they only had to get in the way once for them to drop down dead, and for the shadow to grow larger and larger. With a triumphant scream, Marklin lunged for Scotsman.

Bullets slammed into his incorporeal form. No pain was caused, but the rage made him turn away from Scotsman. "Who will be first?!" he hissed, before charging down into the crowd. Engines were already trying to evacuate as best they could, but from behind came the ominous sound of revving engines, and in burst the Juggernaut.

Truro's eyes widened in horror as the massive guns attached on either side started firing at all engines, steam, diesel and electric. The Russian diesel was caught straight in the impact, shredded to pieces. Yong Bao's second was already trying to make her way forward to stop it, but with a scream, she was caught between two familiar looking faces.

Arry and Bert rolled forward, their eyes glinting at the sight of so many dead. Scotsman had already activated one of the secret ways out, and already he, Duchess, Mallard and Arrow had made their way through, along with the majority of the delegates who were still alive. Yong Bao's Second was whimpering, the force of the two diesels tearing her apart looked painful just from sight alone. Then she, mercifully, died.

There was a clicking noise as a man recognizable as Captain Zero disembarked from Bert's cab, pressed a switch, and stood back as a section of the floor slipped away, revealing the cage containing Splatter and Dodge. The two of them looked very happy.

"Lovely to see you, cuz." Dodge drawled.

Arry grinned. "Likewise. Come on. Have I got a guy to meet you?"

And that was the last Truro saw before another emergency exit gave him the chance to slip away. He joined Scotsman, Arrow, Hamilton, Mallard, Etienne and a smattering of other incredibly lucky guests, watching through the security cameras as a large army of Other Railway personnel began to tear the room apart.

"The last safe haven is safe no more." muttered Hamilton.

"No, Sodor is still up and running!" Mallard insisted. "We can get word to them!"

"Indeed! I can get word to Bittern or Spencer, they can head over to the Island and warn Sir Topham Hatt that there's a storm coming in!"

"One problem with that, Scotsman." Truro nodded at the security cameras. "If we use the secret tunnels to get ourselves out of here, then we go deeper into the complex. Any radios are either at the exit, or back in there."

"Oh shit."

Etienne growled. "So, zat is it? I noticed Jinty and Pug weren't here."

"They're already on Sodor, meeting with our operative. But the three of them won't have much chance before whatever plan those bastards have gets put into place." Truro growled. "The war has begun. And we're powerless to stop it at the moment."

"We could really use that lost engine right about now."

"Shut up, Frenchie."

...

Hello, I'm Mr. Conductor. And I'm going to tell you a story about trains, folks far apart and the Magic Railroad that brought them together-

Excuse me, the hell are you doing in MY booth, mate?

Your boo- Oh. Oh you're Mr. Angelis, aren't you?

Damn straight I am. Also, you haven't answered my questions, so if you don't, you're going through that window.

I'm Mr. Conductor! ... You know, the guy they got to narrate this movie?

You look a lot like a Baldwin to me... Billy! That's who you look like, Billy Baldwin- Also, WHAT is wrong with my narration? You think it's so bleeding easy; you can have this job!

Well actually-

And furthermore, the hell is a railroad!? We don't call it that here! It's a railway!

Well I'm an American, so I say Railroad!

Guess what? This show is British, therefore- Hang on, this script is a little threadbare, isn't it?

We had to cut A LOT out of it in post. Almost all of the fun parts.

Well isn't that just the way? Never mind, you've got this

Ahem. Every story, like a railroad-

HA!

-has its hero. Meet Thomas, he's our number one hero. But he's running a little late toda-

"HELLO!" said Thomas, breaking the fourth wall somehow. As per frigging usual.

Gah! What was-

Oops, pressed play accidentally. Carry on.

Err...you know what? Why don't you take a crack at it?

I'll try. None of that bloody script nonsense though! We'll have to get out the original cut later. They've already got some generic shots lined up, I see.

...

The Island of Sodor.

It lies somewhere between town of Barrow-in-Furness and the Isle of Man. 62 miles wide east to west and 51 miles long north to south.

You won't find it on any map, mostly because the cartographers usually give up around that point. And yet it receives countless tourists every year. No one knows how, but some say the ships just know where to go. It's home to many things. Beautiful wildlife, breathtaking views... but mostly it's engines.

It's engines, human in all but body. They have become world famous for their unique personalities and the way they work off each other. Because they're incredibly nuts and stupid.

But there is one engine above all else.

He is Thomas the Tank Engine.

They bicker a lot. But in the end of the day, they are really useful.

Mostly.

And together they had many grand adventures.

But the grandest and most terrifying of all those adventures, was about to begin.

The orchestra is ready, the titles have begun to show, the audience awaits, get ready for those royalties, Mr Campbell and Mr O'Donnell.

And at last...

We cue the theme.

---

Part 1: Beginning of the End.

"Five. Six. Seven. Eight." Gordon sighed as he looked at the clock. He had been waiting here for close on ten minutes, but had decided to invoke the laws of the narrative that the Island seemed to follow. You know the type,

And sure enough, the little blue tank engine rolled up. "Who do we appreciate?!"

"Stop acting like a prat, Thomas, you're not a yank. Or a cheerleader."

"Practicing your numbers, Gordon? Good engine, we'll make a mathematician out of you yet!"

Gordon was delighted, truth be told. He hadn't had a proper sparring match in ages, and the little puffball was the best to match verbal swords with. "I am counting how many seconds that you are late, little Thomas!"

"Oh wow, that's a really big waste of time considering that we're carrying passenger-less coaches." This will become clear in a moment, all right, now do hush?

"Well it was your idea! Play along, you said!"

"Not those words exactly- "

"What does that sign say?"

Thomas glanced over. "Bell out of order. Please knock."

"The other sign, your nitwit."

"Oooh, that's a killer burn there." Thomas sighed and turned to one of the larger signs that had been placed upon the station by concerned do-gooders who wanted the trains to actually run on something that roughly approached time. What losers, thought Thomas the Tank Engine. "Sodor Railway. Really reliable and right on time."

"HA!"

"Signed, Sir Topham Hatt." Thomas laughed. "The jokes practically write themselves."

"You weren't on time, little Thomas!"

"And you're being both bossy and pedantic, Gordon!" Thomas paused. "Well, more so than usual. Now, if you don't mind, I've got to go and pick up Mr. Conductor soon."

"I think- "Gordon said loftily. "-that we can take care of ourselves!"

"Oh really?"

There was a rattling of rails and both engines looked at each other, panic setting in. They glanced behind them. At first, they could only see a small cloud of dust. The voice, clearly coming from that direction, echoed around the station. The cloud of dust grew larger and larger as it rushed towards them, and a deafening ROAR filled their ears until it was all they could hear.

The dust was swept up and as it was deposited all over the two steam engines, they caught sight of a massive diesel.

"OUT OF MY WAY!" roared the behemoth. He practically rushed through the station, and his parting words could barely be heard. "I have unfinished business here! And I'm going to finish it…. fast!"

And off he went, until something resembling peace was restored, and once again all that could be seen of him was a small cloud of dust that could be barely be seen by even the most eagle-eyed of viewers.

Gordon shuddered. "Well, Diesel 10's back! Funny, I'd have thought he was staying in the smelters with those two prats...Iron Arry and Bert, or whatever."

"10 out of ten for being a giant arse." Thomas grimaced. "And devious deeds, whatever they are."

"Maybe it's his fashion sense." Gordon had recovered somewhat, and was trying to shake the dust off of him. "James would not approve."

"What did he call himself? Blast from the past? Well one thing's for sure. He clearly hates steam engines."

Both were silent.

"Maybe we need Mr. Conductor. I'll let the others know." Gordon admitted. Thomas nodded, before Gordon added with just a hint of smugness. "On time, too."

"Oh go to hell."

"You first." Gordon hesitated. "Take…. take care, little Thomas."

"You too lazybones." Thomas puffed away, leaving Gordon to wonder what was going to happen next.

...

RECORDING STUDIO.

Nice work. Now it's my turn. Ahem. On the other end of my universe, far across oceans of time, up and over Muffle Mountain and deep in a valley, is my home town. Shining Time.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! Despite what you may claim, America is not, in fact, in a universe all of its own!

It's flowery language! Who the hell-

.

.

.

.

Let's just leave them there for a while. They're having a massive fight over who gets to narrate this, when really the important thing is that this story is told. I mean, one hundred and thirty episodes have been building up to this, we're not just going to give you any old rubbish. Something to bear in mind, however. The movie that was released? The movie they're filming dialogue for? Loosely based on a true story. And I mean really loosely.

The real story is far darker, funnier and climatic than whatever the hell THAT was that got released to the-

Oh, I'm sorry, you don't know what the hell is going on?

Well now, we can't have that.

So let's go back one day prior to this meeting between Thomas and Gordon.

Back.

Back we go.

…

The year is 1999. It's somewhere in between summer and autumn. Around about this time, people are panicking about the future, as people are want to do. The Y2K bug is a major concern, as is the destruction of traditional family values, which shows just how paranoid people are, as no one can really agree on what those values are anyway. And on the Island of Sodor...actually, life is pretty normal.

Normal being subjective, mind.

Gordon licked his lips nervously. "And you're sure that you know who is just up ahead?"

"Sure as I'm standing here!"

"Well, if we think philosophically about it, James-"

"Bog off, Henry."

"Hush, all of you!" Duck frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in heavy thought. "He's been on the run for hours now. So he'll more than likely be getting tired, and hungry, and thirsty too for that matter. Which means that he's more likely than not to make a slip-up."

"Tactical thinking there, Duck, old boy." Percy said, admiringly. "So what's the plan?"

"Well, the next station is Maron, and that's a good...four, five miles? For someone like him, as he is now, that means a lot of energy will be wasted going on the run! Yes boys!" Gordon would have rubbed his hands together, had he hands. "We've got him now!"

"We advance?" Toby remarked.

"We advance." agreed Edward. "Slowly, mind. Don't want to make a mistake!" He looked at Thomas, clearly not as enthused as his words would have people believe. Thomas sympathized. He too considered this to be very stupid indeed.

Slowly, the eight engines advanced forward along the tracks. Thomas, his eyes half-closed as he thought about all the people he was leaving behind to go on this mission. Edward, wondering whether or not he was too old for this shit. Henry, looking this way and that, determined to take the blighter in without a fight. Gordon, wishing for quite the opposite. James, wondering if he'd even make it to his four o'clock session at the Works. Percy, just a boy really, unaware of what he was getting himself into. Toby, quite aware that the only reason he was here was making sure Percy was okay. And Duck, cool, confident...in himself, not so much in his companions.

At last, with Gordon leading, they reached the point where the fugitive was.

"There he is!" hissed Percy.

"Shut up!" hissed Toby back.

"Lads, stop fighting! Gordon, maybe if we retreat, and get our drivers involved, we might have a better chance-"

"Oh Edward, live a little!"

"It's dying a lot that concerns me." muttered Duck.

"I am very much in favor of retreating! Or tactically withdrawing! Or both! As long as we get away from that dangerous monster, that hideous creature who could just as easily ruin my paintwork- I mean, hurt us as blinking, I don't mind!" James's plea, cowardly though it was, made sense. Henry slowly began to back away from their opponent, who had now noticed them and was slowly weighing up his own options.

"All right, cowards! Edward, scout ahead! Let us see if we can parley with it!"

Edward looked at Gordon, skeptically, then around at the other six engines. "And you'll just make Thomas go if I don't? Fine then." He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and headed towards it. "Right, now, how do I parley? This is going to be awkward." He put on his best non-threatening smile. "Now then, old chap, it's been a bit of a run, and I'm knackered. So how about we just come back to the station together, and part ways as unlikely friends?"

The other growled, and grunted, and began to stomp his feet. Edward's smile began to get a little more strained as he became aware of how close their quarry was coming to him. "Gordon, parleying didn't work! But, if you can be careful, you can just get Toby to come over here and-"

He paused. "Gordon?" He turned, and stared at the seven conspicious absences. "Oh." He turned back, and grinned slightly desperately. "Okay, okay, you've made your point, I'll just back off- OH GOD!"

"Think he's all right?" asked Toby, back at the water-tower.

"Course!" Gordon was confident. "Edward's fine, he's done this a hundred times before."

"Usually with driver and fireman, though."

"Oh, hush, Henry. Besides, you wanted to retreat! Now we don't have to worry about a thing!"

At this very moment, Edward reversed round the corner at a speed surprising for his age and size, his face in the midst of a mild nervous breakdown. He screamed at the top of his lungs "DO SOMETHING!" and hid in a convenient bush.

Champion the Bull, their quarry, rounded the bend and began to pick up speed in the general direction of the remaining engines. They reacted well, all things considered. Only two of them completely broke down and started praying (Percy and Henry), only three made for the hills (Thomas, Gordon and James) and two of them actually managed to hold onto rational thoughts.

Toby sighed. "You know, I don't know why we're doing this."

"Anything to get some break time in, I guess." Duck frowned. "Mind, I don't know how this is supposed to qualify as the 'relaxing and fulfilling union standard break' that Hatt promised us." He paused. "So, um, are you going to use your cowcatcher, or...?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." Toby headed over to where Champion was trying to poke James's eye out with his horns. Thomas was bravely attempting to sacrifice himself in an attempt to keep his 'friends' safe, but it wasn't working well. Toby rang his bell, getting the bull's attention. "Oi! Remember me?"

The bull did. As it began to move backwards, away from the others, Edward was able to whistle and alert the farmers. They moved in to close the gate, and with a jaunty wave, the expedition was over.

The eight famous engines caught their breath, and looked at each other somewhat sheepishly. Duck sighed. He was capable of dealing with assassins, spies, crazed would be world rulers and psychopathic ex-MOD members with electrical skirts. Bulls, on the other hand, were quite another thing.

The Fat Controller arrived, glaring at them. Which was the international signal for break time being over, and that they should really get back to work. Duck, thankfully, had nothing else all day, and so got to head back to the Little Western to relax with Douglas.

The others were not so lucky, and as Thomas collected Annie and Clarabel to head to Crovan's Gate, he became aware of how exhausted his friends looked. Truly, this was going to be a rather brutal week or so with regards to sleep.

...

"Morning you two!"

"Morning Thomas!" chorused both Skarloey and Rheneas. Work on the mines had stopped temporarily for the moment, so both of the old engines were now back to working with passengers. Crovan's Gate was already decorated for a village fete that would be held at some point over the next few days, and the engines had all been cleaned and dressed up. Why, they didn't know. That was what just happened now. Villages fetes seemed to be happening a lot, recently.

"All of this palaver really isn't worth it" remarked Rheneas, his voice somewhat sardonic, to match his personality for the day. He was in full on dick mode, far better than the bland soulless husk personality or the 90's loving idiot that often reigned supreme. "Nothing really worth celebrating."

"Oh I don't know" remarked Skarloey. "It's just a bit of fun. No harm in it, boyo."

"Hey, have you guys heard anything about the new diesel?" Thomas said, angry that the focus wasn't on him for once.

Both engines looked at each other. "No." Rheneas said at last. "What new diesel?"

"That's just it." Thomas frowned. "Sir Topham says there is no new diesel. But James said that when he headed to the scrapyard, he saw this massive diesel there. He's not been there before, and Arry and Bert are- "

"Their usual selves?"

"Prats, yes. He's apparently quite…. unnerving." Thomas chewed on his bottom lip. "It's probably nothing, but I thought I'd ask you."

"We'll tell the others, bud…. just in case" promised Skarloey.

"Thank you. Now- "Thomas grinned again. "-I'm getting back to the sheds! Gordon's not getting the best berth this time!"

…..

"I- "remarked Duke to no one in particular "-am excited to see just how you youngsters celebrate nowadays. Where are the biscuits!? I'm famished!"

"You ate them all, greedy guts!" crowed Sir Handel.

"Oh goody goody gumdrops, trust me." Laughed Peter Sam. "You don't. It's rough, Granpuff."

"Less of that now. Errant whippersnappers these days, with their fancy portable speaking devices and their new fangled 'Rapp Musik' I don't understand it anymore. What do you mean, rough?"

There was a loud bang as the door crashed backwards. Duncan rocked and rolled into the shed, pulling a long line of trucks with him. "All right! Let's get these babbies underground for when it's time lose our BLOODY minds!"

Duke sniffed. "Alcohol?"

"Aye! A truer brew was never made! I want to say goodbye to 20th Century the only way ah knows how! Getting mah brain drowning in alcohol!"

"Pity we can't actually drown him" muttered Sir Handel. Rusty, listening besides him, burst out laughing. The little diesel was also in a good mood, for once. They were getting a bit of time up in the quarry to themselves for a change, which meant a nice quiet celebration. With no Duncan.

…..

"Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind! Should old acquaintance be forgot- "

"If ye must sing Percy." said Donald, grumpily. "Ye would oblige me greatly if ye could do so in tune! Ye're making a muckle fool of yerself with that caterwauling!"

Percy looked downcast. "But Donald!" he protested in a somewhat whiny voice. "It's a new millennium soon! Doesn't that count for anything?!"

"Oh lighten up Donald." said Edward cheerfully. "He's not doing any harm. Well, aside to the window panes-"

"I said I was sorry!"

"I know, Perce. Don't worry about it."

"That's your point of view" growled Gordon. The big engine had had a particularly nasty incident with a sheep crossing the road, and was thus even grumpier than usual. Which was technically considered to be impossible, like Stonehenge growing legs and taking a bathe in the nearest lake. His ale was brought to his lips and he took a long sip of it. "But a new millennium doesn't exactly mean that it'll be good. It'll all stay the same. Wars, disease, famine...Adam Sandler. All the constants!"

"My god, cheer up!" Henry was in a good mood, having recently concluded a series of lectures around the Island about how to treat the environment better. And so far, only one rotten egg had been thrown at him. This was a new record. He was also listening to a series of lectures that the Dalai Lama had given, so he was trying to adopt the Buddhist way to dealing with problems. In his own way, of course. "Why are you so grumpy this morning? Was it that blind date? Did it not go so well?"

"You keep your mouth shut, Henry!"

"That's a no then." Edward sighed, a strange and melancholy sound that echoed around Knapford.

"Something wrong Edward?"

"No, he just likes to sigh randomly for no reason, what do you think, Percy?" snapped James.

"No Percy, I'm fine. It's just the…. aches and pains one gets when you begin to reach my age."

"Preach." muttered Toby the Tram Engine. "I still say that diesel at the works didn't give me a proper once over when he handed me the medicine." As he sidled in, he looked around. "We having a party?"

"If we are, it's a wee bit of a crap one." Donald said bluntly. "And anyway, back to tha original point, ye're singing is making Dougie's sound like something out of an opera!"

"Didn't Auld Lang Syne come from Scotland originally?" James asked, as he filled up on water, and had his boiler lovingly sponged by several suicidal workmen.

"Aye! But the difference being is that we didn't butcher it!"

"No course to be rude, Donald." Henry said calmly.

"Aye, well, it's been a long day and I just want to get back to tha sheds." Donald looked up at the Knapford clock and growled. "Even by the Fat one's standards, this is a lot of bloody work."

Donald was right. There had been a recent influx of tourists onto the Island as of late, as there often was following the filming of a new series, but this time there seemed to be even more of them. The Fat Controller had given some help in the form of drafted in engines from the mainland, but it was still taxing the engines to the point where tempers were rapidly becoming more frayed than usual.

"Have you seen what they're sending over nowadays? They're sending over those er…. damn, what do you call them?"

"Pinchers." Henry suddenly grew grim. "I think they're planning to start replacing the humans. No more workmen in the Works! Just robots! And what's worse, these ones are a bit more...temperamental than the others. One nearly ended up squeezing my driver's head off!"

Percy gasped. "Does that mean that one day we might not even need our drivers?"

"Ha!" Gordon scoffed. "I don't know where you get these ideas from! There'll never be a day where we won't have drivers and fireman! It's ridiculous! It's impossible. And it's impractical!"

Suddenly, there was a chiming, and the engines looked up to the clock. Six o'clock.

"Time to go home!" cheered Percy.

"Aye! Well, goodnight to all of yer! I'll tell Duck and Dougie ye said hello!" And Donald puffed off in the direction of Tidmouth Hault. The other engines, meanwhile, began the trek back to the sheds.

"You know- "Toby remarked as he puffed alongside Percy. "-there's a strange feeling in the air today."

"Dodgem cars."

"What?"

"Static electricity. There was that fair not long ago, remember? Duncan got mistaken for one of the coconuts. I don't think I can recall Rusty howling so loud in all my life."

Amid the chuckles, Toby frowned. "No, it's something else. Like…. the winds of change are blowing."

"Something definitely blows all right, but it's not the wind." Gordon muttered, but no one paid him much heed.

….

All across the Island, the engines were finishing up their work for the night. Drivers and fireman were getting ready to head home to their loved ones, station-masters and guards were switching with their night-time replacements, and the dockside lamps were being lit in preparation.

The Skarloey engines were nestled up snug in Crovan's Gate, where a number of engines who didn't have sheds of their own were coming back to rest. Elsewhere, Bertie the Bus had finally arrived back at his station to rest with the other buses, and tried to ignore the Guy Fawkes dummy left at the steering wheel while his driver headed off for a kip. Trevor the Traction Engine and Terrance the Tractor were brought in by their drivers to the Vicarage Orchard, while elsewhere, Cranky prepped himself for the long night ahead, and ignored the seagulls circling ominously over him.

It was, by the Island's standards, quite a shockingly calm night.

It would be the last one for a while.

Bertram stared nervously, as his driver and fireman listened to a wireless radio. Their expressions turned to malicious glee as they heard whatever it was that they had heard, and Bertram felt his heart sink.

It was happening tonight.

…

Now, the vast majority of engines were at home, resting and talking, watching TV and perhaps complaining about everything, before finally drifting off to sleep.

But there must always be a night train, and in this case, the unfortunate engine was Oliver, who had taken over mail duties for Percy for the week. Duck watched as he backed down onto the mail train.

"Take care now."

"Oh, don't worry about me. You're the one stuck with the Haggis eaters."

Twin whistles echoed out in protest, and laughing, Duck backed into the shed.

"Still. Just…. get the job done."

"Will do. Got through worse scrapes than this, remember?"

"How could I forget? You don't let me!"

Oliver gripped his wheels in preparation. "Ready Toad?"

"As I'll ever be, Mr. Oliver."

"Then let's get this over with." Gritting his teeth, Oliver whistled goodbye to Duck, as his driver eased him forward. The last door banged, the guard showed his green lamp, the Night Train was ready to go!

As his fireman stoked the fire, Oliver felt his mood lift slightly. He'd always enjoyed coastal runs, as a rule it helped to keep him fit, and the mail train afforded him a good long run before the first stop. To set the mood, his driver started up the classic Sudrian hit 'Night Train', and Oliver's mood picked up even more so.

It was a good song to be doing work to.

Duck waited until Oliver and Toad were both out of sight, then he settled back to sleep.

He did not notice, then, the shadowy figure of an unfamiliar diesel following the same track as Oliver. If he had, then maybe he could have done things differently.

…..

Thomas had bagged the berth of his choice upon arriving at Tidmouth, and so was sitting there, looking very smug and proud of himself for doing so. The other engines just looked at him, sighed, and got on with settling in. Toby headed over to the work-shed to spend the night, having long since decided that making the long journey to the Quarry or to his newly reopened original home was counter-productive.

There was a familiar whistle, and the engines all called out a "Good luck!" to Oliver as he passed on by.

"Right, what should we watch tonight?" Charlie and Sidney had left a number of VHS's and DVD's half in the many players that the engines had bought over the years so that once chosen, a simple nudge of the buffer could send it in. Henry looked around. "Something light? Heavy? Old? New?"

"I say light." Edward remarked. "Let's face it, we get enough of the grimness of reality every single sodding day."

"But my driver rented the Harrison Ford movie!" protested Gordon. "Patriot Games is apparently pretty good."

"Oh good god. Another one of those gaudy spy films." James said dismissively.

"Gaudy? Coming from you?"

"Now that'll be enough of that Thomas!" James fumed. "I'll have you know that my selection will be far more appropriate!"

There was silence.

"Well?" asked Toby.

James coughed. "The…. Well. It's, erm, Carry On Screaming."

"You're right, James." Percy said with a completely deadpan voice. "Far less gaudy."

The engines started arguing, and then quickly fell back on their old topics of discussion. Eventually Edward was able to submit his suggestion of Snow White, and it was reluctantly agreed that this was going to be the closest thing to a full agreement they'd get.

So while Gordon grumbled and James complained about how they really should have been watching something a bit more mature, and Percy was arguing that how dare James say this wasn't mature, and the others just trying to get on with staring at the TV, they watched the film. And slowly, the seven of them began to laugh together instead at each other.

Soon they were utterly engrossed, and therefore they too missed the sight of a diesel, rapidly gaining speed, chasing after Oliver.

…

Sir Topham Hatt smiled as he looked at his grandchildren's faces in a photograph. They had headed back to the mainland for a brief period with their often absent parents, before returning to himself and Lady Hatt after a fortnight. The picture was that of their last holiday together, where Hatt had fallen in the lake and punched Micheal Angelis. Fun times. He set it down, and began to finish up the last few notes.

The Italian Barber closed down shop for the night. Jeremiah Jobling slid his new songs into a safe. The Kyndley sisters prepared for an early night to deal with their angina. Nancy, the guard's daughter, grumpily swept the station one last time and wondered if she'd get to see the Kyndley's daughter agaub. Alec, Charlie, Sidney and the other drivers and fireman headed into the boarding house to get some rest. Lady Hatt prepared a packed lunch to take to her husband tomorrow. All of the Norris's headed off to the tavern, where they would meet the Refreshment Lady and several farmers. Mayor Bedella filed away the notes for the next speech on his secretary's desk.

The humans waited, and slept.

The last quiet night for a good while.

...

Now for the next hour or so, nothing much happened. Oliver completed his runs to Tidmouth, along Bluff's Cove (whistling to Gladys, the Old Slow Coach as he did so) and had decided to stop at Wellsworth to get a drink while the next set of bags was loaded in.

Those damn Pinchers, he thought grimly as he watched them load bags into the carriages. Did we really need help that bad? It starts off with this. Just innocent things. And then things keep building and building up, and then you get to the point where the Island and the Other Railway don't seem all that different.

He shook his head. Perhaps it was just him. He had never trusted the Pinchers since the day that the Fat Controller had installed them across the Island. There was something rather disconcerting about it. He was rapidly becoming aware that the world was becoming far less human with every passing year. It was strange, he knew, coming from an engine, but…. well, he couldn't help but remember the sci-fi movies that warned of just this problem.

Maybe it was just the fact that these were meant to be in a factory and so clashed extensively with the Cozy England atmosphere, as some of the tourists who were over-romantic about the Island called it.

That was probably it.

At last, the final mailbag was loaded and he was ready to set off again. He felt refreshed and full.

"Hang on." He heard Toad say. "Here! Slow down!"

"What's wrong?"

"Not you, Mr. Oliver! There's a diesel coming up from behind, and he's- "

Toad was interrupted by a load blast from the horn of the diesel. Oliver had started already, but this jolted him further. There was a clear shout as the guard leapt from Toad onto the platform. He landed, somewhat awkwardly, but still out of the way of the diesel. Toad was not so lucky. The diesel's buffers caught him off guard, banging into his face.

"Toad! Are you all right!?"

"Never mind about me, Mr. Oliver! Get yourself to safety!"

Oliver concentrated and diverted all of his power that he could to his wheels. Soon he was racing along the track. But the diesel was just as fast, if not more so! Once more, the chase was on! And this time, Oliver had no idea of where he was going.

The signalman had seen everything, and had immediately pulled the lever that set the signal at danger. But the diesel ignored this, and soon they left Edward's station far behind.

All along the line, signalmen, workmen and the crew of engines still working late were alerted. There was a chase in progress.

Oliver was diverted quickly in Suddery Junction towards the scrapyard. The quick thinking signalman at the junction diverted the diesel onto another track. Growling, the diesel (Number now clear in the midnight as 199) headed on. He had been given instructions by his master that Edward's Branch Line would soon give way to the Main Line, and there, hopefully, one could catch the escapee.

Then, there was a bright white flash, and suddenly everywhere, EVERYWHERE was different. All across the Island, everything changed, cars ran into ditches, lorries backed into houses, planes swerved off their runways, Harold the Helicopter dropped back to Earth with a less than graceful thud.

Oliver knew none of this, and he panted as he raced along. "What's going on!?" No response. Nothing, not even a growl of concentration from either driver or fireman. "Hello!? Come on, this is no time for jokes!"

"Mr. Oliver!" Toad's voice was shaky. "What now!?"

"I don't know! My driver's not responding!" Oliver felt panicked. He wasn't an expert on these sort of things but he could feel inside his cab.

Neither his driver nor his fireman was in there.

He had been cut loose!

They couldn't have jumped out though, there would have been a noise! Remarkably, for the first time in his long life, Oliver felt as though he had a rudimentary control over his own steam. In essence, he felt as though he could actually control himself fully!

"We're on our own, Toad!" They rushed past the scrapyard, and Oliver spotted the line that led to the Quarry. He growled, and suddenly wrenched forward. The jerk tore at the coupling between him and the first coach.

"Mr. Oliver!"

"Toad, listen to me, I have to get you to safety!" Oliver gave a great heave once more, and this time the coupling shuddered. It was almost done. "I'll come back for you, but I'm not hiding in here! I've faced worse than this tin pot tramp!"

"Oliver!" Toad was clearly emotional; he had actually dropped Oliver's unofficial title. "Please!"

"Good luck old chum!" And Oliver threw himself onwards one final time. The coupling shattered, and he broke away from the train.

"OLIVER!"

But Oliver had rapidly raced away on the track that was now leading back onto to the mainline. The points were switched and Toad, helpless to fight back, was pulled along by the momentum of the mail coaches towards the Quarry.

But the odd thing was, when Toad looked in the signal box…

There was no one there.

...

The spell had been intended to kill the humans, give them a chance to invade quietly, thought Boomer angrily as he punched and lashed out as every single human dropped into his home. He stuffed them into the basement as they came teleporting in, and his biker gang helped too.

The spell itself have read that using it would 'Remove opponents from the field of battle'. What P.T Boomer hadn't known, however, was that it was rather literal. Instead of killing every single human there, it had instead taken them from the Island and deposited right in his house.

Sir Topham Hatt was aware of what was happening, in that it was magic and magic was not to messed with, and had just enough time to scrawl down a few words before the spell made it's way into his office and ripped him from it violently.

The last thing he could recall before passing out was the snarl on Boomer's face.

…

As morning dawned, the engines, unaware of anything else happening, awoke.

"Where are they!?"

This indignant question came from Thomas. He was rapidly losing patience, despite the heat that was slowly spreading through his boiler, and was making it known very, very loudly, in a James-like way.

"It's a disgrace! What do these people get paid?!"

"They are later than usual." Henry remarked.

"Damn it!" Gordon was growing crosser and crosser by the minute. "Time's time! I've got work to do! Passengers to pick up, coaches to schmooze, records to break!"

James was also incensed, though not for the same reasons. "My paint needs to be expertly maintained! Where are my masseuses? Just because I'm doing some dirty work doesn't mean I can't be beautiful!"

"James, aren't you stuck in here for the next few days?"

"Edward! No one wants to talk about that!"

Truth be told, even the patient engines like Edward and Toby were growing steadily unhappy with the situation. No one had come at all, except maybe the firelighter, and even then no one had seen him. They were basing it solely off the fact that there was definitely a fire burning and keeping them warm. Now, there was a general sloppiness about the railway, but even so.

It had been two hours since they had awoken, and the clock helpfully informed them that it was currently half past nine in the morning. The day usually started at seven o'clock, eight at the absolute maximum.

No one had come.

It was then that Thomas began to move.

"Thomas!"

"Watch out!"

"Oh no not again!" Thomas groaned as he tried to stop. He shut his eyes, praying that when he hit the turntable well, the pain would be over somewhat quickly. He prayed also that this time he didn't get a bush stuck to his face.

His wheels whirred and he touched-

-rails.

His eyes snapped open, and he looked down at the firm rails of the turntable. He glanced back. The other engines were…. well to say speechless would be a massive understatement along the lines of saying that 'World War 2 was a bit of a kerfuffle'. The turntable had definitely been pointing towards the opposite end of the sheds, and yet with no operator, it had…. swung backwards. As if sensing calamity and trying to save Thomas.

"W-Wh-What?" Thomas stuttered out at last. There was another pause as the engines, unbelieving, just stared. Then Thomas, in a rare fit of brilliance, decided to try something. Slowly, he concentrated. There had always been a bit of control that he could exert, such as refusing to move on certain occasions, but this was something quite different. He had never tried it before.

And slowly, very slowly, he felt his brake slowly clamp down, and he eased to a very gradual stop.

The engines at once burst out into frantic questioning, so loud that no one could even hear themselves think.

"ENOUGH!"

Gordon's shout finally got them all to shut up, and they looked at him expectantly. Though most considered him a blithering idiot at the best of times and a classist snob who wouldn't know how to spell 'hubris' at the worst, they were all looking for something to unite them. It might as well be Gordon making a fool out of himself.

Gordon hummed and hawed for a few minutes, then at last: "Thomas. Would you mind moving off the turntable for a second?" Thomas did so. "Thanks. Now…. I'm going to try something." And, concentrating very hard, he was able to slowly puff forward.

The other engines watched as slowly, the turntable swung back towards Gordon.

"Well." Toby said from the other shed, watching in fascination. "That's…. that's definitely something." He paused, and then he slowly moved himself forward. "Oh!" His eyes widened. "Holy…" He trailed off, looking off into the distance. "Look, why don't we head over to Knapford, if we can, and see if we can't find out just what's going on?"

"There's an idea!" Edward said, relieved. "All right, let's get cracking!"

….

There was near silence as the seven engines puffed along the tracks to Knapford.

They had passed through Tidmouth Station and discovered that everything was, to an extent, the very appearance of a model station. No mess, no litter, not even one dropped cigarette. The smell was gone too, the odd smell that often accompanied teenagers carrying the latest way to inhale illegal substances up one's nostrils. No, it all was very…. clean.

There was one exception, however.

The Pinchers were still there working away. Trucks had been arranged, as if the engines were pulling trains as per usual.

"Curious." Toby had remarked, though no one else had really had anything else to add after that.

But now they had reached the outskirts of the station. They stared uncertainly.

"Well?" asked James at last. "Shall we?"

Slowly, step by wicked step, the seven crept forward. They looked around them. Again, trucks and coaches had been arranged in accordance with the time table. The Pinchers were still operating nicely. But there were no humans. There was no sound aside from the quite hiss of steam and the unusually solemn chattering from the trucks.

There was approximately one minute of silence before someone spoke at last.

"Typical. We would miss the Rapture."

Edward's joke broke, or at least cracked, the ice. As they shared a laugh, the engines relaxed a bit. But only a little.

"What do we do now?" Percy asked nervously. "There's no one to tell us what to do."

"Well, we can't be the only engines still on the Island, right?" Thomas puffed forward. "So here's what I think we should do."

"No, listen, if anyone's going to take charge of this mess, it should be me!" The other five engines looked at each other and sighed. No matter that everyone had vanished, that the entire Island seemed to be deserted and they were completely on their own. Gordon was still being a prat, so there was still some order to the world.

Thomas would have normally made some sarcastic quip and would have eventually stood back to give Gordon enough room to hang himself.

But today he was not in the mood. He looked straight at Gordon and smiled. "All right Gordon. What's your idea?"

There was silence for about thirty seconds, before Gordon sighed, and puffed back.

"Right. Well, I actually have one, so if you'd be so kind as to let me speak it." Thomas coughed. "Well. There are seven of us, right? Now, assuming that we can all head off to where we know there should be other engines, we can inform them of the situation, and then- "He hesitated.

"And then- "cut in Henry. "-we should get to work."

"Work?!" Gordon laughed bitterly. "Henry, I don't know if you've noticed, but how the hell are we supposed to do that?! I've got the express to take, with no passengers!"

"No, Henry's got a point." Percy argued. "I mean; our trains are all set out for us. The Pinchers are clearly still operating somehow. The only way to avoid the entire Island getting clogged up with abandoned rolling stock is to do our job."

There was a pause as everyone digested this.

"I'll get down to the Skarloey Railway." Edward said, as he reversed backwards. "The Breakdown Train's back at Tidmouth, so I should be able to bring them with us if we need them for anything."

"I'll head to the quarry." Toby looked worried. "I hope Mavis is okay."

"She'll be fine Tobe. Mavis is stronger than we give her credit for." Thomas frowned. "Percy, could you head over to Elsbridge?"

"Why don't you go, little Thomas?" Gordon had recovered a good deal of his caustic wit (Well, that was what he called it.) "That's your branch-line, after all!"

"Take a look at this."

As Percy hurried off to the station (Where Annie and Clarabel proceeded to passive-aggressively bitch at him about all that was happening) and Toby headed off towards the Quarry, the remaining engines gathered round the Fat Controller's office. There, written in rather large writing, was the following:

THOMAS.

I shall be heading off on business soon. Please be aware that my replacement will be coming soon to help out. He is known as Mr. Conductor. If you would be kind enough to pick him up and explain the situation…. please hurry.

We don't have much time.

SIR TOPHAM HATT.

"What an odd message to leave." James remarked. "…. And why Thomas? Why not a big strong engine who knows how to show a visitor a good time? Not like that, stop snickering!"

"Well! I am the pride of the line!"

"And there's that ego again." Henry muttered. Out loud he said. "I'll check with the Little Western; see how they're getting along."

"Okay." Thomas stared at the letter. He was puzzled. Hatt never trusted him with anything. He had always said that the day that he trusted Thomas with running the railway was the day that-

"Well now."

Thomas froze. The voice was unfamiliar to his ears, but it was…. different. It seemed to have no true accent, flicking between British, American and Russian faster than a magician shuffles cards.

"Who- "He heard Gordon ask.

"Steam engines." The voice sounded sadistically amused. "What a novelty."

"Novelty!?" spluttered James. "I'll have you know- "

Thomas had puffed up just in time to see the massive diesel look at James. It was a look that stated that if James didn't shut up, he'd find himself being recycled into dog food cans. James, idiot though he may have been, shut up. The diesel was the size of BoCo, but had such a presence about him, he seemed much larger. He was painted a brown-ish gold, and had a face that could have terrified a Basilisk.

But that wasn't the most unnerving thing about him.

The unnerving this was that somehow, he had managed to get hold of a Pincher, and had it welded onto his body. The claw snapped and cracked at the air, and Thomas was left in very little doubt that the claw could tear an engine apart if it so cared.

"What do you want?"

"Want?" The diesel's eyes widened. "I wanted to see whether or not this clean up got rid of you as well. It did not. Pity."

"Who are you?"

"Diesel 10 is the name." Suddenly the claw whirled around and stopped an inch before Thomas's face. "Keep out of my way." And he moved away, leaving the three engines very unnerved indeed.

….

Which brings us back to the present, more or less.

The engines, once informed, adapted relatively quickly. True, there was a good deal of grumbling from some (e.g. Duncan, Sir Handel, Bill and Ben) and there was some fear that whatever had happened to the humans would happen to them, but this was mostly swallowed down, as across the Island, engines got to work. Trucks were taken to the farms, the mills, the hoppers and everywhere the Pinchers loaded them up for the next engine to take them away.

Coaches, on the other hand, were simply moved about. There had been a…. incident earlier.

….

"Okay, so Percy, it says here that you're next to take the afternoon train to Kirk Ronan." Duck said. He had no trains scheduled that day, so he had rather manipulated Thomas into giving him the job of telling everyone what to do.

"But Duck." Percy pointed out. "How? No people. At least the trucks are delivering supplies to the rest of the Island, this isn't accomplishing anything."

"True" Duck granted. "All right, leave the coaches here, we'll head on over to Knapford Har- "

He was interrupted by one of the Pinchers reaching out and grabbing Percy's coupling with such force that the little green engine was yanked backwards. The Pincher fixed the coupling to the coach's own.

There was silence for a moment.

"I think-" Duck said quietly. "-that it would be best if you took the coaches to Kirk Ronan after all."

"Y-Yes." Percy stammered, and puffed away. Duck warily stared at the Pincher, in the same way a tamer would look at a particularly nasty lion. Oddly enough, it also felt like the Pincher was staring back at him.

…

Shining Time Station is located... well, it's hard to really describe it. The Indian Valley Railroad that had been originally scrapped in 1938 was moved over a little to a secluded little valley that never really interacted with the outside world aside for the trains that came into the station, and those who left on them.

To describe Shining Time Station would be like trying to describe the sun in words other than 'It's bright'. Shining Time Station was what people who were nostalgic for the fifties thought that time period was like. And oddly enough, it was real! And not fake at all. When you walked in, either out of the station or even if you just stood on the platform, you were suddenly hit by an atmosphere that was so aggressively nice and polite you'd think you were dealing with some sort of nefarious cult that spread its message by smiles.

But yes, Shining Time really was a genuinely nice place to live in.

If you're lucky, mind, you'll see a figure occasionally looking over at you. He'll smile, and wink at you. He's only about the size of your hand, but none the less, seeing him stays with you forever. No matter how hard the electrotherapy tries. The people call him Mr. Conductor, and particularly nasty ones call him 'You! Get outta my house!'. This particular Conductor was the third one to take up residence in such a short time period. The first was someone who appeared to be Ringo Starr, and the second is the one we know as 'Carlin'. He, the present Mr Conductor that is, was still getting used to things, and as such, he couldn't help but marvel at the way that the town interacted with each other. A young woman with red hair cut in a pixie cut smiled sweetly at a young boy holding a goldfish bowl. A juggler entertained a group of children. And at the train station, the normal selection of hellos and goodbyes was held.

It was practically every American stereotype rolled into one big massive happy life.

Yes. Life was good.

Well. Mostly life was good.

But every so often, there would be a brief cloud of darkness on a perfect sunny sky. That came in the form of the man in black, a figure clad in biker leather and with a face like a thunderstorm. There was no humor to be found there. None at all.

On the day in question that I refer to, the figure was angrily ripping through the newspaper recycling bin. What for, no one knew, but they also knew that you didn't dare interfere with him unless you wanted to be run over and repeatedly beaten down by his gang of equally thuggish bikers.

Muttering, the man glanced at the newspapers and one by one, tore them apart. But at last, he seemed to find something that caught his eye. He stood up, and stared at it for a moment.

Then, without a word, he stormed out of the station and everyone breathed a massive sigh of relief.

The figure walked through the streets of Shining Time, everyone avoiding him like he was carrying the plague. He reached his house, and after a brief moment to glare at the others watching him, he stormed inside, slamming the door shut.

Reaching for the cell phone, P.T Boomer angrily dialed the number and waited. His hand squeezed the newspaper hard, his veins looking as though they were about to pop.

"Boomer, ye bloody nut! How long- "

"Shut. Up." Boomer hissed to the Captain. "I've found her."

Even though he couldn't see him, he could tell the Captain had just sat up sharply. "Ye have?"

"Yeah. All the bloody place we've looked and some goddamn kid managed to stumble on it, by accident."

"Well! Tell us!"

"Muffle Mountain. It's god damn Muffle Mountain. There's a picture of Stone as that bratty snot-nosed little kid I used to know….and he's standing on the mountain. We never searched there."

"Oh, hell!" The Captain sounded angry now. "We've bloody done it now! Why aren't ye heading up there!? Why waste yer bloody time!?"

"Because- "hissed Boomer, his eyes darkening in anger. "Because it didn't work!"

"What?!"

"Aye. I've got the humans in the basement! But the engines!? Nada! That bloody spell that Gotch got us backfired! I'll scrag him when I see him! Remove my arse, it's created a huge bloody problem!"

"That bastard! When I find him- "The Captain snarled and muttered under his breath. "Right. Ye don't move a muscle until we can sort out someone to watch over the wee prisoners! Have ye taken care of the bloody Conductor yet!?"

"What do you think!?" snarled Boomer. "I've been working my ass off just trying to get any evidence I can! He's on his way to the Island now! I'll have my gang take care of the search, and if worst comes to worse, I can always take control of this town."

"Ye do that! The Fat one can't know about this! Gotch is still there, right?"

"Oh yeah, he's indispensable. As long as I hold him by the hand and read him a bedtime story every night!" Boomer slammed the phone down and frowned. He looked to Gotch, who was listening, clearly amused. "I thought that was a nice touch."

"Mmmm. I do have some serious bad news though."

"Yeah?"

"The team we sent with Bertram? The one that I fished out of the scrapyard? They've gone missing. And I've checked, they are not among the Sudrians downstairs."

"That could be a problem. Have the Lorries check it out." Boomer reached for his helmet. "I'm going to find her, and when I do-" He left it deliberately open to interpretation. But it was probably something nasty.

...

As Thomas crossed one of the new viaducts specially built in recent years (Codenamed the Big Dipper after what one of the main constructors called his member) he reflected glumly on just how long it was taking Mr. Conductor to actually show up.

"If Diesel has some unfinished business, there's probably going to be trouble right around the corner."

He paused. "Thomas, why are you talking to yourself out loud again? Oh I don't know, it's fun. Yes, but don't you know that's the first sure sign that you're going absolutely doolally? Yes, I know-" And so this continued in this vein for quite some time, until at last, he arrived back at Tidmouth Sheds.

James was there. He was engaged in a very furious battle with a fly. As you do. "Boo, fly! Shoo, fly! That's it! No, you know what, I didn't want to have to break out the puns, but BUZZ OFF!"

"Ah, James. I'm glad to see the true enemy has revealed him-" Thomas swore aloud as he backed into the buffers harshly. "BOTHERATION!" He said. Okay, he didn't say that, but the alternative is too rude to even record.

"You weren't concentrating, Thomas!" said James, pouncing on the chance to mock Thomas with glee. "Lucky for you that the buffers were there!"

"Well that's what buffers are for! To stop engines from crash-" Thomas paused. "Wow, I'm stating the bloody obvious today. Let me continue that trend, what are you doing in the shed, James?"

"I'm feeling a little blue! Not so hot when you're red!"

"What does that even-?"

"I was naughty, and Sir Topham Hatt said I should stay in here and think about all the ways I can be really useful. Then I can come out again!"

"Bull." said Thomas bluntly. "You're trying to sneak on a couple of extra amethysts without anyone noticing, and you're struggling because there's no humans to help you out, like Hatt does. Honestly James, you really are-"

"Thomas." James whispered in terror.

"No, you're James, I'm Thomas! Now, if you're going to use that excuse-"

"Thomas!"

"In a minute, James! You have to say it with a bit more conviction, and also, make up a better one-"

"THOMAS TURN THE HELL AROUND!"

Thomas looked behind him.

"Help you?" laughed the deep, booming voice of Diesel 10. "You'll always need help because steam engines are cowardly, cranky...worn-out hunks of metal who couldn't hurt a fly. The dinosaurs accepted that it was their time to die to make way for the humans. Now you should really do the same for us diesels!"

"The dinosaurs got hit by a meteorite." mouthed off Thomas.

"Shut up, tea kettle."

"We're not!" James argued, late to the party as usual.

"Are."

"AREN'T!"

"Are."

"AREN'T!"

"ARE- Why am I even indulging you at this point? Now, a little preview for your demise. I've come back here to find a lost steam engine. I'm going to eradicate her off the face of this goddamn Island, and then I'm going to dominate you! And then you'll be useless scrap on the outside as well as on the inside." he grinned at his claw. "Right Pinchy?"

"Pinchy, how old are you!?" ranted Thomas.

"Big bully." James blew a raspberry. You'll be surprised to learn that Diesel 10 did not so much as even acknowledge James's stellar insult.

As the diesel pulled away, Thomas felt the need to continue this rant as he puffed after him. "We're really useful engines! Dominate us!? I don't dominate easily! You're one of those kinky engines, are you!? We won't let you! Neither will this weird Mr. Conductor! I'm going to get him right now!"

As soon as Thomas was gone, James's mind finally caught up again. "What lost engine?"

Then he got bored and started trying to apply his next set of jewels to the number five on his tender.

…..

The entrance to Shining Time Station was not something you could miss easily. The citizens were very, very proud of the fact that they lived in such a place, and like most American small towns that were probably a tad too proud of themselves, they had spent quite a bit of money making an incredibly complicated sign welcoming people to Shining Time to signal this.

Such a sign had to be maintained at all times. And unfortunately, that task usually fell to the runt of a very, very big litter. Patch Keating belonged to one of the bigger families of Shining Time, one that had ancestry that could be traced back to the time of the Founding Fathers (Patch had once asked his dad if that was some sort of strange band. He had been told to shut up and get back to work on maintaining the sign) and as the youngest, he had been promptly given the incredibly boring and not-at-all important job of cleaning the sign every so often.

Patch was fifteen, and suffered a great deal from the fact that there were no drugs, no booze and nothing very interesting on the TV. Shining Time, for all its perfections, was quite possibly the worst place for a growing kid to be living in. He turned to his faithful companion, Mutt, the dog. "There we are, Mutt. Paint job's finished. Can't wait until we have to do this all over again."

Mutt barked and rolled his eyes. If you've never seen a dog roll his eyes before, then that means they still have some hope left for you.

"Shining Time better have the best welcome sign on the whole darn Indian Valley Railroad. And if it doesn't, I'm meeting the guy so I can…. give him a strong talking to." Patch growled and clicked his teeth. The thing about Shining Time was that it got inside your head. You couldn't really make real threats, especially not recently, or even swear.

Mutt barked twice.

"Glad you agree. At least I hope you do. Got to say, Billy's old map sure did help a…. lot?" The statement turned into a question partly because of the sight of the figure in black riding towards him. Mutt barked. "Err…. yeah, he's on his way back now."

Boomer's bike thudded over the grass and rolled up to Patch.

"Er, WHAT WAS THAT, MUTT?! Yes, YOU HEAR THAT TRAIN WHISTLE SURE THAN IT HEARS- "

"Shut it kid." Boomer's eyes roved over the map. "Well, well. Interesting, not going to lie. Where'd you get a map like that?"

"L-Listen, Mr. Boomer, I don't want any trouble-

"Good. Good boy. That's smart, that is. Don't want any trouble? Just give me the map." Boomer didn't exactly smile, as such, but Patch got the feeling that the expression on his face was what he thought a smile was. "Not going to do anything with it, I just want to take a- "

There was a loud shrieking noise that pierced the air. Boomer jumped five feet in the air and spun around to see a sleek, black train rush along the tracks. "Twofeathers." He growled. He turned to Patch. "Remember, I'll want to see you later. Have fun with your sign, kid."

Patch took a deep breath of relief as Boomer rode off, and waved cheerfully to the driver of the train named Rainbow Sun. Billy waved to a group of children, resting in a beautiful field. If one could describe Shining Time Station's countryside in one word, it would be 'idealistic'. No pollution here.

Patch was resting on one of the picnic tables when Billy headed up. Billy Twofeathers was a fine engineer, a gentle soul and someone who you would have to dig deep to find any dirt on. He was also, on occasion, dressed like someone who was auditioning for the Village People.

"Fine work, Patch." he said, admiring the sign. It was a nice sign. They had little to do in Shining Time. Very little. If you weren't an immigrant from Archie Comics, or something. So, appreciating THE SIGN was the best one got to real entertainment.

"Thanks. You saw Boomer?"

"Saw him? I could smell him a mile off." Billy looked at the young boy intently. "Map any good?"

"Yeah, it helps, but I...well, there's something odd about it. There's like these little shadows lines all over it. They look like normal railroad tracks, but I can't see any around here apart from the ones the trains run on."

"Another mystery that makes the land so..."

"Magical?" Patch smirked as Billy nodded. "Boomer was weird. What's on this map that he wants?"

"Don't know. He cut in front of me at the level crossing earlier. If I had gotten here a few minutes sooner, I would have..." Billy trailed off. "You know something, Patch? Boomer is dangerous. Oh, I know he seems like just your average bully now, but I sense something about him... something not quite right."

"I know." Patch was aware that they were shifting the topic onto odd ground, so he decided to plow on ahead. "I can't help but kind of admire him, you know." Under Billy's eyes, he hastened to add "Because he managed to get out of here. I mean, I think he's a...nasty person, but I still...you know, I still sometimes want to get out of here. See the world a bit."

"There is no shame in that, Patch." Billy placed a hand on his shoulder, and he guided Patch's horse over to him. "The world isn't a bad place, all things considered. There are good and bad parts to it, like everything. But I get the feeling you're meant for more than just cleaning that sign, day in, day out."

"Tell that to my dad." Patch checked his watch and jumped up. "I'd better go, promised Mr. Stone that I'd clean out his yard today."

Billy frowned, and struggled internally for a moment, before at last speaking his mind. "Does he treat you well, Burnett Stone?"

"Well enough. He never shouts at me. And if I'm uncomfortable with any work he's given me, he's pretty cool on me not doing it. And he's generous with tips." Patch shrugged. "That's good enough for me."

"Pragmatic." Billy smiled, sadly. "He ever smile?"

This gave Patch pause for thought as he clambered onto his horse "No. But he doesn't frighten my horse, either. So he can't be terrible. I don't think he's bad, if that's what you're saying." He shook his head. "Just sad. Unbearably sad."

"Heart of a poet." Billy raised a hand. "Good hunting, Patch."

...

In the dark of the cave, hidden beneath thicket and bush, and brambles, and weeds, long since in need of cutting, Burnett Stone looked around. It had been a week or two since he had come up here last, and the spiders had grown busy. As he cleared a path, he looked around. "Sorry I'm late."

Silence, as per always.

"It's, err, been a bit chaotic. You know how it is. There's some great fete going along, and Stacy wanted me to contribute something. Well, you know how it is, I can't actually say no to her. It's weird. Her smile... I'd think you'd like her." Burnett didn't smile, but he did look wistful. "I was actually wondering if maybe I could take her out sometime-"

And suddenly the memories came rushing back.

"One day, we're going to fix her up! Spick and span and not so much shrapnel in her! And maybe we can go for a ride together! Wouldn't that be nice, Petey! And I'll drive her one day! That okay, Miss Lady?"

"More than okay, child!"

"And I'll take you with me, Petey, can't go anywhere without you. Oh, and of course, I'll take you with me, Tasha!"

"Oh, that would be swizz! Will you Burnett? Please? Promise?"

"Okay, okay, jeez, I promise!"

And here he was. Alone in the dark. "No. No you're right. No time for that." He briskly strode over and began cleaning the cobwebs off of the mighty engine that was resting in his workshop. "Can't stop. Can't ever, ever stop until I've got you working again."

...

Inside Shining Time Station, Stacy Jones was cheerfully helping along more people onto the platform, and was constantly being barraged by a selection of telephone calls and the occasional fax message. She looked over, and rolled her eyes as Schemer tried once again to try this new and improved machine he had invented. But no one was interested in this strange new thing called a 'Blu Ray' at the moment. Laserdisc, they said, would stay around forever.

Placing her hat on, Stacy answered the telephone with typical cheeriness. "Hello, Shining Time Station, this is manager Stacy Jones speaking!" She waved ahead a young child carrying her goldfish bowl, and smiled at him as he placed it back upon the counter. "Yep, 10:15 Pelican Falls train to Shining Time is right on schedule. You're welcome." She rang the bell and announced over the speaker. "The ten o clock to Lucy's Leap is leaving now!"

She glanced outside, and noticed Billy and P.T Boomer fighting once again. Verbally, of course. Gritting her teeth, still in a friendly smile as the child played with a racing car, she started pulling out a baseball bat from underneath the counter, just on chance. But Boomer hit the overhanging basket of flowers, and stormed off.

"Rough time, Billy?" She asked sympathetically as he stormed in.

"Rough guy." Billy held the flowers in his hand. "Get these in some fresh water, they'll be fine."

"Look what I found." Stacy pulled out a piece of paper. "Old locker in the lost and found area. Who does that remind you of?"

"Peter Pan from Hook?"

"Close. Look at the signature. Burnett Stone!"

"Ha!" Billy looked at the drawing, that of a child climbing Muffle Mountain. If one looked closely, you could see a second child lying near the abandoned rail tracks, clearly male.

"Hard to believe he could ever look that happy." Stacy looked wistfully out of the window. "Have you seen him? He was supposed to give me some of his birdhouses as prizes for the fete."

"Wonderful smile, as I recall." Billy sighed, remembering. "Loved railroads too."

Then they had to stop thinking about the past, because they had actual jobs to do. Elsewhere, Schemer contemplated becoming a clown. They surely got more respect than he ever did.

...

Burnett sighed. He had a lot of work to do. There was still far too much dust on her, and there was just this... sense of darkness surrounding her. The paint was wearing thin as well. He needed some more. He vaguely wondered how much he would have to pay Patch extra to go down and-

There was a sound of gentle shoes hitting the ground, and Burnett spun around, flashlight in hand. His hand automatically went for his right leg, but much to his dismay, he remembered that his gun was still back at the cottage. If he had just-

Patch stared at Burnett, then at the engine, then at Burnett. The older man relaxed, somewhat, and stormed over to glance behind him. "How did you find me here?!" He demanded, not raising his voice too much, but to an extent. "And how did you get through the-"

He stopped. No point in telling the boy anything else.

"Found the entrance to your workshop a long while back." Patch shrugged. "Didn't have permission to come in. But you weren't at the house, and I couldn't go back home yet. One of the crofters told me you were headed this way, and I figured that I might as well check." He raised his hands. "I wouldn't tell anyone, not unless you wanted me to."

For a moment, Burnett just wondered, if he had had a son, would he have been like Patch? Someone who hadn't raised the point up until now? Someone he could rely on? Because he felt he could rely on Patch. He had more faith in children than he did in most adults. "See that switch, over there on the wall? Flip it on."

"It's not like Frankenstein, is it?"

"I can assure you, there are no corpses in here." Of course, it probably wouldn't do to tell Patch about the corpse under the floor of the workshop. That might...put him off, a little bit.

The lights caused him to narrow his eyes and take a minute to adapt. He rarely had cause to use the lights anymore. He nodded as Patch stared in awe at the mighty steam engine. "I...I always figured there was something magical about this mountain." said the boy.

"Yeah." What else could you say? "All mountains have their secrets, Patch. Admittedly, some just have really odd looking grass, and others are good places for weed dealers, but there are some that have genuinely fascinating things hidden. Careful, don't dent her."

Patch stepped off the buffers of the engine. "Sorry. Can I... help you, Mr. Stone?"

Burnett stared, warily. "Yeah. Sure. Help me dust her off?" He threw a duster over to Patch, who caught it. "This is, er, Lady."

"... Why is she so important?"

"Ah, the confusion of youth." Burnett almost smiled. Almost. "She's a collection piece, in a way. Rarest kind of steam engine there is."

"Why is she locked up?"

"She's not. She's safe from harm. World out there is...cruel. It can be good, but for most of the time, it's just cruel. You see, long ago, I made a mistake as Lady's caretaker. An evil diesel... well, he found Lady. And he threatened to destroy her totally.

He chased her, forced her on beyond the brink. Used up all her coal, and made her go too fast...and then I crashed her. So I brought her here. It's taken me so long, and it'll take me even longer, but I need to fix her up. But...but one mistake...all it took. Never been able to make up for it. And I've never been able to bring her back to life, or to make her steam, properly."

They were silent for a moment.

"Downer."

"Sorry." Burnett pulled himself together. "I...tend to go off on these tangents, sometimes. I haven't really talked to people in a long while." He looked at Patch shrewdly. "You're a good kid. If you want to earn a little bit of, um, what the Brits call, pocket money, I'd be grateful for any help you could give her. Even if it's just coming up here, checking on her, making sure she's okay-"

"I could do that." Patch nodded.

"You have to mean it though... Patch, she's more precious than gold itself."

...

Kirk Ronan Peak was one of the natural beauties of the Island of Sodor that had, for the most part, been untouched by human hands.

Until now.

Several humans, humans who had thought the message set out by the Fat Director was a worthwhile one, had carved into it the image of Diesel 10's face, staring out, smirking. Think of it as an almost Satanic symbol to ward off any good.

It was also bloody gaudy as shit.

Located here were the cohorts of the evil Diesel. A selection of troublesome trucks had been recruited to serve as muscle, with a rebuilt S.C Ruffey leading the pack. Besides them rested a number of diesels, varying in size and shape. But most prominently were four Class 08 Shunters. The first two were identical, save for a little bit of stubble on one's chin. The other two were also identical to each other, save for the color scheme. One was purple and one was a dull gold color.

"Cousins." remarked Arry. "Glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't miss this for the world." drawled Dodge. Splatter let out a rattling laugh. These two were legendary scrappers over in the US, and many steam engines regarded meeting them as a nightmarish experience. Splatter in particular was completely and utterly insane, barely controllable even by the calmer Dodge. The Other Railway had already had to feed him several trucks just to keep his head cool.

"Where's the boss?" grunted S.C Ruffey. "I wanna get to work."

"Scrap, scrap, scrap!" howled Splatter.

"Patience." Dodge looked at Arry, eyes questioning. "You still wish for us to put on the act of a fool, don't you, brothers?"

"Course." Arry sniffed, an automatic tick. "These humans think we're some bloody preforming monkeys! Waiting on them hand and foot! It took them this long to get it ready, I wouldn't put it past them to fall at the final hurdle. And if that's the case... well, we're going to have to pick up the pieces."

"He's coming!" Splatter hissed.

Diesel 10 came to a screeching halt, admiring the image with interest. "Beautiful. You captured it perfectly. I could cry." Every word was dripping with sarcasm.

"We're here, boss!" said Dodge, switching to a more nasal accent.

"Right. Listen up." Ten looked at the two of them, his eyes peering into their very souls. At least that's how Splatter would describe it later. "I have a job for you, Splodge."

"It's Splatter."

"And Dodge."

Ten's claw snapped with a sickening echo. "I haven't the time, nor the effort, or even the slightest notion of caring, to remember either of your names in a pinch. If you make it past the week, I might remember not to kill you all when judgement day comes. Might being the key word. Now, I have returned here to find a steam engine- "

"Easy" grunted S.C Ruffey. "Island's full of them. Crawling about like flies on a corpse."

"Not the one that I want." Ten's voice was coldly calm. "She escaped me once before, in my far more…. superior body. As long as she lives, so do the other steam engines here. But if she was to be destroyed- "

"Destroyed?"

"You say destroyed!?"

"Yes, you cretins, I said destroyed."

"But- "Splatter looked at Dodge "-but there's one small problem. Emphasis on small, heheh."

"Yeah, Mr. Conductor's coming, and he's not going to let you destroy her."

"No way."

"Conductor?" Ten glanced at Arry. "What conductor?"

"Inhabitant of Shining Time Station. Turns out before that teleportation spell was interrupted, Hatt managed to get a message to him, somehow." Arry looked frustrated. "Boomer's throwing a massive fit, like the child that he is. Most of them have died off, or disappeared now, but this is one of hte last."

"I can do whatever I want." Ten growled, almost softly "I could have picked Stone, I could have picked the girl, why, oh why did I pick Boomer of all people?" His voice switched slightly, to a more American accent "I'll get him too! With Pinchy!" He raised his claw, snapped menacingly and cackled.

The claw flopped back down and hit him square in the face. Both sets of diesels started laughing.

Ten suddenly switched back. "Laugh to my face again and yours will be removed with equal joy!" He stormed away, grumpily. He wasn't alone in this tincan of a body. There was something wrong with this body, a second personality. He was stupid, or pretending to be stupid, and had a ridiculous American accent. Or Russian. Or British. Sometimes it changed. He had to fight constantly just to maintain control.

That wouldn't be a problem soon.

...

Billy sighed as Mutt raced towards the painted mural on the wall. He looked at it, tilting his head to the side.

Then there was a sudden sound, like the tinkling of bells, and through a whirlwind of gold, a tiny man appeared and sat upon the mantle.

No, Billy wasn't taking any drugs, medicinal or otherwise. Mr. Conductor tapped his cap briefly, cleaned off his dusty uniform and grinned at Billy.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. C." Billy gave a quick wave. "You off in a hurry?"

"Hello Billy! Yes, I just have to lock up, and then I'll be off for a bit." As Mutt parked, Mr. Conductor retrieved a rather battered looking key from his pocket and locked the painted door behind him. "Da da da, da da da! Just watched that program, you know, Thomas and Friends?"

"Ah yes." Billy remembered all too well. Allcroft and Mitton had briefly headed over to Shining Time in the late eighties and early nineties to film some things from Shining Time to link stories told of Thomas and his kin. Billy had been different back then. Literally. It almost looked like a completely different person was playing him. "All those years ago. Kara, Dan, Matt...all gone now, of course." He snapped back. "So, you're heading to the Island?"

"First time! The others got to go a lot often! Mr. Starr especially, turns out he spent a great deal of time there." At last, the door was locked, and Mr. Conductor turned back, though not before cleaning his window. "Really need to get the maid in a little more. All right. Toolkit...check. Ticket-puncher, check." Billy didn't know why Mr. C needed a ticket puncher, when you considered that the title was more hereditary than anything else, but he didn't want to dent his confidence, as he continued on "A-yi-yi-yi! All aboard!"

"You sound like Alpha Five!"

"Didn't have you down for a Power Rangers fan, Billy." Mr. Conductor grinned. "just testing Billy. Can't let my conducting skills get rusty... though over there they call us guards. Don't know why. And freight cars are trucks! The madness of it all!"

"Important day, is it, Mr. C?"

"Very important! So, very, very important! Absolutely very important day! This trip to the Island of Sodor...well, the letter I have from Sir Hatt seems to be rather urgent, so there must be quite a need for me over there!" He sighed. "I remember the one time that Starr introduced me to him. I said that it was the only place in my whole universe where I fit in size-wise. He told me not to be so stupid, and that I could get bigger if I wanted to, it was just a matter of using our powers correctly. I think he was offended that I suggested he was short in anyway."

Billy shrugged. The TV show made the inhabitants of the Island look like miniature models. He wondered if that was just storytelling, or whether there was something in the water over there.

"It's not just that, Billy. Some whack-job named Diesel 10 is back over there, according to his letter. Pretty bad guy, all things considered. I have to make sure he behaves himself. Probably just some misunderstanding. Excuse me." And pulling out a notepad, Mr. Conductor wrote something down.

"Hope your visit goes well, Mr. C." Billy was aware that this latest addition to the Shining Time painted house on the wall (And wasn't that an interesting series of words to put together) was a little more...prone to being a bit of a loner. Compared to the one he referred to dismissively as 'Starr' and the one that he had become acquainted with, who was often referred to by his name as 'Carlin', there was a lack of eccentricity there.

"Thanks Billy." Mr. Conductor barely looked up as Billy headed off to the Rainbow Sun. Mutt, on the other hand, looked up and moaned mournfully. "Must be responsible. Reliable. And really... don't tell me!" He glanced down, and stamped his foot "USEFUL, USEFUL! I SHOULD REMEMBER THIS STUFF!"

With a blast of his whistle, he teleported over to the front desk, where he spotted Stacy, still hard at work. He waved, got one back, and turned his attention to the items upon her desk. He turned to the goldfish. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Bubble bubble, went the goldfish.

"Oh well thank you, Moby Dick, I like my sparkle too!" He put a great deal of emphasis on the second word of the fish's name. Fish could be assholes, sometimes. "You know; gold really is your color." Stacy smiled, though somewhat strained. A man talking to a goldfish was...still somewhat odd, even by Shining Time standards. Mr. Conductor waved to the child who took the fish away, and cheerfully sauntered over to Stacy's papers, to have a little poke around.

"Stacy, where did you get this picture?" The Conductor pointed at the drawing of Burnett. On the back of it was taped a similar looking picture, this time with two boys and one girl, all teenagers, one of whom appeared to have been removed from the picture quite violently.

"Old locker, funny enough. Apparently the painting was Burnett Stone's when he was a child. Seemed like quite the talented painter." She looked at the photo. "But as to that, I don't really know. I was told that he used to work on this railroad...he never leaves the other side of the mountain anymore. You seem puzzled, Mr. C?"

"Well, that's because I am, Stacy." Mr. C pointed to the painting "This one could be any old set of mountains, really. But the picture...no, this picture can't have been taken anywhere else, but Sodor. But...he couldn't travel there without gold dust!? Okay-" He quickly amended "-it's not quite in another dimension, but still, if this picture and drawing were taken when he was young, then he wouldn't have had much opportunity to go near the Isle of Man. My sparkle is the only way to get there, especially since the lost engine disappeared-" Then a whistle sounded and put this interesting and quite rambling idea out of his mind for a good while. "Anyway, I came here to say goodbye! I have to go now!"

"Right now?! Forever!?"

"Not forever, but yes, right now! Have to make sure that everything is safe and sound on the Island of Sodor!" And with a blast of his whistle, he vanished back to the mural.

Then he returned. "And for the record, try not to sound so happy." And off he went again.

Stacy sighed. "Well, at least you said goodbye. Not like the last one." And lost in nostalgia, she stared at the photo of Burnett. Both drawing and painting made her wonder.

What was it that made him tick?

She glanced outside and spotted Billy climbing up into the cab. Mutt was there, watching on with a pensive look (well, pensive by dog standards, anyhow). Like Stacy, he sensed danger. Except his dog senses were ringing with something that had long since passed unease and was now heading squarely for fear. Whatever it was, he didn't want either Billy or Mr. Conductor to leave Shining Time, for Billy's next train journey would take him out of the valley for a good few days.

As Billy gave him a thumbs up, Mutt rushed back to find Mr. Conductor making one final check of his house. "Old Smokey, you stay right here until I get back!"

Mutt vaguely wondered why Mr. Conductor was talking to a drawing on the wall, but decided that such questions were too big for a dog like he.

"Ah there you are!" Mr. Conductor's role of talking to things that couldn't talk back to him was continued when he turned to Mutt and casually began chatting again "Is something wrong, Mutt?" As Mutt mournfully howled, he chuckled "Now what kind of an answer is that?! I'm going to be late, Mutt, and I promise I'll get back as fast as I can, but I have to concentrate." He shivered. "I seem to be having trouble with my sparkle. Don't ever tell anyone I said that. I'll get laughed out of the room."

Mutt turned away.

"Mutt? Goodbye Mutt. Sparkle, sparkle, sparkle-" As he faded away, Mr. Conductor did catch Mutt rolling his eyes. "Yeah, that was pretty dumb," he admitted to himself.

...

Thomas puffed by the watermill. He marveled how it was still working despite everything. Not least having no people to operate it. And yet somehow, the Pinchers were responding in perfect time with it. As he passed along a long stretch of forest, he began muttering various obscenities towards this mysterious Mr. Conductor.

"Where are you, you idiotic so and so? Do you not have clocks where you come from? From what Fat Hatt says, you always seem to get here on time! Then again, Fatty's a bit of a prat, so I don't know why I trust him."

And then, he saw a series of sparkles off in the distance. As he came to a hard break, he stared at Mr. Conductor in bafflement. "How did... did you just... are you all right?!" he settled on, desperately trying to avoid certain topics that would make his brain hurt.

"I'm fine...er...Thomas, is it? Everything's happening at once." The Conductor turned off into the distance. "I have to see Sir Topham Hatt to get orders right away, according to this letter. I don't know, the journey keeps getting bumpier and bumpier."

"Ah yes, about that-" Thomas blinked, and then shuddered in shock, as the strange man in blue teleported into his cab "You could have just used those legs of yours and clambered on board. No need to be flashy. I get it, you have weird Star Trek powers and you're showing them off. But...the Fat Controller's gone missing! And there's this big bully diesel, you better be careful."

"Don't worry about this Diesel 10!" Mr. Conductor scoffed. "I've been informed of him, I just pop in and out and keep him in order, I hope-WAIT what?!"

"Bloody Americans." Thomas sighed, and started to relay the whole sorry saga to the increasingly dumbstruck Mr. Conductor.

...

Elsewhere, one of Diesel 10's personalities was starting up a rousing song. "Old McDiesel had a plan, ahahahaha! With a pinch pinch here, and a pinch pinch there, here a pinch, there a pinch, I crack myself-" Suddenly his claw slammed down on his forehead, and his voice changed tone "Damn it, WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS BODY!?"

There was a pause.

"Toby, did that diesel just start arguing with himself-"

"Don't question it, Mave, I don't think you want to go down that rabbit hole just yet."

...

Patch had headed home. He had left Burnett to finish cleaning up the cobwebs. As he left to flick off the light, he glanced upon the workbench by chance, and suddenly was struck by a sense of nostalgia.

There was an engine, carved out of wood, just the right size to run on toy rails on one of those model railways. He walked forward despite himself, and ran his fingers over it, relishing each slight groove and indent.

Pete had always been good with wooden carvings.

And as he gently drove it around, a memory came floating back. His own voice, reading aloud.

"Tasha, the Conductor Family are the ones responsible for keeping this little engine safe from harm's way. With this railroad, they have gained wonderful energy and powers because of their association with this engine. But there's a...a creature, coming after her, and without it... well, the Conductor's universe will vanish... well, not their universe literally, but figuratively. It's really confusing, definitely. One day, her family will return to find her, but until then... guard her well, young Burnett."

Burnett had unwittingly walked over to a painting hung up on an easel. He traced it absentmindedly. She had always been a good painter, he mused to himself. That little picture at Muffle Mountain, and this...this was beautiful.

"But I didn't guard you well." He whispered, suddenly aware of the pain he felt. It felt like someone had stabbed him through the heart. "I... I just don't seem to understand about... about the magic, anymore."

He stood there for quite some time. Alone.

As per usual.

...

And this, the narrators would tell you, if they weren't squabbling in the corner like kids (Angelis is winning, by the way) that this is where Burnett's grand-daughter, Lily, comes into the story. She lives with her mom and dad in the newly renamed New Bigg City, an American spin off of the original that did not suffer the fate of the British port. It was only a few hours by train to Shining Time.

Her mother was preparing for a new arrival in the family, and so had decided that Lily would do better than to be cooped up inside while she fussed repeatedly about getting the nursery set up.

Lily saw magic where no one else had the time to. And not because they were watching some a stupid paper bag blowing around, despite what American Beauty might have to say about that subject. More like lovely reflections of light on a rainy day.

And soon, she was going to be off to stay with her grandfather, on Muffle Mountain. She was... somewhat thrilled to be doing so.

"Should I say anything to him?" she questioned her mother. "He's been so sad since Grandma Tasha died, and...you know, he never comes here to see us, I don't want to upset him even further."

Her mother sighed. Tasha had died when she had moved over from Shining Time to the Bigg City, and Lily had barely begun to walk at that time. Since then, while they had paid visits, she had always been aware her father had never quite gotten to a point where he could securely move on with his life. It wasn't that she could tell him to get over it, that was something that only he could decide. "Well, maybe, your visit will help cheer him up."

It was a bad lie. "You got his present?"

Lily nodded, and pulled out her bag. She hadn't been sure what else to bring him, so she had managed to sneak out a bottle of whiskey from her father's case, a selection of old timey CD's and, finally, something small that she had thrown in just in case. "Friendship bracelet. I know how much he liked to make them back in the day, and I thought- "She shrugged.

"Honey, that's beautiful." She didn't think it would work, but Lily was a good soul to think about such things. She just prayed that Burnett didn't try and fill her head with that steam engine bullshit. He had done so with her until he had met the 'rational' man that was her husband, and that all went out the window.

"I'd much rather stay here with you."

"I know." Her mother hugged her. Lily sighed.

"I'll go up there, wait for a bit." Lily walked over to the nearby ladder, used by many of the kids to get up to the balcony. "And I know, be careful. Proper gymnast, me."

"Kay." Her mother headed into the train station, but poked her head out. "See you in a minute." As she headed inside, she wondered (Not for the first time) why it was that her father had so many secrets that he couldn't share.

Lily, on her own in the cold, felt around in her pocket. She pulled out a rather worn, but well maintained, stuffed bluebird. It had been a gift from Burnett, back…. god knows how long. It felt like a lifetime ago, but Lily still kept it on her. "And you're coming with me too! I know how much you like to travel."

She wondered vaguely if talking to a stuffed bluebird was sane.

Probably was.

…..

Far away on Sodor, the engines were still working hard. As Thomas puffed past the windmill, he recalled seeing glances of Henry and Douglas, working hard with the other steam engines. They were confident, reliable and were refusing to let any of Diesel's crap. They were almost living up to their public image.

Every engine Thomas passed was informed that Mr. Conductor wished for a meeting at Crovan's Gate, so as to make sure that the Narrow Gauge engines were also represented fairly.

But elsewhere, one of the Island's top most secrets were about to be revealed.

And as bad as things were now, they were going to get far worse following it.

---

Our players have been introduced! And thus, the first act begins!

Welcome one and all! First off, REVIEW TIME!

To All Of You: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this.

Reid007: Thank you! I'm not quite sure that the backstory will make sense, but I'll try my best to make it easier to understand. Half the time I wonder what I've written.

MattPrice01: Aw, I'm glad to hear that! Hope it's going well for you, man. Yeah, that line was a fun one to write. It just always bugged me as a kid that THIS was the best plan his crew could come up with.

UGX7: Thank you! Mr Benn dying was something I had had planned since the beginning, but I did leave a little note in at the end to suggest that he might return. As you've seen, I'm taking Splatter and Dodge seriously. I'm curious to see what you think of them. And thank you for pointing out the error in the spelling! I shall correct it once I have uploaded this chapter!

Radical-sandwiches: Better prepare that ass then! XD. Fingers crossed I'll do a good enough job! Thank you! Oh, and by the way, any time I mock the Americans in Magic Railroad, it is NOT meant to be taken seriously! Just want to put that out there, I really don't want to offend anyone.

TrainManiac: That it does, chum, that it does. My god, it feels good to be starting this project.

Game Watch: Yyyyyyep. It's dumb. And yes, Diesel 10 has arrived! ...And I can't wait.

AaronCottrel97: Yeah, it's a weird one to go out on. I'd much rather they did what the Americans did in their ordering of the episodes and have Rusty and the Boulder come last. Definitely feels more final.

Reality Rejection Service: I really wanted to give James a redeeming moment, something that did hearken back to his development in his first four episodes and showed he wasn't a complete arse after all. I think even jerks need to have some redeeming feature to get us to care about them. Volume 2 will be it's own seperate story, as I think that it would be best that we have a fresh starting off point for any new readers!

Bronze-Shield: As the song goes, I'm full of surprises! I'm glad you liked it!

Kamen Rider-Necrom: Indeed it does. Beginning of the End.

Some pretty big things already, as you can tell! Now, a lot of this is going to be explanation, so brace yourselves.

-For the record, there's going to be a lot of exposition especially in the first two parts of this story. This is twofold. This chapter was mostly explaining away the problems that I have with the Magic Railroad regarding the lack of humans and as to how the engines can suddenly drive themselves. The next chapter is going to be a bit annoying for those who are fans of my parody work only, as I'm wrapping a lot of explanation as to what, or who, Duck is working for around a scene from the movie. And on that note, yes, I am going to be explaining that next chapter. Most of it, there are going to be a few plot threads that might pop up again later in the special, or as something I'd like to develop further down the line. But yeah, I can't wait to get that done and out of the way with.

-Why have I effectively taken the humans out of the story? To give an in-universe justification for why the hell there are apparently NO humans on this Island. Really, aside from Bertie's Driver (Which I will have an explanation for), there's nothing. And I wouldn't mind so much, if the engines didn't spend a great deal of time using coaches throughout the movie! So, basically, it's a way for me to explain away why the Island is so devoted. And also to give me a reason to explain how the railway is operating with only six engines; there are more in the background doing things.

-You'll probably also notice that the 'Champion the Bull' scene is similar in a way to the 2016 Dad's Army film. As someone who has a soft spot for that movie, I decided to rip-off/pay homage to it, because I felt the original opening of simply having Thomas turn up at Crovan's Gate was a bit meh.

-Speaking of the Pinchers, that was something that I had always intended on using as an in-universe justification as to why it is that the trains are still running on time and how it is that there are still loads and packages and parcels all in the coaches and trucks despite, again, no humans. It's a little bit of a stretch, but trying to make sense of this movie is even harder. Regarding how the engines are able to move, in case I don't say it later, it's because the Island itself is trying to pitch in and help keep Lady's children moving right along.

-Shining Time is a hard one. I really want to pay a bit of homage to it, because it was part of many's childhood. While it's never something I watch when I want to see Thomas the Tank Engine, I must admit that I have a certain affection for it. Didi Cohn is great in it, Schemer is actually kind of funny (In a Bulk and Skulk kind of way) and...it's nice.

I've sort of taken that to an extreme here, primarily because it feels very much like it's a 50's era Stepford Wives/Pleasantville/Archie Comics style place where everything is perfect and there's a white picket fence. Oh, and the Burnett/Stacy ship? That's just me, I think they'd make a nice couple. As to how Mr Conductor has been summoned...that's a mystery for another chapter.

-Something quickly to point out. The Magic Railroad is infamous for the fact that there are several different versions out there. There's the released version, the Director's Cut, the shooting script...it's a mess. I can't base my story on one or the other (The movie as released is a mess, the Director's Cut has not been released to the public and the script, while helpful, lacks visuals) I have, therefore, taken a variety of things from all versions (George working with Diesel 10 from the script, for example, and Boomer's entire involvement from the Director's Cut) and tried to put them into one relatively coherent story. At the same time, I also want to finish off the storyline I started back with Season 1 and 2 with a bang, hence how lucky it is that we have a movie to work off of. So, just bear that in mind. While I'd love it if you did stick around for the end, I am fine with you not doing so. I get it. This is not everyone's cup of tea.

Until next time!